Alyssa Plant

Alessandra De Luca wasn’t sure what day of the week it was. The room where she was being held lacked windows, but the timing of her clients gave her a reasonable grasp on the time of day. Here, her entire world was controlled by her shadowy captors and their designs upon her body.

Alessandra De Luca didn’t even really exist; she was a cover identity for an Intelligence Officer on assignment. The problem was that her assignment was well and truly off the rails. It was never meant to have gone this far; she was to be dangled for thor targets; a prize for her “masters” to covet. They would allow the traffickers to take her to one of their main locations, unwittingly confirming the extent of their pipeline. At that point, she would be rescued and the entire organization burned to the ground.

Her people, the ones she had trusted to rescue her, had let her down and she hadn’t heard from her handlers in weeks. She still hung onto the hope that they were coming for her, but with each day, and each client that hope faded.

The room was comfortable enough; she had a bed and food, clothes, and cosmetics but she was little more than a well-kept pet to her captors. The clients were the worst part; they were wealthy men who had one specific taste and she matched it exactly. In her initial briefing, there had been no plan for her to ever actually sleep with them; it should have all been over long before then.

There was a knock at the door to her room; the only people who knocked were clients and the man was expected. He was like the others; interested in what she was rather than who she was. Unlike some of them, however, he wasn’t as aggressive. Standing slowly, she checked her appearance in the wall mirror. Her blonde hair and bold makeup were perfect and the black negligee was covering just enough of her to entice attention.

She closed her eyes and exhaled, centering herself in the moment and burying a little more of her soul. Fixing a smile on her face, she approached the door and opened it. Her client was waiting, his expression brightening when he saw her.

“Somehow you manage to look more beautiful every time I see you.” he smiled, his Arab accent thick and smokey.

“Just for you sir,” she purred back, her smile not slipping. “Won’t you come in?”

Taking the man by the hand, she led him into the room and towards the bed.

“Can I get you a drink?” she asked, her eyes flicking to the drinks cabinet that was only to be touched when a client was present. Ostensibly, it was a dry country, but places like this operated on their own rules.

“Pour me a whiskey.” the man asked, sitting on the foot of the bed.

He watched her glide across to the cabinet and prepare his tumbler of single malt. “Would you mind if we just talk today?”

“Whatever you want sir.” She replied sitting primly beside him. “Anything you desire.”

“My name is Hassan, you know this darling.”

“Of course… Hassan,” she replied demurely.

The man reached out and cupped her cheek. “You look so sad, my desert flower, please smile for me.”

Alessandra forced a smile to her lips, it was real enough after a lot of practice.

She could tell that Hassan didn’t believe her, but he didn’t seem to want to break the fantasy. Some men wanted to use her and hurt her, others like him wanted more of the girlfriend experience.

Hassan was about to speak when there was a noise in the corridor outside. He seemed confused, but Alessandra recognized the sound of suppressed gunfire immediately.

Jumping up from the bed she grabbed her silk robe from the dresser and kicked off the pumps on her feet.

“What is going on?” Hassan asked, furrowing his brow, “Come back here to me, darling.”

Alessandra rolled her eyes. “Be quiet.”

“You… what?” he balked.

“Just keep your head down and stay there,” she ordered, yanking the metal railing from her wardrobe to use as a staff. Quickly, she darted across to the wall beside the door and waited, the metal rod in hand. The gunfire drew closer and Hassan finally realized what it meant. Like the big man his money convinced him he was, he cowered behind the bed.

As she waited, Alessandra strained to hear voices out in the corridor. Whoever was out there were keeping their voices too low to hear. It could be a rescue, but it could equally be a rival organization coming to take over or wipe them out. Whoever it was, she had no intention of being taken without a fight.

Without warning, the door burst open and a man came in quickly, weapon raised as he wheeled left to clear the blind corner. Reacting on instinct, Alessandra dropped low and swept his legs with the rod. The rifle went off, sending a stream of bullets into the wall and shattering bottles in the drinks cabinet.

Without waiting, she was on the man’s back and pinning his arm. “Who the hell are you?” she growled.

“Amemdfjfh,” the man mumbled into the carpet.

Before he could repeat himself, she was scooped off the man by a large arm that wrapped around her torso. “Hey, calm down, we’re friendlies. We got you.”

“Get off me!” she screamed, kicking out for anything in range.

“Hey,” the huge body yelled in her ear. “FRIENDLY… honey, you’re safe.”

* * *

Chapter One - Mission Creep

May 28th, 2014 - Nice, France

Ryan Knight was nervous, but then, he always was before an operation. It didn’t matter how many times he went out in the field, he always got those same pregame jitters before kickoff. The bigger the assignment, the worse it was. He was thankful for it; it meant he took the time to prepare. He had known ops guys that cut corners and let their guard down and they never seemed to last long.

At twenty-nine years old, he had been with the CIA for eight years. Recruited directly out of college, he had attended The Operations Directorate’s six-month course at Camp Peary Virginia, colloquially known within the Agency as The Farm.

Ryan Knight would be the first to tell you that he was no glorified Adonis. Like most Inteligence Officers in the Agency he was pretty average in almost all respects and the truth was that it benefited him. Supermodels and big buff action men tended to draw far more attention than the girl or guy next door. Standing five feet seven inches tall with a little optimism, he was often seen as the kid brother of the Paris Office. He’d never be James bond, but it made him perfect for James Bond’s job.

Nice’s old town was heaving with tourists out enjoying the early summer weather on the French Rivera. They filled the shops, the cafés, and the sidewalks of the Mediterranean destination. At the moment they were filling the tiny square in front of Nice’s Cathedral of Saint Réparate.

Their target today was Abbas Ahmad, a Lebanese terrorist responsible for a string of attacks throughout southern Europe and North Africa. Ever the noble Jihadi, he sent others to do his dirty work choosing instead to spend his time throwing threats at the West from a position of obscurity. They were in Nice today because he had made a mistake.

“Target will be on you in sixty seconds.”

Ryan clicked his tongue twice to acknowledge the transmission, the sound being picked up by the bone-conductive receiver in his left ear. He smiled at the woman behind the counter in the little ice cream shop as he accepted his frozen dessert. “Merci.”

Turning north along Rue du Pont Vieux, Ryan scanned the crowd ahead of him from the anonymity of his sunglasses. He wasn’t entirely sold on the ethics of their mission, but to date, it was the only chink in the armor of Ahmad’s terrorist network; his family.

Little did his loyal zealots realize, but their devout leader had two children with his French mistress in a Boujee Nice apartment. Finding that factoid out had cost them the life of one of their own; they owed it to him to make it pay off.

Ryan pushed his shades back on top of his head as he walked, allowing them to hold his blonde hair out of his eyes as he scanned the crowd ahead. In a loose blue linen shirt and a pair of jeans, he was invisible to the passers by that flowed around him.

“Red tank top, tan shorts, kid is on her left, blue shirt.” the disembodied voice intoned, “Watcher Two has them one two zero meters your twelve. Snatch location four zero meters, white van.”

“Acknowledged,” Ryan muttered to himself as he licked the ice cream.

Just ahead of him on the curb, he spotted the idling florist’s van and slowed his pace.

“Target five zero meters, coming to you now, should be visual.”

Ryan glanced ahead and spotted a brunette in a red tank top holding the hand of a little girl as she walked along the roadway. She matched the intel package for Marianne Laurent, “target sighted.”

“All callsigns, standby to execute.” the voice in his ear intoned.

“Bravo, good to go”

Charlie, standing by.”

“Echo, on target.”

“Foxtrot, ready and waiting.”

Ryan nonchalantly licked his ice cream as he approached Laurent, the woman chatting to her child as she strolled casually south. The van door cracked open just a few inches as they drew closer. Like planetary bodies in space, the van door, Laurent, and Ryan aligned right on time. Ryan turned and raised a hand as if to wave at the woman and called out, “Ah, Bonjour Anna!”

Confused, the French woman faltered and looked his way at the same moment that the van door slid open and Ryan’s other hand shoved her backward into the interior. Scooping the child under his arm, he followed her into the vehicle, the door slid smoothly closed behind them and the vehicle lurched away from the curbside. The entire operation had taken three seconds.

Fighting the rocking vehicle, Ryan held the young girl out of harm's way as the other operative in the back bound Laurent’s hands and feet with zip ties.

“One, this is Charlie, Package secured.”

“Excellent work Charlie, RV as planned for handoff.”

“Charlie copies.”

The young girl cried out and reached for her writhing mother but Ryan shushed her and held her close. The other operative reached down and stuffed a rag in the woman’s mouth before injecting her with a syringe.

Nobody noticed the abduction on the narrow medieval street of Nice’s old town. It was over so quickly that few had time to process what they might have seen. Before long anyone could put the pieces together the Florist’s van was lost in the busy traffic of the French Rivera city.

* * *

The warehouse by Nice Airport looked about as dilapidated and run down as one might expect of a property sandwiched on the thin strip of land between the Var River and the perimeter fence. At one point it had been used to store fertilizer and it still smelled vaguely of Ammonia.

The door was opened as the van approached and was rolled smoothly closed behind it. The operations command center was a temporary affair that had been driven down from the Paris Field Office the night before in several vans and would, by nightfall, be on its way north again.

Ryan eased himself out of the van with the small girl in his arms while two techs assisted the other Officer, Mike Edwards, in unloading Marianne Laurent’s limp form from the van.

Kneeling, he pushed the hair out of the girl’s eyes and smiled what he hoped was a comforting friendly smile. The child’s dark wavy hair seemed to be the only thing she had inherited from her Lebanese father and it stood in stark contrast to her pale creamy skin and Gaelic features. The girl appeared no older than four, way before the point of comprehending what was happening; she was innocent in all the dark deeds of her father and Ryan intended to keep her that way. The little girl smiled back at him shyly, what was happening to her hadn’t even entered her mind. “You’re going to be ok sweetie. Tout ira bien ma chérie, oui?”

The little girl looked uncertain but nodded. A female tech approached and smiled politely at the little girl. “I’ll take her Mister Knight.”

Ryan thanked her and stood, giving the little girl one last smile before walking across the warehouse to the curtained-off area where they had Laurent on a gurney. A medical tech was injecting the woman with a cocktail of drugs that would counteract the sedative they had given her on the ride over. A frustrated Edwards was watching on, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Wish this shit didn't take so long,” he muttered as Ryan approached. “By the time we get what we need, Ahmad might be in the wind.”

“We don’t want to kill them,” Ryan pointed out. “That would be suboptimal, given the stakes.”

Edwards shrugged. “Not a huge loss, she had to know who he is.”

“They often don’t,” Ryan observed. “Kid is being looked after.”

Edwards smirked. “Perfect, we frighten mom and get her to fess up to Ahmad’s location and we can call it a day.”

Ryan held his tongue. He knew the man would never actually dare harm innocents, but he knew he planned to threaten it. While distasteful, it was the dark grey of their world that often called for bad things to be done in the name of the greater good. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was necessary. While he walked in the shade, Ryan Knight always insisted that he kept one foot in the light. In his eight years with the Agency, he had seen what happened to Operations Officers who strayed too far from the path.

Laurent began to stir as the sedative’s grip faded. Slowly, her eyes began to flutter.

“Wakey wakey Marianne, are you with us?” Edwards asked coldly as he lightly slapped the woman’s cheek a few times to get her attention.

The French woman seemed to focus more as her eyes widened in shock. “My daughter? Where is she? What ‘ave you done with ‘er?” she croaked.

“She’s safe, for now,” Edwards answered, “Where’s Abbas Ahmad these days?”

“I don’t know who…” she was cut off as Edwards slapped her cheek again, this time harder.

“No, that’s the wrong answer,” he sighed and shook his head. “Let’s cut to the important bits, shall we? We know who he is, you know who he is, and we know that he’s hiding out somewhere in town. Tell us where or very bad things are going to happen to people you care about.”

Marianne Laurent’s face went through a transformation as Edwards' words began to permeate through her narcotic-fogged mind. “I will never betray Abbas, you will ‘ave to kill me,” she spat.

Edwards shrugged and glanced over at Knight. “Then I guess it’s extreme measures, we’re gonna go pull some fingernails off the kid.”

“You’re bluffing,” Marianne replied, a hint of nerves showing through her brave exterior.

Edwards didn’t seem to notice the horrified look on Ryan’s face. “I’m afraid I’m not,” Edwards clarified casually. “Tell me what I want to know or this will get real ugly. Your daughter Béatrice is in that room with one of my people. She’s ok for now, but if you don’t play ball, she won’t stay that way.”

“You ever heard a four-year-old scream in agony?” Edwards asked, looking over at Knight, a nasty sneer crossing his lips.

Ryan fought to maintain a neutral mask despite his revulsion at the very idea. “I have not.”

Edwards looked back at Laurent and shrugged. “C’est La Vie as you French say eh?”

The woman seemed conflicted for a moment as her eyes flicked between the doorway and the two Operations Officers. Ryan knew the look. It was the same look a cornered animal gave when it was trying to decide which fate was better; a quick death or a desperate attempt to escape. Laurent’s shoulders sagged against the gurney and she closed her eyes. “Don’t… I’ll tell you,” she whispered. Looking over at Ryan, she looked almost desperate. “If I tell you, you must ensure my son is safe.”

“He’s with Ahmad?” Edwards interjected, “Where?”

“Promise?” Marianne begged, “Please, or I tell you nothing.”

“Sure,” Edwards shrugged, glancing across at Ryan. “We’ll make sure Martin’s safe, and little Béatrice too.”

Marianne looked up at the rafters and seemed to utter a silent prayer. “They are at my apartment, 1883 Rue d’Italie, fifth floor, apartment twelve.”

“You’re sure he’s there now?”

The woman nodded, tears in her eyes. “Forgive me, Abbas,” she murmured, “mes enfants…”

Edwards strode over to the technicians manning the drone control station. “Did you get that?”

“Yeah,” The tech confirmed, “We’re heading there now.”

Ryan walked up behind them as their drone flew low over the red-tile rooftops of the city, with the neo-gothic towers of Basilique Notre-Dame de l’Assomption in the background.

“Nice spot,” he observed as the drone swept past a chimney and began to approach a building. “This the one?”

“From what she said,” Edwards offered. “Fifth floor, apartment twelve.” he prompted the tech.

“According to building plans that is… this one,” the man indicated with his finger on one of the screens as the drone focused its attention on a tall balcony window. “I have movement inside.”

The camera zoomed into the living room of the apartment and the picture began to adjust to the gloom. Inside, a bearded man was playing with a toddler while a TV played in the background.

“We got a match?” Edwards asked as the camera highlighted the man’s face and a row of images began scrolling on another monitor. Within seconds, the screen flashed green as Abbas Ahmad’s profile flashed up.

“Confirmed on Target Ahmad,” The tech agreed.

“Ok,” Edwards grinned, slapping the man on the back jovially. “We have an asset in the airspace?”

“Sure do,” the man agreed.

“Send it, authorization Gamma twelve Ultima.”

Ryan balked as he watched the tech switch screen to a targeting reticle. “Are you kidding me, Mike? With his kid and all those civilians there?”

Edwards looked unapologetic. “We send in assets and we risk him martyring himself and even more civilians. This way, it’s contained.

“But we promised her…” Ryan insisted, looking back at Marianne Laurent, “He’s an innocent kid, Mike.”

“Shit happens, I’d rather some Terrorist’s kid bite it than any of my guys, send it Steve.”

“Roger, rifle one.” the tech responded impassionately.

Ryan watched in horror as the camera began to track the missile from the orbiting Reaper drone down towards the busy French street. The drone camera on the other monitor captured the moment the entire corner of the building was vaporized.

Marianne Laurent couldn't see the screens from her position on the gurney, but she watched the color drain from Ryan’s face. Somehow, she knew what had happened and the woman wailed at the top of her lungs. Elbowing the medical technician she lunged from the gurney, her hands still bound, and rushed the men with a look of hatred in her eyes.

Without missing a beat, Edwards drew his pistol and shot her dead.

“What… the fuck!” Ryan spluttered, his eyes flicking between Edwards and the unmoving body of Marianne Laurent. “What the fuck did you do that for Mike?!”

The man reholstered his weapon and shrugged. “You saw her, she was going to pose an imminent risk to our safety.”

“She was unarmed, Edwards…” Ryan spat. “Unarmed and bound.”

“Reports are a funny thing huh?” Edwards chuckled, glancing at the drone tech. “Right, Steve?”

“Yes, Mister Edwards.” The tech replied dutifully, pointedly refusing to look at the body.

“What about the kid?” Ryan asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer. “What do we do with the orphan in the other room?”

Edwards’ expression was even and unmoving as he calmly glanced at the office door and back to Ryan. “She died in the apartment with her father and brother.”

* * *

The high-speed TGV intercity express rocketed through the French Countryside towards the foothills of the Southern Alps. Ryan had no idea what he was doing, but one glance at the sleeping child beside him told him that it was right.

After Mike Edwards’ chilling proclamation at the ops center, he had acted without thinking about the ramifications to himself or his career. While everyone was distracted, celebrating their success and preparing to depart Nice, he had snuck away and spirited little Béatrice out of the warehouse. At four years old, she didn’t understand what was happening, but she did recognize Ryan. There had been some difficult questions about her mother, but as with many children, a good story had satisfied her enough to be compliant.

He had barely had a plan when he bought them tickets on the train to northern Italy. The attendant had been more than a little suspicious of a young man with a child and no luggage, but thankfully his American passport had been a sufficient distraction.

As they cruised east at over two hundred kilometers an hour, Ryan Knight had no idea what he was going to do. He just knew that it was enough that they were alive.

The small human beside him stirred. “Where are we?” Béatrice asked, rubbing her eyes.

“We’re going on a trip, little one; we’re visiting a really exciting place.”

“Where?” the child asked, climbing up and looking out of the window at the scenery speeding past.

Where exactly? Ryan wondered to himself. He did a little mental arithmetic and ran through his options before settling on the only choice he had, the only choice that had a chance.

“We’re going to Switzerland, Béa, won’t that be fun?”

“My mamma calls me Béa,” the little girl grinned brightly.

Ryan felt a stab at his heart. The next few days and the new reality would be difficult for the girl, but he had to hope they could make it somewhere more discreet than a crowded train before she did anything to get them caught.

Chapter Two - Run Rabbit Run

May 29th, 2014 - Milan, Italy.

It was just after seven in the morning when Ryan and his charge arrived at Millan’s Lambrate station. The smaller suburban station had far less security and presented another deviation from their expected behavior.

Ryan had to assume that the powers that be knew he had left Nice aboard the train to Milan. Arriving at its destination would have been far too reckless. Instead, they had changed at a town thirty miles outside of Milan before arriving at a smaller suburban station on a regional service. Hopefully, their change in routine would give any welcoming party the slip.

It was still early, and the rush hour crowd wasn’t yet filling the platforms as they made their way into the station building. As they walked towards a cafe Ryan spotted a man checking a cellphone. When he was done, the man pocketed the device and wandered casually towards a coffee shop by the entrance. Accelerating their pace, Ryan intercepted his path and bumped the man just enough to snatch the device without being noticed.

“Mi scusi,” he smiled holding up his hands in apology. “Mi scusi,”

The man, oblivious to what had happened shook his head and waved a hand dismissively.

Grinning to himself, he slipped the man’s phone into his pocket and continued onward with Béatrice in tow.

A single man and a small child were quite memorable to travelers, especially when neither had luggage. It was also a major warning sign to those whose job it was to look out for potential kidnappings. Rectifying that problem, at least in the short term would help to lower their profile. It also had the side benefit of distracting a four-year-old; an age not known for their ability to entertain themselves on journeys.

It was early, but many of the stations' shops were already open. A few stops at the typical retailers found in stations around the world secured them enough for a good cover. A small rolling case for Ryan and a small pink backpack for Béatrice stuffed with crayons, a coloring book, and a doll she had wanted. Having grabbed sunglasses and a baseball cap, they now looked far more like tourists than unprepared escaped fugitives.

Diverting their progress into a small cafe that was opening to offer breakfast to sleepy travelers, he ordered them breakfast and settled them into a booth at the rear. For the first time since fleeing Nice, he felt finally able to relax. On his own, slipping his pursuers’ net would have been a simple task, but with a four-year-old in tow, he was severely hampered. Sipping the rich Italian coffee, he allowed the caffeine to seep into his system and revive his tired mind.

He didn’t have a lot of options to proceed, but he knew they needed to vanish. Traveling with a child that wasn’t his own and that was lacking documents was incredibly risky and was likely to get them caught. If he wanted to get them somewhere safe, he would need help. In Milan, there was only one person he could turn to; a woman he hadn’t spoken to in years; Francesca Ricci. He cleared his head and focused on the moment. Right now she might be the only person in Milan that could help them. Whether she would be inclined to, was another matter entirely.

Pulling out his new cell, he began to search for his old friend’s address.

“Where are we going next?” Béatrice asked as she swirled a chicken nugget in tomato sauce.

“That depends entirely on my friend. If we can go to visit her then we will go on a big trip to Switzerland.”

“What’s your friend like?” Béatrice asked as she shoved an entire nugget into her mouth sideways.

Ryan wondered how to phrase the answer. “Well… Francesca is a… businesswoman… She’s very good at her job too. Uh, she makes people happy.”

“I want to make people happy when I’m older.” Béatrice beamed.

Ryan grimaced, “Not like her you don’t.”

* * *

Francesca Ricci’s establishment was nestled amongst the most exclusive fashion houses of Milan’s Quadrilatero Della Moda. How appropriate it was, Ryan considered, that one of Milan’s most exclusive brothels was situated amongst the fashion houses that also fucked people for extortionate amounts of money.

“I really must be mad,” Ryan muttered as he rang the buzzer. They were waiting outside a nondescript black door sandwiched between designer boutiques on Via Alessandro Manzoni. Beyond them, shoppers wandered along the boulevard with no idea what lay beyond the door.

“Come posso aiutarla?” A distorted voice asked politely. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Francesca, tell her Knight to Bishop Four.”

There was a pause before the voice answered. “Momento.”

A few minutes later, the door buzzed and clicked open. Cautiously, Ryan led Béatrice into the cool, air-conditioned interior. The foyer was tastefully decorated in cream tones but featured only a pair of leather sofas sitting along the wall by a low table. Thankfully, it wasn’t currently occupied.

The room was quiet and nobody initially came out to greet them. It was actually the first time Ryan had visited Signora Ricci’s bordello itself, so he wasn’t entirely sure of the protocol.

“Let’s sit down shall we?” Ryan asked the girl, leading her across to the sofas. “Why don’t you get your book out while we wait for my friend, huh?”

“Ok!” Béatrice beamed, hopping onto the sofa and digging into her backpack. Ryan marveled at the girl’s resilience. It had only been the prior afternoon that she had been snatched off a busy Nice street with her mother. Looking at her, you wouldn’t believe that she had narrowly avoided being murdered by the CIA along with the rest of her family. Ryan tucked a lock of hair behind the girl’s ear and smiled warmly.

“I did not take you for the paternal type.” A warmly accented voice called from the top of the stairs. Ryan turned and and spotted the trim figure of Francesca Ricci descending the stairs in her spiked Minollo pumps.

Francesca Ricci was a stunning woman. As far as Ryan knew, she was somewhere between fourty and sixty years old and yet remained in perfect shape. Having come from poverty, she had turned to prostitution out of necessity. Unlike many however, she had risen through the world’s oldest profession with the pace of a Ferrari at full throttle. Before long, she was running her brothel and had brought the art of the Courtesan back for the richest and most influential clients in Milan. Dressed as she was now in a crisp white blouse and a black knee-length pencil skirt that must have cost several thousand Euros, she cut the image of the successful businesswoman as her dark curls cascaded around her shoulders.

“Francesca, it’s been a long time,” he smiled standing. Glancing back at the now busily coloring child, he pointed out the approaching woman. “Béatrice, this is my friend Francesca.”

“Bonjour!” Béatrice beamed.

“She is… yours?” Signora Ricci raised a delicate eyebrow.

Ryan shook his head. “It’s complicated. Can we talk somewhere, alone?”

Francesca clicked her fingers and a pair of women in elegant cocktail dresses appeared from a doorway and waited patiently for her instruction.

“Aria, Isabella; please take little Béatrice here for refreshments.” She paused and turned to Ryan, “she speaks French, yes?”

Ryan nodded and Francesca gestured for the women to take Béatrice with them.

Waiting until they were alone, Francesca gestured back up the stairs. “So, what can I help the CIA with today Mister Knight?”

“Not the CIA, I’m afraid, Francesca, I’m currently… self-employed.”

The woman smiled thinly, “I get the impression I don’t want to know more, but I find myself wanting to know about your little companion?”

“She is why I’m no longer with the Agency,” Ryan admitted as they entered her office on the second floor. The room was elegantly decorated, its white walls ornately trimmed and the furniture a deep mahogany. Behind the broad desk, a tall bay window looked out over a park's lush greenery beyond.

“We were after her father, a known terrorist. The Officer in charge decided that her two-year-old brother, her mother, and a dozen innocent civilians were acceptable casualties.”

“What about her?”

Ryan’s expression darkened, “she became a loose end.”

Francesca frowned, her crimson lips pursing as she contemplated the implication before responding with, “What do you need?”

Ryan settled into one of the antique chairs before the desk. “New papers, a way out of Milan, and help with… her.”

“I’m not a travel agency, I’m but a simple businesswoman.” Ricci shrugged nonchalantly.

Ryan inclined his head and grinned. “I know you’re more than that, Signora Ricci. How many young girls have you smuggled out of sex trafficking rings?”

Francesca smiled in response. “A great many, but alas, never enough.”

There was a knock at the door which Francesca acknowledged with a wave of her hand. A young man appeared with a tray of coffee that he placed on Ricci’s desk before vanishing discreetly.

Francesca picked up the cafetiere and glanced at Ryan. “I took the liberty, you look rather exhausted.”

Ryan smiled tiredly and nodded. “Honestly, I don’t know what to do, Francesca. The Officer in charge of our operation ordered a drone strike on a friendly nation just to kill this guy. In doing so, he killed the wife in cold blood and orphaned this girl. He was set to neutralize her too to bury the evidence. There was no way I could stand by and allow it.”

“It is right you did not, and I would expect nothing less,” the woman agreed, handing him a cup of steaming dark liquid. “Does she know any of this?”

Ryan shook his head. “No, she’s not really processed what happened and she didn’t see any of it. I’ve not had the privacy to explain any of it yet.”

“What is your plan?”

Ryan sipped the coffee and was delighted by the rich earthy tones for a minute before replying. “I have an escape chute in a deposit box in Zurich. I’m hoping I can get to that and drop off the map somewhere. Maybe we work this out and… I don’t know yet.”

Francesca nodded, “Traveling with a child will be difficult, especially if they put your descriptions out to Interpol. A man and a child traveling alone are very distinctive.”

Ryan sighed, “I had considered that.`

“I could…” Francesca frowned for a moment then shook her head. “You wouldn’t go for it.”

“I’m willing to consider a lot,” Ryan admitted. “I have a recording of the ops center, but it’s not much. Edwards is my senior and he’s bound to have a tidy story. I’m damaged goods and a junior officer. If I made it back to the US alive I'd likely still end up in a dark cell somewhere… I’m no good to Béatrice then.

Francesca stared at him for a moment as though calculating something. “How much are you willing to sacrifice for her?”

Ryan stared at the coffee in his cup before looking up at the woman across from him. “I never thought I’d say this, but everything.”

* * *

Ryan entered the kitchen to find Francesca’s two assistants sitting with Béatrice at the table. Unlike the rest of the carefully curated decor of the establishment, the kitchen had a warm and family feeling to the space. With a glass of milk and a plate of cookies beside her, the little girl was gleefully describing a drawing to the two women.

“Reine?” she asked, spotting him.

“Ryan,” he corrected, though felt a slight twinge at the irony of the correction. “How are you?”

“I’m drawing a picture of us on the train.” she proudly told him and turned the paper around. The stick figures of Ryan and Béatrice holding hands above an impressionist's idea of a train only cemented the decision he had made ten minutes earlier.

“Can I have the room, ladies?” he asked, addressing the two women.

“Of course, we’ll be outside,” the one he assumed to be Isabella replied politely.

Ryan sat down beside Béatrice, his heart thumping in his chest. He hated what he was going to have to do, but he hoped she was young enough to not fully appreciate the weight of it.

“Ma chérie, something happened before we left Nice. It means that you won’t be going home again, you’re going to be living with me from now on.”

Béatrice looked confused. “But what about my mama and my papa?”

Ryan sighed and rubbed his temples. “Your mama and papa are… in heaven, chérie.”

“Heaven?”

“It… It means… they’re sleeping for a very long time and they won’t wake up. They want you to live with me, I’ll be taking care of you.”

Béatrice frowned, “like a papa?”

Ryan swallowed, “Not quite sweetie. We’ll be going somewhere new to live together, a big adventure.”

The girl seemed to ponder the idea for a minute. “What about Martin?”

“Martin is with your mama and papa in heaven.”

“Oh,” the girl replied sadly. “Am I going to be lonely?”

Ryan’s heart broke, “No chérie, you’ll never be lonely, but we are going to have to play a game of pretend, at least for a while.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, to hide from some bad people that don’t like us. It’s complicated, but soon… soon I’ll be a girl…like you.

“But you’re a boy.”

“I… won’t be, soon.”

“Okay,” Béatrice agreed slowly. “So you’re going to be like my new mama?”

The girl’s words wrenched at Ryan’s already bleeding heart. “Something like that chérie, but for now, I need you to be brave ok? You’re going to stay with Francesca and her friends for a little while.”

“Okay,” Béatrice agreed more happily. “I like Auntie Issie and Ari.”

Ryan smiled and stood up, before leaning down and kissing the girl on the forehead. “Be good for me, chérie.”

Out in the corridor, Ryan found Francesca waiting for him, her expression was grave. “It is good she is so young, they take it easier.”

Ryan wiped tears from his eyes and smiled weakly, “I know. I can’t help but wonder if I’m doing the right thing.”

Francesca reached out and squeezed his arm. “You are, Mia cara, you are.”

Chapter Three - Putting A Brave Face On It

Ryan missed little Béatrice more than he imagined he would. For the first time since their flight from Nice, they were separated and he wondered just what his little charge was doing.

“You are ready?” Francesca asked, her tone was gentle, recognizing that Ryan was more than a little apprehensive.

He looked up and smiled nervously. “I guess I am. Are you sure it’s really come down to this?”

Francesca sat down beside him on the sofa and squeezed his arm. “You said it yourself; a young man and a child would be too visible to your former employer and be of memorable curiosity to those you meet along the way. A single mother and her child are far less visible. Do not forget, this isn’t your first time on this particular path Mia cara.”

Ryan knew she was right; it wasn’t his first time. He had first met Francesca seven years ago as an Agency rookie keen to prove himself to his superiors and to save the world. Never the biggest man, Ryan had been of similar stature to many of the women in his class at the Farm. Just like them, his size hadn’t held him back during his training. He had fought for his place and he had graduated to Operations Officer status alongside them.

A few months into his career, Ryan and a group of other officers had been encouraged to volunteer for an assignment to infiltrate a trafficking ring operated by a group of Saudi businessmen. Those men and their clients had an interest in a particular type of girl for their twisted pleasures. Having experienced a far less agressive puberty than many of his male colleagues, Ryan had been well suited to the task.

It was then that he had been introduced to Francesca. She had been heavily involved in saving vulnerable women and girls from sex trafficking in Italy and had been readily willing to assist the CIA in its eradication of the group. She had been partly responsible for the creation of the young woman who had managed to slip past the criminals' defenses to bring them down from the inside.

Once he had been extracted at the conclusion of the mission Ryan had avoided thinking about Francesca. Like her, he had put the young woman she had helped to create behind him; she had become too painful for him to remember. Alessandra, his cover identity had been his only shield against the horrors he had experienced when the mission went badly wrong. It hurt more because he had liked who he had become.

The idea of returning to a version of the girl that had experienced so much pain was terrifying. He knew that Francesca’s idea held weight; as a young woman with a small child, they would be next to invisible. The disguise would give him a layer of protection that even his masters in the CIA would not predict. Could he last long enough to get them to safety?

“I think it’s best,” he admitted, licking his suddenly dry lips. “I think it’s best if we get on with this before I chicken out.”

Francesca nodded sympathetically. “I won’t make a fool of you, I promise. I think it is time we bring back Alessandra.”

Ryan’s mind was filled with memories that the name brought back. Clearing his mind, he focused on the woman across from him and nodded. “Perhaps someone a little different this time. I’m going to have to be her for… a while.”

* * *

“OW, FUCK!”

“Calm yourself, darling, this is necessary,” Francesca chuckled from behind Ryan’s shoulder. He didn’t need to see her to know the woman was delighting in his present torture, he could hear it in the tone of her voice. Never let it be said that beauticians didn’t hold more power for torture than the CIA’s own enhanced interrogation experts. Currently, Ryan was face down at a treatment table suffering the painful indignity of a full body waxing at the hands of a brutal Italian sadist.

Francesca had brought him to a beauty clinic that was on retainer by Francesca’s organization. According to his taskmistress, they were frequently used when they needed to change a girl's appearance before passing her along their pipeline to a new life elsewhere. At that very moment, an older Italian lady was systematically and unsympathetically removing every shred of body hair from Ryan’s body.

“This wasn’t fun the first few times,” Ryan muttered into the table.

“Come now,” Francesca replied, her voice almost bubbling with mirth, “Hairy legs would look awful in your dress, beauty is pain, bella.”

“I am not wearing a… ow… dress,” Ryan insisted bitterly as the technician tore away another strip.. “I’ll be a damn girl again, but I am not being some fashion doll like last time.”

“This is true,” Francesca chuckled. “I do not think it would not be suitable for a young mother to be dressed like you used to.”

Ryan blushed into the table. He didn’t need to see Francesca to know the woman was smirking behind him. He remembered the clothes he had worn as Alessandra and he had no desire to repeat the overly sexual stylings of his former cover. As much as he was uncomfortable with the idea of what they were doing, he also knew that it made sense in a strange way. This was a cover he was familiar with and it would not be something he would be expected to do, what man would? Any authorities looking for the two of them would look for a man and a child, not a woman. They would be dismissed out of hand by even more studious observers.

Truth be told, it didn’t frighten him as much as the memories of Alessandra did. What she had experienced would haunt him for the rest of his days. When she was packed away, he could hide from those emotions, those memories. Now it would not be so easy to ignore.

Once the waxing was complete, Francesca led Ryan through to a small changing area just off the treatment room where a small pile of clothes awaited him on a bench. He eyed the clothing suspiciously before looking across at the woman. “Straight in at the deep end huh?”

Francesca leaned against the door and smiled sympathetically, the humor no longer present in her expression. “I think if you get yourself into the correct frame of mind, the rest of this will be easier for you, mia cara. Plus the sooner we are done here, the sooner I can get started on your new paperwork and get you back to the little one.”

Béatrice; the whole reason he was doing this he told himself; it was nothing more than that. He would suffer whatever indignities Francesca wanted to inflict upon him if it meant that he could keep the child safe. It had been twenty-four hours and already he felt a strong connection to the girl, a drive to keep her alive and safe that he struggled to understand.

“I’ll be out in a few minutes.” he agreed quietly.

Francesca excused herself and closed the door to allow Ryan a little privacy. After seeing him largely naked on the waxing table, it seemed a little superfluous but he appreciated the gesture. He also knew that she was aware that he would need no help dressing in the clothes she had left for him.

Ryan eyed the pile of clothing suspiciously for a moment before untying the silk robe he was wearing and letting it slide to the floor in a pool of fabric. The sensation was strange but not unfamiliar as it slid across his body. He wasn’t sure if the chill he felt was the sensation or the temperature change.

Reaching down, he examined the items left for him. Ryan didn’t believe he was female; he did not have a deep dark suppressed identity that he was holding back., nor did he believe that he had been born in the wrong body. He had done what he had for the Agency and once completed, he had never touched women's clothing again. Doing so now felt almost sinful; this wasn’t for an assignment, this didn’t have the protection of being for a greater cause than himself.

If he did this now, it was because he chose to do so. No matter how sensible it might be in the circumstances, he had a choice; he could take his changes with Béa as a man or he could choose this instead and make their lives easier. The real question was easier for who? Despite his familiarity with the garments in front of him, Ryan had never felt more uncertain.

Gingerly, he picked up the flesh-colored gaffe and sighed. He had been familiar with that particular item the last time and was not particularly excited to reacquaint himself. With a mental shrug, he slipped the item into place and took care of rearranging matters downstairs until he presented a smooth and more feminine front. The panties and bra were both thankfully plain and comfortable garments and nothing too outwardly girly. They presented very little challenge to his familiar fingers but they certainly represented a line in the sand to his psyche. What surprised him the most was that it was far easier to cross than the first time.

The very first time Francesca had assisted with his transformation into Alessandra De Luca, a young transgender woman designed specifically to entice Saudi businessmen, she had trussed him up in the frilliest and most feminine attire imaginable. It was, in her words, just as important that he felt as feminine inside as he appeared on the outside. For that assignment, it had been too successful.

Ryan regarded his body in the mirror with skepticism. He had never considered himself to be particularly feminine in his appearance, but the reflection staring back at him told him otherwise. The person in the mirror had slim shoulders and a slight flare to their hips that wasn’t typical of a male. The overall hairless appearance coupled with a flat crotch and the impression of breasts that the bra gave him skewed his conclusion toward the feminine end of the spectrum. His face still seemed like his own, but after finger-combing his hair into a more feminine style, he began to see faint traces of Alessandra peaking through once again. Pulling on the robe again, he tied it around his waist and left the changing room.

Francesca was waiting for him when he stepped out. She smiled and gestured towards the door. “I have arranged for a stylist to give you hair extensions. These will last you far longer than a wig might, even one that is glued on. It’ll give you a little freedom I think. Far less for you to worry about.”

“In for the whole pony I guess.” Ryan shrugged before pausing and touching Francesca’s arm. “Thank you for making this easier on me; I know I seem reluctant and like I don’t care, but I do appreciate it.”

Francesca cupped his face in her hands and kissed his forehead. “Mia cara, you may feel a little reluctant now, and that is to be expected. I would be lying if I told you that this is easy. I will tell you however, I think it will become a lot easier in time. Some people, they are made for certain paths, yes?”

Ryan frowned. “You tried to tell me I’d be better off this way the last time. I don’t think my mind has changed.”

Francesca shrugged in that distinctly Italian way. “Believe what you like, carissima; I think, deep down there is a part of you that this is right for. No man would have been able to portray Allessandra so well with such little help.”

Ryan remembered exactly what she was referring to and flushed. “I don’t have the luxury of working that out.”

“You will,” Francesca smiled ominously as she led him through to the hair technician.

Hair extensions, especially ones attached strand by strand, take a great deal of time to install. Ryan was left in the care of the salon while Francesca returned to running her empire. While the hair technician worked, other women arrived to shape his brows or take care of his nails. Lost in a blur of femininity, Ryan simply went with the flow.

Francesca had been right. He shouldn’t have been surprised by that fact, but it still seemed to jump out at him regardless. Even just the underwear beneath his robe had reasserted a little of Alessandra and made the entire process a lot easier for him to handle. The women in the Salon certainly didn’t seem to be that surprised by their androgynous client. Either they were well briefed, discreet, or simply did not mind. Regardless, they treated him like any other female client and in doing so, began to reawaken old memories in Ryan’s head.

By the time the stylist was done and his new longer hair had been trimmed, Ryan's normally floppy surfer locks had been transformed into blonde waves that extended past his shoulders. His eyebrows, never particularly hairy before, had been trimmed back into delicate arches that seemed to open his eyes far more than his look of surprise could accomplish.

The young woman looking back at Ryan in the mirror caught him by surprise. He had a reasonable idea of what he would expect as the day went on. What seemed to frustrate him the most was his lack of difficulty with what he saw reflected back at him.

Try as he might, he simply could not find Ryan Knight in the mirror anymore. The woman looking back at him was all too familiar and carried a great deal of pain within her heart. His emotions clashed as the memories he had suppressed for years came crashing back, mixing with strange feelings of comfort that swirled around each other like turbulent eddies at the confluence of two mighty rivers.

* * *

September 28th, 2007 - Riyadh, Saudi Arabia

Alessandra lay curled up on the bed, its sheets wet from her tears. The man had left an hour ago and still, she felt his presence in the room and on her skin. He had been the first, and yet she knew there would be many more. A line had been crossed and no matter what she did, from that day forward she would never be the same again. Her head and her throat hurt from crying but somehow there was still pain left inside she could not manage to dislodge. She wanted her mother, she wanted her team and she wanted to go home; this wasn’t meant to happen.

The bed shifted as a body sat down beside her. “It does get easier,” the soft Russian-accented voice offered. “Eventually, you learn to control them and it is not so bad.”

Alessandra raised her head to look at the young woman sitting stiffly beside her. Anja had been here a year. The darked haired girl was practically a veteran of this twisted horrid game. The look in her eyes told Alessandra that she didn’t believe a single word she was saying but that she desperately wanted to.

* * *

May 29th, 2014 - Milan, Italy

Francesca returned a short while later to find the young agent sitting alone on the floor of the changing room. Even without speaking, she could tell that the young man who had arrived on their doorstep that very morning was long gone. In his place, her precious Alessandra had returned to them. She was sat in the corner with her arms hugging her knees to her chest. The tear tracks on her cheeks and the look of sorrow in her eyes told her everything she needed to know without a single word.

Kneeling, she rubbed the girl’s back soothingly and wiped her tears with a finger. “Shhh amorina, it will be ok.”

Sniffing, she looked up at Francesca, her eyes red and puffy, and sighed. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

“You know you can do it,” Francesca affirmed softly. “You can do it for yourself and for the bambina. I know it hurts, but you do it because it will make things better for you, I promise.”

“It’s all coming back,” she sighed, wiping her eyes with the tissue proffered by Francesca. “Things I didn’t want to think about.”

“I thought it might,” the older woman agreed stoically. “There is nothing wrong with that. You deserve to find answers to your questions.”

“I have to be strong for Béatrice,” the girl sniffed. “I can’t let her down.”

Francesca helped her to her feet and hugged her. “It is possible to do both.”

Guiding her over to a chair, she helped her to sit. “Come, let me take care of your face and get you dressed so I can get a photograph for your paperwork, then we can go and introduce the bambina to her new mama.”

“You must think I’m insane,” the girl sniffed, “utterly insane.”

Francesca smiled and shook her head. “No, Mia cara, I do not. Perhaps you do not see it yet, but to me, it is as clear as day; you love her.”

Chapter Four - Mama Knows Best

The car made its way slowly through the dense traffic of Milan’s evening rush hour. While outside, the world was a mess of noise and engine fumes, the air-conditioned interior of the Porsche Cayenne was cool and tranquil in comparison.

“I ‘ave sent your photographs off to my man. He says he will have your documents ready by morning.”

“What names did you put on the documents?” the girl asked, unable to resist the urge to play with her new hair.

Francesca smiled, noticing the gesture. “You are to be Sabine and Amélie Garnier; French citizens with Cartes d’Identité Nationales to match. You have permanent residency paperwork already filed through my Swiss contact and a place waiting for you in the town of Interlaken.”

The girl raised her eyebrows. “You don’t mess around. How good are the documents?”

“All authentic, I have my sources.” the woman replied coyly.

“I wonder how Bé… Amélie will take it.” Sabine pondered aloud, adjusting herself to her new legend. Not legend, she realized, her new self. Alessandra had been a legend; a cover. It carried too much history to take into a new future. If she had any hope of giving Béatrice a normal life, she would have to become Sabine Garnier, at least in the short term. The idea still terrified her, but it wasn’t impossible. A dark thought at the back of her head told her that it might be a one-way journey but she suppressed the idea violently.

“Bambini, they are adaptable.” Francesca opined. “She will adapt to her changing circumstances with the right support. You I know will do right by her. I think however you are more worried about how she will take to her new mama?”

Sabine grimaced at the idea. “I hate to replace…. but… it feels like the right path? For her sake?”

Francesca nodded. “Corretta, yes; for the both of you I think. I caution you, however; to proceed down this path without the intent to carry through might cause bigger problems for her and yourself down the line.”

The young woman frowned but remained silent. She knew Francesca’s words were true even if she wasn’t prepared to admit them to herself yet. The waking part of her brain told her that this was a disguise, a front. That it was simply a cover to get them to safety. The depths of her psyche told her a different story; a story in which both she and the child would need Sabine Garnier.

* * *

Sabine stepped out of the car and smoothed her skirt. The brief moment allowed her to hesitate only slightly before following Francesca back into the cool air-conditioned interior of the house. They had arrived back a few moments earlier, and after only a little cajoling, she had been encouraged to confront her fears head-on.

Sabine wasn’t afraid of being seen as a man in women’s clothing; she knew very well how she appeared. What she feared was far longer lasting and far more important to her. Despite facing drug lords, terrorists, and armed criminals in her career, she feared the acceptance of a child more than all of them.

They had only been together for twenty-four hours, and yet that child, Béatrice, meant the world to her. When the little girl's life had been threatened, she had acted without thinking. Perhaps she had relatives in Nice but she never would have made it to them alive. Sabine was convinced that Edwards would have her killed to neaten up his messy kill.

Ryan however had nobody to miss him. His parents had been killed in an auto wreck when he was in his Freshman year of college. When he was later recruited by a professor to join the Agency, he jumped in with both feet. The work became his life; it wasn’t healthy, but it wasn’t unusual either in the intelligence field. She realized that she needed Béatrice to accept her because they were now all the other had in the world. Without her, it simply didn’t matter anymore.

Glancing down, Sabine nervously checked her clothes again. She was dressed simply in a ankle-length cream linen skirt and a white peasant blouse. It exposed the tips of her shoulders leaving her blonde hair to brush gently against it, tickling as she turned her head. Francesca as promised had tidied up her face for her passport photographs but had done little more than conceal her redness and apply a little light daytime makeup. She looked normal and it was confusing to her.

Upstairs, they found Isabella waiting patiently outside Francesca’s office. The young woman’s eyes went wide as she recognized a shy Sabine following along behind her mistress. A sly look of appreciation crossed her face and she grinned. “I would not believe it if I did not know, molta carina,” she murmured.

“Quite so.” Francesca agreed. “How is the Bambina? She has been good?”

“She has been angioletta, so very good. She is sleeping at the moment after her dinner.”

Sabine smiled her thanks and left the two women to talk as she quietly entered the office. Across the room she spotted Béatrice sleeping peacefully on an ornate Chaise Longue by the room’s large window. Kneeling beside the sleeping girl, Sabine reached out towards her but stopped, almost afraid of waking her. After a moment of indecision, she reached forward and gently brushed the hair from her face. The child opened her eyes and looked puzzled for a moment before her they widened in recognition. “Reine? You’re a girl like me now?”

“Just like I told you I would be,” Sabine smiled. You can call me Sabine now, chérie.”

Béatrice sat up and stretched, “Does this mean you’re my new mama now?”

Sabine’s heart went out to the girl at that moment. “I… for now, sweetie, I suppose I am. I will take good care of you and I won’t let any harm come to you.”

“Will you read me stories?” she asked innocently. “My Mama would read me stories.”

Sabine smiled and kissed the girl’s forehead and drew her into a hug. “Absolutely! I will read you stories every night, just as long as you brush your teeth.”

Outside the open door, the two other women were watching the interaction from a respectful distance. Francesca was amazed away by just how much of the old Alessandra had resurfaced so quickly. She didn’t know what happened to her after the mission had ended, but she knew it hadn’t been good.

“You are sure that is the man that came to us this morning, Signora?” Isabella whispered to her boss.

Francesca smiled as she watched the scene unfold. Looking across at Isabella she shrugged. “It was, but I don’t think it is anymore; I do not believe she ever was. Tell me, child, does that look like anything but a mother’s love to you?”

* * *

October 18th, 2007 - Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.

“Hey,” the huge body yelled in her ear. “FRIENDLY… Officer Knight, you’re safe.”

As her heart thumped against his ribcage, Ryan Knight began to feel his grasp on reality returning. Blinking back the red mist, he began to recognize the large American hauling himself to his feet in the middle of the room and the white skin of the arms holding on to him.

“You’re safe Officer Knight, we’re here to get you out. Are you hurt?”

Ryan looked back at the owner of the arms and shook his head slowly. “I’m… I’m fine…”

The man holding onto him was a well-muscled soldier in Jeans and a T-shirt underneath his body armor. While most of his face was hidden by a thick red beard and a ballcap, he somehow still managed to look kind. At that moment the lips nestled within that beard were doing a more than passable attempt at a reassuring smile.

“Langley sent us for you, it's all over, ok?”

Ryan swallowed and nodded. He could feel his muscles unwilling to relax as he stood trembling by the door. “How did you…”

“Find you? They tracked some of the customers here, this was our third target tonight. Third time lucky eh?” The man seemed to reconsider his attempt at humor. “Here, let’s go.” he offered guiding Ryan towards the doorway and into the corridor.

As they exited the room, he could see more men like his guardian clearing rooms up and down the long corridor. He had never actually seen it when they had brought him here as he had been bound and hooded at the time. The only space he knew was within the walls that had been his cell and torture chamber.

A doorway at the end of the corridor led to a small lobby and a bank of elevators. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed that they were high up among the skyscrapers of the Arab city.

“Zero, Five One, Have package, extracting her now, Alpha or Bravo?” the soldier growled into his radio. He seemed to wait a moment while he waited for an answer. Ryan was mesmerized by the twinkling lights of the city below. He had always assumed that they were somewhere far outside the city for it to be so quiet at all times. What he hadn’t considered was that they were just far above street level.

“Copy Bravo, heading for the roof now.” The man replied before steering Ryan towards the elevators.

“All callsigns, fallback to roof for Bravo extract, we’re Oscar Mike.”
“What about the other girls?” Ryan asked as the elevator doors closed behind him. “What happens to them?”

The soldier removed his glasses and rubbed a pair of weatherworn eyes. “Saudi cops are incoming, we’ll be long gone before they bother us. They should be safe.”

“Why did they… forget me?” Ryan asked, his voice almost that of a scared child. “It was never meant to… I…” tears rolled from her eyes as she released the pain of the last six weeks. Every hand that had touched her, every violation that she had suffered seemed to burn her very skin.

“Hush now, I got you, kid,” the soldier murmured wrapping her in his arms. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you now.”

* * *

May 29th, 2014 - Milan, Italy

Later that evening, Sabine sat alone with Franscesca in companionable silence while Béatrice was sleeping peacefully upstairs. It was the moments like this one that reminded her of the time so very long ago when the woman across from her had played the roll of mentor. Francesca had been like a mother to her in a way. They were not blood, but she cared deeply for the woman and deeply regretted avoiding her for so long. Sabine stared into her wine glass for a moment, losing herself in the vivid tones of the beverage. Under the flickering light of the fire, the red hue shifted and swirled before her eyes.

“What am I doing?” she asked suddenly, looking up at Francesca. “What crazy pill did I take that made me think any of this was a good idea?!”

The woman smiled, “I believe that you acted on instincts you did not know that you possessed.”

“Go on?”

“You have to remember, I spent a great deal of time with you as Alessandra before your assignment. I know you better than I think you wish to know yourself sometimes.”

“That was for work,” Sabine countered quickly, shifting awkwardly on the sofa. “It had to be done to protect my cover.”

Francesca shook her head. “I remember being asked to help this awkward boy become a beautiful young woman. I did not need to do as much work as I expected; once you got over your hangups, it all came naturally to you, mia cara.”

“Some people can act well.”

“That was no act,” Francesca shook her head, her large earrings clinking softly. “Just like when you take the bambina. You act on instinct; just like now.”

“But I’m not doing anything.”

“My point exactly! Here you sit and all I see is la donna; a woman. If you put a man in a skirt and give him long hair, he is still a man. You bella, are no man.”

“Nature would disagree with you,” Sabine countered, sitting up and unfolding her legs that she had unconsciously tucked beneath herself. “I’ve got pretty strong evidence to the contrary.”

Francesca shook her head and smiled. “You work in intelligence and yet, you cannot see that people are more than they appear?

“Sometimes they’re exactly what they seem. Sometimes they need to be,” Sabine sighed darkly.

Francesca hesitated for a moment before looking over at the young woman opposite her. “You never came to see me after Operation Orsino was concluded, why was that?”

Sabine’s expression darkened. “Things did not exactly go to plan.”

Francesca moved from her chair until she was sitting beside the younger woman on the sofa. “I do not expect the CIA to give me a detailed explanation of its business, but I would have liked to have known that you were okay. I only find out it is over from my contacts in the region knowing that those Bastardo have been shut down.”

A tear rolled down Sabine’s cheek. She glanced at the older woman who had helped her become Alessandra De Luca so many years ago. The woman who coached and prepared her for a role she had never expected to take on; a role that had changed her life for the worse.

“They lost track of me for a month and a half,” she admitted quietly. “Somewhere between Istanbul and Riyadh. I… had to do things… for men.”

“Oh, mia cara,” Francesca sighed, squeezing Sabine’s hand. “I had no idea.”

Sabine smiled darkly, “I didn’t want to talk to anyone about it. I had therapy for a lot of years and I certainly never wanted to see you again. You created the girl that…I became.

She sighed and drained the last of her wine. “When you were coaching me, It almost began to feel, right; the person I was portraying felt normal to me, she felt authentic. Once I was lost and on my own, when I had to…sleep with men. The only way I could mentally survive it was by letting myself become Alessandra fully; I embraced her as my identity as a female. It was still awful, but it was slightly less awful than If I had to do those things as a man. When I got home, I disposed of her and pretended it hadn’t ever happened. I thought I had at least, but that didn’t work; I’ve thought about her ever since.”

“My poor bambina,” Francesca sighed, hugging the girl tightly as tears overwhelmed her. “I’m so sorry. I would have been there for you if I had known.”

“It’s my job… It was my job.” Sabine choked out between sobs.

“Your job was to stop them. Your own people, they abandon you to become another victim. That was not your fault.”

“I wish I could stop blaming myself,” Sabine shrugged, “This… It brought it right back to the surface for me. When I’m her again, I can’t hide from what happened.”

Francesca took her hands and looked directly into the girl’s eyes. “May I make a suggestion?”

Sabine nodded reluctantly.

“Do not close the wound again; you must heal it properly or it will hold a grip on you forever. Allow this new start, this new life, to heal you and make you whole again. You and your bambina, you will make a good life for each other, it can heal you both.”

“You make it sound like I’ll be this way forever.”

Francesca smiled, “This is only something you yourself doubt, mia cara.”

Chapter Five - To Parts Unknown

“I have here your tickets for Zürich and a hotel for you. After that, you make your way south to Interlaken, you have the contact number for my man there yes?” Francesca fussed, straightening one of Amélie’s pigtails.

“I do,” Sabine smiled. “Say goodbye to Nonna Francesca, ok chérie?”

“Bye-bye!”

Francesca hugged Sabine tightly. “Cheeky girl. You take care, both of you, do you understand? I want to hear from you when you get settled in.”

“I will,” Sabine smiled, fighting the sudden urge to cry. “As soon as we’re settled, I promise.”

“I have something for you, mia cara,” Francesca added, her voice husky with emotion. She produced a small gift-wrapped box which she handed to Sabine. “Open this when you have decided your future, not just the immediate one, but the rest of your life; you will know when.”

“Okay…” Sabine replied cautiously as she placed the gift into her bag. “Thank you, Francesca, I really mean it.”

The woman smiled. “It may be late, but I am glad I can give a new life to two people that deserve it.”

“We appreciate it, don’t we, Amié?” Sabine prompted her small charge.

“Thank you, Nonna Francesca!”

The older woman rolled her eyes. “Go on you two, or you will miss your train.”

Sabine pulled out an envelope from her bag and handed it to Francesca. “Once we’re gone, send this for me.”

“May I ask what it is?”

Sabine smiled. “It’s a recording of the ops room during the operation to capture Ahmad, care of the Director. It should solve some problems.”

Francesca smiled. “I knew you were not a stupid girl.”

Sabine shrugged. “That is as yet to be determined.”

Exiting the SUV, Sabine gave her friend one last smile before taking Amélie’s hand and leading her up the steps to Milan’s northern Porta Garibaldi station. They had a long way to go, but they now knew where they were going. Unlike their arrival in Italy, they now looked like any other travelers navigating the busy station concourse. With luggage in hand, they appeared to all the world like any mother and daughter taking a vacation.

As their northbound Swiss IC2 Express to Zürich was not set to depart for half an hour, Sabine found them seats in a coffee shop near the platforms.

“Are you excited?”

Amélie beamed and nodded, “we are going to Sw…izzyland.”

“We are,” Sabine agreed. “We’re going to our new home in a really pretty town in the mountains where there will be lots of nice people and things to do.”

“Will I go to school there?”

“Next year, chérie, when you’re bigger.”

The girl seemed to ponder this proclamation. “Okay.”

“It’s going to be a big adventure indeed.” Sabine agreed, sipping her coffee. She glanced down at the gift-wrapped package in her handbag. She had no idea what was inside, but knowing Francesca, it was something monumental. The woman had already given them so much; new identities, safe passage, a destination, and the clothes they were now wearing. From nothing, Francesca Ricci had created two new lives from the debris of tragedy. Granted, a suitcase full of women’s clothes wouldn’t have been her first choice, but under the circumstances, it seemed to fit.

Her mind drifted back to the conversation the night before. Simply existing as a female again was difficult for her; it brought terrible memories back to her at a time when she most needed to focus. She knew there were other options, but she had chosen to go along with this one of her own free will. What did that mean? She wasn’t ready to answer that question, but looking down at… her… child seemed to make it worth it. Little Amélie was so brave, Sabine only hoped that she could do right by the girl. She above all deserved to be happy.

Amélie turned around and looked sheepish, “I need to go toilet.”

Sabine glanced across at the restrooms beside the counter and steeled her nerves. No time for her to worry about her own jitters, she couldn’t well take a small child into a men’s room dressed as she was. Steeling herself, she led her charge into the women's restroom. The small facility was thankfully unoccupied and clean. Without prompting, Amélie ran into a stall and closed the door behind her.

“Are you going to be ok by yourself?” Sabine called, not sure what she should do. “Do you want any help?”

“I’m a big girl mama. I can go pee-pee all by myself.”

Sabine rolled her eyes at the declaration and felt a strange warmth in her heart as the girl called her mama. She knew she wasn’t actually her mother, but she hoped she could learn to be a close approximation for her.

Stepping out of her own stall, Sabine washed her hands and regarded herself in the mirror. Her blonde hair was back in a bouncy ponytail and she was casually dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. It was a young woman who looked back at her; she had tried so hard to run away from that woman for many reasons. Pain, fear, happiness? Closing her eyes, she exhaled before reopening them and stared back at herself in the glass. Alessandra De Luca was dead, but Sabine Garnier and her daughter Amélie were going to live.

* * *

The express train wound its way north and deeper into the Italian Alps. The sun was sparkling off the surface of Lake Maggiore as they sped past along the coastline. Amélie had been glued to the window for most of the journey since they had left Milan and it had been a welcome distraction for Sabine.

She was apprehensive; this was the start of the rest of their lives and it was the first time that she had to worry about another person beside herself. Little Amélie was holding up well but she knew that in time the girl would struggle with the events that brought them together. She hoped that she could provide enough foundation to ensure that it was as painless as possible when it happened.

She cared a great deal for the child, but she was also woefully unprepared for the role of motherhood that now fell upon her shoulders. If she had been her own child, perhaps she would have had time to grow into the role, to learn how to be a parent of any kind. As it was, they were both learning together.

The train left the lakefront and curved eastward as it swept through Bellinzona and began its long transit of the fifty-plus kilometer Gotthard Tunnel. Above them, thousands of feet of rock formed the high mountains of the Alps, their peaks reaching up to touch the very sky.

As the lights flicked past the darkened window and Amélie settled in to nap beside her, Sabine thought back to her first operation with the Agency.
Operation Orsino had been where it all began; she had never even questioned her gender before that assignment. Like many a guy, she had been insulted to be considered suitable for the role of playing a transgender woman. The opportunity to prove herself had forced her to volunteer. Ironically, she smiled to herself, to prove her manhood.

In Francesca Ricci’s careful hands, she had become a whole new person. As time passed, what had been a legend, a cover, had started to feel more real than she was prepared to confront at the time.

Of course, the mission had gone horribly wrong. She had been left to fend for herself in servitude to vicious masters and she had confronted terrible things she was told would never ever happen. She had taken refuge in the identity she had resisted so hard and allowed herself to become Alessandra De Luca fully. Rape was still rape, but she somehow could better cope with sleeping with a man if she saw herself as a woman.

After she had been rescued by Ground Branch operatives she had gone through extensive counseling before she had been finally declared fit for duty again. They had wanted to let her go; damaged goods fit only to be cast aside, but she had fought to keep her place.

She had agreed to that mission to prove her mettle; that she was capable, that she was man enough.In the wake of it’s disastrous conclusion she had wrapped her trauma up neatly in Alessandra’s sense of self and buried her where she could no longer feel the pain.

She glanced at the sleeping child beside her and brushed the hair from her eyes. Somehow, this angel made it all worthwhile. In a moment of terrible cruelty, she had found someone to care for, someone who needed her to protect them when it mattered most of all. She didn’t care what the agency did about Edwards or his men, but she did care about the girl that would be her daughter.

As the train blasted into daylight in Erstfeld and began the seventy-kilometer journey north to Zürich, Sabine made a decision. The past no longer mattered. The horrible things that had happened to Alessandra De Luca would not hold her back. She had a decision to make that would affect the rest of her life and she would not allow the evils of man to dictate her path. She owed it to Amélie and she owed it to herself.

* * *

Stepping off the train at Zürich’s central station, Sabine felt a sense of great relief. The trail that connected Ryan Knight to Sabine Garnier was now nonexistent. With a dead end in Milan and no onward journey for the man and child, it wasn’t likely they would now be found. She couldn’t let her guard down, not fully, but she knew now that she could relax and allow herself room to breathe.

While their train onward to Interlaken would depart from the same station, Sabine had a task to accomplish in Zürich before they left. Taking a taxi from the station, she had the driver take them to one of city’s Safe Deposit Banks. The Swiss were internationally known for their discretion and as such, her possession of the box key permitted her access to the vault without further question or proof of identity.

“Why are we down here Mama?” Amélie asked as they followed the clerk down the broad marble steps.

“I have to collect some things before we head south, ok chérie? I played hide and seek a long time ago to make sure I had left something for a rainy day.”

“Like a piggy bank?”

Sabine smiled, “Yes, exactly like a piggybank. I have some money that will help us on our adventure.”

“When we get to where we’re going, will I have my own room?”

“Sure you will sweetheart, all to yourself.”

The vault door was opened for them by an attendant who stepped aside to allow them the privacy to access their possessions.

“You’ll be there too, right?” Amélie asked uncertainly.

Sabine knelt down in front of the girl and hugged her tightly to her chest. “I will never leave you alone again, I promise.”

Tousling the girl’s hair, she stood and took out her key before inserting it into the lock on the small metal door. Removing the inner box, she placed it on the table in front of them and opened the lid.

Inside, the box contained one of Ryan Knight’s emergency parachutes; a cache of documents, funds, and resources that would have allowed him to vanish in a hurry.

Removing the items from the box, Sabine placed them on the table in front of her. She had ten thousand Euros, fifteen thousand US Dollars, two Irish passports, and one German. Last but not least, there was a Glock 19 handgun with a spare magazine and a box of ammunition. Keeping it out of sight of the child, she stuffed the gun, ammo, and the money into her handbag before placing the passports back into the deposit box. She didn’t even need to look at them; they wouldn’t be of any use to her now. A little voice told her to take them with her for the future, but she ignored it.

She was about to close the box when a scrap of glossy paper slipped from one of the passports. Removing it, she examined the paper; it was a photograph of a man, a woman, and a young boy. The three people looked happy, three people from a different lifetime. Sabine stared at her parents' faces, burning them into her mind before she slipped the photograph back into the passport. She knew she couldn’t keep it, as much as she wanted to. It was a link back to Ryan Knight and a rookie mistake. She chuckled to herself; she must have set this cache up before Riyadh.

“Are we done, Mama?”

Sabine turned to Amélie and smiled. “We’re done here.”

* * *

It was dark and quiet when Sabine stepped out onto Bahnhofstrasse outside Interlaken’s train station. Despite being back in the same direction, the slower train had taken longer than their journey from Milan. She yawned, hefting her sleepy charge on her hip and wheeled her case out onto the street. Thankfully their hotel was only a short walk away.

They were checked in with little trouble and soon settling into their small but comfortable room. Amélie, the poor darling, had barely crossed the threshold before she had passed out. Once she had tucked the girl in, Sabine slumped down on the room’s chair and allowed her eyes to close. It was truly fate that her phone would rouse her almost immediately.

“Garnier,” she answered groggily, rubbing her eyes.

“You keep to your legend I see.” Francesca chuckled over the connection.

“Whatever you may think of me, I am a professional,” Sabine yawned.

“Just checking in, you should have arrived by now?”

“I barely just sat down. Amélie is sleeping and my feet are killing me.”

“I am glad to hear it, mia cara. My man, he will contact you tomorrow morning to make arangements. He has the number of your burner phone. Let me know when you get a new one, ok?”

“Francesca,” Sabine began, her voice catching, “You didn’t need to do this, you know?”

There was a sigh and a soft chuckle on the other end of the line. “Even before I knew what that assignment did to you darling, I felt responsible for who I had unleashed upon the world. When you and the bambina came calling desperate for my ‘elp, well, it was the least I could do.”

“Thank you.”

“You call me when you are properly settled. Be a good madre to her Alessandra, do you hear me?”

Sabine felt her throat catch, “goodnight Francesca.”

Hanging up the phone, Sabine watched the little girl sleeping on the bed. She squeezed her tired eyes shut and allowed the tears to silently fall down her cheeks. Her life was so different now and it scared her beyond all sense and reason.

The sight of the small sleeping form on the bed made her heart surge with love. For the first time, sitting there in the dark she could see a future ahead of her. She had been alone for so long that she had almost forgotten how to love. That girl had lost everything and she would never let that happen again. A strange pang pulled at her heart as she watched the girl sleep and a tiny part of her soul smiled. She didn’t know what the future would hold but she knew that she would face it together with her daughter.

Coming to a decision she hadn’t expected, she reached into her bag and pulled out the gift that Francesca had handed her outside the station. Carefully unwrapping it, she found a plain wooden box. Inside, there were two pill bottles and a handwritten note.

“Alessandra,

By now you have made a decision about the rest of your life and I believe I can tell which one it was. You’re a smart girl, you know what these bottles contain. If you choose to take them, I can make sure you have what you need to see this journey through.

Be strong, and be brave for little Béatrice. I know you will be the mother that she needs, and she will be the daughter you deserve.

ama sempre
Francesca.”

Epilogue

10 years later - May 28th, 2024 - Interlaken, Switzerland.

“Mama, I can’t find my shoes, have you seen them?”

Sabine Garnier rolled her eyes as she buttered a Brötchen in the kitchen of her small apartment.

“They are where you always leave them liebchen; somewhere off the end of the sofa where you fling them after you get home. Come now, you’re going to be late for school.”

The dark-haired teen came skidding into the kitchen with one shoe and wild hair.

“Found ‘em,” she grinned. “One of those for me?”

“Of course,” Sabine smiled, automatically snatching a brush and attacking her daughter’s hair as she stuffed the roll into her gaping maw.

“You remember I have a date tonight, right? You’re ok with staying with Lina and her parents for dinner?”

“God, you act like I’m a kid mama. It’s ok, really! Go! Dieter is a wonderful guy and you deserve to be happy, ok?”

Sabine blushed, “Well, that’s perhaps true… but still, I don’t want to impose on you.”

Amélie shook her head and kissed her mother on the cheek. “Mama, I get it, but I’m happy for you, really. You’ve always put me first, now it’s your turn.”

“I’ll pick you up afterward, ok?” Sabine called as her daughter sprinted out of the door.

“Tschüss Mama!”

Sabine sighed at the vacuum left by her daughter’s whirlwind departure. She would never understand how that girl managed to do so well in school. Picking up her coffee cup, she walked across to the balcony and absorbed the view as she sipped her beverage. The air was still and cool that morning, she could never get over how beautiful their home was.

Sabine glanced down and smiled to herself as she spotted the curve of her breast within her robe. Even after all these years it still brought her happiness. She had never expected to find herself on this path, but life had different plans for her. Gone was the broken girl who had lost all hope, gone was the pain and the shame that had weighed her down.

She had given everything to protect a child, and that child had grown into a wonderful young woman. Sabine was finally at peace with her soul and it delighted in each new day.

It had surprised her when Dieter had entered her life. He was a wonderful man who had helped to heal the last of her wounds with his tenderness and care. The man loved her for who she truly was and simply adored Amélie as if she was his own child.

Finishing her coffee, she set about getting dressed for her day, she had a great deal to do. According to Adelheid, Dieter had sought her advice for an engagement ring. That he, a policeman, had thought that her best friend could keep a secret like that baffled her.

Sabine had an appointment to get her hair and makeup done that afternoon before he arrived to collect her for their ‘surprise’ date at their favorite restaurant. She wasn’t going to disappoint Francesca Ricci by looking shabby on such an important day.

Frau Sabine Weber; it had a certain ring to it.

The End.

An Angel takes flight again...

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Kit's blog

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Authors / Stories / Books / Writing

Sitting here at nearly four in the morning and editing stories, what joy!

Hello everyone, Alyssa here, writing more bloggy things when I should be writing stories.

Fear not, Fake it 2 is on the go, but I had to take a short break for what was INTENDED to be a quick edit of my story Angel On Her Wing with the intent of passing it to my editor for publishing. Unfortunately, I realized the first half was kinda novelaesque and the second half... novel. So I had to fix it!

I've now somehow turned the first 5 chapters into 12...and a few more to go to really tell the story of Maria Campbell properly. I always adored this tale, and it really needed a glow-up to tell it correctly. Hopefully you'll be able to read it soon on Kindle, it's really quite a lot better!

As for Fake it, I have another shortcoming to tide you over until I have enough of the main story written. So far, I'm 8 chapters down and hoping to continue with more of Holly and friends' tales! Trust me, there are bags of chaos in this one already!

Late night, Alyssa out! :D

An Apology...

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Kit's blog

Blog About:

Authors / Stories / Books / Writing

Well, this weekend has dealt me pressure I didn't expect to face and landed me in the awkward position of disappointing readers... something I promised to never do again.

With Focal Point's start being reposted as a BCTS Classic, it's gotten people reading my long dead work all over again and sadly, many are finding out that like a lot of my work back then, it was unfinished. This wasn't intentional, but it happened and It was something I promised I would never do again.

This is why when I posted Driftwood, Angel, and Fake It, I promised that I would have them either finished, or the entire story mapped out and a minimum of 80% completion before I could start posting a story. I didn't want to do that again and disappoint others AND myself.

Frankly, Focal Point, Haifa, and others are stories written in my youth, a child with little knowledge of the world and so few life experiences. I was young, busy and distracted. I loved writing but University, love, graduation, and finding a career all jumped out of nowhere and threw my writing life into turmoil. Around the time this ended, I'm pretty sure I broke my back too! (I've had a busy life)

Who am I now? a totally different woman, honestly. I've gained experience and I've learned so much more about writing, so the opportunity to go back and just 'finish' some of the old childish works I wrote is really impossible.

I rewrote two, as you know, Angel and Fake It both took old unfinished works and made them whole... hell, Homework Spawned Fake It which will spawn an entire series... that caught me by surprise.

I'm sorry if this is a little rambly, but I suppose I feel a little cornered and guilty at the moment and I'm sorry. I never wanted Focal Point reposting and I apologize if it gave you false hope.

IF I do redo it, it won't be soon as I have ongoing projects at the moment.

Love,
Alyssa

Driftwood

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Organizational:

Title Page

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Driftwood

By Alyssa Plant

Life and Love are far more complicated than we can possibly understand. For one young cop, a journey of self-discovery will teach them that true strength was inside them all along.

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Driftwood #1 - Ships In the Night

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Caution:

CAUTION

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

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Character Age:

College / Twenties

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Posted by author(s)

Driftwood

By Alyssa Plant

Life and Love are far more complicated than we can possibly understand. For one young cop, a journey of self-discovery will teach them that true strength was inside them all along.

Chapter One - Ships In the Night

Bright lights shone down on the stage illuminating a redheaded woman as she paced back and forth before the boisterous crowd. A microphone was held in her hand like the hilt of a sword ready to strike at any and all that stood in her way. She was clad for battle in a skintight red satin cocktail dress that hugged every inch of her generous curves. She stared out into the crowd with a sly smirk on her lips as she waited for their laughter to quieten.

“Well,” she purred into the microphone, “I don’t suppose I’m allowed to finish my set tonight without telling you all a little bit about myself, am I?”

The crowd cheered enthusiastically.

“I’m twenty-four years old… Ancient I know! I’m a Libra which means I’m meant to be pleasant, calm, and mature…” She paused for effect and grinned. “But fuck that, I should have been a Scorpio.”

The crowd laughed.

“I’m depressed, which you can tell because I’m up on stage with a microphone trying to make people like me.”

“And despite my accent,” she began, slipping a little of her native twang into her voice. “I’ve never slept with a cowboy.”

The crowd roared.

“Now can any of you tell me why that would be a terrible idea?” she asked the assembled crowd, “And no, that guy you met on Grindr with the plastic hat with fifteen STDs doesn’t count.”

There was a wave of shouted calls and suggestions but the woman shook her glossy red mane and chuckled. “Not a single right answer, but then again this is Los Angeles, I don’t think I was going to see many experts.”

She paused for effect and wrinkled her nose. “Can you imagine the ball sweat from spending that much time in a saddle? No? Trust me, it's bad, No way am I getting my face anywhere near that level of nasty.”

The crowd collectively grimaced and cheered.

“This is why all the barrel racing girls go for the bronc riders. They spend so little time in the saddle it’s almost fresh after the rodeo is done!”

The woman paused for effect and raised her eyebrows and grinned, “That and finding a cowboy that can last eight seconds or longer is so impressive they give them goddamn awards.”

The crowd exploded into laughter and cheers.

“Give it up for our host tonight Dorothy Russo” The woman laughed, “The mistress of ungraceful dismounts!”

A short-haired redhead behind the bar flipped her the bird.

The crowd exploded. The woman waved to the crowd and clipped the microphone back into the stand. “Pitchers, I’ve been Mia Calafia, thank’s for having me. Now go get drunk before they let Miss Teak on stage, it makes it better. Goodnight!”

The crowd laughed and clapped as the woman left the stage with a wave. Grabbing a bottle of water from a stage tech, she downed half the bottle before Miss Russo made her way over through the mass of bodies in the nightclub.

“Really going to end on a punchline about the one paying you?”

Mia grinned at the woman and finished the bottle. “That’s exactly why you pay me.”

Dorothy rolled her eyes, “I created a monster.”

Mia sauntered her way through to the dressing room after signing a few autographs and began the long process of transforming herself into her far less glamorous and boring version of herself.

Mia Calafia, a tawdry play on an adult entertainer’s name raised the odd eyebrow, but more often raised a chuckle. It was a useful hook for a drag queen whose specialty was insult comedy. Thirty minutes later, nobody noticed a small skinny individual in a hoodie slip out through the smoking area door of the nightclub and into the Los Angeles night.

The pickup truck was obnoxious in LA traffic, but it was one of the few things Harry had brought from home. There hadn’t been a lot he wanted but his independence was one of the few things he cherished. That truck had taken him over nine hundred miles from Montana all the way down to the city of stars on the coast of the Pacific. Harry Dalton drove mindlessly through the late-night traffic, his mind still somewhere in that nightclub.

Growing up had been painful. He had always been different from his peers. Being different in a state like Montana was a bad thing. Picked out quickly by the school bullies, he was on the receiving end of more than enough harassment and ass-kickings from his peers. His parents and the local cops didn’t join them, but they didn’t stop it either. Harry was convinced they thought that it would ‘correct’ him. Their disapproval and inaction was more than he could handle.

As soon as he’d graduated high school, Harry left home for college in Los Angeles and had not looked back since that day. He would miss the wild open spaces of Montana. The state, his home, was a beautiful place that was beyond compare. The mountains and valleys stretched to the stars at night and the sun by day. This city was entirely different; Its valleys were streets and they formed a grand concrete prison; a storage rack for humanity. He hated it, but it was a small price to pay to be somewhere he might be accepted as who he was, not who they expected him to be.

Perhaps it was the harassment of his peers and the inaction of everyone else that had drawn him to his career. He knew what the law was meant to be, but he also saw how it was enforced in practice and it had made him feel helpless. Upon graduation, he’d applied to the academy and joined the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department as his own way of fighting back. Perhaps it was his chance to be the kind of Officer he’d been so desperate for growing up. It was idealistic and the reality was sometimes far from ideal, but he felt as though it made a difference. If he could be the ear and the defender of just one person like him that had cried out for help, he would have made the world a better place.

He wasn’t sure how he’d been dragged into this whole circus he called his life. Getting on stage at clubs in the darkness of night and wearing a badge during the day. Both jobs were technically in a uniform of sorts, he felt like two entirely different people when he was moving in each world. Who was Harry Dalton though? He hoped he could keep the two worlds far apart; Law Enforcement was not as open-minded as the city it policed.

Harry lived in a small apartment overlooking the beach down in the bohemian Venice Beach area of Los Angeles. It wasn’t the ranch at home and it was almost constantly noisy but he was afforded a great view of the Pacific if he ignored a few condos and trees. It was good to be able to look in at least one direction and see the horizon.

Parking his truck in the bay beneath the apartment, he let himself in and went straight to bed. In a few hours, he would be up again. This time in a different costume where people were far less excited to see him.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The surf crashed against the shore like a volcanic eruption as the amber glow of the sunset glinted off the water. Harry paddled hard through the waves toward deeper water. Surfing was a glorious escape from the pressures of daily life in LA. Out here was about as close as he could get to his native Montana without driving hours outside the city; His home was a wild lonely beautiful place that he missed dearly. Out on the waves he was alone in nature’s grasp, even as he looked inland toward the city's concrete sprawl. Turning on his board, he dug hard as the wave rose behind him. Catching its leading edge, he stood with practiced ease as his board began to dip, the wave swelled around him.

The ride was always exhilarating. The natural power of the ocean was harnessed briefly as he raced toward the shore. Like life, it was fleeting and over before you really knew it. After the wave deposited him in the shallows he stood, pushing his hair out of his face. Glancing at the dying sun, he calculated he had time for at least one more wave before he had to head back to real life.

Slinging the board ahead of him, he began to paddle back out toward deeper water. Surfing was something he had picked up when he first got to LA for college. He was fresh from the mountains and valleys of Montana and the ocean provided one of the few escapes from the noise and exhausting vibrance of college life. If it had felt like he had a choice, he would never have left his home. Nothing, he knew, is ever really that simple.

Harry’s childhood had been a difficult affair. His family owned a ranch outside Livingstone and were more than comfortable enough. The problem hadn’t been abuse, not in the classical sense at least. Harry had known he was different from other boys from a fairly young age. He was gay, which simply didn’t fit with life in the last bastion of the Old West. He was bullied in school and while his parents technically loved him, they did nothing to stop it. They hoped that a little tough love might encourage him to be what they expected.

One of Harry’s greatest loves was riding. On horseback, he was so very far away from the abuse of the others his age. On a horse, he was their equal or better. Out in the wilderness, he could be anyone he wanted, it didn’t matter what people thought of him. His brother and sister had remained civil but he knew he was a disappointment to them all. Montana just wasn’t the kind of place he fitted in; not belonging in a place you loved crushed a person’s soul.

Reaching deeper water, Harry straddled his board and rested after battling out through the surf and tide. The sea breeze whipped against his face and the salty spray was wonderfully refreshing. He closed his eyes and allowed the world to cease to exist for a moment; this was his Montana now.

“Just can’t face going back in huh?” a voice called from a short distance away breaking his moment.

Harry opened his eyes and glanced back over his shoulder. Another man was paddling out to catch one last wave like him.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, sometimes I just like to pretend I don’t have to.”

The man smirked. He was a little older than Harry and had short dark hair and a smattering of scruffy facial hair. Unlike Harry’s wetsuit, he simply wore bright tropical board shorts.

“Richard,” he nodded a greeting, offering a hand between their boards.

Harry took the offered hand and shook it. “Harry.”

“I just need this sometimes. Nobody can call or bother me out here,” the man laughed, rolling his eyes. “Going back means a bunch of missed calls and needy people.”

Harry laughed along with him as the two bobbed in the swell. “I know the feeling, can’t feel alone back there.”

“I work in the legal field, I don’t think I can go a moment without being bothered about something,” Richard admitted, shaking his head. “Plus I spend so damn long at a desk or in a courtroom that I don’t get as much fresh air as I’d like.”

Harry nodded. “I spend a lot of my day cooped up in a car. It’s just constant noise and people and I need some time alone to clear my head.”

Richard regarded him for a moment as though trying to get a read of him. “Let me guess,” he mused regarding Harry with a critical eye. “You’re certainly not a cab driver. Give me a little more to work with?”

Harry smiled. “I deal with a lot of people, not all of them happy. I have to wear a uniform, and I don’t get paid anywhere near enough.”

Richard stroked the scruffy stubble on his chin theatrically. “People don’t like you, you wear a uniform and you get paid poorly… plus a lot of time in a vehicle.” He smirked. “You must be a bus driver.”

Harry shook his head with a grin. “Not even close, but I do ferry people around quite often.”

“Uber to the rich and famous?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m a cop.”

“Don’t worry, I’m a prosecutor,” Richard smirked. “We’re kinda on the same team.”

“So you were just pulling my chain, huh?”

Richard smiled. “A little.” He raised a leg up on his board and stretched. “I just like to have a little fun.”

“Is that what this is? You make fun of random guys when you surf?”

The man laughed and shook his head. “No, I just don’t take life that seriously to be honest.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a large wave heading toward them from deeper water. “Time to go,” Richard grinned and began paddling hard towards the shore. Harry turned and followed suit.

The wave crested and caught his board, Harry stood and found his balance. Richard was sweeping ahead on the leading edge of the wave, the man was obviously an experienced surfer. Harry found his groove and dug in as the wave began to rise as it approached the shore. Riding a surfboard was a lot like riding a horse: you had to be fluid, move with your board and steer it gently. Harry swept down the wave and cut a wall of spray.

He hit the shallows and the ride finally came to a stop. Hauling up his board he walked ashore regretfully.

“That one was gnarly,” Richard laughed from behind him as he hauled his own board back to dry land.

Harry grabbed his towel and began to dry himself. “All good things come to an end.”

The older man nodded and grabbed his own towel and ran it through his short dark hair. He gave Harry a look. “I might be reading into things a little,” he said with a quizzical expression. “But I’m a pretty good judge of people.”

Harry raised an eyebrow and shot him a look, “you thought I was a bus driver.”

Richard smirked and waved his hand dismissively before taking on a more serious expression. “Can I buy you a drink perhaps?”

Harry wrapped his towel around his shoulders over his wetsuit and looked over at the man. He was handsome, there was no doubt about that. He had classically refined features and stylish neatly trimmed stubble. He was well-muscled and athletic in build. Harry could tell that the man knew he was attractive. He hadn’t pegged him as gay from their brief conversation, however. That was something he was still woefully hopeless at.

Harry thought for a moment as he dried himself off, “Sure, I’d like that.”

Richard grinned broadly. “I’m not far from here, you local?”

Harry nodded.

“Al-Dente’s at Six?” Richard asked over his shoulder as he walked away up the beach.

Harry threw his hands up and laughed at how sudden it all was. “Sure,” he called, shaking his head. How had he managed to get asked out so casually?

He shook his head at the absurdity of it all as he slipped his sandals on before carrying his board back up the beach toward his apartment.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

It was just before six that evening when Harry pushed the door open to Al-Dente’s restaurant and bar. He’d managed to shower and wash the salt from his hair. He’d changed into something a little more presentable than a wetsuit. He’d been uncertain as to what to wear for a date, especially with someone like an attorney. He’d been on a handful of dates since moving to LA and hooked up a couple of times but in reality, he never really knew the rules. This was the first time he’d really been asked out like that by someone. It was so normal it felt unusual. The man, Richard, was so sure of himself. It was a feeling Harry had never really understood. Confidence always seemed to be something he had to force or find behind a mask when he was on stage.

Al-Dente’s wasn’t exactly high society but it wasn’t a dive bar either, Harry had selected a pair of faded jeans and a simple gray T-shirt; it was simple and stylish but it didn’t make any particular statements.

He approached the bar and waited for an opportunity to order a drink. He needed something to calm his nerves before the man arrived. The place was busy but not crowded and there was music playing in the background behind the buzz of conversation. The place had a good atmosphere. It was a relaxed environment, there was no pressure.

He didn’t get a chance to order before he felt a hand on his back. He turned around and found himself looking up at the man from the beach. He looked completely different; he wore a crisp blue cotton shirt with the top two buttons open and a pair of dark slacks. His hair was neat and he was smiling broadly. “Hi, have you been waiting long?”

Harry shook his head. “Just a few minutes really. You look different with clothes on.” He blushed, immediately regretting his choice of words.

Richard laughed and ignored the choice of words. “I slip back into a legal eagle when I’m not being a surfer bum.”

“It suits you,” Harry answered, noting Richard hadn’t removed the hand from his back.

The barman approached and Richard ordered a beer and looked at Harry questioningly. He indicated the same and the man ordered two. They managed to find a relatively quiet booth in a corner and settled in with their drinks.

“So you’re not from around here are you?” Richard started out, breaking the ice. “I hear an accent but It’s pretty neutral?”

“Montana,” Harry offered, “Near Bozeman originally, came here for college and stayed.”

“I’ve had a few colleagues that attended UCLA, it’s a good school. I’m from here myself. Born and raised under the California sun.”

“You’ve surfed all your life?” Harry asked.

Richard nodded. “Since I was a teenager, I love it. I know it doesn’t fit with the image of a prim and proper attorney but I’m not entirely conventional I suppose.”

“I only discovered it when I got here. Montana doesn’t exactly have a huge surfing scene.” Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s one of the few escapes I have when this place gets too concrete.”

“Not used to city life yet huh?” Richard took a sip of his drink.

Harry shook his head. “No, I still wake up at the slightest sound at night, even after six years.”

Richard smiled sympathetically. “It’s a different way of life,” he agreed. “I hope you don’t think I was too forward making assumptions about you. I have been told I can be a little direct at times.”

Harry waved a hand dismissively. “I suppose it comes with your job. I have to admit I didn’t see it myself. You, I mean.” he gestured vaguely.

Richard nodded. “I’ll be honest with you, I’m bisexual. I’ve dated men and women for years and I’m open about it, it’s just who I am. I don’t want to let who I love define who I am. I find people beautiful and it’s more than a superficial thing; it’s about the person.”

“That’s a very LA thing to say,” Harry observed. “Not quite the same thing where I’m from.”

Richard nodded. “Montana’s a pretty red state I imagine.”

Harry nodded.

“You weren’t very hard to read though,” the man admitted switching topics. “Not many guys are as pretty as you are.”

Harry blushed. “I don’t think I’d say pretty,” he protested sheepishly.

“I think you are,” Richard statedly bluntly with a gentle smile as he reached across the table to touch Harry’s fingers.

Harry froze, his heart beating faster. “Thank you,” he managed to whisper, feeling extremely embarrassed. “You’re quite handsome.”

Richard smiled softly. “You’re not used to being pursued are you?”

Harry wasn’t sure how to feel. He shook his head slightly.

Richard looked extremely serious for a moment. “I like to think I’m a gentleman. I won’t force myself on you and I don’t engage in hookups or one-night stands. I’m not looking to embarrass you, but I find you extremely attractive and delightful to be around even after this short time.”

“Nobody has ever called me those things.” Harry looked down at the table.

Richard reached across the table and raised Harry’s chin with his fingers. “It’s my job to meet someone and know as much as I can about them as quickly as possible. Often a case will depend on getting a first impression right, I became quite good at it. It’s also a pretty cutthroat world out there so I’ve learned to never miss an opportunity.”

Harry blinked. “I’m an opportunity?”

Richard shook his head, “I like to take chances in life. I meet someone I want to know better and I take it. You’re someone I want to get to know better.”

“All that from twenty minutes on a surfboard?”

The man smirked. “Let me tell you what I’ve learned so far and you can correct me if I’m wrong ok?”

Harry nodded.

“You’re from a state where few residents ever leave by choice because frankly, it’s beautiful. You live in the city still but still don’t like it and try to escape when you can which means this is a refuge, not a home. You’re a cop, but you’re not some macho douche that wants power. That means you care about people even if they don’t care about you which speaks to an inner sensitivity and care for others. You have a sense of humor that you use to hide your insecurity.”

“I thought you were a lawyer, not a psychiatrist?” Harry asked, feeling as though he was transparent.

Richard smiled, “Similar jobs and skills but you prove my point; more comedy to deflect.”

“Yeah ok you can stop analyzing me, I get it, I’m interesting.”

Harry paused and tried to redirect the conversation toward the other man, “I know so very little about you though, how do I know I’ll like you too? Is there more to you than the courtroom charm and good looks?”

Richard smiled and sipped his beer and shrugged. “I’m afraid you already know so very much about me, I’m an open book.”

“So you’re an attorney, a surfer, a psychiatrist, and a prolific pickup artist?”

“Pretty much yes,” he smiled nonchalantly past his beer bottle.

The two sat and talked for over an hour. Richard, Harry realized, was as open as he purported to be. The man was extremely charming and self-confident, but it wasn’t a false confidence put on as an act; he was comfortable and it was an extremely attractive quality. Harry enjoyed how the man treated him. It was a very new experience for him. Not having dated at home in Montana, his only experiences were the fumbled young experiences of his college days. Those were mediocre at best and soul-crushing at their worst. Since graduating, he’d dated on and off, but he always seemed to end up going out with guys that were obsessed with themselves and only saw him as a physical being. He had spent a great deal of time single and was comfortable in that fact as he hadn’t found the right person but one day might. Richard was a whole different world he found himself in.

Richard made him feel special, important, and valued. He wasn’t a piece of meat or a conquest for someone to use and throw away as had happened in the past. His heart had been broken more than once and this kind, caring gentleman was a salve on that raw wound.
They had left Al-Dente’s shortly before eight and Richard had walked him back to his apartment a few blocks away. The man had shown no fear of holding his hand the entire way there. It was an intimate gesture that made his heart flutter. Conversation between the two had been light and interesting and they arrived outside his apartment sooner than he’d hoped. They stood for a moment near his door.

“I had a lovely night,” Harry said quietly. “Thank you.”

“The pleasure was all mine Harry. I would very much like to do this again, but properly,” Richard replied, stroking his fingers along Harry’s cheek.

Butterflies fluttered in Harry’s chest at the touch.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“I know it’s only been a drink, but I would really like to kiss you if that’s ok?” Richard said softly.

Harry couldn’t speak, he nodded slightly and looked up at the man in front of him under the pale light of the porch.

Richard lent down and brushed a strand of hair from Harry’s eyes and gazed into them for a moment. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered and gently pressed his lips into Harry’s, his arms wrapping around his waist.

Harry felt like he was melting at the man’s touch. He could feel power and control in the man’s gentle and tender grasp. He closed his eyes and slipped his hands around Richard’s neck and felt his lips part.

The two kissed for what felt like hours but in reality, was only mere moments. Richard gently released Harry and stroked his cheek. He reached into a pocket and slipped a business card into Harry’s hand.

“This has my personal cell on it. I’d really be honored if you’d call me,” he asked with a vulnerability Harry hadn’t expected to see. This man actually was hoping he would call him, not demanding or telling, but hoping.

Harry nodded and smiled. “I will,” he answered as he slid through the doorway to his apartment. Closing the door behind him Harry released a breath and lent against the closed door.

Harry wasn’t sure what he’d just experienced. Their date wasn’t anything like any of his past experiences. It had been romantic and exciting. For once, he felt as though he had been respected by a date. This was a man that wanted to spend time with him and get to know him better. Harry realized he wanted the same thing very much. He fingered the business card and glanced at the number on the card.

Richard Knight

He was going to call.

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Driftwood #2 - A Gentleman

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Caution:

Audience Rating:

EXPLICIT CONTENT

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

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Posted by author(s)

Driftwood

By Alyssa Plant

Life and Love are far more complicated than we can possibly understand. For one young cop, a journey of self-discovery will teach them that true strength was inside them all along.

Chapter Two - A Gentleman

Harry rolled over in his bed and peered at the alarm clock with bleary eyes. He thought back to the night before and a flutter of excitement rippled through his stomach. He had been on dates and met up for drinks with a few people over the last couple of years, but last night had felt like an almost magical experience. The kiss at the end of the night was something he hadn’t expected or even dreamed possible. Even now, he could almost feel Richard’s lips on his. Was this what he had been missing the entire time?

He smiled to himself and looked over at the card on the nightstand. How long was he supposed to wait to call? The morning? The night? A few days? Richard seemed like a man who had the answers to all things romantic but Harry had no idea what he was supposed to do. Feeling sure about something for the first time, he picked up his cell and entered the numbers. He hesitated for a moment, his finger hovering over the call button before pressing it and holding it to his ear as he lay there in bed. The phone rang twice before it was picked up.

“Richard Knight.”

Harry paused for a moment, “Hello, Richard? It’s Harry, did I catch you at a bad time?”

The tone shifted almost immediately. “No of course not, I’ve been at work for an hour already. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good, still in bed actually,” Harry answered honestly. “You told me to call you and I realized I didn’t know how long I was supposed to wait.”

Richard laughed on the other end of the phone. “That keen huh? No, seriously I have no clue either. It’s fine and no, I asked you to, I didn’t tell you. I am however pleased you did.”

“I know this is going to sound so silly, but I really enjoyed last night, I’ve never woken up this happy.”

“You did me the honor by accepting. I had a great time too. I’d love to take you out properly, what’s your week looking like?” Richard asked.

Harry considered for a moment, “I’m working today and tomorrow, but I’m off Friday and Saturday, would that work?”

“Friday it is then, I’m in court most of the week but we should let out early Friday. I know where you live so, I’ll pick you up at seven, dress nice.”

“Sounds great,” Harry answered shyly.

“I’ll see you then,” Richard replied, “I really enjoyed last night. That kiss was pretty amazing too.”

Harry smiled. “Me too, I’ll see you then.”

He hung up and closed his eyes and smiled to himself. Harry slipped out of bed and went to get a shower before getting ready for work.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“Look, we can sort this all out down at the station.”

“Fuck you man, I didn’t do nothin',” yelled the suspect. “And you look like a fucking fag, you’ll feel me up.”

Harry rolled his eyes and raised his open palms towards the man. “Look, you’re coming down to the station but this doesn’t have to be a problem.” Harry turned and glanced at his partner, Deputy Kelly Anderson. “Please feel free to step in any time you want.”

The redhead chuckled and sipped her coffee as she lent against the hood of their cruiser outside the strip mall where the man had been caught shoplifting. “Nah you got this.”

Harry gripped the man’s arm and turned behind him, twisting the limb up into a hold that used the man’s own resistance against him. The shoplifter yelped in pain and the fight left him rapidly. “Okay man shit stop oww,” he cried, still wriggling in the token effort of escape.

Harry closed the handcuffs over the man’s hands and led him to the front of the police car.

“I’m going to pat you down. Is there anything on you that’s going to poke, stick or stab me?” Harry asked robotically, the man stunk of urine.

“I don’t want you touching me faggot,” he yelled. “Get her to do it,” he pleaded, looking over at Anderson.

“I like dick more than he does, how’d that improve things?” she chuckled.

Harry ignored the man and patted him down in view of their patrol car’s camera as efficiently and professionally as possible. He pulled several pairs of women's underwear out of his coat pockets.

“And you had the stones to call me names?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Man they weren’t for me!” the man protested weakly, “I was just going to piss in them and sell ‘em.”

Anderson grimaced. “I think I need therapy.”

After processing their creative entrepreneur, the pair left the station and headed back out into traffic to continue their shift. Anderson glanced over at her partner and frowned.

“Why do you let scumbags like that bother you?” she asked.

Kelly had always been incredibly direct with Harry. They’d been partners since they’d finished training. As long as he’d known her, he appreciated her extremely no-nonsense approach. Despite being a native Californian, it reminded him of a lot of people back home.

“I don’t, not really,” Harry replied without looking away from the traffic. “It’s just frustrating.”

“Yeah, but what’s it going to do really? You are who you are, who gives a fuck.”

“I give a fuck, I had to deal with this shit growing up when I didn’t even admit to it. They all knew regardless, and now I don’t exactly hide it, people think they have the right to call me anything they want.”

“Funnily enough you get treated like us.” Anderson laughed.

Harry looked across at his partner with curiosity.

“You get treated like female cops do,” she smirked. “You need to work twice as hard to get half the respect from people. People think they can attack you for any reason because you’re smaller, weaker, and in their eyes, inferior.”

“Thanks, Doctor Phil.”

“I’m serious, you’re a great guy, but other than having a dick you’re basically one of us.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard myself described that way before.” Harry grimaced.

“Look at how you dealt with that asshole earlier. If you’d been one of the guys, you’d have used your power and size to force him to comply, told him to be quiet, and made him do what you wanted. Hell even if you couldn’t muscle the douchebag, you’d have frustrated yourself trying. Instead, you asked me for help and when you had to do it yourself you used his strength against him and let his crap roll off you.”

“Why didn’t you help?”

“Because you gotta learn this life lesson yourself, girl.”

Harry scowled. “Leave it out.”

“You know I’m just kidding you, but come on, you’re prettier than me, it’s not right.”

“I can’t control how I look, and honestly, I like it but I’m not… a girl.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” Kelly shrugged. “What the hell does being male even do for you? It's 2023, who cares? I mean you dress up as one, just come over to the team for reals.”

Harry cringed and looked pleadingly at Kelly. “I know ok? I have to explain that subject already so leave it out.”

“Wait you have to tell someone you do drag… that means, you’re seeing someone?” She asked with excitement. “You’ve got to tell me.”

Harry turned onto a side street and pulled the car over before turning to face his partner properly. “I met him when I was surfing last night and I wasn’t looking or expecting it. One minute there he was and things just, happened.”

Harry went on to recount his meeting with Richard while they were surfing and their evening together. Kelly seemed to lap up every detail with great excitement.

“He sounds wonderful,” she beamed. “A suave gentleman to sweep you off your feet.”

Harry smiled. “It’s the first time I’ve felt this way. He makes me feel special and protected.”

“God, you’re such a girl.”

Harry was silent for a moment. “Yeah, I do wonder sometimes.”

“You don’t really seem like much of a boy.”

“You make me sound like a kid.”

Kelly shook her head, “There’s nothing manly about you.”

“That really should bother me more, shouldn’t it? I’ve been fighting that all my life and It’s just so big I don’t even know where to start.”

“When are you telling Richard about your nightlife?”

Harry shrugged. “Friday I guess. I’m seeing him again for dinner. It still bothers me he pegged me as gay so damn fast. He’s so comfortable in himself that it’s weird. I thought he was cute but I wasn’t going to even hint at anything or come on to him, he seemed so straight acting.”

“You’re fine-featured and pretty, soft-spoken and not that macho.” Kelly ticked off on her fingers. “Even that dumbass today saw it.”

Harry knew what she meant. It had been that way his entire life. He had self-confidence and strength but it simply came out in a different way to guys around him growing up. Then the beatings started and he withdrew those parts of himself and hid. Moving to California had allowed him to be more like his old self and he had found some element of confidence again. He could stand up for himself, he wasn’t a wimp but no matter how hard he tried he just stuck out.

The rest of their shift was a parade of routine calls and duties. Before he knew it he was home again and feeling more confused than ever. Kelly’s words had struck home in a way she always managed to find. That woman was like an emotional icepick. He guessed being the only girl of four kids would do that to someone.

He dismissed the thoughts and went to bed, Friday couldn’t come soon enough.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

It was six thirty on Friday evening when Harry checked his appearance in the bathroom mirror for the fifteenth time. He had rummaged through his clothing to find something suitable for the evening’s date. His selection wasn’t entirely significant and tended toward the more casual style. He had plenty of clothes, just not for him. He’d chosen a white tank top under a blue dress shirt with a handful of buttons closed and a pair of slim-fitting black slacks. He wasn’t sure if it was right, he didn’t really know where they would be going. He knew he looked smart enough for anything short of a Michelin-star restaurant in this town.

Just after the clock struck seven o’clock, the doorbell rang and Harry felt his heart jump. He waited a moment to pretend he hadn’t been pacing in the hallway and opened the front door.

Outside, Richard was leaning against the railing with a smile on his face. He was dressed in cream slacks and a salmon button-up shirt that was open at the collar, he looked gorgeous.

Standing upright he drew a bunch of flowers from behind his back and held them out toward Harry. “I wasn’t sure of your favorite, so I hope these are ok. I’m never quite sure about the etiquette of flowers. I just know I wanted to get a beautiful person something beautiful” He smiled sheepishly. Harry accepted the bouquet of pink lilies.

“I should put these in water, would you like to come inside for a moment?” He asked, blushing at the gorgeous gift. Richard nodded and followed him through to the kitchen of his apartment while Harry looked around for a vase.

“Your home is lovely,” Richard observed, glancing around the living area. “And you look wonderful.”

Harry blushed as he placed the flowers into the vase. “Thank you.”

“I have a reservation for us at the Venetian.” Richard added. “We have some time.”

Harry turned and faced the man feeling suddenly underdressed. “The Venetian? Do you think I should change?”

“You look great just the way you are.” Richard checked his watch and smiled. “My car’s downstairs, shall we?”

The two descended the stairs from Harry’s second-floor apartment and stepped out onto the street. The boardwalk was at the end of the block to the left and to his right, the lights of Venice’s downtown glittered.

Harry gasped when he saw Richard’s car. Parked at the curbside was a silver Porsche sports car. The low-slung monster sat glistening in the sunset.

“You don’t see many of those where I’m from. It’s beautiful.”

Richard smirked. “Got to spend my money on something to woo the beautiful people of Los Angeles.”

Harry cocked his head to one side and smiled. “You think flowers and a fast car can make me fall for you?”

“I certainly hope it’s a start, but I was banking on my winning personality.” Richard quipped, holding open the door for Harry.

Smiling his thanks, Harry slipped into the brown leather interior of the sports car. Richard joined him a moment later and pulled away from the curb with surprising gentleness. Harry had almost expected him to peel out to show off as so many men did. Despite owning a high-performance car, he drove with the care of someone that appreciated its value.

The conversation during the drive was light and casual. Harry still felt quite intimidated by the entire scenario. None of his prior dates had been like this. Richard was clearly a man that was able to have anyone he wanted, but he seemed to really want Harry to like him. They arrived at the restaurant shortly before seven-thirty and pulled into the valet spot. Richard made his way around to the passenger side and opened the door for Harry then offered his hand. Harry blushed and felt slightly awkward but the valet paid them no heed and took the car away. Richard smiled and offered him his hand to hold. “Shall we?”

Harry nodded as Richard led the way inside. The Maitre D welcomed Richard with familiarity and led them over toward a secluded table near the patio. After they were seated, Richard ordered a bottle of red wine and the man disappeared off to fetch it.

“This place is lovely,” Harry mused. “I do feel a little out of place. Do you come here often?”

Richard nodded. “I do come here on occasion although it’s more often for business than pleasure; the owner is a client. Enough about me though, tell me about yourself?”

Harry lowered his eyes and glanced at the menu in front of him before returning his gaze to Richard.

“Well, I already told you I grew up in rural Montana. I didn’t exactly have a great time in school, but I loved spending time in the mountains on horseback. I’d help around the ranch and I spent a lot of time on my own I guess; Things were pretty unfriendly when you were like me.”

Richard frowned sympathetically. “That’s really unfair but I get it. I was lucky to grow up in California where it’s just not as big a deal.”

“I knew of course,” Harry admitted. “I just couldn’t express it or I’d get my ass kicked. The local cops didn’t seem to care, nor did my parents. They gave me the whole ‘tough love’ approach. It’s why I became a cop after college; I wanted to try and be the officer I would have wanted.”

“That’s the same reason I got into law myself.” Richard smiled. “I want to ensure justice is served and the guilty pay for what they do to people’s lives.”

The waiter interrupted their conversation with a delicious bottle of red wine and took their orders. Once he had gone, Richard raised the question Harry had been wondering when he’d have to answer.

“So, other than saving people, busting bad guys and surfing, what do you do with your time?”

Harry sipped his wine to buy himself a moment before placing the glass down on the table. Rather get it out now than wait till the end of the night and suffer the disappointment. He knew the whole thing could be a turn-off for some guys so he was tactful about its placement in dating conversation.

“I do drag actually.” He replied in what he hoped was a conversational tone. “I’m a comedian.”

Richard raised his eyebrows. “Really? I don’t think I would have expected you to be a comedian. You’re very attractive and you’re incredibly interesting but I must admit, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you tell a joke.”

Harry shrugged. “Weird I know, but I only tend to get funny when I’m in-character.”

“Do you have any pictures? Of you in character that is?”

Harry pulled out his phone and slid the device across the table to the other man. He’d selected one of his promotional photos for his standup act at a bar in Hollywood. She was wearing a pink bias-cut cocktail dress and her hair was a blend of blue and pink. Her makeup was dramatic but he knew it was not overdone or clownish. She was striking a quirky but attractive appearance that Harry felt was a good balance of her personality.

“Mia Calafia,” he explained. “My funnier half.”

Richard looked at the photograph for a moment and grinned. “You know it’s the great thing about being Bi, I think you’re both hot.”

Harry blushed. “It doesn’t bother you?”

Richard shook his head. “I find it quite interesting actually. I’m not a big scene guy but it’s a dramatic art and one that requires a great deal of talent to do well. By the looks of this photograph, you’re certainly talented.”

“I found that world by accident when I first got here. I was encouraged to try it and I discovered I became a totally different person. Unlike me, she’s confident, funny, popular, and beautiful.”

Richard shook his head. “You’re beautiful all the time.”

Harry sipped his wine. “It’s different, It’s like I become a totally separate person. She’s everything I’m not and I really enjoy entertaining people.”

“I suppose it makes a change from people cursing you out or fighting you for trying to do your job?”

Harry nodded. “When I’m Mia, I feel like I’m wearing a suit of armor, people’s opinions don’t matter and I can just exist. It lets me get up there and throw myself out into the world and be bold. It’s exciting and enthralling but it’s something I have to hide from work, it’s bad enough already without them knowing about her.”

Richard looked curious, “How do you mean?”

Harry shrugged and looked away. “Sure it’s all equal opportunities and acceptance officially. Sure there are no overt problems but I get treated differently by other people, anyone different does. It’s like I’m not one of them. Anyway, I didn’t want to burden you and turn this into a therapy session.”

Richard smiled apologetically and squeezed Harry’s hand.

The waiter arrived with their meals and the pair chatted comfortably about their childhoods and experiences. Harry found Richard to be a charming and sensitive man who displayed genuine care for him. Unlike men he’d dated in the past, he didn’t spend the entire date talking about himself or trying to tell jokes to impress him. Their meal was a comfortable shared experience where two people were able to get to know each other better without any pressure or demands. Harry really found he liked the man he was getting to know.

Richard stopped the car by the curb outside Harry’s apartment and killed the ignition.

“Thank you for accepting my invitation; I had a wonderful time this evening,” Richard said softly.

Harry smiled. “Me too.”

“May I kiss you?”

Harry nodded, the flutter returning to his stomach. Richard looked like a nervous schoolboy rather than the well-heeled attorney driving an expensive car, Harry found it incredibly endearing.

Richard leaned across the center console and stroked his hair. Harry closed his eyes and leaned forwards and felt his lips caress Richard’s. They kissed softly for a moment before he felt his lips part and Richard’s tongue enter his mouth. Harry felt a warm tingle spreading throughout his body as he responded to the man’s touch. He moaned involuntarily and ran his fingers through Richard’s hair. They kissed for what felt like an eternity before Richard withdrew.

Harry opened his eyes and gazed through the fog of his brain at the man across from him.

“Would you like to come in for a coffee?” he asked softly.

Richard grinned. “Aren’t we being a little forward?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to sleep with you if that’s what you mean. Not yet, I’m not that type of person.”

“I wouldn’t be here if you were,” Richard smirked.

Harry led Richard up to his apartment and let them in. He turned on some soft music and set about making their drinks.

“I really enjoyed tonight.”

Richard looked around from the balcony window he was staring out of toward the ocean and smiled. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever dated before.”

Harry raised an eyebrow as he brought the coffee cups over to the sofa. “Should I be offended?”

Richard shook his head. “No, not at all, It’s a good thing. I just can’t seem to put a finger on what it is.” He sat down beside Harry.

“You’re an enigma to me,” the older man admitted. “You’re so kind and empathetic despite everything you endured. The more people have mistreated you, the more you want to help others. Between that and your beauty, I really find myself wanting to just hold and protect you.”

Harry blushed. Richard was the first man that had ever referred to him as beautiful. His role in their budding relationship was quite clear and where he honestly felt most comfortable. Other men he had dated always tried to act so macho and dominant, almost asserting themselves on him. Why, he reasoned, it never worked out for long. Richard however, seemed solely focused on making him happy. It was an intoxicating experience that gave him tingles across his entire body. This gorgeous man was so considerate and attentive that it made him feel wonderful.

“What are your usual dates like?”

Richard smirked wryly. “They’re good mostly, I haven’t ever gone looking for romance as much as I find it and part of me is a wandering spirit. I enjoy the experience and I don’t expect things to last. It’s hot and it’s passionate and it passes almost as quickly. You, however,” he added, caressing Harry’s shoulder. “You make me feel like I’m stepping on eggshells. I desperately want this to last as long as possible and I’m afraid I’ll mess it up.”

He shook his head. “Sorry, this is an awful lot for a first date.”

“It’s our second technically.” Harry pointed out, “Third if you count the beach.”

Richard smiled, “I can get behind technicalities.”

He placed his coffee mug on the table and leaned forwards and kissed Harry tenderly. Harry lent forward into the kiss and wrapped his hands around the back of Richard’s neck. He moaned softly as the man slid his kisses down his neck and across his collarbone.

“Richard,” he whispered.

The tender kisses became impassioned as Richard shifted position on the sofa and Harry felt himself underneath the man as their kissing grew in hunger. Richard slid his hand under Harry’s shirt and began to caress his skin. His body was tingling with energy and he could feel Richard pressing against his crotch. Somewhere in the maelstrom, he felt Richard slide his top over his head and the man lowered his head to his bare skin. Harry gasped as he felt cold breath against his wet skin and he ground his hips against Richard. Whatever the man was doing felt amazing and made him feel alive with a passion he hadn’t experienced before.

Harry would have slept with Richard then and there if the man hadn’t pulled himself upright, buttoning his shirt breathlessly.

“Did I do something wrong?” Harry asked with concern as he reached bashfully for his top. “I’m sorry.”

Richard shook his head, a dopey grin on his face. “No, I just didn’t know if I could control myself if that went on much longer, I respect you too much to do that.”

Harry kissed Richard gently, “Thank you, I don’t think I could have either.”

“I want to treat you properly and I want this to be right,” Richard said with almost adolescent sincerity. “I haven’t felt this way before about someone so quickly.”

Harry snuggled into Richard’s side and picked up his coffee, taking a sip before replying. “This has all been so fast but it feels right, I do too.”

“Would you do something for me?” Richard asked cautiously.

Harry looked at him uncertainly.

“You live somewhat of a dual life. I would be honored to meet the other person I’m going to be dating.”

Harry smiled. “She’s not real you know? It’s just an act. Something I do.”

Richard had a curious expression on his face. “Humor me please,” he added smiling, “After all, I have only ever seen a drag queen on television. If you don’t I might get the wrong impression of you.”

“Blackmail really? You’re trying to make me glam up for your entertainment?” he frowned, a smirk escaping his stern look.

Harry considered this for a moment before answering. “You’ll be here for an hour if I go the whole nine yards, want the short version?”

Richard nodded. “I’m sure I’ll get to see the masterpiece when I come to your wonderful show at some point. I’d like to at least meet her first before I share her with others.”

Harry agreed and left Richard after a brief kiss and retreated to his apartment’s second bedroom where he kept Mia’s things. He didn’t want to keep Richard waiting long so he chose to aim for a more toned-down, normal version of his wild side.

Stripping out of his clothes he slipped into a panty and bra before selecting a simple little black dress from Mia’s wardrobe. Slipping small silicone forms into the bra to fill out the shape.

He brushed his hair back and slipped on a wig cap before affixing a short blonde wig to his head. Brushing it out, he added a little body with hairspray and ensured it was securely fixed. Sitting down at the vanity, he opened his makeup case and applied a light daytime look. Harry wanted to gently introduce Richard to Mia, knowing full well how much of a handful he could become when she came out in full.

Adding a touch of perfume to her pulse points, Mia turned her face in the mirror, examining her reflection with a practiced eye. She was pretty, but in a more natural way than she usually appeared. It was a lot more muted compared to the vibrant and bright look she usually wore on stage to perform. Harry had never been fond of the garish clown styles some queens wore and opted for a more feminine approach. This was a new style in its own right. It was strange seeing himself appear as a relatively normal woman.

Smoothing her dress, she slipped her feet into a pair of three-inch pumps and stepped out into the hallway with a confidence she knew Harry didn’t possess.

Richard was scrolling through his cell phone when Mia coughed lightly from the hall to catch his attention.

He turned toward the sound and froze at the sight before him. Doubt suddenly filled Mia’s stomach as she fought the urge to turn and run back to the bedroom. She felt Harry’s doubt returning, this had been a terrible idea.

“I know it’s probably quite silly but I didn’t have much time, I’m sorry.” She admitted feeling deflated.

Richard stood slowly. He was unable to tear his eyes away from the nervous girl before him. He walked toward her, almost afraid he would scare her off. His eyes traced her every curve and detail until he arrived at her eyes.

He shook his head and smiled, “I didn’t think it possible for you to be any more beautiful. There you go again destroying my preconceptions.”

Mia looked at Richard, she was just below eye level in her heels. “You don’t think I look stupid?”

“No,” he answered quietly. “Far from it. It’s uncanny really You transformed from this beautiful boy into a stunningly attractive woman and It’s messing with my head something terrible. I know it’s you in there but you seem like someone else.”

“I’m sorry,” Mia admitted, glancing away at the floor. “I know a lot of guys don’t like this.”

Richard lightly touched her chin and tilted her head up toward his.

“Never apologize to me,” he said seriously. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mia.”

Harry smiled weakly and swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “I promise I look a lot better normally.”

Richard leaned forwards and whispered. “May I kiss you?”

“Like this?”

He nodded, not taking his eyes off hers.

Mia nodded shyly and Richard wrapped his hands around her waist and drew her toward him. Their lips met and he kissed her gently, her body melting into his. She found herself returning his kiss with greater passion as a wave of warm energy flooded her body. Mia felt herself becoming aroused by his touch in a way she had never known before as she gripped the back of his head and ran her fingers through his hair as she nibbled on his lip. His kisses were driving her wild and she felt a deep longing within her.

She moaned softly as he kissed her neck again. Her skin felt as though it were on fire, the moisture of his lips was a cooling balm.

“Richard,” she whispered, withdrawing from his grasp. “Come,” she cooed, leading him gently by the hand towards her bedroom.

She could see the lust in his eyes as his earlier restraint left him. She didn’t feel a similar reservation anymore. The only thing that mattered to her at that moment was being close to him. She led him into the bedroom and allowed his hand to drop as she walked backward toward the bed. She had no idea what she was doing, but it felt entirely right as she sat on the edge of the bed and beckoned him towards her.

Maintaining eye contact with him, she unbuckled his belt and began to unzip his trousers.

“You don’t have to,” he said softly, a husky tone filling his voice. “It’s ok.”

Mia shook her head and smiled, “I want to.”

She unzipped his trousers, letting them fall to the floor, and hooked her fingers around the waistband of his underwear.

Lowering them slowly, his erect penis sprang free and stood at full mast. He was not a small man she observed.

With their eyes locked, she gently kissed the tip of his penis before taking him into her mouth.

Richard moaned and stroked her cheek. “Oh my god,” he whispered.

Before he could reach climax, he gently stopped her and helped her to her feet. Kissing her softly, he reached behind her back and unzipped her dress allowing it to fall to the floor.

Mia was frozen in place. She felt every nerve ending on her skin screaming at her as her breath caught in her throat.

Richard stared into her eyes as he unclipped her bra and slid it from her body. She was entirely under his spell. Richard gently caressed her breast and grazed her nipple with his finger and thumb. She gasped at his touch. Her fingers shook as she began to unbutton his shirt. Slipping it from his shoulders, Richard stepped out of his trousers and gently lowered Mia to the bed.

She didn’t know why she still felt like Mia, but at that moment she was entirely absorbed by the emotions of her heart. Richard lowered her panties and slid them gently down her smooth legs before discarding them.

She took his hand and drew him to her on the bed. Richard lowered himself onto her and she spread her legs to accommodate him. They kissed and touched each other and explored each other’s bodies tenderly. Richard’s touch was gentle and loving and he drove her to new heights as he prepared her for him.

Richard gazed into her eyes as he pressed forward and entered her. Mia smiled up at him and bit her lip as she felt the brief pain of his entry. Mia arched her back and moaned. She pulled him to her and melted into his body.

They made love long into the night.

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Driftwood #3 - Feelings

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Driftwood

By Alyssa Plant

Life and Love are far more complicated than we can possibly understand. For one young cop, a journey of self-discovery will teach them that true strength was inside them all along.

Chapter Three - Feelings

The next morning Mia woke with a start. Her heart was pounding as she felt the hair against her neck and the memory of the night before flooded back to her. She glanced across the bed and saw that she was alone under the soft sheets. A pang of sadness ran through her before she noticed a folded piece of paper on her bedside cabinet.

Rolling onto her stomach she picked up the paper and unfolded it.

“Mia,
I’m sorry for vanishing. I don’t want you to think it was anything you did but I got called into work early to check over some filings and I’d far rather still be in your bed with you. Words cannot begin to express what I felt last night. I never planned to sleep with you this soon as much as I wanted to. You mean far too much to me and I didn’t want to sully that. I realize this sounds silly but I want this to be real and I want to respect you. When we first met I fell for this amazing guy that I never expected to find. Last night I met the other half of you and she turned the world upside down. You’re an incredible person and I’d love you to call as soon as you get this note.

Richard.”

Mia smiled to herself, the worry she’d felt melting away at the sweetness of his note. She picked up her phone and called him. The phone was answered after only two rings.

“Hey.”

“For a minute, I thought you’d used me and run away. I was almost going to look for money on the side table.” Mia purred into the phone.

Richard chuckled. “Never in my wildest dreams would I dare do that to you. How are you feeling?”

Mia rolled over onto her back and brushed the hair out of her face. “Great, you were amazing last night.”

“Now that’s what a man likes to hear.” he laughed and changed to a more serious tone, “Would you like to do something this afternoon?”

“Like what?” she mused.

“I’m exhausted and I know it sounds like rather a high school affair, but I expect you never got a chance to go to go for pizza and a movie did you?”

Mia laughed, “No I didn’t, that sounds lovely. When and as who?”

“You obviously. But I can tell you’re still Mia you know.”

Mia frowned, “How?”

“Your voice is slightly higher in pitch and you sound more playful and energetic.”

Mia paused a moment and considered this. “I wasn’t doing anything in particular,” she admitted.

“Remember I read people for a living, I notice these things.”

“I’ll surprise you.” She giggled and glanced at her watch. “It’s eleven now, so two?”

“I’ll see you then.”

Mia clicked off the phone and hugged her knees to her chest. Was she acting differently? She didn’t think she was. She blew a strand of blonde hair out of her face and rolled her eyes. What was more concerning to her mental state was that her first time with Richard had been as a girl. That didn’t feel right. Her memory drifted back to their lovemaking the night before. That was what it had been; not sex. She’d had sex before as a male, and it was a raw and hot experience. She was still unsure if what she had experienced last night was because of Richard or her. Shaking herself mentally she got up and padded out of her room to take a shower.

The water cascaded down over her body and washed away the last dregs of sleep and sweat from the night before. As she washed, she felt slightly uncomfortable. She’d never liked her body growing up, although it was parts of that slender soft frame that allowed Mia to come into existence in the first place. Now, however, it was as though a switch had been thrown in her brain; she felt both happy for that fact and a gnawing sensation that it was now wrong for entirely different reasons.

Shaking her head, she finished washing and dried herself before making her way into her bedroom.

She sat wrapped in the towel on the edge of the bed debating her choice for the day. Who should meet Richard? Mia or Harry? She reasoned it should be Harry; Mia wasn’t real. Mia was just a creation; an act for the stage to entertain and have fun. Part of her speculated that there was maybe more than that but she wasn’t willing to face that yet. She made a decision and dropped the towel and began to get ready for the day.

Just before two, Richard rang the doorbell outside the apartment. He had come directly from his office and was still wearing a shirt and tie. He hated leaving that morning; she had been so beautiful lying there under the covers that he had almost considered blowing off the vital preparation work for the upcoming trial. She… It was strange he thought; he almost imagined them as separate people.

The door opened and he found himself face to face with a vision beyond his wildest dreams. Mia was still there and she looked incredible. Her blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders in soft waves, framing her pretty face. Her makeup was subtle but hinted toward a more dramatic eye. She was wearing an off-the-shoulder top and a pair of shorts that showed off her tan legs ending in strappy sandals. She looked pleased to see him but was equally apprehensive. He could see she was hoping she’d chosen the right persona to greet him.

“God, you’re beautiful.” Richard grinned leaning in to kiss her painted lips. Her perfume was delicate but hinted at spices and fruit.

She ran a hand through his hair and kissed him back. “I hope you don’t mind,” she whispered, looking serious for a moment. “I didn’t want to jar your memory of me so suddenly after…”She trailed off with a sly smirk.

Richard shook his head and stroked her cheek. “You’re wonderful however you want to present to me. Perhaps I should get to know the girl I slept with a little better for decorum’s sake though.”

Mia grinned at him and nodded.

He took her hand and led her down to his car. Opening the door, he took her hand and helped her into the low-slung vehicle. Her every mannerism screamed femininity and confidence. He knew who she was but at that moment he couldn’t see the skinny shy boy he fell for in the surf.

Mia luxuriated in the car as Richard drove them through the city. The leather of the seat was hot against the back of her thighs and she could feel the wind whipping her hair through the open window. The world felt delightfully vibrant all of a sudden. Her senses seemed to be absorbing everything she was experiencing in stereo. She looked across at Richard as he drove. How was she here and why did this feel so utterly correct?

Drag was something she did on stage, it was a performance. Why had she gotten so carried away that she had slept with him as Mia? Why was she right that moment sitting in his car as Mia? The entire experience was amazing and exciting but it was also confusing and caused great conflict within her.

For the longest time, this had been a fun light-hearted act she kept to the stage, nothing more. It was enjoyable and fun and she was good at it. It gave her a level of confidence and armor that permitted her to be someone she’d only ever dreamed of being; popular. Why was she trying to act and look like a normal woman? She didn’t feel like one she reasoned; what did one even feel like? Was Richard just entertaining this or did he even want her as Harry now he’d seen Mia? Did he want Harry instead and was he simply humoring her strange choice?

The idea of being like this hadn’t just arrived the second she slept with Richard. She knew she’d had little moments in the past where the idea had flickered across the back of her consciousness. It was silly she reasoned. She wasn’t unhappy, was she?

“Why so quiet?” Richard asked, glancing over at her in the passenger seat.

Mia felt a strange desire to be entirely honest with him in that moment.

“I’m having a little difficulty wrapping my head around a few things. Notably myself.”

“How so?”

“I’m going, to be honest, I don’t know who you like or how this feels to you.”

Richard nodded, “You’re afraid because I slept with you as a woman last night, that for some reason I’ll dislike you as a boy and not want to be around you. You’re questioning whether you have to be a woman to keep me.”

“Pretty much.” Mia muttered feeling more than a little frustrated that he’d picked her conundrum apart so expertly.

“As for how this feels for me, you know I’m bisexual, so I’m easy either way. Sometimes somewhere in-between,” he grinned.

Mia frowned and gently slapped his arm.

Richard continued undaunted. “I met a gorgeous beautiful guy on the beach and we spent some great time together, then I find out he lives this dual life and… I get the impression this…” he gestured at her. “Is a new thing off-stage?”

Mia nodded shyly.

“Do what makes you happy.” he shrugged. “At the core, you’re the same person, whether that’s Harry or Mia is up to you. I can’t decide how you want to present yourself to the world, but I can tell you it’s the person inside there,” he said sincerely, placing his hand on her chest above her heart. “That is the person I want to spend time with and get to know far, far better.”

“You said you wanted to wait last night, and then when I became a more normal version of Mia you couldn’t resist. I thought that meant you found me more attractive as a female.”

Richard shook his head. “I’d take either of you to bed. I was happy to wait. I told you I respect you. If it pleases the court, I would like to point out that it was you, madam, that initiated that little adventure.”

Mia smiled at the memory of her boldness. “I don’t normally do that, I promise.”

“Maybe she’s the more outgoing side of you that’s willing to take what she wants.”

“I am far more confident like this,” she admitted, running her hand through her hair.

They arrived at the theater complex and found a place to park before Richard led her inside. He was right, she realized, she felt like a high schooler on a date while they waited in line for their tickets. There was something so new and beautiful about this entire experience that it felt as though she was back in school. She hadn’t had any dates in high school of course, and most of her dates since had been in restaurants or bars and clubs. None had offered to take her for something as casual and unassuming as pizza and a movie. It seemed so childish but in its own way, it was adorable and fun.

Richard bought her a soda and a large popcorn for them to share and lead her by the hand into the theater itself. They found their seats and waited for the lights to go down.

“I really do want to come to one of your shows.” Richard whispered in her ear.

“I’d love to see you in your full glory and a sea of adoring fans, I’ve never dated anyone famous before.”

“Hardly famous,” she scoffed. “And perhaps I’ll let you one day.”

The lights dimmed and she felt Richard wrap his arm around her shoulder and pull her towards him.

“Little early don’t you think? You didn’t even wait for the scary part.”

“First off, this is a comedy so there is no scary part. Secondly, I think last night earned me at least this,” he whispered playfully in her ear.

Mia smiled in the darkness.

She didn’t remember the majority of the movie’s plot as she spent a significant portion of it with her lips locked with Richard’s. The two kissed like teenagers and barely maintained a level of decorum in the populated space. After the film had ended, she darted to the bathroom to fix her makeup.

It took her a minute to realize where she was as she stood fixing her lipstick in the mirror. Women were coming and going minding their own business and not a single one of them paid her any attention. She had, without thinking, nonchalantly entered the most forbidden of places for a boy; the women’s room. The fact she hadn’t thought about it, she blamed on her immersion that day, it had felt normal for some reason. She was more glad that she hadn’t blindly rushed into the men's room looking as she did. She shrugged and checked her reflection before leaving to rejoin Richard.

After she got back, Richard took her to a nearby pizza place for an early dinner. Nothing about this date was classy or expensive but she could honestly say she was having the best of times. It felt delightfully comfortable as they sat in the restaurant sharing a pizza and chatting. The experience was something she should have had as a teenager. To finally experience it was a little exciting.

“This is nice,” she said, munching on a slice of pepperoni pizza.

Richard leaned back in his seat and grinned. “I forget sometimes how fun the simple things can be.”

“Back home this was the highlight of the week for many of the kids at my school,” Mia admitted. “I always felt so jealous of them being out with someone on a date, kissing at the movies, guess I can check that one off my bucket list.”

“Afraid I can’t take you to prom, but I might have an event or two coming up where a glamorous lady might be helpful.”

Mia thought for a moment. That raised an interesting question. While Richard might not mind who she presented as when they were together, what would others think? No matter how she felt, she owed it to Richard to protect his reputation. How long would he stay with her once people started talking? The least she could do was be consistent regardless of how she felt inside, it was only clothes, wasn’t it?

“I could always give my partner at work a call, she’s always looking to find a nice guy to take her out,” she grinned.

Richard rolled his eyes and poked her knee under the table. Mia laughed. It was a great feeling to be that happy.

After their meal, Richard drove her home and they kissed briefly by her door before she went inside. She was slightly disappointed that he didn’t want to come in to continue their activities the prior night, but she understood, he looked as exhausted as she felt.

As she undressed, Mia felt another jolt of displeasure at her body. She dismissed the feeling, but still found herself wondering about what she was planning to do for Richard. Was it just for Richard?

Mia sat down heavily on the edge of her bed and sighed. Glancing at the mirror on the bedroom wall, she frowned before looking away. When she was Harry, none of the feelings that bothered her as she was now, felt quite as raw. She had gotten used to feeling out of place in the world around her. When she was Mia, those feelings were hard to ignore.

Shaking her head, she shrugged into an oversized T-shirt before slipping under the covers of her bed. It was early, but she really didn’t want to remain awake and marinade in her thoughts. Switching off the bedroom light she rolled over and waited for sleep to claim her.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Mia rose early on Sunday morning and rolled out of bed. She padded through to the kitchen and started the coffee maker. Waiting for the machine to do its work, she plucked at her short hair and frowned. She couldn’t do much with it as her job had relatively strict regulations about that sort of thing. That meant considerable time in her expensive wigs. She shrugged, variety adds to the spice of life.

Taking her coffee she slipped onto the sofa and crossed her legs. Why was she considering spending the day as Mia? She didn’t need to, she didn’t have to but she felt as though she wanted to. She argued she needed some practice if she was going to spend off-stage time as Mia and convince others for Richard’s sake.

Maybe she should go shopping? She would need more than just clubwear and a few bits and pieces to really sell Mia as a real person, especially a girlfriend. First, she needed a new name for this character… Mia was a comedian, she was a showgirl, and had a rather potent personality. That and her name was a comedic parody to start with, that wasn’t girlfriend material. What would the female Harry he was playing be called?

Mia thought for a moment and played a few names around in her head. What would fit her? What would be proper for the social circles Richard moved in?

A name popped into her head she hadn’t considered. It felt right, she smiled to herself and went through to her room to dress for her day.

Olivia Dalton checked her appearance in the mirror. She had dressed down more than she had ever managed as Mia but she felt comfortable. She had her blonde hair up in a messy bun held back with a French clip and wore her shorts from the day before along with a UCLA sweater she had from school. A simple pair of sneakers finished her look. She didn’t want to look dramatic or dressy today and she had limited choices otherwise. Her overall plan was to look as uninteresting as she could. She hoped it would help her blend into the background.

Olivia jogged down the stairs to the parking bay and climbed into her truck. Pulling out into traffic she briefly worried about being pulled over. She knew how overzealous cops in the city could be at times. She shook her head and eased off the gas slightly as she slipped into the flow of traffic.

She drove up to a popular mall in Santa Monica and managed to eventually find a parking spot for her pickup. She’d been shopping for women's things before many times but somehow it felt more terrifying when it wasn’t for a costume. Blowing it off as drag was easy, but now this was clothing she was buying for herself, at least in the short term. Suddenly Olivia felt extremely vulnerable; by creating a new persona that was more Harry than her stage persona, she suddenly felt naked without Mia’s bravery and bravado. The rational part of her mind told her that nobody would notice or care in this city. This was Los Angeles after all, things were extremely liberal. The irrational part of her mind told her that she no longer had the excuse of drag to protect her.

Wandering through the crowds, Olivia felt extremely nervous. She was alone and felt a vulnerability far greater than she ever had at home in Montana. There, she at least appeared outwardly normal to most people. Now, she felt as though everyone could see through her and into her mind. She knew it was likely nothing, but every glance gave her a jolt of panic.

Stopping off at a clothing outlet, she began to browse the racks. At first, she felt like every eye in the store was on the imposter in their midst. She caught her reflection in a mirror as she shopped. The girl looking back appeared to be any young woman out clothes shopping on a weekend. She saw no trace of Harry. There was nothing that might give someone cause to call security or bring attention to the deviant. She channeled a little Mia and felt stronger. She held her head high and set about her mission.

Olivia was glad she had chosen to wear sneakers that morning. Her feet still hurt as she left the mall several hours later. Her trip had been successful and she now owned a significantly larger feminine wardrobe that would help her to fill her new role.

Perhaps it was a little early in her relationship to think this far ahead but she felt differently about Richard. There was something that separated him from anyone she had dated before him. Before she had dated boys but Richard was a man.

She had spent nearly five hundred dollars in the mall buying everyday necessities that would be needed to fill out her wardrobe. She had bought everything from underwear to casual and more dressy outfits. She rather enjoyed the experience after her initial fear had subsided and allowed her to really enjoy the experience. She had a good eye, she knew. Olivia knew how to dress to her body. Her fashion sense was, she realized, a lot closer to what Harry would wear. That is, if Harry had been born a girl. Jeans and T-shirts, tank tops, tops, and boots played a significant part. Even the skirts and dresses she had bought were far longer than anything Mia would wear on stage. She realized she had been making an unconscious separation between the two of them. Olivia was going to be classy but a little country. She was proud of her culture and wasn’t about to give it up to the Californian way so quickly. As she maneuvered her pickup through traffic, the scowls of some tiny hatchback drivers made her smile. City folks.

Unpacking at home, she folded and hung her new wardrobe in Harry’s room rather than Mia’s before cooking dinner for herself. Shopping was hungry work she realized. The day had flown by far quicker than she realized. She thought over her decision. Becoming Olivia might do in the short term but was she kidding herself? Would it ever be enough for him? Would he force her to choose? Richard seemed to be casual about his opinion of the two of them but a part of her mind and her emotions told her that he would prefer her over Harry in the end. What would the future hold? How long could she maintain this facade and would it be a lie? She couldn’t answer that question yet.

As the hour grew late, she decided to change into one of her more indulgent purchases; a short silk nightdress. Slipping it on, she reveled in its luxury. Her mind told her she should probably feel more conflicted about her stupid plan but she dismissed the thoughts almost as quickly as she slipped between the sheets.

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Driftwood #4 - Ramifications

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Driftwood

By Alyssa Plant

Life and Love are far more complicated than we can possibly understand. For one young cop, a journey of self-discovery will teach them that true strength was inside them all along.

Chapter Four - Ramifications

The next morning, Harry drank his coffee as he waited for Anderson to bring their car around. It felt decidedly odd to be male again after his feminine weekend. Everything felt suddenly far more clunky and out of place. It would be a useful reminder to kick some of the behaviors he had found himself noticing over the past few days. After leaving the locker room he’d caught himself walking in a more feminine gait and had to deliberately butch up his stride to compensate.

Behavior, he realized, was like accents: Exaggerate one long enough, and you begin to sound more natural when you relax rather than trying to nail that perfect tone from the beginning. Mia’s behavior was feminine but exaggerated. It was nowhere near as over the top as some queens but it was femininity at full volume. Olivia, he reasoned, was so easy to slip into because it required so little thought.

Anderson pulled up in their cruiser and he climbed in beside her.
“So like I was saying,” she continued their earlier conversation from the squad briefing. “The dude nearly took my fucking head off. It took three of us to get him in cuffs.”

“That’s what you get for messing with junkies with power tools.” Harry deadpanned with a smirk. “One wrong choice and…” he made a neck-slicing gesture.

“Working over the river sucks man, I hate picking up mandatory overtime shifts.”

Harry nodded. The east of the city was considerably rougher than the majority and often required additional manpower after payday when the local population went on an excited binge.

“So…” Kelly asked changing the subject as she pulled out into the city traffic. “How did your date go?”

“Oh, it was fine,” Harry offered dismissively. “Pretty average actually.”

Kelly looked across at him trying to work out if he was lying. “You are so full of shit. Tell me everything!”

“It was good,” he admitted cautiously. “Dinner was lovely, he was a real gentleman. We had a really lovely time and he took me home.”

“Was that it?” she pressed.

“Well no,” he admitted. “He had a really cool car, a Porsche.”

Kelly looked at her partner and rolled her eyes so dramatically that Harry feared they might fall out.

“He came in for coffee and… we might have slept together.”

Kelly let out a whistle. “You move fast,” she chuckled.

Harry felt defensive. “No, it wasn’t like that, it just happened ok? It felt right, we were caught up in a moment and it was really special.”

Kelly lowered her mask of bravado for a moment and looked more serious. “He called you, right? Afterward?”

Harry nodded. “We actually went out again Saturday, pizza and a movie.”

“From glitz to the pits huh? Maybe you sucked in the sack?”

Harry slapped her arm and shook his head. “Nope.”

She gave him a knowing look and grinned. “Ok, so you two are compatible in a biblical way, how’d he deal with your nightlife?”

Harry blushed. “Yeah, he was ok I guess. Didn’t mind.”

Kelly didn’t buy it for a minute. “No way Missy, you’re holding out on me, spill! How long have we known each other?”

Harry sighed. “Well he’s bisexual, you already know that. It doesn’t bother him like it might if he was full-on gay.” he paused, staring out at the passing buildings. “He wanted to see Mia.”

Kelly pulled the car over and parked before turning to face him. “And?” she prompted with a look approaching a child on Christmas morning.

Harry stared at the dashboard with a frown.

“Well, I asked him in for coffee and we fooled around a little, and then he wanted to see Mia. I didn’t want to leave him waiting for the full Mia so I kinda toned it down, more normal I guess.”

He couldn’t look at Kelly. He closed his eyes and took a breath. “He didn’t sleep with me, he slept with Mia.”

Kelly squealed and covered her mouth. “What?” she whispered. “He slept with you in drag?”

“Yeah.” Harry admitted glancing at her cautiously. “And it was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life,” he admitted quietly.

“Aren’t you reading into things a little?” she asked, “It could just be Mister Gentleman being a smooth operator.”

Harry shook his head. “I felt different; it was different. It was nothing like the other guys I’d been with. He was sweet and gentle and so caring. I thought I was going to cry. It wasn’t him that initiated things with Mia, it was me.” he added shyly.

Anderson leaned back in her seat and thought for a moment. “Your date Saturday was as Mia too wasn’t it?”

Harry nodded. “I didn’t want to jar his memory of me and risk him running for the hills.”

“That’s why you were acting oddly this morning,” she observed. Seeing Harry’s questioning glance she continued. “You’re walking a little differently, holding yourself a little differently, and small mannerisms are a bit softer than usual. It’s not much, I don’t think the guys will think you’re any fruitier than before but I can see it,” she said simply.

“You think I’m crazy don’t you?”

Kelly shook her head. “No sweetie, but I think you’ve got some serious mental gymnastics ahead of you.”

“What the hell do I do?” Harry whimpered.

“Do what makes you feel happy,” she answered softly. “I’m your friend and I’m here for you, whoever that is.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Olivia pulled out of the strip mall and joined the flow of traffic. Returning from work she realized that she lacked any kind of workout clothing and needed a quick stop to remedy the issue. A surf shop up the coast in Malibu and a sporting store had solved her issues. Traffic on the coastal highway was extremely heavy even at that late hour. One of the country stations was blasting out one of the older Shania Twain tracks and she was drumming her fingers to the beat as they crawled forwards.

The welp of a siren and a flicker of lights behind her snapped her reverie. Glancing in the rearview she saw a cruiser with its lights on behind her. A shiver of panic ran through her as she slapped the radio off and pulled over to the shoulder.

The car was a Sheriff’s Department vehicle which only made her situation worse. There was a reasonable chance that she might know them or they’d know someone she did. Pulling her license and paperwork from the glovebox she held them in her lap and waited for the deputy to approach. A younger brunette woman stepped from the car and started to make her way along the side of the vehicle until she drew level with the passenger window.

Olivia smiled weakly and waited for the woman to speak.

“Hi, sorry for stopping you but you have a left rear tail light out.” The deputy explained. “License, registration, and insurance please?”

Olivia sat still for a moment. “I have a firearm in the vehicle,” she explained quickly. “Bag” she added gesturing with her license to the passenger seat and her handbag. The woman’s eyes flicked to the handbag and nodded. “Thanks, can I see those please?”

Olivia froze and contemplated explaining herself. She knew the woman by appearance but not by name, the stripes on her sleeve marked her out as one of the department’s training officers.

“Problem?” She asked, there was a look behind the smile she still had on her lips.

“Ah, no, sorry,” Olivia replied, handing the items. “This is going to look a little strange,” she explained as the woman took her documents. “I… can explain.”

The deputy took the paperwork and held up the license and glanced across at Olivia. Her raised eyebrows meant she had made the connection. “I see,” she replied with a quirk of her lip. “I’ll be right back,” she answered, returning to her cruiser.

Time seemed to pass extremely slowly on the side of the highway. Traffic was starting to ease up and flow faster beside her. Despite the cooler evening temperature, Olivia was sweating. Once the deputy returned, she handed back the documents and gave her a look. “I think you have some explaining to do, Deputy.”

Olivia pointed at her door and the woman nodded. Stepping down from the truck, she made her way around to the side of the shoulder and stood in front of the woman. “I…” she began not entirely sure what she was going to say. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“And what does it look like?” Replied the woman, hooking her thumbs into her belt.

Olivia shrugged, “I’m not sure honestly.”

“Are you transgender?” she asked more gently.

“I don’t know,” Olivia replied honestly, her cheeks turning red.

The woman shrugged. “It’s not a crime last I checked, but you’re going to land yourself in hot water with those documents. I’m betting the department has no idea, do they?”

Olivia shook her head. “I… I know you need to file a report, but does it need to include this?”

The woman shook her head. “Not really, but if my footage is reviewed it might. It’s not exactly a controversial stop and I’m not citing you so I don’t expect so.”

“I think I’ve seen you around,” she added, giving Olivia a closer look. “Dalton sounds familiar, you work third up in West Hollywood right?”

Olivia nodded. “With Anderson.”

The woman smiled, “I trained her, she’s a good cop.” She looked at her again and smiled. “You do look very pretty, I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t shown me your license.”

Olivia blushed and dropped her head. “Thanks, I guess.”

The woman patted her shoulder. “Look, get out of here, get that fixed, and try to not get pulled over again. Here,” she added, handing a card. “Give me some time and you can explain some more of this to me, I get the feeling you’re going to need allies.”

Deputy Sheriff Abigail Taylor.

“I’ve heard of you.” Olivia answered with reverence. “You’re the one that handled the Orson Crowe cases?”

Taylor smirked. “Yeah, that guy’s unique.”

She walked back to her cruiser and stood holding the open door. “What’s your name?”

“Olivia,”

Taylor smiled and gave her a quick wave before slipping back into her car and pulling away from the stop. Olivia hugged herself for a moment, she was starting to create a real mess for herself. She shook her head and climbed back into her truck and pulled back out into traffic and headed for home.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Letting herself into her apartment, she changed into her new surf gear, grabbed her board and made for the beach. It was a liberating experience to ditch the wetsuit. She’d always worn that to hide her frame and bulk herself up to fit in. She’d also never felt comfortable without covering up. Now she wore a one-piece swimsuit with board shorts over the top. Her wig was securely glued in place so she wasn’t afraid of losing it if she bailed.

Dusk was starting to settle as she jogged into the waves and began to paddle. The heat of the day had kept the water warm enough to be pleasant and the tide was coming in. Olivia grinned as she dug deep and hauled her way out into the swell.

Exhausted and with darkness falling, Olivia waded ashore and grabbed her towel. Her balance had been all off and she had fallen more than she would have liked. She wasn’t sure if it was long wet hair or her boobs, but she felt like a beginner again.

A wolf whistle from further up the beach caught her attention.

“So that’s why you didn’t pick up your phone.” Richard’s voice called in the darkness.

Recovering quickly, Olivia smiled as the man approached in the fading light. “Hi,” she replied, continuing to dry herself off.

“This is a new look.” he offered with a raised eyebrow.

“Trying something new with my hair,” she quipped.

“I was going to see if you wanted to grab a bite, nothing super formal.”

Olivia shrugged, “I was about to make dinner if you want to join me?”

Richard smiled, “I’d like that.”

The two chatted as they made their way back up the beach toward her apartment. Richard carried her board at his insistence. He’d gotten off work late which appeared to be a consistent trend. Trial preparation tended to result in long hours and little free time. That he wanted to spend a little of it with her made her feel special. Olivia let them in and grabbed Richard a beer before setting the oven to preheat. Grabbing a quick shower, she dried and dressed quickly in sweats and a tank top before returning to the kitchen to prepare the meal.

Richard watched her move around the kitchen as she prepared the food. She was singing softly to herself and moving her body to the music on the stereo. This wasn’t the gawky shy boy he first met that day on the beach, this was a woman. He sipped his beer and simply watched as she moved around unaware of his gaze.

“This isn’t a stage persona is it?” he asked as she stirred a pot.

Olivia glanced up at him with a look that reminded him of a deer in the headlights of a semi-truck.

“I just want you to feel comfortable,” she answered meekly.

Richard walked through to the kitchen and leaned against the counter next to her. Reaching over, he stroked her cheek gently. “I don’t care what you look like. I want it to be what you want.”

Olivia raised her hand to touch his and held it against her face. She stared into his eyes as though trying to find an answer to an unspoken question.

“I do,” she said flatly.

“Why?”

“You’re too good for me,” she answered softly. “You deserve someone better and someone that won’t embarrass you.”

Richard cocked his head to one side. “Why would you embarrass me?”

Olivia shrugged gently and stirred the pot absentmindedly. “You started dating a boy, then things happened and now I’m in a mess and I can’t keep switching back and forth on you. It’s not right.”

“This isn’t a performance,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“No,” she admitted sadly.

“This is LA,” Richard reassured. “Nobody cares and if they do then it’s their fucking problem. I’m not a celebrity, I’m a lawyer. You should see the crap my clients and colleagues get up to. This is honestly nothing. I’ve never hidden who I was and I’ve dated men and women very publicly. I don’t give a damn.”

“People would talk if you were with me one day and Harry the next.”

“Let them, it’s our lives.”

Olivia stared into the sauce she was stirring and sighed. “I don’t know why, but this feels so much more real than any relationship I’ve ever had.” she admitted. “I want this to work out so badly.” she added, looking pleadingly into his eyes.

Richard kissed her fingers. “I do too. You’re very special and I care about you. More than I have for anyone in some time. But I insist you be happy. Don’t feel you have to change who you are because of me.”

Olivia occupied herself with serving their meal and led Richard over to the table. They both ate in silence for a moment before she spoke.

“At first, I created this persona to make what we did that night easier for you… and me.”

Richard tried to comment but she held a finger up. “The more serious this began to get, the more I felt I owed you consistency. I didn’t plan for this to happen, but there is perhaps a little more to it than I first thought.”

She gestured towards herself. “I spent my entire weekend like this. Not Mia, but someone different, someone… in-between Harry and her. Right now I’m not sure what it means, but if you’ll put up with me I’d like to see how I feel about all of this.”

Richard stroked her hair and smiled sympathetically. “Regardless of what you wear or who you are on the outside, you’re the same person inside. That’s who I’m quickly falling for. Do what makes you happy; I’m not going anywhere.”

He paused and smiled. “Would the lady care to grace a gentleman with her name?”

The girl smiled and cocked her head to one side, “Olivia, a pleasure to meet you.”

Richard left later that evening after spending a few precious hours with Olivia on the sofa. They had done little more than hold each other and kiss, choosing instead to spend the time enjoying each other’s presence. She felt comfortable there;. his warmth and his scent lingered long in her heart long after he had departed.

His touch and presence excited her. She felt a heady rush when he was near that she hadn’t experienced before with any man. Olivia glanced into the hallway mirror after he had left and sighed. The dejected image of a girl hugging herself uncertainly looked back. It felt incredibly real to her at that moment.

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Driftwood #5 - Who Am I?

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Performer/Entertainer

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Driftwood

By Alyssa Plant

Life and Love are far more complicated than we can possibly understand. For one young cop, a journey of self-discovery will teach them that true strength was inside them all along.

Chapter Five - Who Am I?

“I’m really starting to get confused Kel,” Harry murmured as they walked up the steps to a property just off Van Ness. “I’m starting to feel like two people.”

His partner shook her head and smirked, despite her eyes glancing around cautiously as they approached the door. She knocked and announced them before turning to Dalton. “You’ve gotta find what feels right for you or you’ll go crazy… well crazier.”

Harry shot her a look as the door opened on its chain. “Mister Martinez?” Anderson asked neutrally. The man nodded slowly. “We had a report of another argument, want to come outside and talk to us?” The man seemed extremely uncertain as he glanced between the two deputies but eventually the door closed briefly before the sound of the chain rattling was followed by the door opening more fully.

The man stepped forward into the doorway and rolled his shoulders, “Ain’t nothin’ wrong Officers, all tranquilo here eh.”

Kelly pointed out onto the front yard, “Come on over here and talk to me for a minute ok?”

While the surly man followed his partner over, Harry glanced inside the hallway. There was a short dark Hispanic woman with her arm around a short boy standing in a doorway toward the rear of the property. “Can I come in?” He asked gently, smiling to reassure the woman.

She hesitated for a moment before nodding and gently encouraged the small boy off into one of the side rooms. Harry stepped through the threshold and glanced around casually, trying to take in as much as possible. “hablar Inglés?” Do you speak English?

The woman shook her head, “No mucha,” she admitted quietly looking nervous.

Harry switched to his broken Spanish, something he was learning to master quite quickly on this job. “You are well?”

She nodded, “We have an argument, it is fine, we argue about money.”

Harry nodded, the home was bare but appeared to be proudly kept. The couple certainly seemed to be trying. He didn’t notice alcohol bottles or any signs of disturbance. “I am sorry, I must ask, you are not hurt yes?”

The woman seemed shocked, “No, He does not hit me, we argue but we are happy… well, we try.”

“I understand, I must ask, I am sorry.” The woman seemed genuine and there were no signs of abuse visible on her and she appeared genuinely surprised by his question. It was likely that they’d just had a good old fashioned shouting match the way some couples do. Harry glanced at the small boy who was hovering in the kitchen, clutching a toy police car under his arm.

Harry glanced at the mother and then at the boy and smiled. “Hello, what is your name?” he asked squatting down to be less intimidating to the child. “Is that a police car?”

The little boy nodded and held it out in front of himself proudly. Harry grinned and reached into his thigh pocket and pulled out a small plastic Sheriff’s Department badge. He always kept a few on him for children. He glanced at the mother who nodded her assent and held it out towards the boy. “Here, for you.”

The boy approached slowly and took the star from Harry’s hand and smiled happily.

“What do you say?” his mother prompted.

The little boy smiled shyly, “Gracias señorita.”

Harry blushed slightly and nodded, “You’re welcome.” He stood and returned his attention to the mother, “I won’t take up any more of your time, have a good day.”

Harry said goodbye and made his way out of the home. He caught Anderson’s eye and nodded; everything was ok. He walked down the steps and waited by the car while she finished speaking with the husband.

A few moments later Kelly joined him and they got back into their patrol car. “All good,”

“One Adam Ninety-Three, Dispatch, we’re Ninty Eight on our call, show us back Ten-Eight.” Kelly called lazily over the radio as she slipped the car into gear.

“The kid called me señorita,” Harry mused as they pulled away from the curb.

Kelly chuckled as they merged into traffic. “Kids are preceptive,” she grinned. “You do seem different though, more relaxed.”

“I don’t feel relaxed,” muttered Harry as he watched traffic. “I feel more tense than I ever have in my life.”

“Want to get a drink later when we’re off shift? I think you need to let your hair down a bit.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed slowly. “I think I could do with that.”

“Who’s coming?” Kelly grinned glancing over at her partner.

Harry thought for a moment. He was pretty sure it wasn’t really a question anymore. “Olivia.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Olivia was hit with a wall of noise and music as she stepped into the Baja Catina off Washinton at nine that evening. The decor was a gaudy SoCal mix of Mexican beach bar and tourist trap but it was relatively popular. Most importantly, it wasn’t an establishment frequented by cops; Olivia didn’t want to deal with possibly running into colleagues that evening. She felt apprehensive going out at night dressed as she was. It was funny, for a woman born in the clubs of West Hollywood she should be used to nightlife in a skirt, but if anything that made her more aphehensive. She knew it was one of the city’s safer areas but she’d seen enough in her work to carry a healthy caution.

She’d worn a dress that evening and she was starting to regret the choice as she noticed several men glancing in her direction the moment she entered the bar. It was short and floral and fell off her shoulders with a peasant neckline. She wore a simple pair of heeled sandals and her hair was flowing around her neck. She felt as though she had to make an effort for her partner, as silly as it was. This was technically Kelly’s first time meeting Olivia, even though she’d met Mia more than once in the past.

She approached the bar and waited to order a drink. The bar was busy, but not entirely packed. Weeknights never got entirely quiet in the city but they did slow down a little from the weekend rush. She’d barely spoken to the barman when a tall handsome man had approached her and attempted to engage her in conversation.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before, but I wish I had,” he grinned broadly eyeing her up like a piece of meat. Olivia glanced at him and smiled thinly, a neutral gesture. She’d met plenty of men like him before, although they hadn’t been straight. She wondered if certain stereotypes of men were universal across sexuality.

“First time here and I’m waiting for a friend,” she replied over the music before turning back toward the bar to collect her drink as she surreptitiously kept the tip of her finger over the open bottle.

“I don’t see them yet, want to hang with me for a little while?” The guy asked not reading the signals.

Olivia’s eyes flicked nervously around the bar to see if she could spot Kelly, but came up short. “Sorry no,” she offered politely, not wanting the man to ask her any further.

“Ah come on, you’re too pretty to be on your own,” he asked again, reaching out a hand to guide Olivia by the hip away from the bar.

“No thanks,” Olivia said a little more firmly than she’d intended as she pushed his hand away. “I’m good here, leave me alone please.”

“No need to be like tha…” the man trailed off as a woman slipped in beside Olivia.

“Fuck off buddy, she’s not interested.” Kelly stated flatly. She was smiling politely, but her gaze was ready to melt steel. The man scowled, finally taking the hint as he slinked away into the crowed bar.

“Well then,” Kelly grinned, “Not even here a few minutes and you’re already beating them off with a stick Blondie.”

Olivia rolled her eyes, “He wasn’t taking no for an answer.”

“You have this deer in the headlights innocent look that makes men melt,” Kelly chuckled. She looked Olivia a lot closer. “I recognized you because I know Mia but damn girl, this is a very new look for you.”

Olivia blushed, “I don’t look silly do I?”

Kelly shook her head and grinned broadly, “Not even remotely silly Mi…Olivia, you’re gorgeous and I’m jealous.” Kelly shook her head, “You know it’s funny that I’m going to trip up on calling you Mia more than… you know.”

Olivia nodded and felt a little embarrassment, “I’m not her, not like this. This is… me, I think.”

Kelly eventually managed to order a drink after shouldering her way to the bar and the pair made their way over to a booth where they were able to talk a little more freely away from the press of the crowd. Despite knowing her for years, Olivia was still extremely nervous around her partner. She knew she didn’t care, she’d seen Mia in her full glory many times and had a blast coming to shows, but this was a different situation entirely.

“So, you’re not weirded out by me?” She asked after they’d gotten settled.

Kelly shrugged and took a sip of her drink. “No, not even a bit to be honest. I’ve seen you in dresses before girly and it does seem to suit you. It’s a new look and I don’t know this version of you yet, but you’re still my partner.”

“I’m still not sure how I feel about this Kel,” Olivia admitted shyly. “It feels good, right maybe? It’s like I relate to people differently and I’m so much more free, but I still feel like I’m doing something wrong.”

“Why is it wrong?”

Olivia took a long drink of her beer and shrugged, “I don’t know, shouldn’t it be?”

Kelly shook her head and her expression softened, “No it’s not, not if its right for you. You’re the only one that matters kid.”

“That’s where I’m stuck, I have no idea.” Olivia admitted sadly. “The world tells me it’s wrong, but the more I do this, the more I don’t want it to stop.”

“Then don’t. But you need to see someone about it for sure.”

Olivia rested her elbows on the table and placed her chin on her palm. Why was she doing this? Was it for Richard or was that simply an excuse? She told herself at first that it was simply to make his life easier but she knew that wasn’t the case. Mia had been the excuse for this hadn’t she? Mia Calafia was a somewhat socially acceptable excuse to be someone else and who did she choose? A girl.

“When I first decided to continue with this after… that night, I told myself it was to ease Richard’s mind and to stay like that to prevent embarassment to him but that’s bullshit.” she sighed. “I could have just gone back to Harry and achieved the same thing.”

“Yeah,” Kelly agreed. “You didn’t though did you?”

“No.”

Kelly scooted around the booth and wrapped an arm around Olivia. “A couple of weeks ago when we had that nasty shoplifter, I told you that you were basically one of us. I didn’t mean because you were gay, I meant you specifically.”

“Me?”

Kellly nodded, “I maybe made some jokes about it, but I never really saw you as a guy, not really. I know that… technically you’re a guy, but somehow I never saw it. We’ve been partners for a year and the academy before that. I never felt like i had a guy as a partner, gay or not. It always felt like you were just another woman but a little different.”

Olivia frowned and made a face, “I feel like I should be insulted by that, but I’m not.”

“I’m no expert on this crap, I can’t tell you what specifically it is, but you’re just girly.”

“When did the woman raised by wolves become an expert on all things feminine?” Olivia smirked.

“I have the vagina card you snarky bitch.” Kelly grinned. She shook her empty drink at Olivia, wordlessly asking if she wanted another. With her answer she scooted out of the booth and vanished toward the bar.

Once she returned, Olivia chatted with her partner about less depressing matters. It felt good to be out and socializing, if only for a while. With how complicated her life was becoming, having Kelly in her corner was comforting. Raised with four brothers, the girl was a bit more brusk than most women she knew, but it was an endearing quality when mixed with Kelly’s trademark sarcastic honesty. She knew her friend would always tell her the truth.

As she took a cab back to her apartment, she contemplated Kelly’s opinions on her situation and wondered if things really were that simple. Who did it really effect other than her and Richard? If he was happy and so was she, the world’s opinions didn’t really effect her. Nobody else could decide her fate, that was all on her. All her… The more she allowed herself to think honestly, the more she knew what she’d been denying. This wasn’t for Richard, this wasn’t for anyone but herself.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The next week was exceedingly normal. Kelly didn’t seem to change how she treated Harry, but, the more she considered it, Olivia realized that she had always treated her like another girl anyway. Realizing it was what had changed.

Each night when she got home, she became Olivia once again. Her life was becoming more and more comfortable as she spent increasing time as this new version of herself. She shopped for groceries, ran errands and surfed. The only place she was really beginning to feel uncomfortable was at work. When she had to become Harry, it felt as though she was lying now. When had being who she was born as become a lie?

She knew that very little about her situation made sense. The world seemed to fit Olivia far better than it did Harry. He had existed, while she seemed to be blossoming into a more complete person. One that she was beginning to enjoy getting to know a great deal.

She’d performed two more shows since Olivia had entered the world and her appearance had raised a couple of eyebrows when she arrived at the club. Nobody had said anything to her but she could tell that they were more than curious. Her reception on stage had been as good as ever; Mia still had it despite the girl behind her’s growing turmoil. She had originally thought there was a world of difference between who she was on and off the microphone. Mia was hot, brash and sexual, a vivacious creature that lived to tease and prod. The world was her stage and she owned any room she entered.

Olivia had once thought that she personified everything that Harry was not, but she was starting to see that she shared far more with her than she realized. While she wasn’t anywhere near as loud as her stage persona, she was beginning to notice that a lot of her personality traits existed within her in a more normal way. Olivia was far more confident than Harry had ever been, her reservations currently aside. She was more ready to tease and joke and she felt more free to move and was more prepared to try new things.

Richard was a new thing she was starting to enjoy a great deal. With their work lives busy, they’d managed to snatch a few evenings together during the week. They’d only been dating for a couple of weeks, but she already felt like they were in a real relationship. She’d dated before, but nothing ever seemed to really stick. A relationship was new for her, and it was quite a rewarding experience. She found that while Harry had been frightened by the prospect, she embraced the feelings it brought her. She was really starting to feel strongly about the man.

That evening was no exception: It was Saturday night, and Olivia was sitting across from Richard in a beautiful restaurant just off Marina Del Rey. The mood was relaxed and romantic and Olivia was feeling wonderful.

“I feel very lucky tonight.” Richard said softly, caressing Olivia’s fingers across the table. “Every man in this place is jealous of me.”

Olivia blushed and looked down, “you’re too much.”

“I mean it, you look amazing.”

Olivia had dressed up a little more than she had felt comfortable with that evening. She’d taken one of Mia’s cocktail dresses and spent over an hour on her makeup. Her dress was a black silk cocktail affair with sphagetti straps that clung to her body in the right places. Her hair was up and hung in delicate ringlets. She wanted Richard to feel like she deserved to be seen with him.

“How was your case? Did you win?” She asked deflecting his attention from her appearance.

Richard shrugged, “Yeah we did, Judge ruled in the State’s favor like we expected. I don’t want to talk about work tonight though, I just want to enjoy the moment.”

“Sorry,” Olivia offered sipping her wine. “I find your work really interesting.”

“I’m glad you do, my hours aren’t exactly wonderful sometimes.” Richard admitted.

“We’re making it work,” Olivia offered, “and I like spending time with you. Even if it’s just dinner at my place or watching a movie on the sofa, its special.”

Richard smiled. “I’ve never done that with any of my past relationships you know; just spent time together. It always seemed about the sex, or about going out and being seen. I wanted to experience all the thrills and adventure.” He suddenly looked sheepish. “Not that I don’t want to do those things with you… I just love to spend time with you, it doesn’t need to be glitzy, I just want to be close.”

Olivia placed her desert fork down on her plate and pushed it away gently as she smiled at him, “yes, I know what you mean.”

“You want to head up the coast and make a day of surfing this weekend?” Richard asked hopefully, “I wanted to try Point Mugu up past Malibu, there’s a great little diner on the way back we could grab lunch at.”

Olivia smiled, “Yeah I’d love to, it would be nice. Spending the day together would be great.”

Richard grinned broadly and signalled for the waiter, “Great! We’ll get away from it all and have a blast, I can’t wait.”

The waiter brought Richard the cheque and he passed them his card as he stood and helped Olivia with her chair. “I can think of other amazing ways to spend time together too.” he whispered as he led her toward the door.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Richard pulled his car into the garage below his apartment in Santa Monica. The building was just off the main strip and had stunning views of the pier and the beach. She knew he had an expensive car, but the whole place felt like an entirely different world to her.

“I still can’t believe you’re this rich,” she marveled as she walked into the apartment with him.

Richard shrugged dismissively, “crime pays, well, arguing in court about crime does at least. Why? You only in this for the money like all the other girls?”

Olivia gently slapped his arm as he led her to the huge floor to ceiling windows of the living room. “I did it for the view.”

Richard grinned and retreated to a small bar at the side of the room and retrieved a bottle of champagne and a pair of glasses. “A drink?”

Olivia nodded, still staring out over the twinkling lights of the city toward the beach. “It’s beautiful up here.”

Richard popped the cork and poured two glasses. “You know, I bought it for the proximity to work. I wasn’t really that worried about the view beyond it being close enough to the beach to surf.”

Olivia took one of the offered glasses and smiled, “if I lived here I’d watch the sunset every day.”

Richard gently took her elbow and turned her to face him. “You’re so beautiful tonight.” he murmured, staring into her eyes. “Every day you just seem to amaze me again and again. I don’t know how you do it.”

Olivia glanced away then back up at him, “I feel lucky that you even want me,” she admitted shyly. “I never dreamed I’d find someone like you.”

Richard took her glass and placed it with his on the edge of a sidetable. He shook his head gently, “I’m the lucky one. I found someone that makes me want to slow down and enjoy life. someone that I care very deeply about and want to spend time with. She’s beautiful, exciting and an intellectual equal that I can talk to.”

Olivia blushed deeply as she stared into Richard’s eyes. “You’re being too generous,” she whispered softly, “I’m so broken.”

Richard shook his head and wrapped his arms around her waist. He lowered his head until they were almost eye to eye. “You’re not broken, you’re perfect.” He silenced any reply by kissing her gently on the lips.

Richard pulled their bodies together as they kissed and Olivia’s heart fluttered. The world around them seemed to close in until it was just a small bubble of existence occupied by two human beings. She returned his kiss with passion as his hands slid lower until they cupped her rear, the soft silk of her dress moving gently against her skin felt sensational.

Olivia felt her lips part and she moaned hungrily as Richard’s tongue slipped into her mouth. She ran her fingers through his hair as they stood entwined by the window, the lights of the city glittering like stars in the night sky.

Being this close to Richard did strange things to Olivia. She felt weak in his arms, yet, at the same time she buzzed with electricity. His every touch seemed to reach into her very being. Here in his arms, the world simply didn’t matter.

Richard withdrew gently and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes as he gazed at her with a silly expression. For such a confident man, he looked so innocently boyish at times she thought. She smiled shyly and pressed against his body. She knew what he wanted to do with the rest of their evening, and she wanted him just as much.

Richard took her hand and led her through to the bedroom. Thankfully, the blinds were drawn over the massive window as he led her toward the bed. Olivia’s breath caught in her throat as he slipped the straps of her dress from her shoulders and let it slide to the floor.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Olivia woke early the next morning. It took her a moment to recognize the unfamiliar surroundings in which she found herself. She could feel warmth beside her and glanced across to see Richard’s sleeping form beneath the sheets. She smiled happily, her heart singing proudly. He had been such a tender and considerate lover the night before she had wanted to cry.

She looked down at her own body under the knot of sheets that was partially covering her and felt disappointment well inside her. It seemed that every moment Olivia existed, Harry became more of a reminder that she was wrong. Each moment she felt a shard of happiness, he remind her that she was so very wrong. Slipping from the sheets, she wrapped herself as best she could with her dress and slipped into the bathroom. Self consciously, she locked the door behind herself and stepped into the shower.

Fifteen minutes later she returned to the bedroom wrapped in a towel and approached the bed. Richard was still sleeping and she knelt beside him. He looked so peaceful, it felt almost sinful to wake him but she had to go to work in two hours. She gently kissed him on the lips and stroked his cheek to rouse him.

Richard stirred and his eyes fluttered open. He glanced at her and smiled sleepily.

“Can you drive me home?” she asked softly, “I have to work.”

Richard’s sleepy smile transformed into a sly grin as he pulled her on top of him. Olivia squeaked and grabbed her towel as she landed on Richard’s chest. “I’m serious,” she pouted, “I’ve got a shift this morning.”

Richard kissed her playfully and rolled her off so he could climb out of bed. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll run you home. I’m just disapointed we can’t spend the morning in bed together.”

Olivia sat up on the covers and smiled sadly, “I’d far rather stay here with you today.”

While Richard showered and cleaned himself up for the day, Olivia changed back into her underwear then glanced at the dress that now lay on the foot of the bed. She grimaced and chose not to highlight her commute of shame. Checking Richard’s wardrobe she spotted a white shirt and snatched it from the hangar. Grabbing one of his belts she shrugged into the large shirt and buttoned it most of the way up before wrapping the belt around her waist. Rolling the sleeves, she slipped into her heels and applied a light amount of makeup and checked her reflection in the mirror.

She still had that ‘Spent the night at her boyfriend’s place’ look, but it was far better than the previous evening’s dress. Slipping into the kitchen, she managed to find her way enough to make a pot of coffee and a locate a pair of mugs. By the time Richard emerged fully dressed from the bedroom, she was sitting at the breakfast bar sipping her steaming elixir and feeling far more human.

“I can get used to this you know,” he grinned taking the offered mug. “Is that my shirt?”

Olivia grinned and nodded. “I didn’t want to look cheap going home in last night’s dress.”

Richard rolled his eyes and smirked. “Come on, my car’s downstairs.”

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Driftwood #6 - Life & Death In Los Angeles

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Caution:

CAUTION: Violence

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Driftwood

By Alyssa Plant

Life and Love are far more complicated than we can possibly understand. For one young cop, a journey of self-discovery will teach them that true strength was inside them all along.

A Double Whammy this week... Chapters Six and Seven are importantly linked to the story, so I felt you'd enjoy them both together! This is where things get big!

Chapter Six - Time

Harry yawned into his coffee and stretched. It seemed as though emotional turmoil was as exhausting as physical exercise, and he’d been through both in the past twenty four hours. He felt extremely out of place in his uniform that morning after he’d finally made it to work. When his mind flickered back to the night before, the memories almost seemed as though they had happened to a different person; perhaps he was truly losing his mind after all.

“You’re doing it again.” Kelly laughed as they walked out to the motor pool.

Harry glared at her and straightened his stride, “shut up.”

Anderson cackled to herself. “You’re getting worse, girl. I don’t know how long you’re going to be able to hide things now the cat is out of the bag.”

“I don’t need to hear it, Kelly. My head is already all over the place as it stands.”

“Well get your head in gear or you’re going to start rumors,” Kelly chuckled. “Work time.”

Most of their morning was thankfully boring and uneventful. They were dispatched to a burglary and handled a couple of traffic stops with little fanfare. When midday arrived, they were parked up at a fast food stand to grab lunch.

Harry placed their order once they reached the front of the queue. “Two pulled pork Burritos.”

“Coming right up, senoritas.” the older Hispanic man replied cheerfully as he set about preparing their food.

Harry was going to comment but Anderson elbowed him in the ribs. He rolled his eyes and waited silently for their food. He kept his mouth closed until they received their lunch and got back to their car.

“That never used to happen before,” he sighed.

Kelly grinned at him past her burrito. “You’re spending more time as Olivia than Harry, it’s becoming second nature. That and your sex life has you all girly-girl.”

Harry was going to reply when their radio chirped. He glared at Kelly while he pulled up the call on their computer.

“One Adam Ninety-Three, Armed robbery in-progress, Bani Market, 591 South La Brea cross of South Market.”

“One Adam Ninety-Three, Dispatch, show us en route,” Harry responded as Kelly threw the car into gear.

Their lunch was forgotten as Dalton and Anderson switched focus to business as they roared away from the taco stand with lights and siren blazing. Harry drew his sidearm and checked that it was loaded as their dispatch relayed further details. Mentally, he ran through a list of checks as they raced to the scene of the robbery. “Think it’s going to be bad?”

Kelly shook her head, “no idea, we’ll see.”

They rolled to a stop outside the store, set into a strip of buildings off the main road and got out of the car with weapons drawn. Anderson looked across at Dalton and nodded. The pair moved up slowly, weapons raised, and approached the door. As they approached the door, they maneuvered to attempt to see inside. A man by the counter turned around and sprayed a submachine gun at the door. The glass erupted between them as both deputies flattened themselves against the building wall.

“Sheriff’s Department, drop the weapon!” Dalton yelled.

The man inside yelled something unintelligible and sprayed another burst in their direction.

Anderson was hurriedly calling for backup on the radio, her face a mask of anxiousness and resolve. Dalton glanced around the doorway and withdrew fast as more bullets flew.

“Clerk behind the counter, Bravo Mike, black hoodie, tech nine.”

Anderson nodded.

“I’ma fuckin’ shoot this fool, get out of here.” screamed the man.

“Look we just want to talk, let’s stop shooting ok?” Dalton yelled back. “Put it down and talk to me. Nobody needs to get shot.”

Anderson turned to her radio, “Barricaded suspect with hostage, roll us SWAT.”

Several cars began to arrive behind them and they were joined by additional deputies. Anderson began to fill in the new arrivals as Dalton continued to talk.

“Come on, let's not get anyone killed, we can solve this peacefully man. What’s your name?”

“I ain’t telling you my name.” screamed the gunman. “I wanna get out of here or I’m gonna smoke this fool.”

Harry shook his head at Kelly and nodded back behind them. “Ok,” he called. “We’re going to move back ok? Don’t hurt him, we’ll let you come out, you can get to your car alright?”

The deputies around the door began to withdraw to positions of cover behind their vehicles. Minutes passed before the store door began to move. A short Asian man was shoved forward while the gunman kept his weapon to the side of his head. The man was jumpy as all hell; his eyes darted everywhere in rapid succession. This guy was on the edge of losing it and Harry knew it. One false move, one car backfires, and the hostage is dead.

He tucked himself into the alley beside the building tighter hoping he would remain out of sight. The gunman was moving along the sidewalk in their direction towards the vehicle they assumed he’d arrived in; a dirty old Buick.

Deputies were behind him and more toward the intersection at the far side of the standoff. The man drew closer and Harry could see his fingers flexing on the gun in his hand. The dark metallic machine pistol was twitching against the clerk’s head.

The man was barely ten feet from the alley and approaching his car when the clerk made a terrible decision. Time slowed down as the little old man elbowed the shooter and tried to run as his fight or flight instinct kicked in at the worst possible moment. Harry watched the shooter stumble and then begin to raise the weapon toward the clerk’s fleeing form. He didn’t think, he launched himself from the alley and dove at the shooter. The man squeezed the trigger as Harry connected and a burst of fire scattered uselessly into the sidewalk as he stumbled backward.

Harry heard yelling and screaming voices as though he were underwater as he wrestled the man for the gun. Everything within him seemed laser-focused on accomplishing that single act. The man fought him, he was stronger by a good measure. Adrenaline and muscle revolted at his efforts to contain the deadly device.

Harry struck the suspect in the face several times with his free hand as he tried to control his weapon hand. The man flexed and moved to throw off his balance. The gun moved and Harry brought his weight down on the arm as best he could. The gun went off. Its sound was deafening in close proximity even though it was wedged between their bodies. He felt a stabbing pain in his lower body as the man’s arm overcorrected from his resistance. White pain flooded Harry’s body as his mind tried to process that he’d been shot. He could barely focus as he convulsed in pain. With the last of his strength, he brought up his free hand and punched the man in the temple with everything he had.

The man went limp and the weapon arm relaxed. Harry rolled off the suspect and lay on the sidewalk, his body feeling suddenly extremely cold. He looked down, his green uniform trousers were dark red from the knees up.

Kelly appeared above him, a look of fear and panic etched into her features. She was yelling at him, but it was dull, murky, and distant.

“I don’t want to die,” she whispered as the world turned black around her.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Harry awoke slowly. His body ached in a dull, expansive way he could barely describe through the fog in his mind. The first thing he was able to recall was the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor somewhere nearby. As his vision swam into focus, he began to make out the ubiquitous furniture and fittings of a hospital room around him.

He tried to raise his head and found it far heavier than he remembered. His body felt like it was full of lead and his muscles would barely cooperate. The movement gained the attention of Richard who had been sitting beside his bed.

“Hey, it’s ok, don’t panic, you’re in the hospital.” he whispered soothingly, brushing the hair from his eyes.

“What happened?” Harry managed to croak dryly.

“I need to get the nurse.” Richard explained as he stood, squeezing Harry’s hands. “I’ll be right back I promise.”

Harry watched dimly as he left the room in a hurry before returning moments later followed by a pair of nurses with Kelly Anderson trailing behind them.

“How are we feeling?” the first nurse asked.

Harry shook his head gently, “Not great,” he rasped.

The nurses ushered out Richard and Kelly before checking his dressings and taking readings from the various machines.

“When can I find out what happened?” He asked dryly, accepting a cup of ice chips from one of the nurses.

“A doctor will be through soon to see you honey,” she offered with an apologetic smile. “It’s best if they explain.”

The nurses finished up and elevated the head of the bed for him and made their exits allowing Richard and Kelly to return.

Richard sat down beside the bed and stroked his cheek. “I’m so glad you’re back with us, Kelly told me what you did you silly fool.”

Harry attempted to shrug but didn’t have the energy. “I was just doing my job, I screwed up is all.”

Kelly shook her head. “You’re getting a whole bunch of awards, some fuck up.”

Harry looked confused as Kelly held up her hand and started counting. “Medal of Valor, Line of Duty and Life Saving awards and a Purple Heart to boot.”

“Jesus.” Harry muttered. “It wasn’t a big deal, and I got myself shot too.”

Richard shook his head. “You dived at a gunman about to kill a hostage and subdued him single-handedly preventing loss of life and protecting your fellow officers.” he explained with admiration. “You are a hero.”

“I don’t feel like one.”

Kelly sat carefully on the edge of the bed. “I’d have gotten hit if he started spraying at that guy from the store. He was right between the shooter and me. I couldn’t get a clean shot nor could half the guys behind me. You saved my life, partner.”

As they were talking, a woman in her forties entered wearing a lab coat over a smart pantsuit. The doctor, Harry presumed.

“How are we feeling? I’m Doctor Miller,” she asked, consulting Harry’s chart. “My colleagues told me you were awake and I wanted to pop in and have a little chat about your condition.”

“Like I got shot I guess, the first time,” Harry muttered. “Can they stay?” he asked, glancing at Richard and Kelly.

The doctor nodded. “So as you’re aware, you were shot, but perhaps not how many times. You suffered six separate gunshot wounds to the pelvis and thighs resulting in significant hemorrhaging. You coded twice on the operating table, but we were able to stabilize the bleeding. One bullet nicked your femoral artery, and one broke your left femur. One was embedded in your right femur, but it remained intact. You suffered several flesh wounds and the final bullet did the most damage.”

The doctor looked uneasy for a moment. “Are you sure you want them to remain for this?”

Harry nodded, feeling a pang of nerves. “They’re both important to me, They should hear it too.”

Richard squeezed Harry’s hand.

“Well,” the doctor continued. “The final bullet perforated your scrotum and damaged your testicles. I’m afraid they were beyond saving. We had to surgically remove the remnants.”

Harry felt strangely numb. He knew this should be a major disaster for him, that the doctor expected this to be horrific news but he felt oddly calm.

“I’m alive though, and I can walk?” he asked quietly.

“We had to use plates to secure your femur and you still have the bullet embedded in your right but otherwise you will make a full recovery in time, aside from the obvious.”

“Are you ok?” Richard asked.

Harry looked between Richard and Kelly. Richard was deeply concerned, he looked almost afraid for Harry. Kelly on the other hand looked sick to her stomach.

“Yeah, I mean, I’m glad to be alive. I very nearly wasn’t. This is going to take some time to absorb, doctor.”

The doctor nodded. “You’ve been out for a couple of days, but you should be able to return home in a week or so depending on how well your wounds heal. You were quite lucky in many respects, your injuries should heal without major complications to your mobility. Other aspects though…” she trailed off. “May cause issues. I’m very sorry. I’ll give you some time to process this news.” she added, making her exit politely from the room.

Kelly punched the wall. “I’m so fucking sorry Harry.” she groaned, “I should have done something.”

“You couldn’t, you already said that.” Harry tried to comfort her. “It’s not your fault or anyone else.”

“How do you feel about this?” Richard asked softly.

Harry wasn’t sure. “I guess I get to be the terminator now, I contain metal parts.”

Richard smirked but his expression returned to one of serious concern.

Harry looked away for a moment before returning his gaze to Richard. “I don’t know yet. I’m so glad to be alive, I think I got off kinda lucky as she said. I will walk again and I can still work I hope. I will surf again but I’m just going to set off some metal detectors. The other part? God, I don’t know honestly. I wasn’t exactly the manliest guy before this and I’m not sure they were much use anyway; I was never going to father a child.” he admitted.

“Mother perhaps.” Kelly chuckled in an attempt to raise the mood.

Harry threw an ice chip at her, “I’m serious. It could be much worse really. Considering recent events, it’s not as though it will damage my masculinity; I never had much, if any.”

Richard squeezed his hand softly.

Harry looked him directly in his eyes. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to stick around, but I’m glad you were here when I woke up. I know this is a lot to heap on someone so early in a relationship. I’m sure you don’t need the baggage, it’s ok.”

Richard shook his head. “How can you even imagine that? I’m going nowhere baby.” he leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on Harry’s forehead. “Nearly losing you made me realize how much I love you.”

Harry swallowed. “You love me?”

Richard nodded. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Harry whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I’m so happy you’re here.” he choked.

Richard hugged him gently and kissed him on the lips.

Their kiss was only broken by a gagging sound in the background. The pair looked up sheepishly at Kelly who was miming sticking her fingers down her throat. “God you guys are too fucking much, I’m going to hurl. Shot to shit and you still get your hallmark moment before me you bitch.”

Harry smiled. “You can get shot too if you want.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The gunman saw him as he darted from the alleyway. Harry had misjudged the timing and the man started to turn toward him. The barrel of the machine pistol glinted in the sunlight as he stared down the muzzle of the brutal-looking weapon.

The gun barked and Harry felt the bullets striking him and he felt cold. There was blackness and suddenly he was falling.

Harry woke to find a nurse hovering above him, she was looking down with concern in her eyes. “Are you ok?” she asked softly.

Harry swallowed, he felt cold and his gown was clammy where it stuck to his skin. His breathing was heavy and his heart was hammering.

“I…” he began, glancing around. He was still in the hospital room. “I… bad dream.”

“It’s ok,” the nurse soothed. “You were screaming, I think you were having a nightmare. It’s perfectly normal after something this traumatic.”

She helped change his gown and sheets before giving him something to help him sleep. Chemical blackness took him quickly, but it was barely possible to call it restful.

The rest of the hospital stay passed incredibly slowly. Each day included a parade of visitors from members of the department, his few friends along with nurses and doctors. There were a couple more nightmares that plagued him during his stay but they began to fade with each day that passed. Each one was a variation of what could have gone wrong; in nearly every situation he died painfully.

After four days, the catheter was removed and Harry was encouraged to walk to the bathroom in his room. Even that short exertion was exhausting for him. He was soon able to shower with great care. His body felt strained and stiff and his thighs were a mask of red wounds, but being able to wash his hair was more refreshing than he realized. Feeling clean and wearing his own bed clothes made him feel significantly more comfortable.

Kelly had brought him needed supplies from home. She had jokingly included the nightdress that had been on his bed from the night before that fateful day but Harry hadn’t felt comfortable wearing it in his current appearance.

It was just after ten in the morning on a Friday when there was a knock at his door.

“Come in,” Harry called, pushing himself upright in the bed with only significant discomfort.

The door opened and a tall blonde woman in a Sheriff’s Department uniform entered cautiously, she appeared hesitant to disturb him.

“Deputy Dalton?” The woman asked.

Harry nodded, then recognized her, “Sheriff Reilly, Ma’am.”

The woman nodded and clasped her hands in front of her. “I hope I’m not disturbing you?”

Harry shook his head. “No Ma’am.”

The sheriff shook her head. “No more of that Ma’am business, you’ll make me feel old. Kate please, you’ve earned that much at least unless we’re at work.”

Harry nodded.

“I wanted to come and visit sooner but I was trying to give you some time to recuperate. I’ve spoken to your partner and read the reports of the incident.” she paused and raised her eyebrows. “What you did was insanely dangerous and almost certainly saved lives.”

“It just seemed like the right thing at the time, I guess it was kinda stupid really,” he admitted sheepishly.

The Sheriff shook her head. “That’s what all brave people say when they do something above and beyond the call of duty. I wanted to inform you personally that you’re receiving the Medal of Valor, Line of Duty, and Life Saving awards along with a departmental Purple Heart. I spoke to the committee the other day, congratulations.”

Harry smiled. “Kelly, ah, Deputy Anderson already told me,” he admitted. “I don’t deserve those.”

The sheriff shook her head and leaned against a cabinet next to the bed. “You know what medals and awards are for?” she asked.

“People that deserve them?”

She shook her head. “It’s mostly for the people handing them out and your friends and family. Nobody that gets them wants them or feels they deserve them. We do it to celebrate the act, the achievement; It’s for the people you saved.”

Harry hung his head. “I just want to be able to work again, if I’m allowed to.”

“If a doctor signs you off you absolutely can. If not, a full pension.”

Harry looked up at the Sheriff. She was a beautiful woman in her thirties. The youngest they’d ever had in the state apparently. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a neat ponytail and her trim figure was dressed in a patrol uniform with her stars affixed to the collar. Their boss went out on the road, unlike many others.

“You know how many times I’ve been injured in the line, Harry? I can call you Harry, can’t I?”

Harry nodded, “I know of a few Ma… Kate.”

The Sheriff nodded and smirked, “too many. I couldn’t stand the idea of riding a desk even in this job. We’re thigh buddies now,” she added, patting her left thigh. “Titanium plate after I got run over a few years ago.”

Harry pushed his hair back out of his eyes and nodded.

“I’ll be honest with you,” Sheriff Reilly pointed out after a moment of quiet. “I’ve had a lot of my deputies hurt on the job, many more than I’d like. Often it’s no fault of their own and sometimes it's entirely their own stupid fault, but it’s rare when it’s such a selfless act.”

The Sheriff frowned. “I know things haven’t been wonderful for you with us, I’m aware of some of the comments and jokes. Believe me, I want us to do better. As much as we’ve tried to improve things, old habits die hard in such a macho environment. I know some of my deputies won’t ever respect me as their leader because I’m a woman but I’ve worked extremely hard to prove them wrong.”

She walked over and sat on the end of Harry’s bed. “You’re not the most macho and you’re gay; you don’t really fit into either camp in people’s minds. You made a very tough choice when you decided to answer this calling and they ought to respect you for that. After what happened to you and what you did, you’ve changed a lot of minds in the department and our colleagues in others. You too can change perceptions, Harry.”

The Sheriff’s radio crackled to life and Harry heard her number called. Reilly rolled her eyes and stood. “Babysitting to do. Take your time and heal, your job will be waiting for you when you’re ready. The Department thanks you for your sacrifice.”

After the Sheriff left, Harry considered her words. He had no intention of being an example to anyone but he understood her point about perception. Reilly had a storied career within the department before and after she was elected to her current post. That she, with all her accomplishments, didn’t feel entirely respected showed a human vulnerability he hadn’t expected in someone of her rank. Would this really change the looks he got in the locker room? Would it make people answer his calls for backup? He wasn’t sure.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The nurse wheeled Harry’s chair towards the door of the hospital. It was just over three weeks after his admittance that fateful day. The doctors had taken extra time to ensure that Harry’s wounds were healing and his initial rehabilitation was proceeding successfully. His whole body hurt from the exertion of walking back and forth, even with the aid of rails and walkers. Richard and Kelly were by his side as they exited into the LA sunshine for the first time in what had felt like an eternity.

Kelly had her SUV pulled into the bay at the doors of the hospital and the two helped Harry into the back before returning the chair to the staff. Seeing the world passing by again as they drove through the city felt novel and new. The vibrations and bumps of the road however, reminded him that it was still a very long road to recovery.

Before long, they were pulling up at Harry’s apartment in Venice. He felt incredibly frail as they helped him climb the stairs up to his home. The second-floor apartment had never felt so far away. Richard had been insistent that Harry should stay with him until he was better and he had agreed on one condition; that he be allowed to return home and pack for himself. Begrudgingly, the two agreed and helped him to his room.

Harry sat carefully on his bed. He was tired but he had something he needed to accomplish before he could rest. Slowly and painfully, he began the process of becoming Olivia once again.

While she was still in significant pain, Olivia felt suddenly far more comfortable in her own skin, her time in the hospital as Harry had felt decidedly false. She had refitted her wig, much to her frustration at her own short hair before reattaching and blending her breast forms into her skin. Slipping into comfortable underwear she dressed simply in sweatpants and a tank top and sports bra. Even with no makeup, she looked female in the bedroom mirror, that was enough for her; pretty could wait until she felt less like death warmed up.

Part of her mind realized this was beginning to mean far more to her than was probably healthy for her, but right now, comfort was important and she needed her head on right. It wasn’t as though she had anywhere to be for a while.

Packing enough clothing for a couple of weeks along with her makeup and essentials she left the cases where they were before facing the elephant in the room and stepping back out into the hallway to deal with Richard and Kelly.

The pair were waiting in the hallway when she emerged and turned to help her as she shuffled out of the bedroom expecting her to be trying to move her own bags. Kelly’s hand flew to her mouth and barely hid her smile. Richard grinned and nodded at her.

“I figured,” he said simply. Olivia smiled and shrugged.

“It’s not right you know,” Kelly muttered. “You nearly died, you can barely move, you’ve no makeup on and you look better than me.”

Olivia smirked, “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

Kelly shook her head and went to collect the cases while Richard helped her back down to the car.

“We’re going to have to talk about this when we get home,” he remarked casually as he held her weight as she hobbled down the stairs.

“Home?” Olivia asked with mock skepticism. “That’s presumptuous.”

“For now at least, consider it yours too.”

She smiled at him and kissed his cheek.

Loading her belongings into the trunk of Kelly’s SUV, the three set off for Richard’s apartment in Santa Monica. It wasn’t long before her partner started her interrogation.

“So,” Kelly asked without looking back at Olivia. “Spill the beans girly, what’s the deal here? I take it Harry’s not coming back, right?”

“I don’t know what label to put on things at the moment but I have a long time ahead of me before Harry has to come back, and I want to see how I feel about everything.”

“I mean it’s not a huge leap really. You certainly suit it and you should do what you feel like. My real question is how does this genderfuck work with Richie boy?”

With a grimace, Olivia leaned forward and smacked her partner’s arm.

Richard shrugged. “I don’t care, She’s beautiful either way.”

Kelly simply grinned and returned her attention to the road. Olivia snuggled closer to Richard’s shoulder. While still miffed she wasn’t allowed to stay in her own home to recuperate, she was secretly pleased he wanted to look after her.

“I’m going to feel totally out of place staying here with you, it’s so ostentatcious.”

Richard grinned, “You’re not exactly poor you know, your family makes more than I do per anum. Doesn’t that make me the gold digger?”

Being held around the shoulders made slapping the back of someone’s head extremely easy, she discovered.

Before long her belongings were put away in the bedroom and she was carefully placed on the expansive sofa to rest. The doctors had told her to ensure she was immobile as much as possible but maintained their physical therapy schedule of appointments and at-home routines. She knew the road ahead was a difficult one, but their prognosis of a full recovery was extremely positive if she was proactive.

There would always be a bullet to remind her of that fraught decision on that filthy sidewalk. She knew her decision had been correct as much as she felt she had failed to accomplish it. She was determined to return to the job and prove that she deserved it. Not for the sake of anyone else, but for her own sake. The rest of this mess she had gotten into would have to be addressed too. As much as it hurt, this situation gave her time to work out how she truly felt.

Chapter Seven - Put Up or Shut Up

“Push yourself, Harry, give me five more laps.”

Amanda Carter was a hard taskmistress. Harry cursed her name every time he completed the length of the therapy room they were using at the hospital. Walking was possible, but more than a dozen meters at a time was painful and it took all of his strength to continue moving his legs. The program set out for him was designed to maintain muscle mass and aid the knitting of the shattered bone.

Harry completed the demanded laps and Carter helped him sit on a bench to rest.

“This is exhausting.” He grumbled.

“By the time it’s not, we’ll add more, then move on to strength exercises once your healing is further along. We don’t want to risk any reopening of wounds while the stitches are still in.”

Harry nodded. “It will get easier, right?”

Carter finished her notes and nodded. “Yes, but we’re not just aiming for basic recovery and healing. Your job demands a lot and it’s going to need to go a bit further.”

He understood of course, but it would be a grueling experience all the same.

“You’ve got a check-up with Doctor Miller, then I’ll see you next week.” she added, “I’ll get you an orderly to take you upstairs.”

One of the hospital orderlies arrived and wheeled Harry up to the eighth floor to wait for Doctor Miller at her office. He only had to wait ten minutes before she arrived and held the door for him while he wheeled himself inside. He was exhausted from the exercise so was glad for the excuse to move around in the wheelchair.

“How was your first session with the physical therapist?” She asked, sitting at her desk.

“Psycho you mean,” Harry grumbled. “Awful, I feel like I ran a marathon.”

She smiled. “It’s going to be like that. The majority of damage is in your thighs, which are the main motive power of your body. It’s going to take some time.”

Doctor Miller helped him up onto the examination table and helped him undress so she could examine his wounds.

“These are knitting nicely, but they’re going to be extremely sore for a while. I should be able to remove the stitches in a week or so. The bone won’t start to really mend for another month but the titanium plates we fitted will hold things nicely. How are you sleeping?”

“Poorly,” Harry admitted. “Mostly nightmares. The pain is bad but I’m trying to moderate the painkillers I'm taking, I’d rather not feel too numb.”

Miller nodded in agreement and helped him to redress. “So, the biggest topic we need to address is your ongoing health from here. Your body has suffered a major trauma and it’s going to need to heal. A big part of that, and especially the recovery of muscle tissue is your body’s endocrine system. Right now, your hormones are flatlined and you don’t have any testosterone flowing through your system aside from the small amount that’s produced by your pituitary gland.”

She paused to see if he was following.

“The way the human body works is that it needs those hormones to develop, or in your case, recover. Lack of those hormones also can lead to bone problems and your physical health declining. With the loss of your testicles, this means you’re going to need that testosterone injected every month so that your body can maintain its normal function and muscle mass. This is something we’re going to start today.”

Harry didn’t reply. He knew this was something that would be brought up, but he also knew he wasn’t ready to decide yet.

Doctor Miller glanced at him and noticed his expression, “Is there something wrong?”

Harry frowned. “How vital is this to my recovery?”

“Vital honestly,” she replied. “Is there something wrong with this? I know it’s going to be inconvenient but you’ll get used to the regimen over time. Eventually, you won’t even notice. Naturally, you won’t be able to father children, but I believe you do have a boyfriend, yes?”

Harry nodded. “I do, but that’s not it Doctor.” he paused, the words suddenly seemed extremely difficult for him to form.

“What do you see when you look at me?” he asked.

Doctor Miller regarded him for a moment with an analytical medical eye.

“A young man recovering from an extremely traumatic event.”

“Physically, specifically.” Harry pressed.

“You’re,” she consulted her notes, “five foot eight, one hundred and forty-three pounds, slim, perhaps a little on the skinny side of healthy, fair-haired.” she stopped for a moment and ran a finger along his cheek and forearm.

“Extremely light body hair, low facial hair growth, when did you start shaving?”

“I didn’t.”

“There is a possibility you had reduced hormone production before this, which does make a replacement regimen extremely important to balance your body’s endocrine system. This will help you grow facial hair, and build muscle mass and strength. Your parents never took you to your local practitioner about this?”

“What if I don’t want that?”

Dr Miller thought for a moment. “Have you been taking anything?”

Harry shook his head. “No.”

“Are you experiencing underlying gender issues?”

The million dollar question Harry mused. Was he? There was confusion, certainly, but was he ready for a pathway in either direction? His incident left him at a fork in the road where each pathway led in extremely different directions and neither were easy.

“Yes,” he replied quietly, unable to meet the doctor’s eyes.

“Are you seeing any psychiatrists about this?” she asked gently.

Harry shook his head. “I was getting to that point I guess.”

“This leaves us in a quandary,” Miller explained. “You need to begin replacement as soon as possible for your physical recovery to progress as smoothly as possible, if you’re not willing to take the Testosterone injections, you don’t exactly have many options.”

“Waiting doesn’t work?”

Miller shook her head. “You need this. Now your circumstances are far from normal, and this presents you with a choice. As things stand, you don’t have a supporting psychiatrist or a diagnosis but I could in my remit, prescribe Oestrogen instead. Now, This would only occur if you promise to see a professional and gain a diagnosis to continue after this initial round. You’ve had recent bloodwork to clear you for either really. I have your baseline levels, and given that you lack any natural primary production, one or the other is necessary. Now, while this will benefit your recovery, you shouldn’t experience any irreversible changes within three to four months should you change your mind.”

“The Oestrogen,” Harry answered flatly. It felt like the right choice, but he also realized he was beginning a pathway he might not be able to return from, or want to.

Doctor Miller nodded. “We can do that. However, I insist you get an appointment to see a specialist soon, I’ll have my receptionist give you a few numbers.”

Harry was in a mental fog as Doctor Miller left to gather the necessary items for his first shot. This decision felt monumental but he also felt strongly that testosterone would be far more wrong. Within moments, Miller returned and had him lower his pants for her to jab him in the buttocks.

“So, fair warning, you’re going to experience some emotional changes and you might notice your skin will feel softer. If things are particularly virulent, you’ll develop some sensitivity in the breast area and body fat will begin to move around. Nothing should be too extreme, but prepare for tears.”

“I’ve always been pretty emotional anyway.” Harry shrugged.

“Oh then you’re going to be a wreck soon,” Miller smirked. “Expect random mood swings.”

After the appointment was complete, Harry collected the list of names from Miller’s receptionist and was delivered back downstairs to the lobby where Kelly was waiting to take him back to Richard’s apartment.

“Go alright, blondie?” She asked, taking his arm carefully. “How long before you can dance in heels again?”

Harry didn’t answer straight away. “Sooner than I thought, I guess.”

Kelly helped him into her waiting SUV and climbed in beside him. “How so?”

“Well, the doctor jabbed my ass with my first hormone shot to replace what I lost.”

“So you’ll be sporting a huge beard soon? Won’t kissing Richard be weird when it's velcro on velcro?”

Harry shook his head. “No beard, but I might grow boobs.”

Kelly slammed on the brake and flipped off the honking sedan behind her before staring at him in shock, “what did you say?”

“She told me I needed one or the other to heal, and I didn’t want the testosterone.”

“So you’re all shot up with girl juice?”

Harry nodded and didn’t turn to face his partner. “Yeah.”

“Dude, this is big isn’t it?”

“She told me I shouldn’t expect too much and nothing permanent yet. She wants me to see a shrink to talk about all of this girl stuff.”

“You talk to Richard about this?”

Harry shook his head. “Wasn’t expecting to be given an ultimatum or a choice today. I guess I have to explain some stuff to him tonight.”

Kelly spent the rest of the journey making fun of her partner and telling him stories of what he was missing at work. She knew his head was a mess at the moment and hoped he would find the path that was right for him. Once they arrived back at the apartment, she helped him inside and got him settled before leaving with a promise to call later and hear how his conversation went.

Harry limped back into the bedroom slowly and changed out of his neutral sweats and changed back into Olivia.

Was she making the right choice? Was this a phase, a fad or a place to hide from reality? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was every day that passed left Harry feeling more and more like the disguise. Perhaps the junction she’d reached was the catalyst she needed to really face those feelings she’d forced down for so long.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Olivia woke later that evening when Richard softly shook her shoulder. She was lying on the sofa in the living room of his apartment. She opened her eyes to see him kneeling above her with a worried look on his face. “Hey”

“You looked restless, you were muttering, How are you feeling?”

Olivia pulled herself upright with a grimace. “Bad dream I guess, Physical therapy was really exhausting. I sat down for a rest when I got back and then you were here.”

Richard placed a bag of takeout containers on the coffee table. “Must be the life, sleeping and working out while I go out all day to hunt for dinner.”

Olivia rolled her eyes as the scent of Chinese takeout filled her nose. “Must be hard to spear the guy at the Chinese restaurant.”

Richard grinned at her and took the bag through to the kitchen to serve their food before joining her on the sofa. The pair ate in silence for a few moments.

“I like this,” Olivia admitted as she wrestled with a dumpling.

“I’d hope so, he does make good food.”

“No you idiot, this,” she added, gesturing with her chopsticks. “Us, here, together.”

Richard smiled. “I know what you mean, it feels right.”

Olivia frowned, “It does feel wrong that more of our relationship has been in a hospital room than anywhere else.”

“We have all the time in the world to correct that,” Richard replied softly. “And I plan to.”

He kissed her cheek gently and went back to his noodles.

“Today was awful,” she admitted. “I thought my legs were going to fall off.”

“It will get easier. What did the doctor say?”

The big moment of truth had arrived. She had to be honest and she was afraid. Olivia put down her carton and turned as best she could to face Richard.

“Well, I’m healing well, there’s no infection to worry about. She’s started me on hormone replacement shots to make up for what I’m missing so my recovery proceeds as well as possible.”

Richard looked at her for a moment. “When do the tears start?”

Olivia couldn’t speak. Her voice felt like it was trapped in her throat. “How?” she managed eventually.

Richard set down his meal and smiled. “Can you really sit there like that and tell me you asked her to make you a big muscly man?”

Olivia looked down at her hands. She could feel a lump in her chest as her emotions swirled. “No, I can’t.”

“Baby, the more I see you, the more I see that this is the real you,” he gestured toward her. “That beauty I saw in you; that kind, caring, wonderful person is so much more vivid and full of color when you’re Olivia. You might not be sure yourself but I can see how you feel when you’re dressing as Harry compared with now. You look like shit, but you look like a whole person.”

Olivia glanced at the T-shirt and sweatpants she wore, catching the curve of her chest and a strand of her hair against the top.

“I wish it was real.” she muttered. “I really think I’m crazy.”

“No.”

“No?”

“You’re not crazy,” Richard kissed her forehead. “Not at all.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

As the month passed, life became frustratingly monotonous for Olivia. Recovery was difficult and was progressing painfully slowly. Her stitches had been removed and her pain medication had been reduced further. Physical therapy sessions continued much to her chagrin, although she was walking more on her own and with both Richard and Kelly as she became able to leave the apartment for longer stretches. Eventually, she was able to walk along the pier for short stretches as long as she was given frequent chances to rest.

The injection was beginning to have an effect on her, she could tell. As far as she could see, it was only emotional at the moment. She found her mood far less stable and caught herself crying at the slightest thing and flying into tirades of frustration at her condition. She wasn’t sure, but she thought her sense of smell had changed too. One morning, when Richard had bent down to kiss her, she had asked if he had a new cologne but he hadn’t changed a thing. In truth, she loved what was happening to her and it was the most peaceful she had felt in her entire life.

She had arranged to see one of the psychiatrists on Doctor Miller’s list and the day had approached all too quickly. She hadn’t questioned her choice to arrive as Olivia for the session as she now consigned Harry to a disguise of necessity. Summer was in full effect and the city sweltered. She had dressed comfortably in a strappy sundress that didn’t expose a lot of her chest and fell to her mid-thigh. Flat sandals and light makeup completed her look. She had fussed for a long time in the mirror before she felt satisfied with her appearance.

The psychiatrist’s office was a thirty-minute drive up the coast by a pretty little pier overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Olivia stepped out of the Uber and rested against a railing. She looked out towards the vast expanse of ocean for a moment while she collected herself. She had come alone, wanting to face this herself, and she took the moment to steel her nerves before entering the office.

When she entered, she found the small office comfortably appointed and a young female receptionist sat behind a low mahogany desk in the waiting area.

“Can I help you?” She asked cheerfully as Olivia limped in through the door.

“I’m here to see Doctor Barton at twelve-thirty, Olivia Dalton.” she replied, leaning against the desk.

“Let me check, are you ok? Do you need a hand?”

Olivia shook her head. “I’ll manage, they told me to use my crutches but I hate them.”

“I have it here. Please take a seat over there,” she answered, pointing to a sofa by the window. “I know the feeling,” the girl smiled slyly. “I broke my ankle last year and I couldn’t stand it.”

Olivia was barely waiting five minutes when a middle-aged woman with gray-salted red hair appeared at the door. “Olivia?”

She waited patiently for Olivia to drag herself to her feet and limp through to her office. Her energy waning, Olivia accepted her arm to help her sit in a padded armchair by a huge picture window overlooking the beach.

Doctor Barton took a seat in a chair facing her and regarded her for a moment.

“So you were referred to me by Doctor Miller at Kaiser, I hear you experienced a traumatic event?”

“I was shot at work.” Olivia answered shifting in her seat to find comfort.

Doctor Barton’s eyebrows rose. “Oh?”

“I was fighting a man for his gun and it went off, I was hit in the pelvis and thighs.” she answered, raising the hem of her dress slightly to show the lowest of the still-healing red welts on her leg.

“You poor thing, the file she sent over explained you were a police officer? You didn’t want to go through your department’s own therapists?”

“Well, I was told you were a specialist in other areas, Doctor Barton.”

Doctor Barton nodded. “Call me Marie, yes, as I’m sure you’re aware I’m a specialist in gender issues although I do deal with post-traumatic stress and sexual assault survivors.”

“I suppose my…experience,” Olivia explained. “Well, it forced me to evaluate feelings I’ve been having, and given that I have a lot of time on my hands, I realized it was time to confront them.”

Marie Barton jotted down something on her pad. “So would you explain how you feel about yourself? Your background? What is it about you that makes you feel as though you should have been born a boy?”

Olivia balked. “A boy?”

Marie nodded. “I’m sure you already explained to Doctor Miller but her notes are typically awful, the referral wasn’t very detailed.”

Olivia shook her head, “No, no, I was born a boy. I guess I really don’t think I should be, I think?”

It was Marie Barton’s turn to look surprised. She set her notebook down on the arm of her chair and regarded Olivia more seriously.

“You’re extremely convincing I have to say. How long have you been living as a woman?”

Olivia shrugged. “Mostly the last month or two but I suppose I’ve been dressing for five or six years.”

Olivia began to explain her childhood and her feelings to Doctor Barton. She started back at her earliest memories and tried to be as honest as possible. She explained her discovery of drag performance since arriving in California from the conservative world of Montana. She described meeting Richard, their romance, and her gradual acceptance of her new presentation.

“Do you have any photographs of your stage persona?” Marie asked.

Olivia dug out her cell phone from the small shoulder bag she carried. How had she lived without a handbag before? She pulled up the same image she had shown Richard over dinner. It was the wild blue and pink promotional photograph she loved the most.

Marie’s eyebrows rose. “This is quite a look.” she admitted. “You’re extremely convincing for a drag artist.”

Olivia flushed. “I never wanted to be a parody. That felt right.”

Marie nodded and made some notes before glancing at the clock.

“Our session is nearly over, but I want to see you more regularly. I realize that your situation is relatively unique given your injuries and Cathy, Doctor Miller made the right choice given the circumstances. Estrogen will be far less emotionally damaging to you in your current state and I feel confident we will make a diagnosis in enough time for no harm to occur permanently in either direction. Leaving you without would be far more harmful to your recovery in the time being.

Tentatively, you would seem to match the criteria for a Gender Dysphoria diagnosis, but I won’t set that in stone until we’ve spoken more. Your experiences are in line with many in your situation although you’ve taken a highly unusual path to reach it.” she admitted.

“So I can continue with the shots, can’t I?” Olivia asked with concern.

Marie nodded. “Yes, but we’ll make another appointment to discuss this, and I absolutely want to address your trauma too while we’re here. I feel we can work better with that in this environment than a department therapist. You can let them know you’re seeing me and I am capable of providing a report for them when the time comes.” she noticed the look on Olivia’s face.

“And I’ll gender the report however you wish at that time should you need me to.” she added with a smile.

Olivia thanked her and allowed her to help her out to the waiting Uber once they were done. Giving the driver her address she watched the ocean pass as they drove back toward the city. She felt a mixture of relief and calm as she reflected on the session. She had expected pushback or denial from the psychiatrist. The world told her this was wrong, that she was wrong. She had, however, been heard and told she wasn’t entirely crazy. This was the first time she had articulated her entire life story and what surprised her was that this seemed to fit. Memories and thoughts she had understood only in the isolation of a disjointed mess of fear and harassment suddenly made a lot more sense. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she smiled to herself. She might make it out of this in one piece after all.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Richard unlocked the door to his apartment and entered. He was working long hours for an upcoming trial and he would far rather be spending time with Olivia. He saw how painful movement still was for her and he wanted to be available to help take her to the various places she needed to go. He knew she was independent and willful but he couldn’t help wanting to look after her.

The scent hit his nostrils as soon as he passed the doorway. Following his nose, he entered the kitchen to see Olivia hovering over the stove stirring a pot. She was propping herself up against the counter and he could see the pain that was wracking her body. His heart broke when she attempted to smile through the obvious pain.

Without a word, he scooped her up in his arms as delicately as he could and carried her through to the living room, and placed her on the sofa.

“I could have finished,” she muttered, the tension already leaving her body.

Richard shook his head. “I told you I’d take care of the food while you were healing, I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

Olivia seemed defeated. “I just wanted to do something nice for you, I feel like I’m a leach.”

Richard leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Thank you, but it’s unnecessary. You shouldn’t have strained yourself like that, what would happen if you’d set yourself back? Or hurt yourself? Fallen?”

“I’m not an invalid.” Olivia pouted.

“I know,” Richard stroked her hair. “And a man could get used to having his lady make dinner for him when he gets home.” he added, stepping quickly out of reach before she could smack him.

“I got this, just give me instructions,” he called as he made his way into the kitchen to finish what she had started.

Olivia dispatched orders to her servant from her well-padded throne. She was disappointed that she was unable to finish her surprise but admitted she had overdone things a little. Richard completed the remaining tasks and soon the pair were eating while Olivia replayed the day's events and her visit to the psychiatrist.

“So she thinks this is something real for you?” he asked between bites.

Olivia nodded. “The more I explained it and the more she directed me to expand on feelings it started to click together. I’m starting to feel that it explains a lot more than I was willing to admit. I had never even considered it to be a possible outcome to how I felt. When I experienced various feelings of dissociation, I attributed them to my sexual attraction to men rather than who I was at my core. It explains perhaps why I never wanted to be a caricature on stage and why I started to do this more often now I feel safe. I think before I was so afraid of what others thought of me that I bottled things up inside and buried them,” she admitted. “This doesn’t bother you, does it?”

Richard shook his head. “No,” he replied. “Ever since I realized this was more serious for you, I think I almost expected this outcome. I want you to do whatever you feel is right for you and I’ll stand by that. I love you.”

Olivia kissed his cheek. “Well, I can finally say I turned a man straight.” she chuckled softly.

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Driftwood #7 - A new Girl Rises

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Driftwood

By Alyssa Plant

Life and Love are far more complicated than we can possibly understand. For one young cop, a journey of self-discovery will teach them that true strength was inside them all along.

Going forward Driftwood will be posted in two chapter packages to let the story flow a bit better, one at a time worked, but now... it feels better this way. Enjoy!

Chapter Eight - Closing a door opens another

The next morning Olivia was focusing on walking around the apartment when she heard the doorbell. Hobbling over to the door, she checked to see who was there. A slim, brunette woman that looked vaguely familiar was standing there smiling. It took Olivia a moment to recognize Deputy Taylor out of uniform.

Opening the door, she smiled curiously. “Hey, ah, hi?”

Taylor smiled. “Kelly told me where you lived, I figured after everything that happened I’d give you some space, but I wanted to check in and see how you were doing?”

Olivia gestured for her to come in before hobbling back over to the sofa and plopping down in her regular spot. “I was going to call.” she admitted, “I got a little occupied.”

Taylor sat down beside her and nodded. “Yeah I noticed.” she chuckled with a wrinkle of her nose. “Not doing things by halves, huh?”

Olivia smiled. “Yeah, It’s been pretty rough, I can’t lie; but it’s really changed a lot of things for me.”

Taylor regarded Olivia’s appearance and grinned. “Yeah, I get the impression the guy that got shot that day isn’t coming back is he?”

Olivia shook her head without reservation. “He’s not.”

The woman inclined her head and put her hand on Olivia’s arm, “Want to tell me about that?”

Over the next few hours, Olivia explained everything to Abigail Taylor. She spared no detail in her story and the woman listened with rapt interest. The two talked about their lives and their interests, their hopes and dreams. Abigail was more like her than she realized. The girl was originally from a small, rural town in Central California called Morro Bay and she regaled Olivia with tales of her small town High School even revealing her past as a varsity cheerleader, a fact on which she swore Olivia to secrecy.

Olivia told Abigail all about her childhood in the wilds of Montana and the difficulties she faced there. It turned out their rural pasts were surprisingly similar, something she hadn’t expected to find in the urban metropolis of LA. By the time they parted ways, Olivia felt she’d found a true friend.

As Abigail was leaving, she turned to Olivia one final time, wrapping her in a warm embrace. “You know, you’re like the kid sister I never had.” she admitted with a smile. “From another mother and state entirely.”

Olivia grinned, “Anyone that drives a pickup and earned the right to wear cowboy boots is good by me.”

Abigail smirked and then took on a more serious expression. “Hey, look, make sure you talk to the boss directly about this topic, she’s surprisingly accepting.”

“Really? Like right to her?”

Abigail nodded, “I mean she knows you by name, she visited you in the hospital. You’ve got an in and she’s the one that can make things happen if you need her to.”

Olivia seemed uncertain. “I’ll think about it, but it’s all a bit scary at the moment.”

“Sooner the better, you don’t want this crap hanging over you till you find yourself coming back to work and having to drop it on them.”

“I guess,” Olivia admitted. “Would you come with me?”

“You bet.” Taylor smiled. “

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Over the next month, Olivia began to notice more changes. Her skin was starting to feel softer and some of her sharper edges were beginning to smooth out. Her face appeared softer and her emotions, so tumultuous to start with, were beginning to find a new balancing point. She had begun to notice that her nipples were becoming extremely sensitive and itchy. The changes filled her with more joy than she realized, she was on the cusp of womanhood and rather than fear, she felt hope for the first time.

She continued her sessions with Doctor Barton and the lady had formalized her initial diagnosis; Olivia was transgendered. By the point she reached her conclusion, Olivia had already reached her own and become more comfortable with the idea. This was her future and she would need to start preparing for it to leave the shadows.

Her physical recovery was proceeding well and while her physical therapy was exhausting, she was more capable than she had been. She was able to leave the apartment alone with only mild discomfort and a limp as long as she used her crutches.

She knew she would need to change her name, that was now a necessity. Harry Dalton had died that day on the grimy sidewalk. She hadn’t realized it at the time, but what happened to her had been the wake-up she had needed to understand herself.

She had already broached the subject with Doctor Barton and the woman had explained the necessary steps to take to begin the process. With Richard’s help, she had a court date and a plan of action coming up. This was why she found herself outside of the Sheriff’s Department headquarters with a knot in her stomach.

Olivia had dressed as a boy for her meeting with the Sheriff. She knew the bridge would have to be crossed at some point but her first time returning was not the right time. She’d begun to notice the changes happening to her and was positive that her opportunity to handle this return before questions were asked was running out faster than she would like.

Steeling herself, she made her way up the steps to the entrance and approached the front door. A pair of deputies leaving saw her approach on the crutches and held the doors open. She didn’t know them and wasn’t in uniform but they likely noticed the badge around her neck.

The pair nodded a greeting and went on their way while Olivia entered the building. Her journey to the top floor and the command offices took far longer than she had expected. Deputies and support staff she’d barely spoken to all wanted to shake her hand and ask about her recovery. She didn’t realize that many people knew what had happened to her. She lost track of how many times she had to explain her ordeal but left out one notable detail of the injuries she had sustained. The level of friendliness and camaraderie from her colleagues was a new experience for her. It was depressing that she had to nearly die to earn it.

Eventually, she managed to successfully navigate the throngs of well-wishers and found herself in the corridor outside the Sheriff’s office on the top floor of the building while administrative staff bustled around her. Taylor was waiting outside when she arrived. She greeted the woman with a smile.

“Different look for you.” Taylor smirked. “Not much different, but still.”

Olivia rolled her eyes, “I mean I can’t exactly surprise them can I? It won’t be long before doing this is kinda difficult.”

The older Deputy chuckled.

Olivia reflected on what she was going to say to her boss. She knew what she wanted to cover, but she had no idea how she was going to bring the subject up. She was prepared to leave the job and move on, but she hoped that wouldn’t be necessary.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of running feet on the carpet tile floor. Anderson rounded the corner and nearly collided with a clerk laden with paperwork. She ignored the man’s hateful expression and made for Olivia.

“I’m glad I caught you, I heard you were in the building.” she panted, glancing between Dalton and Taylor with curiosity. “What’s going on?”

“Seeing the Sheriff. It’s just some procedural and paperwork stuff with me coming back.” Olivia explained.

Anderson looked momentarily confused before her eyes went wide with realization. “You want me in there with you?”

Olivia glanced at Taylor and grimaced. “More the merrier I guess.”

“The Sheriff will see you now.” an executive assistant interjected.

Kelly and Abigail helped Olivia stand and followed her into the office. Sheriff Reilly was behind her desk typing at her keyboard, her eyes fixed on the monitor. Olivia had never seen her wear glasses before.

Reilly looked up as they entered. “Dalton, It’s wonderful to see you on your feet, you’re recovering well?”

Olivia stood to attention as best the crutches would allow. “Yes, Ma’am. It’s slow but it’s getting there, I expect about three to four months.”

Reilly nodded and glanced at Kelly. “Taylor, Anderson, why are you here?”

“Support, Ma’am.” The pair answered.

She looked back at Olivia before eying Anderson again. The Sheriff smelled a rat.

“Ok you three, what’s going on? And for god’s sake sit down Dalton, you don’t need to stand there.”

Olivia took the time to seat herself in one of the chairs in front of the Sheriff’s desk. She could sense the others hovering protectively over her shoulder.

Olivia swallowed and decided to get things over with. She was done waiting and it would go right or it wouldn’t, she didn’t care.

“When I was shot Ma’am, I was hit six times. It broke my leg, cut my femoral artery, and most significantly damaged my genitalia. I was left unable to produce hormones naturally.”

She noticed the Sheriff’s mildly annoyed expression shift to one of concern. “No babies, no hormones, no more function really. I was offered replacement therapy to continue a normal life which would allow me to heal and have a sex life, but it would come at a price I wasn’t willing to pay. This incident placed me at a decision-making point for something I’ve been dealing with for some time in private: I’m transgender.”

Reilly’s eyebrows moved, but nowhere near as far as she expected.

“To permit my body’s normal function and allow me to heal properly, I had to be started on hormone therapy, and I wasn’t prepared for that to be testosterone. I’m seeing a psychiatrist and I’m…” she paused to gather her emotions. “I’m leaving Harry behind to exist as me, the real me.”
The Sheriff was silent for a moment. She looked back and forth between Dalton and Anderson and nodded.

“Now I see why you wanted some moral support, Dalton. This must be difficult for you to discuss. Allow for my ignorance, how is this going to impact your return to the job?”

Olivia couldn’t look the woman in the eyes. “I was hoping that you might see fit to allow me to keep my job and come back to work as… well, me.”

The Sheriff stood and walked around to the front of her desk before leaning against it.

“What happened to you was awful and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Are you sure this isn’t a result of losing some perception of manhood?”

Olivia shook her head. “This was something I was wrestling with before that happened, Ma’am, for a long time. This situation forced me to address my own feelings.”

The Sheriff nodded and her expression softened.

“If I may, Sheriff?” Taylor asked politely.

Reilly glanced at her and nodded.

“I first met her by accident, she had a tail light out and I had no idea till I saw her ID. It turned out she was partnered with my old boot Anderson, so after the shooting, I visited her at home. We got to know each other pretty well, I can honestly say she is deadly serious about what she’s saying. On top of that, she looks ridiculous dressed as a guy.”

“She?” The Sheriff raised an eyebrow at Taylor’s choice of pronouns.

Taylor nodded.

The Sheriff pursed her lips and nodded curtly. “I trust your judgment on character, Taylor. You know that and I wasn’t going to say no. I’m just surprised at your choice of words given their appearance.”

“Ma’am, I can’t actually see her any other way even now.” Taylor shrugged.

Reilly studied Dalton for a moment, her eyes regarding the sweatpants and loose hooded sweatshirt Olivia was wearing.

The Sheriff shook her head and smiled. “Maybe you have a point, Taylor.”

She stood and walked over to the window before continuing. “Fair enough then, I’ll approve the change. You’ve got my official support and that of command. I won’t pretend it’s going to be an easy road for you or that you won’t experience any issues. I like to think I helped to craft this department into a progressive example of Modern Law Enforcement. It might be the twenty-twenties and society has progressed a great deal. A lot of prejudices are hard to quash, especially in a masculine environment such as this.”

She looked at Olivia. “You’ll face discrimination and I’m sorry for that. Both as a woman and because of how you got there. I work hard to try and end that sort of crap but it’s like fighting to hold back the tide with a bucket.”

Olivia nodded. “I’m prepared for that, Ma’am. I spent my childhood dealing with people that didn’t like me for who I was.”

The Sheriff regarded her for a moment. “I can see why, no offense.”

Olivia shrugged. “I can’t say it’s not an advantage now.”

Riley smiled. “Quite so,” she agreed, returning to her desk. “You’re taking care of things legally, I assume?”

“I have a court date set for my name change and other formalities, Ma’am,”

The Sheriff nodded. “Send those through to Personnel once you get them, but I’ll have them change your records now. You may be on leave for recovery, but you still hold a badge and a gun and I won’t have you getting into trouble because of this. I’ll need your new name and a promise.”

“Ma’am?”

“Tone down your look from the stage please.”

Olivia gawked. “You knew about that?”

“I’ve seen you perform twice, I never knew it was you till quite recently. Miss Russo keeps trying to turn me to the dark side.”

Olivia felt herself turn bright red. “No,” she stumbled, “I mean of course not, Ma’am. That’s not really me, I mean that’s a character.”

Reilly held up her hand. “I know, I just want you to smile for once in this meeting, Dalton. Lord knows you’ve had a rough go of it. I want you to know we have your back.”

“I appreciate that Ma’am, and thank you. And it’s Olivia Evelyn Dalton.”

“Olivia Dalton,” the Sheriff noted on a pad. “Wonderful. Now get out of here and get yourself healed, I’ll expect full compliance with the female dress code on your return, Deputy.”

Anderson and Taylor helped Olivia to her feet and followed her out into the hallway. Once they were safely out of earshot of the administration staff, Kelly turned and hugged her partner.

“Congratulations girly. One step closer.”

Olivia let out a sigh she’d been holding. “That’s it then, I’m dumping this for good.” she grimaced, plucking at her hoodie.

“Hate to break it to you dear, but you haven’t really looked like a guy in a while.”

“Nobody said anything today.”

“Men won’t notice anything unless you slap them in the face with it.” Abigail smirked.

“Duh, all they see is the crutches and the limp.” Kelly added

“Well I want my boobs back till they’re permanent.” Olivia muttered.

Kelly laughed as they walked out into the parking lot. “Trust me, I wish I could take mine off sometimes.”

Chapter Nine - The Past - Closing a door opens another

Olivia lay curled up in bed beside Richard later that evening. His soft, rhythmic breathing soothed her spirit. He was the first man she had ever slept beside without first having sex. They had gone to bed because that’s what couples do; to sleep. She hadn’t simply slept beside someone since she was little and she’d forgotten how comforting it was. Glancing at the clock told her it was just after one in the morning. Since her injury, she found herself waking up at strange hours but rarely felt like getting up. Lying beside her man while he slept felt magical.

As she thought back over her journey so far, she was still surprised to find herself here. For so long, her life had been a grueling experience where every day was an exercise in avoiding getting her ass kicked. She had family, but it wasn’t like other people. They loved her because she was blood, but not because they liked her. She never overtly told them about her sexuality but they seemed to know regardless.

Disappointed was probably the best word she could use to describe how they felt. When she came home with black eyes or bruises, they never commented and the only advice she received when she complained was that she should learn to stand up to them; to help herself.

They were right, she realized, only helping herself probably hadn’t turned out the way they might have expected.

Olivia rolled over slowly and snuggled up to Richard’s back. She felt a slight pressure as the small mounds behind her nipples pressed into his back through her nightdress. The girl smiled to herself in the darkness.

Her day in court came and went a week later with little fanfare. Richard had asked one of his colleagues to represent her in the simple hearing as his relationship prevented him from doing so himself. In a state such as California, the process was formal but trivial. She had the paperwork she needed and the judge handled the proceedings efficiently. An hour later, Olivia left the courthouse officially Olivia Evelyn Dalton, a female in the eyes of the law.

Weeks turned into months as Olivia began to heal more rapidly. She had stopped taking pain medication entirely and her Physical Therapy sessions had turned into strength-building exercises as her crutches became a thing of the past. She’d long ago given up attending the sessions as Harry.

The changes to her body had become more dramatic as time passed. Her skin was far softer and her breasts had started to properly develop, much to her excitement. The repeated and unrelenting PT sessions had helped her body to recycle its fat stores and she felt her hips and buttocks broadening as her waist narrowed. Her wig had been cast aside as her own hair had grown long enough to be styled in a feminine manner. Relatively adept with hair styling from her wig collection, she had managed somewhat awkwardly to give herself a haircut and now sported a cute shaggy pixie style that accentuated her fine features. She wasn’t quite ready to face a salon full of women yet.

Her relationship with Richard had begun to resume its physicality as the pain faded and her strength returned. Richard was a cautious and caring lover that took great care in ensuring she was comfortable and not over-exerting herself. The changes her body had experienced gave sex an entirely new meaning for Olivia; it had become a whole-body experience that she greatly enjoyed.

The couple lay naked in bed basking in the afterglow of their love. Richard’s fingers were lazily tracing the edge of Olivia’s nipple as he caught his breath.

Olivia rolled over to face him on the pillow.

“I love you.” she whispered, her fingers dancing through the hair on his broad chest.

“I love you too.” he replied with a lazy, tired smile.

“I hope I can be enough for you.” Olivia said softly as she felt a pang of doubt in her heart, “I feel so awful that you’ve had to deal with all of this mess”

Richard looked hurt. “Never say that honey. You’re never a burden and I couldn’t imagine my life without you”

“I can’t give you children.” she sighed, a tear rolling down her cheek. “You deserve more than my fucked up mess in your life.”

Richard pulled her into his arms, her back against his chest. “I don’t care,” he whispered, kissing her hair. “I nearly lost you once, and I don’t ever want to again. Whatever I face in life, I want to do it with you.”

Olivia looked up at Richard, their bodies pressed together.

“I think for the first time in my life, I’m actually happy.”

Richard squeezed her, “I always went through life looking for the next experience, the next person to spend time with. I never realized that it was a void I was trying to fill with shallow human connection. I see so much damage at work it began to affect me. We started to get more serious than I ever have with anyone before. When I nearly lost you, It cut me to my core far more than I was prepared to understand. Seeing you go through that and battle your own demons at the same time makes me want to just hold you and keep you safe.”

Richard rested his chin on the top of Olivia’s head and sat quietly for a moment before he spoke again. “It sounds so cliche, but it’s like I found a missing part of myself when I fell in love with you. You complete me.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Olivia was leaving the hospital after a checkup and PT appointment when her phone rang. The number on the screen stopped her dead in her tracks.

Mom.

Olivia hadn’t spoken to her mother more than a handful of times in the past six years. She could always tell the woman was disappointed in her and felt the strain over the phone line each time.

Steeling herself, she dropped her pitch slightly into Harry’s vocal range and answered.

“Hello?”

“Harry, are you ok?” His mother sounded worried.

“Sure,” she lied, “How are…”

“Harry, I know what happened. Why didn’t you call us?”

Olivia was starting to panic. She moved away from the busy entrance and found a quiet bench to continue the conversation. “What do you mean, Mom?”

“One of your father’s friends was visiting LA and he saw an article in the newspaper about a Sheriff’s Deputy shot in a robbery, it had your photograph and name.”

Olivia swallowed, she hadn’t told them. She didn’t think they’d care.

“I’m ok, it wasn’t bad,” she lied. “It was a few months ago, I didn’t want to bother you.”

Her mother’s tone shifted to one of sadness. “No baby, you were shot six times.”

Tears welled in her eyes and she tried to keep her voice level. “I didn’t think you’d care,” she muttered.

There was silence on the phone for a moment. “I know you hate us, but I was so worried when I heard, I had to call, I needed to see if you were ok. I’ve missed you.”

Olivia sobbed. “I don’t hate you, I… miss you all but I know I’m not welcome.”

“You’re always welcome, we… we just didn’t know how to help you. By the time we thought we knew how to, you’d grown distant. Then you left.”

“I had to get out of there. I felt like I was alone, it hurt Mom.”

She could hear her mother crying on the other end of the phone. “Please, I want to see you.”

Olivia felt a pang of fear. “I’m fine Mom, it’s ok.”

“No baby, it’s been too long. I won’t lie, your father and I made mistakes, and I want to try to fix them if you’ll let me. The fact that my own child got shot and nearly died, and didn’t tell me means I screwed up as a parent.”

Olivia was silent.

“Say something please.”

“Are you sure?”

“Harry, you’re my child. I wasn’t the best mother and I tried to make choices that I thought would help you grow strong. I thought I was preparing my sweet baby boy to face the adversity of life. You were always so gentle and caring, the world was going to eat you alive… I thought I was helping.” she sniffed.

“I’m not the same person that left home Mom.” Olivia replied vaguely. “I’ve changed a lot.”

That was the biggest understatement of the century, she thought.

“That’s ok, we all need to.” her mother answered softly.

Olivia thought for a moment. No matter what she did, their meeting was going to be difficult. Should she explain now? Should she wait and arrive? Letting her mother come to her would be too much of a culture shock, she thought.

“I can come home if you’d like. I’ve still got some time off for my recovery?”

“Are you well enough to travel?”

“I am, I guess. I think I’d like to see the mountains again.”

“I’ll tell the others, they’ll be happy to see you.”

“We’ll see, I still have my doubts.”

Olivia glanced at her reflection in the smoked glass of the building beside her. Her hair was messy from her exercise and she was wearing a cropped tank top and yoga pants. She looked like any other young woman.

“Mom, I’ve really changed a lot.”

Her mother sniffed, “That you’re alive and willing to speak to me is enough, everything else doesn’t matter now.”

They continued to speak for a while until Olivia’s Uber arrived and she said her goodbyes. She didn’t know how she felt about the situation. For her entire life, she had decided her parents really didn’t want her. Like all children, she had thought her parents were mythical beings that achieved everything they intended and did no wrong. She blamed them because she saw their actions as intentional, not a mistake. Her mother admitting that she’d been wrong made her doubt her own feelings. Was there a chance they could understand?

Later that evening, Olivia explained the phone call to Richard. As she expected, he insisted on going with her no matter how much she protested. The idea of returning home at first terrified her. Home only held bad memories from her childhood but her phone call had begun to make her doubt herself. She knew she missed the place itself. Montana was unlike any other state in the country, it wasn’t somewhere you ever forgot.

A plan began to form for the coming week. She would fly out to Bozeman with Richard and they’d get a hotel room in town. Once she was there she would meet her mother somewhere public and make further plans depending on how the big reveal was received. It seemed the safest and most risk-free approach to face the situation. If things went wrong, they could leave and never look back. She imagined arriving at the family ranch in a sundress and heels and knocking on the door unannounced; that could end poorly.

She wasn’t sure how they would react to her new self. Life was bad enough when they thought she was gay. Technically she wasn’t anymore, did that count in her favor?

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Driftwood #8 - Facing Her Family

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Caution:

CAUTION

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Driftwood

By Alyssa Plant

Life and Love are far more complicated than we can possibly understand. For one young cop, a journey of self-discovery will teach them that true strength was inside them all along.

Chapter Ten - Mountain Air

As they descended over the mountains, Olivia felt a strange sense of calm wash over her despite the meeting she would have to face. The view of the wild landscape of Montana was breathtaking and it drew with it a powerful feeling of joy for the place she had left so long ago. That joy was darkened by the bad memories of her childhood.

Richard sensed her discomfort and took her hand in his as he joined her watching the view outside the window.

“Good to be home?”

She nodded, still staring out into the early morning glow that bathed the peaks and highlands below. “I think so. I’ve missed it, but it’s not all good memories. I don’t think I really realized how much I loved it here till I left.”

“A cowgirl at heart.” he chuckled. “I’m afraid I’m going to be very much out of my depth.”

Olivia shook her head and grinned. “You’ll do fine, Bozeman even has indoor bathrooms now.”

Richard gave her a look as though he wasn’t sure if she was kidding.

They touched down at Bozeman Yellowstone International shortly after nine that morning. The skies were clear and the sun was warm as they disembarked onto the tarmac.

Olivia closed her eyes and tilted her face towards the sun and took a deep breath. The air was pungent with jet fuel and exhaust but it was her first breath of Montana air in over six years. It felt good to be back. The clear sky made her realize how normal the LA smog had become to her in her time away. After clearing the airport and collecting their luggage, Olivia collected the keys to their rental and the couple made their way toward the parking structure connected to the terminal. After a short walk, she pressed the fob and saw a pair of headlights flash in the gloom. She grinned and approached their rental for the week.

“Isn’t this a bit much?” Richard asked with a frown.

Olivia looked at the large black pickup, it was a new model Dodge Ram. “No honey, it’s not.”

“I’ve never driven a truck before.”

“Oh you’re not driving, city boy.” she laughed lifting her luggage into the bed. “This beauty is all mine, and I don’t need you tarnishing my nonexistent reputation by driving like a tourist.”

Richard shook his head and climbed up into the passenger seat with a little trepidation at the scale of the vehicle. Turning the key, Olivia felt the vibrations of the truck roll through her body. Switching on the radio, she picked a country station and pulled out of the bay.

“You’re really going to force me to listen to this, aren’t you?”

“Sure am, cowboy,” she drawled with a smirk. Richard grimaced as he started to realize what he was getting himself into.

They joined Interstate 90 south towards the city of Bozeman. Everything looked exactly as she remembered. The wide-open landscape dominated the sprawling city ahead of them. Bozeman wasn’t a small place by a long stretch. The city was home to just over a hundred thousand residents and more during tourist season. The world around it was just so darn big that it made man’s impact feel grossly insignificant.

They had booked a room at the Hilton Garden Inn just outside the city center. It was a little high-brow for Olivia’s taste, but she hadn’t wanted to throw Richard too far into the deep end. Before they arrived, Olivia pulled into a strip mall off the freeway and parked the truck. “Stay here.” she explained, “I’ll be right back.”

Hopping down, she headed for a country outfitter. She’d brought her boots with her to Los Angeles. For a native Montanan, they were almost a part of her religion, they couldn’t be parted with but she had left one item behind and it was something that had to be corrected.

Stepping into the store, she reveled in the scent of leather and old wood that permeated every surface of the establishment. Soft country music was playing on hidden speakers and people moved around examining various items. She made a beeline for a display of hats and found the item she was looking for almost straight away; a tan Stetson Skyline.

Placing the hat on her head she turned towards the mirror and examined her reflection. She certainly looked the part. The clothes were quite similar to things she’d worn growing up, but they fitted her entirely differently now. She was wearing a blue plaid shirt tucked into her bootcut jeans. Her boots, buckle and now the hat finished the look. This wasn’t the glamor of Mia Calafia, this wasn’t the male facade she’d worn growing up here, this was Olivia Evelyn Dalton.

“That suits you, ma’am.” a gravel-laden voice behind her announced.

Olivia turned to see an older rancher tip his hat in her direction.

She smiled politely. “Lost my old one a long time ago,” she explained. “I didn’t feel right buying one out in California.”

The man smiled. “Sure don’t.”

The man departed with a nod. Olivia smiled. People were exactly the way she remembered. The fact the man had spoken to her confirmed that he hadn’t seen a tourist when he looked at her. Feeling good about her choice, she removed the hat and made her way to the cashier, and paid for her purchase. Far poorer, she left the store and made her way back across the parking lot toward the waiting truck.

Hopping up into the cab, she backed out and set off for the hotel.

“I should get myself one of those.” Richard mused examining the hat that had been dumped in his lap.

“I don’t know if it would work with your suits.” Olivia teased.

They arrived at the hotel and checked into their suite shortly before eleven that morning. Olivia took the opportunity to rest on the luxurious king-sized bed for a while. She felt almost healed sometimes, but after a while, she ached and needed a break. It was frustrating, but a vast improvement from the previous months.

It was one in the afternoon when she was woken by her phone ringing. She picked it up and hit the accept button.

“Mm, yeah,” she mumbled sluggishly.

“I’m calling for Harry?” It was her mother.

“Uh, yeah,” she affirmed, letting her voice settle a bit lower.

“Are you ok? You sound a little strange?” his mother asked. “Did you get in ok?”

“Tired sorry. Yes w… I got in a few hours ago, I’m at the hotel now.”

“I don’t know why you needed to get a hotel,” her mother sounded mildly hurt but as though she understood. “I’d like to see you?”

Olivia thought for a moment. “Wild Joe’s for coffee, an hour?”

“I’m in town on some errands, so sure, that works.” his mother agreed somewhat skeptically as she began to notice a pattern of distance forming.

“Look, Mom,” Olivia began. “I just want to meet somewhere neutral and public this first time at least… things have changed a lot for me, and I’m still really uncertain about being here, It’s not all good memories. Just promise me one thing?”

“Anything?”

“Hear me out, ok?”

“I will, I’ll see you soon Harry.”

“Bye, Mom.”

Olivia ended the call and held the phone to her chest. This might be the last time she saw her mother. The idea of a permanent end to her relationship felt extremely painful despite how distant they’d become.

An hour later, Olivia was walking down the sidewalk of West Main Street towards Wild Joe’s Coffee Spot, a local institution in Bozeman. She hadn’t changed, she wanted to ease her mother into her surprise daughter. She had opened the neck of her shirt a little further to expose her white tank top and a small amount of décolletage just to drive the point home, however. She had left her breast forms behind on this trip opting only for a padded bra to emphasize her small but developing bust. While not significant, she wanted to make the change a little easier to accept.

She stepped into the coffee shop hesitantly, the smell of roasting beans was heavy in the warm air. Glancing around, she saw her mother sitting at a table on the far side of the establishment. She looked good, Olivia hadn’t realized just how much she had missed the woman.

Evelyn Dalton had always been a beautiful woman. She was five foot five, blonde, and shared the same fine Nordic features as Olivia. Seeing her now, she realized her mother looked much older and tired. She hadn’t seen her yet, and Olivia watched for a moment as she sat, nervously glancing around the room.

Realizing she had to move, Olivia approached the table where her mother sat and stood nervously before her. “Hey Mom.” she offered quietly, not hiding her voice.

Evelyn Dalton looked up at the young woman in front of her and seemed confused at first, her mouth opened as though she were about to speak, to tell this girl that she was mistaken when she froze and her eyes went wide.

“Harry?” she asked uncertainly.

Olivia sat slowly in the chair facing her mother. “I told you I’d changed a lot.”

Her mother stared at her silently, her eyes taking in every detail. Olivia felt her heart beating in her chest.

“Is that you?” the woman asked, slowly reaching out for Olivia’s hand on the table.

Olivia brushed her hair out of her eyes and nodded. “I didn’t really know how to explain this, Mom.”

Evelyn shook her head. “I never expected this at all. I guessed you might be gay, but this I never saw.”

“Growing up, I never fitted in,” Olivia explained. “I didn’t really want to do what the other boys did. I didn’t want to behave like them and then… I started to find them attractive, I thought I really was gay.”

Olivia paused for a moment. “When I left for college, I was putting this place in my rearview. I was leaving the pain, the bullying, and the rejection behind and I threw myself into my new life. I embraced who I thought I was but I never seemed to fit there either. I started doing drag when some friends introduced me to it and it became one of the few times I felt happy. It was when I felt like a whole person. Things ended up spiraling from there and I started to explore myself and when I got hurt, well it changed things for me quite significantly and I realized I had to do this, I had to be me.”

“What do you mean?”

“One of the bullets,” Olivia said softly, feeling a pang of pain as she relived the events that had torn her apart. “It damaged my genitals, I would never produce testosterone or have kids, and when they offered me shots to replace it I couldn’t do it. It felt wrong.”

Evelyn held her hands to her mouth as a tear ran down her cheek. “That you felt you had to go through that alone, I’m so sorry, we never knew.”

Olivia frowned. “I didn’t tell you,” she admitted. “I blamed you and Dad. Mark and Sarah didn’t want anything to do with me.”

Her mother sat dejectedly, tears forming in her eyes. “We tried baby… Your father and I, we thought you were such a gentle small boy, we thought the world would eat you alive.” she shook her head. “We thought the best thing we could do for you was let you fight your own battles, learn to be like your brother, and toughen up to find your own strength. By the time we realized what that had done to you, you had withdrawn into yourself and barely spoke to us… We failed you.”

Olivia realized she was crying too. “I thought you hated me for being who I was,” she admitted quietly. “I felt so alone. That school was hell, I had no friends and my own family just let it happen.”

Evelyn stared at her sadly. Her mother suddenly looked far older than her fifty years. “Now I see why you wanted to meet me here,” she sighed. “In case I rejected you or made a scene.”

Olivia couldn’t answer, she simply nodded.

Evelyn stood and rounded the table. She pulled Olivia to her feet and hugged her tightly. Olivia couldn’t hold back, she cried. She cried for her misery, she cried for her loneliness, and she cried for her soul. Every emotion flooded out of her eyes as she gripped her mother fiercely. Every ounce of fear and pain flowed freely.

She wasn’t sure how long they stood there holding each other, but she finally felt love. She felt the connection she had dreamed of with her parents and the closure of a chapter in her life. A new one was beginning and she felt her heart sing with hope for the first time.

The two detangled themselves from one another and just stared into each other's eyes. It was the first time Olivia saw her mother as a woman, not a mother. She could see the pain in her eyes, the realization that she had made a mistake and she regretted it.

“I forgive you.” she said gently. “Mom, I love you.”

Evelyn smiled sadly. “I love you too Ha…” she frowned. “That doesn’t work does it?”

“Olivia Mom, Olivia Evelyn Dalton.”

Her mother smiled. “That’s a beautiful name for a daughter.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Olivia walked along the sidewalk with her mother. The pair had spoken for several hours in the coffee shop. Olivia eventually brought up Richard after her mother asked if there was anyone in her life. Naturally, Evelyn had asked to meet the man that stole her child’s heart. As they walked back to the hotel, Olivia reflected on her childhood and experiences. She had hated growing up, but she realized now that her own confusion and pain had been a major component of that experience. Her mother’s explanation helped her to come to terms with how they’d treated her, but she still wished it could have been so very different.

She could see her mother glancing in her direction as they walked. “Still hard to get your head around?”

Evelyn nodded. “It is, I won’t lie. I don’t think I expected it at all. In hindsight, I think it explains a lot of things dear.”

“And you’re ok with this? And me loving a man?”

Evelyn thought for a moment. “I’m so very blessed that you came back into my life after these years and we were able to talk and understand each other better.” she paused for a moment, “and to think that you nearly died in that awful city… How my child wishes to appear is less important in the grand scheme of things.”

Olivia seemed unconvinced.

“Is this a lot for me to get used to? Yes.” Evelyn admitted. “I don’t know how to deal with this, but what I do know is you’re here, and you’re alive. I will get used to everything else. For a daughter, a man is entirely normal… so there is that.”

Evelyn turned, taking her daughter’s shoulders as they arrived at the foyer of the Hilton. “For what it’s worth dear, you’re very pretty, I do love you.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Olivia smiled and hugged her mother. “You don’t know how much those words mean to me.”

Olivia had called ahead and by the time they reached the bar of the hotel, Richard was waiting for them. On seeing the two women, he stood and waited for them to approach.

“Mrs. Dalton.” He greeted the older woman, offering his hand. “A pleasure.”

Evelyn regarded Richard with a critical eye. He wasn’t a Montanan and his crisp suit betrayed his well heeled city life. His hair was neat and his facial hair was fashionably scruffy. He looked like the lawyer Olivia had described him as. The look of concern in his eyes for her daughter, however, told her all she needed to know: This man loved her, it was plain to see.

Richard took Olivia’s hand as he gave her a quick look which she returned wordlessly with a slight nod. Evelyn smiled at the exchange.

“So you’re the man that stole my child’s heart?” she replied as she took his hand.

“I’m glad to see things went well.” Richard observed with the hint of a smile. “I was trying to barter with a man to borrow his white horse but I remembered I can’t ride.”

Evelyn shook her head. “That will need to change if you want to marry my daughter.”

“Mom!” Olivia exclaimed, turning red. Perhaps there were sides to being a daughter that she was going to regret.

The group talked for an hour over drinks as they got to know each other better. Evelyn was growing to like Richard. He was sincere and honest and wielded a sharp wit. His care for her child was extremely evident. As she bade her farewells, Evelin suggested a proposal for the following day.

“I’ll speak to your father, brother, and sister tonight” she announced. I’ll do the groundwork, but you’re coming home tomorrow to see them yourself.”

“At once?” Olivia grimaced. “Isn’t that going to be a little much?”

Evelyn shook her head. “It will be fine, and it’s better to get it over with in one blow, dear. You’ve got me on your side, remember.”

“You can do it,” Richard affirmed. “I’ll be there in spirit.”

Evelyn nodded her approval. “You’re most welcome Mr. Knight, but you’re right, this first time needs to be just family.”

Evelyn left to return to the ranch promising to return the next day. Olivia followed Richard back up to their room. She hadn’t realized just how exhausted she was. They had left Los Angeles early that morning and the emotional strain of the day had taken its toll on her, body and spirit.

Olivia kicked off her boots and shimmied out of her jeans as she headed for the bathroom to remove her makeup. Once done, she returned to the bedroom in just her panties and tank top before falling face-first onto the bed in a heap.

“Attractive.” Richard chuckled as he carefully undressed by the side table. The only response he got was a neatly manicured middle finger.

“After the day I’ve had, I don’t give a fuck anymore,” Olivia muttered into the pillow.

“You did great, I’m so proud of you.”

“It’s far from over yet.” Olivia countered.

“But the first hurdle is always the hardest, you have one ally here, remember that.”

Olivia raised her head off the pillow and stuck her tongue out at Richard before faceplanting again.

“You’re such a child.” he chuckled.

Chapter Eleven - Homecoming

The next morning Olivia waited outside the foyer of the Hilton. She was more nervous than she had felt in her entire life. Her mother’s acceptance was a significant weight off her shoulders, but it had placed hope in her heart; hope she now feared would be dashed by the confrontation ahead.

She had dressed more femininely this morning as if she needed to prove a point to her family, especially the men. Dressing more like the average Montana ranch girl the day before had worked with her mother, but she hoped the groundwork had at least taken the sting out of the reception she would face. This morning was already warm and promised to only get hotter as August ravaged the land. She had dressed in a denim skirt, a white tank top, and a loose, open shirt along with her favorite boots. She felt comfortable, but she hoped it was more than girly enough to prove her womanhood to her family.

Her reverie was broken when her mother pulled into the driveway in her truck. Olivia felt happy seeing her, it reminded her she had at least one friend here at home now. The tricky part would be convincing three more. That made the task ahead harder yet. Winning her mother over had made this feel like home again, a feeling she now feared she might lose.

Olivia felt the apprehension grow as they drove along the highway toward her childhood home. Riding in her mom’s truck was bringing back memories of her teenage years. As she looked down at her bare legs and the skirt she was wearing. She felt as though she was time traveling in an alternate dimension where she had grown up a girl to begin with.

She was terrified of what she would face when they got to the Dalton Ranch. Part of her hoped and begged for acceptance, but realized more realistically the most she might hope for was a grudging tolerance. Would they shout? Scream? Would they hate her? She wasn’t sure what she would face, but she knew it would be a trial.

Evelyn looked across the cab at her child as they drove home. She recognized the look on her face. She thought of so many things she might say to comfort the girl but wasn’t sure what the right words might be. She was as out of her depth as the others and it was going to be a tough sell.

An hour outside of Bozeman they reached the ranch. It was just south of Livingstone at the head of Paradise Valley. Olivia felt a surge of emotion as they drove under the wooden archway that led down the drive toward the ranch house. Evelyn parked the truck and turned off the ignition.

“It’s now or never honey.” she prompted quietly. “Everyone should be inside.”

Olivia nodded wordlessly and fingered the strap of her bag nervously. She glanced around the familiar setting as though trying to drink in the sights for a final time before slipping down from the truck and waiting for her mother.

The two approached the front porch and made their way up to the door. Everything seemed like a dream to Olivia. Every sight and sound screamed of familiarity and memories but she knew it was far from the truth.

The door was opened as they approached and Olivia caught sight of her father for the first time in six years. The man looked older but he still had that familiar weatherworn look she always remembered. His dark hair was graying at the temples and he had the same neat mustache on his top lip. It twitched.

“Evelyn, Harry.” he greeted flatly, eying his child with uneasy skepticism.

Olivia hung her head and followed her parents into the family room where her siblings were milling around waiting for the difficult reunion to begin.

Everyone was looking at Olivia. She could feel their gazes burning into her as she stood there awkwardly beside her mother, the only bastion of safety she felt. Her older sister, Sarah, smiled weakly but remained distant, her brother, Mark, wouldn’t make eye contact.

“Let’s sit, shall we?” Evelyn stated in a tone that was far more obviously an order than a request.

Evelyn guided her to a sofa and sat beside her while the rest of her family maintained their distance.

“Why?” Her father asked bluntly. He wasn’t a man of many words at the best of times, she remembered, but he seemed especially curt today as though he was trying to resist the urge to say something different.

Olivia looked at her family and regretted it; directing her gaze to the floor, she began her explanation.

“Growing up was difficult for me, I never fitted in with anyone and I always felt like I was missing something important. I thought I was gay; that it was the great answer to my unhappiness and when I left for college I explored that part of myself… It was okay, I mean, It felt right, I was attracted to boys but there was more to it. I had no reference for how I felt…” she added glancing at each of them in turn.

“I knew how I felt, but I didn’t dare tell anyone here. If I had said a word, I’d have been hurt worse… I already got picked on and bullied like crazy for what they saw of me, they assumed I was gay, a fag, and a sissy. I didn’t know anyone like me, so I assumed that was what it was.”

Evelyn put her hand on Olivia’s back and rubbed gently.

“When I got to college, I was able to explore myself more and talk to other people like me. I got involved in a group at school and then later outside that. That’s, I guess, where I discovered drag and it felt different to me. Other guys wanted to be these silly parodies of women, to prance around and be a big joke but I felt more strongly that I wanted to be more feminine, more like them.” she admitted.

“So this is just some fucking faggot drag shit for you to prance around?” Mark snapped from his place behind the sofa his father and sister occupied. His face was dark.

“Mark.” their mother hissed.

Olivia shook her head. “No, it’s ok, I get how it looks,” she admitted. “No, It’s far more than that. Sure I dated some guys but it never felt right, not really.”

Olivia shook her head and sighed. “I started toning down the stage look for when I was leaving clubs and bars to a more normal girl so that nobody I knew from work would know it was me, that version became a safety net and she felt harder and harder to put away.”

“So you’re just embarrassed to be gay? Is that it?” Sarah asked, only slightly more gently than Mark.

Olivia frowned. “No, I was never embarrassed, but I guess it was what I told myself. I guess I just didn’t want it to end. Then…” she sighed. “I met a guy that was different. He saw me differently and treated me so differently from the others. I wasn’t expected to fill this role for him that I went along with for others and he wanted to see Mia… I mean my character, one day.”

“So a man wants my son to dress up as a woman for him? You’re doing all this because some man wants to hide his gayness?” Her father growled.

Olivia stood and faced her father. “No.” she barked with more force than she had intended. “He made me realize it’s ok to be who I am. That it was ok for me to feel this way, to be a girl. I wanted to be like this because it is me. I am a gir… woman.”

She paced the living room, her fists balled tightly as she attempted to swallow her temper. She looked at her family and saw the judgment they were casting her way. Her heart was breaking, not that she hadn’t expected it. She felt tears beginning to well in her eyes.

“This is who I am, who I always was. I didn’t see it for many years, not that any of you would let me.” she stated flatly. “I never came back here, never called, never told you about the shooting because I hated it here, I didn’t feel loved, or wanted, or safe. You all let me get the shit beaten out of me, you iced me out and claimed it was because you wanted to toughen me up, make a man out of me or find myself.” she snapped with air quotes.

“Guess what, I found myself, and I’m not ashamed of who I am.”

“Nor am I.” her mother offered, standing beside her child.

Olivia took her mother’s hand for strength as she stared at the others. “That scrawny sissy kid you all fucking hated became a cop. That cop spent the last few years helping people and trying to make a difference. I’ve fought more guys than you ever did back in school, Mark.” she added glaring at her older brother. “I got shot six fucking times stopping some asshole from killing a storekeeper and my colleagues. I’ll carry one of those bullets for the rest of my life.” she snapped, lifting her skirt slightly to show two of the angry scars on her right thigh to them. “Is that tough enough for you?”

Her brother rolled his eyes. “Kinda wish he’d killed you.”

Evelyn stormed over to her son and slapped him in the face so hard the big man staggered backward, a look of shock on his face.

“You will never say such things again about your sister you ungrateful, fucking asshole.” she growled coldly.

The family was shocked, Evelyn Dalton didn’t curse. She never cursed. She was a god-fearing rancher’s wife that never hurt a fly. The words cut through the room like a chainsaw.

Sarah approached Olivia cautiously, casting a death stare at her brother as she passed. Sarah Dalton was a tall girl, dwarfing Olivia by a couple of inches. She’d always been so beautiful, Olivia thought, so graceful and perfect. She remembered playing with her sister when she was little; the games and the tea parties. She’d always loved spending time with Sarah and hadn’t put two and two together until that moment as to why.

The older Dalton girl regarded the younger for a moment in silence. She remembered the time spent when they were both younger fondly, but she also remembered how Harry hadn’t really changed. He hadn’t matured as Mark had, or grown to like sports or girls and more manly pursuits. She had gone along with her parents and brother in their ‘hard reality’ approach to toughening him up; she had thought she was helping her little brother become strong. She felt a tear slide down her cheek as she looked at the young woman in front of her. The girl looked both angry and terrified at the same time and her heart melted. She remembered the games, the barrel race tournaments they had acted out with her toy horses, and their make-believe adventures. Harry had always been just another girl in those games, it had seemed so normal.

Sarah was a veterinarian. She worked around horses all day and she recognized that look of fight or flight in her sibling’s eyes, that mixture of anger and panic that was building to a crescendo.

Sarah took the girl into her arms and hugged her fiercely. She felt Olivia stiffen at first before her arms wrapped around her with a grip that never wanted to let go. She cried as she felt regret at her part in what she’d done to her sister.

“This is fucking stupid.” Mark groaned. “Now you’re just going to accept his fucking bullshit and welcome him back?”

Sarah glared at her brother, not taking her arms from around the sobbing girl. “I followed you all, and that was wrong of me. I didn’t think about her feelings and I won’t do it now.” she fired back.

“As Mom said, she nearly died, we nearly lost our sister and I won’t turn her away. If you can’t be a fucking grown-up get out of here.” she snarled.

Mark threw his hands up and stormed out without another word. Their mother called after him but he didn’t turn around. A short while later, they heard a truck engine roar and peel out of the yard.

James Dalton watched the scene before him unfold with a strange sense of detachment. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be a more active part of this conversation, he simply didn’t know how. James was a rancher’s son, and a rancher himself; he knew cattle and he knew horses. Family was always something he’d tried to keep up with but thanked God for his Evelyn. She’d kept them together and made them function as a unit.

He looked at his youngest child, stood there looking so very feminine in his home. They were wrapped in their sister’s arms crying. To all the world, he looked like a girl he admitted to himself. He’d acted like one for sure when he was growing up. James had insisted they let Harry stand on his own feet when the bullying started in middle school. He knew how rough life could be for even the toughest men and he wouldn’t let his name or his children fall victim to it. Mark and Sarah had been strong, they’d known their direction in life and they’d been confident, smart kids. Harry however had never been like them. He was quiet, withdrawn, gentle, and small; James had been disappointed, he realized.

He saw the fire in his child’s eyes when they’d stood up for themselves against their brother and him. He’d seen that passion before, he realized. That determination, that force of will had never been present in the scrawny kid that had disappointed him so. James Dalton didn’t do emotion; he was a man’s man. He didn’t see that passion until he’d met his Evelyn so many years ago.

Looking now at the scene before him, he recognized that fire in his wife and daughter, and he saw it now in his youngest child too, he realized.

The Dalton girls had always been passionate creatures. They were strong in ways he could never be, and they were full of life and love. They were the glue that held this family together and they made him a better man for it.

Olivia pulled away from her sister, smiling weakly through her tears as she wiped her eyes, her makeup a mess. Her mind was in turmoil as she processed what had happened. She glanced over at her father, still sitting in the armchair, his expression an unreadable mask. She separated herself from Sarah and approached him slowly, her mind racing as she tried to read the stoic patriarch. She knelt beside the chair and placed her hand on his arm.

“Dad.”

James Dalton looked away and set his jaw. He couldn’t look at that expression. It was too familiar. That look of desperate hope would break him, he knew.

Olivia sat patiently, watching her father. She wished she knew what was going through his head but he was impossible to read.

“Dad, you wanted me to toughen up and be strong, you wanted me to be confident and independent. I know this isn’t how you expected it to turn out, but I finally found those things in myself. I’m not ashamed, but I am sorry.”

James Dalton looked at his youngest child. Her face was a mess of streaked makeup from her tears but her expression was one of quiet resolve. He didn’t see that runt of a kid inside the woman sitting there, pleading for his approval. He saw his Evie when she was younger. He saw Sarah. He now saw Olivia.

“Never apologize for who you are.” he said quietly, his stoic tone cracking slightly. He grimaced, fighting an unfamiliar and unwanted feeling that was creeping in. “I never raised you to be sorry for who you are, I raised you as a Dalton… I… My god, you’re so much like your mother.”

“Dad.” Olivia begged, her tears flowing again. “I’m not sorry for who I am, I’m sorry I wasn’t the son you wanted.”

That broke James Dalton. The iron man felt wetness in his eyes for the first time since the birth of his children. He stood without a word and took his daughter into his arms and hugged her tightly to his chest.

“God, you Dalton girls will be the death of me.” he sighed as his wife and eldest joined the embrace.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Olivia sat out on the porch of the ranch house watching the world pass by. The last two hours had been some of the most exhausting in her life. She had never hoped for acceptance, even after her mother had come to her side. Dreamed, perhaps, but she had never hoped. That only her brother Mark had rejected her was an incredible outcome. Mark… They had never seen eye to eye she knew, but she had hoped there might be a chance.

She heard a board creak behind her and her sister came into view. Sarah sat down beside her on the step and handed her a steaming cup of tea.

“Rough afternoon,” she observed without really looking over at her.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Olivia admitted, accepting the cup.

“You look good.”

Olivia smiled. “Thanks, shoulda seen me hobbling around the first month on crutches, it was bad.”

Sarah glanced at her sister and winced. “How bad? Like, no bullshit, tell me the truth.”

Olivia was quiet for a moment as she sipped the herbal tea. “I died twice.”

Sarah stopped and stared. “You died?”

“On the operating table, they obviously got me back.” Olivia chuckled darkly.

“What all happened? Medically, I mean?”

“Shattered femur from one bullet, one embedded in the right, two through and through flesh wounds, one ruptured my femoral artery, and the last one fragmented and shredded my testicles.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Sarah whistled. “I’m surprised you’re here.”

“Me too, it’s been rough.”

“That you thought you couldn’t talk to us,” Sarah said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“The one that ruined my genitals is why I ended up making the decision in the end,” Olivia admitted. “They were preparing to give me testosterone shots for the rest of my life and I couldn’t do it.”

“I can’t begin to imagine how you handled all of this,” Sarah admitted. “All your life, all of this, and having to face us too.”

Olivia stared out at the vast expanse of Montana in front of the house. “Richard,” she said simply.

“Richard?” her sister asked with a curious expression before realization hit her. “That’s the man you met, isn’t it? Tell me about him?”

“He’s sweet and caring and so utterly gorgeous, he makes me feel so damn special whenever I’m with him.”

“He sounds wonderful.”

“I love him,” Olivia admitted, facing her sister. “With all my heart.”

“Where is he now?”

“Still up in Bozeman.”

“Shit… he came home with you to face all this? That’s a man.” Sarah chuckled.

“I asked him to stay there today while I came here, I didn’t want to overload you guys or let him see or hear any of the horrible things I expected.”

Sarah put her arm around Olivia and hugged her to her side. “I’d love to meet the guy that stole my baby sister’s heart,” she said softly. “How long are you guys here?”

“End of the week,” Olivia said, resting her head on her sister’s shoulder. “I can’t tell you how nice this is.”

“Let’s go give Mom and Dad some space,” Sarah announced standing. “I’ll drive us into Bozeman and we can get dinner then I can meet this handsome guy.”

Saying their goodbyes to their parents, the two women climbed into Sarah’s SUV and headed for the city. The drive from the ranch was a lot more comfortable for Olivia. The worst of her fears now behind her, she was able to relax.

Sarah had gone into practice as a veterinarian with an old school friend and their business was doing well. She’d married her high school sweetheart who was now in the auction business. Overall, her life was going well. Olivia was happy for her sister. She knew they weren’t likely to be braiding each other’s hair any time soon, but she could feel their once-strong bond beginning to repair. It would take time, she realized, but there was hope for it yet.

Sarah parked in the lot at the Copper | Whiskey Bar & Grill, just off Main Street in Bozeman and the pair headed inside. According to Sarah, the Copper was one of the best places to get barbeque in the entire city and Olivia ought to re-immerse herself in the country lifestyle after her time away from home. Inside, soft country music was playing on the sound system and it was bustling with the late lunch crowd.

Olivia hadn’t been able to spend time in bars in Montana before she left. Not only had she been too young, but she had no friends that would even attempt the teen tradition of sneaking in. The atmosphere was casual and light-hearted and the bar’s wood panel interior gave it an old-time aesthetic that really felt timeless.

“They have nothing like this back in LA. They have attempted copies of country style, but not like this.” Olivia nodded appreciatively. “It really does feel good to be back, you know.”

Sarah grinned and waved to the barman so that they could order. “You can’t take Montana out of someone, no matter where they go.”

The two women were able to order drinks and grabbed a menu before heading to find a table somewhere out of the flow of customers.

“Sarah Dalton? As I live and breathe.” A voice called from behind Olivia. “Girl, you don’t hang out no more.”

A group of four men had made their way over from one of the pool tables. All four were dressed in various plaids and jeans, they looked like ranch hands.

“They work at the J,” Sarah explained, referencing one of the neighboring ranches.

The men seemed to be tipping the scale between tipsy and drunk. One of them, that looked slightly drunker than the others, leered disgustingly at Olivia.

“What’s your name, honey.” he slurred. “I ain’t seen you around before.”

“You seem a bit drunk, buddy,” Olivia replied flatly. “Probably time to head home.”

“Aw, sweetie I’m good, just gettin’ warmed up.” The man chuckled.

Sarah’s expression seemed a little pained as she glanced between the guys. Olivia sensed she’d read their intoxication the same way she had.

“You boys should head back to the ranch before you end up getting busted and Mr. Cane has to come to bail your sorry asses out.” she pointed out sternly.

The big drunk ran his fingers over Olivia’s cheek and she flinched and batted away his arm.

“Get off me.”

Mr. Sloshed put his hand on Olivia’s butt and squeezed. “Come on darlin’, come play a round with us, we’ll teach ya.”

Olivia gripped the man’s hand and twisted as she stood putting it behind his back. “No touching buddy.”

The man yelped and tried to resist, only making the pain of the hold worse and yelped louder.

The other three stepped forward as though they were about to get involved until Sarah stood up and glared at them. “Hands off her, She’s a Dalton, boys. No means no.”

“You don’t got a sister.” one of the men countered. “Just two brothers.”

The other stared at Olivia for a moment, his alcohol-addled brain processing images. “She looks a lot like her faggot brother from a ways back.”

The last man appeared to be the least drunk and he made the connection fastest of all of the group. “That’s Harry Dalton guys! Holy shit he gone had his dick cut off after all.”

Olivia’s mind raced, this was going downhill extremely quickly and she was out of her depth. She’d reacted like she was back home working and had no backup and her sister in proximity. These guys were big and far stronger than she was, she needed help fast.

Her moment of distraction was enough for the man she had in an arm lock to twist his hand free and lash backward with his elbow. The impact connected with Olivia’s cheek and sent her reeling, releasing his hand entirely.

Scrambling away over the floor she stood as quickly as possible and hunched forward in a fighting stance, her hand went for a baton that didn’t exist. She cursed herself as the man approached and threw a wild, well-telegraphed punch that missed entirely as she ducked underneath it. She countered with an uppercut and stepped through his haymaker.

Olivia’s heart hammered as she tried to maintain her space while the man attempted to strike her. She kept moving as quickly as possible and tried to use the man’s momentum against him. She couldn’t beat him in power so she had to use what she had; speed. Her injuries were almost healed, but she was far from peak condition and she was beginning to feel it. This couldn’t be a prolonged fight or she’d be dead. Making her mind up, she sidestepped a charge and kicked sharply at the side of the man’s knee as he blundered past using a dirty street trick.

She heard a loud crack and the man wailed and collapsed to the ground, his busted knee unable to support his weight.

She turned to face the others and felt a pang of fear as she saw two of them holding Sarah in their grasp as she struggled to get free. Sarah’s lip was bleeding and she was cursing up a storm.

Olivia didn’t hesitate, she reached behind her shirt and pulled her pistol from the holster inside her waistband, and pointed it at the forehead of the ringleader. “Let her go.” she growled.

The man’s eyes went wide and he dropped Sarah’s arm and threw his hands up. Sarah wasted no time in elbowing the moron in the groin. Before long, she was separated and rushed over to stand beside Olivia.

“Not one of you fucking move, you understand me?” Olivia ordered moving the barrel of the pistol between the men.

“Sarah, go tell the barman to call the cops.”

The older woman wiped the blood from her lip and stalked over to the bar. The barman already appeared to be dialing before she reached him.

Olivia reached down to her bag without taking her gun off the men and reached in for her badge.

She waved it around at the already assembled crowd of onlookers. “Deputy Sheriff.”

“You what?” the ringleader balked. “You ain’t.”

“Test me please.” she snarled, her temper blazing. “You aren’t faster than a bullet and with the three of you lugs it will be an easy case of self-defense.”

The men didn’t test her.

A few tense moments later, she heard sirens wailing outside the bar and several local officers came streaming into the bar. Waving her badge in their direction she pointed at the three standing and their writhing compatriot.

“These idiots assaulted my sister and I.”

“We got it from here ma’am.” the first to reach her nodded. “Turn around fellers.”

Olivia was dimly aware of a few of the crowd of patrons clapping as she finally relaxed. The four amigos were detained by the local cops and the girls were led outside to the street. An ambulance had to be called for Mr. Sloshed who had yet to stop yelling about his shattered knee.
The girls were kept to one side while the officers handled cleaning up the mess inside the bar.

An officer stood with them until their supervisor arrived a few moments later. The older man wore sergeant’s stripes and looked to be in his late forties. The man looked like any sergeant she knew; mildly annoyed to be there and already done with all of it.

The man relieved the officer stood with them and pulled out his notepad.

“Who you with?” he asked, gesturing at the badge she’d clipped to her shirt.

“Deputy Dalton Sir, Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department, I’m home visiting family,” Olivia explained.

“Those were some big dudes, you messed that big one up on your own?” he asked uncertainly.

“She did.” Sarah grinned past the gauze she was holding to her lip. “My sister is a badass.”

“Used his weight against him, sir. He wasn’t difficult to handle. I can’t use power to stop guys so I have to be quicker.” Olivia explained.

“Mighty impressive.” the sergeant agreed. “Pity you don’t work with us. Real firecracker if you don’t mind me saying.”

The man paused for a moment and cocked his head to one side. “Dalton?”

Olivia groaned internally. It was going to be one of those days.

“Yes sir.”

“Nothing.” the Sergeant shrugged. “I think I got my memory mixed up. You are sure you’re ok, aren’t you?” he added as he noticed Olivia massaging her thigh.

“She got shot in the line of duty a few months ago,” Sarah interjected. “Six times saving a man’s life.”

The Sergeant turned to Olivia with a look of shock. “Ma’am, is that true?”

Olivia nodded slightly. “Yeah, I can feel that’s going to be a story she keeps telling.”

“Oh, and this one too now,” Sarah added with a chuckle. “My kid sister just took down four of the J’s hands on her own.”

The Sergeant stuck his hand out to shake Olivia’s. “If you ever move home, give me a ring and I’ll put a word in for you with our Chief, Ma’am.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. No promises though.”

One of the idiots was yelling as they stuffed him into a cruiser. “That tranny bitch should be locked up. He came on to me!” The two officers handling him stuffed him into the car regardless.

The Sergeant glanced in the direction of the car then back at Olivia and raised his eyebrows. “Maybe I was thinking about the right Dalton earlier after all”

Olivia sighed. “Yes sir.”

The man grinned and patted Olivia’s shoulder. “My eldest girl’s gay, I don’t give a good goddamn. You be you, honey.”

Olivia smiled at the man and held her sister’s hand. “Thanks, I didn’t want a scene.”

“Y’all caused one,” the older sergeant chuckled. “Man I’m totally telling Heather about this, she’ll think it’s a hoot.”

The Sergeant thanked them both and left to coordinate his officers.

After statements and identities were confirmed, Olivia and Sarah were released by the Bozeman PD and decided that lunch really hadn’t been that important after all. Sarah had left to return back to the ranch to tell their parents, much to Olivia’s protests, and made her promise to come back home for dinner the next evening.

Olivia made the short walk back to the hotel to join Richard. Her day had been far more eventful than she had planned but strangely, she wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“You did what?” Richard had gawked.

Richard had nearly lost it when he’d seen her bruised cheek. She’d called him from the ranch earlier in the day so he knew it hadn’t been her family that left the mark, but seeing her limping slightly and looking worse for wear had worried him greatly.

“Yeah,” Olivia stretched out her aching thighs against the bed. “My sister and I won a bar fight.”

“How?”

“Four drunk idiots are all muscle and no brain.” Olivia chuckled before going on to explain the events at the bar that afternoon.

Richard laughed and shook his head. “This place is the wild damn west.”

“Sure is sugar.” Olivia purred, climbing onto his lap with a look in her eye. “Come tell momma how awesome she is.”

Richard pulled her to him and kissed her deeply. He could feel her body melting into him as they sat there entwined on the edge of the bed. Olivia moaned softly into their kiss and pushed him back onto the bed. She pulled her top over her head and leaned down to kiss him again. Richard grabbed her bottom as they kissed and felt her grind against him. He reached up and unsnapped her bra before allowing her to shrug out of it and toss it aside.

Olivia gasped when he found her breasts and began to knead them gently. “I love you.” she whispered into his ear as she tugged at his waistband.

A short while later, Olivia rolled off Richard and lay panting in the bed.

“What the hell was that?” Richard asked, looking over at her. “That was new, not that I’m complaining.”

Olivia shrugged and giggled. “I don’t know. I just felt like being in charge for once.”

“You can do that anytime you want.”

“I guess I’ve had such a stressful day reacting to everyone’s crap and then the fight, I had so much pent-up energy.”

Olivia realized she had very much taken charge of their lovemaking. It wasn’t something she’d ever done before and it felt exhilarating. Richard made her feel wonderful and she’d felt such a strong desire for him at that moment she had gone with her emotions.

“I think you need to get in fights more often.” he grinned.

Olivia rolled over and looked at the man seriously. “Today has been more than I hoped and worse than I expected, but I think it might work out in the end and that scares me.”

“I get it.” Richard agreed, running his hand along her naked leg. “Your Mom accepted you and now you have most of them over to your side, it’s like you have something to lose now.”

“Yeah,” she admitted, snuggling into his hand. “Sarah thinks I’m kinda awesome now.”

“You are.” Richard smiled and kissed her deeply.

The couple spent the evening in bed together with only a break to order room service. She had giggled at the knowing look the bellhop had given them when he arrived with their food. Olivia felt more liberated than she had in her entire life. Here she was in her homeland with the love of her life and she had so little still standing in her way now. The future finally seemed bright and full of potential. She knew the road would be rocky, but she was no longer alone in traveling along it.

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Driftwood #9 - Olivia Vs The Real World.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Caution:

CAUTION: Language

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Driftwood

By Alyssa Plant

Life and Love are far more complicated than we can possibly understand. For one young cop, a journey of self-discovery will teach them that true strength was inside them all along.

Chapter Twelve - The Lake

The next day, the couple spent the day in Bozeman as Olivia showed Richard the sights of her home. The city was where she’d gone to school and spent most of her time growing up when not on the ranch. He could tell a lot of the place held bad memories for her but was thankful that she was willing to share this part of her life with him. The weight of the past was beginning to lift, he could see. She was smiling now, which was an improvement. The culture here was so dramatically at odds with the California pace he was so used to but he could grow to like the laid-back lifestyle.

With plans to travel to Olivia’s parent's home for dinner that evening, the couple returned to the hotel to change before making the hour-long drive over to the ranch. Richard was nervous for one of the first times in his life. Very few things rattled the man. He was able to take to the floor of the courtroom and do battle with some of the sharpest legal minds and he’d even faced down mobsters. Somehow, the prospect of meeting his girlfriend’s family scared him. He wasn’t sure if it was the fragile nature of their relationship or the thought that her father might bury him in the mountains if he disapproved.

Olivia pulled her truck into the ranch yard a little before six that evening and parked in front of the house.

“Ready?” she asked, turning to Richard.

“You?” he countered, climbing down from the truck.

“You’re the one meeting my family and you’re the city boy.”

Taking his hand, Olivia made her way up to the front door and hesitated for a moment before opening the door. She was apprehensive to return, but she was confident that she could handle things with him beside her. Sarah and her mother were firmly on her side she knew and the rest would come in time. Her biggest concern was how her father would take to Richard’s part in all of this. After all, wasn’t a father meant to disapprove of his daughter’s boyfriends? She wasn’t sure how that applied in her case, however.

Opening the door, she stepped out of the sunlight into the darker interior of the house.

“Hello?” she called.

“This is stunning,” Richard observed, glancing around the wood and stone interior of the home.

Nobody was visible so she led him further into the house and entered the family room. Her father was standing in front of the desk reviewing a sheaf of papers. He turned as she entered.

“Your mother and sister are in the kitchen,” he stated with a tone that suggested she leave him with Richard.

“Dad?” Olivia asked hesitantly.

Her father shook his head and pointed to the hallway with a crystal tumbler of amber liquid in his hand. “Off you go.”

Olivia looked up at Richard and squeezed his hand. He shrugged imperceptibly and nodded. Making her way back out towards the corridor, Olivia glanced back at the scene of two bulls facing off against one another and grimaced. This was either going to go well or be a massacre, but she knew better than to argue.

The scent of food led her through to the kitchen, a place she had spent so many hours as a kid. Her mother and sister were chatting with the housekeeper as they worked.

“Hi,” she called, hesitating at the doorway.

Sarah smiled as she saw her and welcomed her in. “Dad working over Richard?”

Olivia nodded before glancing nervously at Mrs. Swiftwater, the housekeeper, uncertain of what she knew.

Hellen Swiftwater had always been their housekeeper for as long as Olivia could remember. Her father had worked for her grandfather and both her sons were hands on the ranch. The native woman and her boys were essentially part of the family at this point.

The lady approached her and held out her arms to Olivia’s sides and appraised her carefully.
She nodded her approval and hugged the girl. “Welcome home Miss Dalton.”

“Olivia,” she corrected.

Mrs. Swiftwater shook her head and continued, she’d never called any of the family by their first names on principle except when they were little. “It’s good to see you and I’m very happy to see you finally.”

Olivia inclined her head, “Finally?”

“I was explaining to your mother and sister how my people see the two-spirited in my culture, and that when you were small I could see you were different from the other boys. There are many terms for it but I think the closest is iskwéw ka-napéwayat, meaning "woman who dressed as a man.”

Olivia raised her eyebrows and said nothing.

“Things vary of course, but we are not as narrow-minded as you white people.”

“So you’re ok with this?” Olivia asked cautiously, uncertain as to where she stood.

Mrs. Swiftwater nodded and smiled. “Of course dear, I am happy to finally see you.”

“What was this I heard about my daughters getting into a bar fight?” Evelyn asked casually, changing the subject while she prepared a dish.

“We weren’t looking for trouble, but a guy wouldn’t stop touching me.” Olivia explained.

“And you kicked their asses,” Sarah added happily. “Mom, you should have been there.”

Evelyn rolled her eyes, “I think I can imagine more than enough thank you dear.”

“It was so awesome! We’re duking it out and she broke this guy’s knee and pulled her badge and gun, it was like a movie scene,” Sarah gushed. “I’m so proud of you.”

“It was that or get my ass groped,” Olivia complained, “He wouldn’t get off me so I put him in a hold then it all went downhill,” she explained, hoping her mother wouldn’t think she had started it.

Evelyn smiled, “And you never should darling. No man has the right to touch you if you don’t want him to. I just worry about both of you girls but especially you darling,” she added looking specifically at Olivia.

“I’m a cop, Mom, It’s not my first fight.”

“I’m your mother, I’m allowed to worry.”

Mrs. Swiftwater bustled past with a tray of roast potatoes, “There was a princess of the Ojibwe people named Ashwiyaa, ‘She who Arms Herself’, she was a full warrior within her clan, I think she and you have much in common.”

Olivia smiled, Mrs. Swiftwater had always had stories and analogies from her culture she would rattle off at a moment’s notice. She had always seen it as her duty to ensure the Dalton children understood the native peoples of the area and the significance of their world.

Olivia knew what her people had done to the Native Americans and had always felt a deep regret. She loved Mrs. Swiftwater’s stories.

“Think Dad’s killed Richard yet?” Sarah quipped.

Olivia shot her a look as she began helping with the food.

“Don’t be silly,” their mother chided. “He’s a lovely man, Olivia, he’ll be fine.”

Olivia was still worried. She knew what her father could be like and she’d seen him with Sarah’s high school boyfriends. She was also painfully aware that her daughter's status was still extremely new in her father’s mind.

Once they had finished preparations, Olivia and Sarah were sent through to get the men for dinner. Olivia hoped she’d still have a boyfriend once they got there. Entering the family room, she was greeted by a sight she didn’t expect.

Her father and Richard were sitting opposite of one another laughing at something, glasses of whiskey in their hands.

“He gets whiskey?” Sarah balked, “Really?”

James Dalton rolled his eyes. “It’s my whiskey, I can give it to whoever I want in my own damn house.”

“You practically lynched my boyfriends! What gives?”

“See what I have to deal with?” he directed at Richard.

“So this looks cozy,” Olivia observed, crossing her arms. “No blood?”

“No honey,” Richard reassured her. “Your father was telling me about some legal silliness he had with the Forestry Service.”

James Dalton nodded and gestured to Richard, “Keep this one.”

Olivia sighed. “Oh, thanks, Dad. I’ll maintain my relationship so you can have free legal advice.”

Her father threw his hands up and feigned surrender. “Yeah, you really are my damn daughter.” he chuckled.

Dinner was a pleasant but slightly awkward affair as her mother and sister grilled Richard relentlessly. Olivia felt a great peace eating at the table with her family. At first, things were a little stilted as they all adjusted to her on a more personal level, but she was beginning to feel them warm toward her. This was the family she had longed for her entire life. The past couldn’t be forgotten, but she did understand. It was going to be a long road, but she could feel a greater warmth already. The only black stain was Mark’s empty chair across from her.

Her brother… Olivia had never been particularly close to Mark, but she had looked up to him when she was younger. He was what she was supposed to be and she had tried, or at least felt as though she had to. They had never spent a lot of time together and it had been difficult. He never took part in the bullying, but he had also never attempted to stop it. She hoped she could at least speak to him before she left, but she got the impression he was keeping his distance now he was outnumbered.

She was glad to see Richard accepted by her family. Her father had concerned her the most, but it seemed as though the old man could see at least a little of what she saw in her man. They were from different worlds, but she recognized the same sense of honor and correctness that drove Richard to be close to her father’s heart.

“When are you back at work?” her mother asked as they were eating dessert.

Olivia wasn’t sure, “A few weeks maybe, as long as I pass my medical.”

“I don’t know how I feel about you being a police officer in such a dangerous place.” her father frowned. “You’re so far away from here and now I have to worry about a daughter.”

“Dad, I’m fine, I’m good at my job.”

“So I heard last night,” he observed with a pointed look. “You know I had Mr. Cane on the phone this morning with a skunk up his ass about four of his boys in jail.”

“That wasn’t my fault, we didn’t start it.” Olivia protested.

“She sure as hell finished it.” Sarah grinned.

James Dalton shook his head and his lip quirked upward. “Why’d you have to go and be more of a handful than Sarah?”

“Nobody lays a finger on my daughters.” her mother stated firmly. “I’m sure nobody is going to go near them now.”

“Well that’s just boring,” Sarah grinned.

“You’re married,” her father added, frowning.

“So what? They can look,” she shrugged.

Olivia and Richard were forbidden from returning to Bozeman that evening and put up in one of the guest bedrooms at the house. Her mother had given Richard strict instructions to return the next day and gather their luggage so that they might stay at the ranch for the remainder of their visit.

Olivia had considered using her old room but rejected the idea of returning to a place that still held great pain for her. She had cried herself to sleep too many nights in that room to ever want to sleep in it again. That, and the bed was far too small for two people.

Sarah had lent her a nightgown and she climbed into the bed beside Richard and snuggled up against him under the covers. Olivia closed her eyes and sighed. She had never imagined this moment in her entire life. Here she was, in her family home in bed with the man she loved. Her family knew her and loved her, and more importantly, they seemed to like him too. She could feel the stress of years leaving her soul and it felt serene.

Richard slid his hand up her thigh and under the edge of her nightgown. Olivia slapped his hand away and wagged a finger.

“Not tonight,” she chided. “My father will literally bury you in the woods.”

“Daddy’s little girl.” Richard chuckled and hugged her close as they drifted off to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Olivia woke abruptly the next morning and it took her a moment to remember where she was. Above her, the timbers of the roof were a familiar sight she had seen her entire childhood. Light streamed past the curtains bringing with it the sounds of the morning on the ranch. As she lay there on the bed, she felt her heart rate begin to settle back to normal as she glanced around the room.

She wasn’t sure if it was a nightmare or a near-waking moment where she had still been Harry and six years had not passed. She knew it wasn’t real but the feeling had been horrible.

She could feel the heat of Richard’s body next to hers and she smiled softly as she ran her fingers down the curve of his spine under the covers. No, she wasn’t Harry anymore.

Slipping from under the covers, she wrapped a dressing gown around her body and quietly left the room. Reaching the landing, she could hear voices downstairs. The voices sounded like her parents.

Settling down next to the mezzanine banister, Olivia strained to hear the conversation, unsure whether she should interrupt.

“I just don’t know Evie, it’s a lot to digest.” she heard her father say.

“James, It’s her, him… her, I can’t not love my child.”

“Did we do this? Was it our fault?”

“I don’t think so, I think we pushed her away. I never saw this coming.”

“It’s all so damn much Evie, h… she’s so much like you it hurts to see it. I feel like my son’s dead.”

Olivia couldn’t stand by any longer as she listened. She stood and began to descend the stairs. She heard the conversation stop as the boards creaked beneath her feet. Looking across at her parents on one of the sofas she smiled weakly. “Good morning.”

“Morning dear,” her mother smiled guiltily.

“I heard you guys, no need to pretend,” Olivia explained. “I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment.”

Olivia slumped into one of the armchairs and folded her legs underneath herself. “I just want to be happy. I didn’t choose this road, it’s not easy and it’s something I wish I didn’t have to do. The truth is, it’s this or…” Olivia swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“Honey, It’s not going to be easy.” her father began with a sigh. “It’s a lot of adjustment for me and it won’t be easy but I will try. I just feel responsible somehow.”

Olivia moved over to sit beside her father. She felt him tense up first before relaxing and putting his arm carefully on her shoulder. It wasn’t a hug, but it was close enough.

“Dad, this wasn’t your fault,” she pleaded, looking up at the man beside her. “This is always who I was. It took me some time to see it, and I won’t lie, things were really bad in high school, but I’m just glad we have this chance now to do things right.”

Her father pulled her to his side and rested his chin on her head. “I know, me too,” he admitted sadly. “Just do me a favor, ok?”

“What?”

“Don’t go pulling that daddy shit Sarah still uses on me when she wants something, ok?”

“No promises,” Olivia giggled.

“Go take her up to the lake.” her mother suggested getting up and heading for the kitchen. “You two need to get to know each other again.”

“I have work to do,” James protested. “And I’m sure… She’d rather spend time with her gentleman.”

“Bullcrap, the hands have it under control for a few hours, the ranch won’t burn down.”

“No Dad, it’s a good idea.” Olivia agreed, “I can see Richard any time I want, but I want to spend some time with you if you’ll let me?”

“I guess it’s decided for me then.” her father huffed. “Go get changed, I’ll go saddle the horses.”

Olivia made her way back upstairs and knocked lightly on her sister’s door. “Sarah? You awake?”

There was no answer so she knocked again. “Sarah?”

There was a mutter inside. “Mmmfh… come in.”

Olivia opened the door cautiously and slid inside, Sarah was face down in the bed, a halo of her blonde hair fanned out in physically impossible directions.

“What.”

“I need to borrow some clothes.”

“I swear I never thought I’d hear the words in my fucking life.” she muttered rolling over and blinking. “Why?”

“I’m going up to the lake with Dad, I don’t think a skirt and a top will cut it.”

“Go for it, but I’m not helping you with your makeup.”

Olivia made her way to the wardrobe and began to rifle through the sections, “Nah I’m good, I’m better than you anyway.”

“Cheeky bitch.” Sarah scoffed, lobbing a pillow at her sister.

Olivia made her way down to the stables as memories of home flooded back. She wore a pair of her sister's jeans with the cuffs rolled up and one of her flannel shirts and a quilted vest. Her boots were still good and she’d borrowed a hat. She felt suitably attired for the day.

Richard had just risen when she left, but she’d left him in her mother’s capable hands, which might be unfortunate for him, she considered. Her father was just finishing tacking up two horses when she reached the long stable building down by the barns.

“Hey.”

Her father looked round, “Ev… Oh.” he shook his head. “You really are the spitting image of your mother when she was your age.”

“Sorry,” Olivia offered meekly, taking the reins of a piebald mare her father offered her. “I know it can’t be easy.”

James Dalton shook his head and sighed, “I want to have more problems with it,” he admitted, but I can’t be mad looking at that face.”

Olivia watched several hands working one of the corals. Her expression must have betrayed the question on her mind because her father chuckled as he mounted his horse. “Oh, they already know. You think a story about four of the J’s guys getting their asses kicked by a Dalton girl doesn’t make the rounds like a brushfire?”

Olivia shrugged. “I figured it wouldn’t take long.”

“They can keep their mouths shut if they have anything bad to say or they don’t work here.” Her father replied tersely. “I might not fully understand it but you’re still my kid.”

The pair rode out over the east pasture and upwards into the foothills of the Absaroka Range. Olivia had missed the feeling of being so extremely cut off from the modern world. Up here, it was just you, your horse, and the wilderness. She rode with her father for an hour mostly in silence. It wasn’t that they didn’t have things to talk about, but rather that silence was a luxury they both enjoyed.

As they entered the tree line and the gradient began to steepen they slowed to a walk and he pulled up alongside her horse.

“Explain this to me in words I can understand.”

“Long or short?”

“Long, we have time.”

Olivia began at her earliest memories and started her explanation. She didn’t spare a detail and took her father through how her life had felt to her.

“End of the day, I don’t want to be a girl, this isn’t some fantasy I’m trying to reenact. Up here,” she tapped her hat. “Up here, I am. The rest just needed to catch up.”

She ducked to avoid a low branch and continued. “How do you know you like Mom?”

Her father was silent for a moment. “I just do. The first time I saw her, she took my breath away. I knew that I’d marry that girl one day and spend the rest of my days with her.”

“How do you know you hate Brussels Sprouts? You’ve never eaten one, right?”

Her father screwed his face up, making her laugh. “The smell, texture, they look wrong. It’s irrational.”

“That’s how I feel. Up in my head, I knew one thing with total certainty, and my body was the sprout.”

Her father chuckled. “Ok, I can understand that I think.”

“I’m sorry,” he said after a pause. “I’m sorry I was such a hardass to you growing up. It’s how my father was with me, and it worked on Mark, I thought you just needed more of it. I convinced myself it would take time. By the point your mother and I realized it wasn’t, you were barely speaking to us anymore.”

“I felt like I was alone with everyone against me. Even the people that were meant to love me,” Olivia admitted. “It took me years to realize you and Mom are just people. People make mistakes. None of us have all the answers.”

Her father looked at her sideways. “When did you become so wise?”

Olivia laughed. “I’m a cop dad, you get the real 411 on life on a weekend night shift.”

Her father smiled. “We’re here,” he announced as they crested a ridge into a forest clearing three or four hundred feet across. The clearing held a lake of cerulean blue water, surrounded on all sides by a rocky bank. There was a creek flowing into one end causing the only disturbance to its flawless surface.

“Wow,” Olivia breathed as she crested the rise herself.

“This is where I proposed to your mother.” Her father explained. “I took her up here for a picnic and I popped the question.”

“I can see why,” Olivia agreed. “It’s beautiful.”

Her father dismounted and tied off his horse to a nearby branch and walked over the lake’s edge before crouching down to pick up a flat rock from the shingle by the water’s edge. She watched as he flicked the rock out over the water, watching it skip several times before sinking thirty feet away.

It was such a childlike thing to do, and it seemed quite unlike her father to simply do something for the sake of doing it. He was a practical man and always had been. James Dalton didn’t do something unless it was worth doing. To see him simply skip a rock on a lake because he wanted to seemed incongruous.

“When your sister turned eighteen, I brought her up here to share this place that was so special to your Mom and I. I spoke to her about her hopes and dreams and who she wanted to be in this world. I wanted to understand the young woman that was going to leave my nest and head out into the world and make my peace with her no longer being my little girl.”

“That’s not a side of you I’d have expected,” Olivia observed, joining him on the shoreline.

Her father grinned, his eyes still tracing the far shoreline of the lake. “It was your mother’s idea of course.”

Olivia nodded. She could see it being her Mom’s idea, but she was silently honored that he’d brought her here. Their parents never spoke in much depth about their courtship or how they’d lived before Mark was born.

Her father gave her a look. It wasn’t judgemental or disappointed, but instead analytical. His eyes seemed to flicker across her face and body as if taking her in for the first time. “I know what you are or at least I think I do, but I don’t know who you are.”

“I’m your child,” Olivia answered uncertainly.

Her father shook his head, “You’re my daughter.” he stated flatly. “Who are you?”

Olivia settled down onto the rocky shore. Her legs were stiff from the time in the saddle. She pondered the question, unsure as to who she actually was. It’s a question everyone considers, but never truly answers about themselves. Life and ego have a way of making people think the best of themselves; the potential and the possibility. They go through their existence thinking about who they want to be, and what they want to do, rarely stopping to ask, who they are in the moment.

“I’m a cop.” she said quietly. “I became a cop because I wanted to protect people from the assholes of the world. When I was younger, and the cops got involved after some of the ass-kickings I took, they never cared much. I wanted to be able to be there for just one kid like me or one person in the worst place in their life. I want to be the justice I would have wanted.”

Her father’s expression was hard to read as he looked out over the water. Olivia thought for a moment. That wasn’t the question entirely. She wondered for a moment exactly who Olivia Dalton was, what parts of Harry remained, and what parts of Mia she had adopted and made her own.

“I want to tell you a story,” she started more surely, flicking her own rock across the lake’s glassy surface. “A while back, I was involved in a domestic kidnapping. This gay couple had a major argument. The boyfriend wanted to go back to his wife and when the cops showed up, one of them panicked and pulled a gun on his boyfriend. It went how you’d expect, they fled the scene eventually crashing the car. We ended up in this standoff up on this mountain bridge just north of the city. The guy was surrounded, his partner was terrified and we called up a negotiator. The guy was good, sure, but he followed the usual template we have for that stuff. I was working with this training officer at the time, a guy called Parker, we’d been sent around this gulch and up to a spot beside them to cover in case anything went wrong. The guy started to tell the negotiator he didn’t understand him, or his situation. How could he? He was straight? It didn’t matter that love is love, he just got so wrapped up in that technicality that he was stuck there.”

She paused to see if her father was following her and realized the man was paying her rapt attention.

“They called over the radio to see if anyone on the scene could identify with the guy. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t stop myself from volunteering. I went up there and I poured my heart out to this guy. I told him about my childhood, my pain, and my sense of loss. I told him I understood him, that I saw him, and that he wasn’t alone. I stood there in front of all of my colleagues and I opened my soul to this guy. He wasn’t a bad person, just in a shitty situation.” she admitted.

“What happened?” her father asked quietly.

“He gave up. He gave us the gun, let the guy go, and came quietly. It was the first time my colleagues looked at me with respect rather than distrust.” she admitted. “I think it was the first time I was truly honest with myself about how I’d felt, and I was no longer that skinny little gay guy they worked with, someone to mistrust or feel strange around. They saw the honesty and my desire to help.”

Her father smiled. “That sounds like something your Mom would do, put herself out there for other people, regardless of what it would cost her.”

Olivia nodded. “Who am I? I don’t know Dad. I’m figuring that out. Part of me is the kid you knew growing up, but no kid stays that way forever. They become an adult and they learn more about themselves. They understand who they are and what they want to do with their life. Part of me is always going to be that miserable kid, part of me is the cop that wants to help. Part of me is even the brash confident comedian that goes out on stage and makes people laugh. Who am I?” Olivia gave a sardonic laugh. “I’m just a girl trying to keep up with the world.”

Her father looked at her for a moment, there were no words exchanged between the two of them but she could see understanding in his eyes finally.

“I guess it took you being honest with yourself to finally find that strength I always prayed you’d find,” he admitted. “When I heard about that business up at the Copper the other night, I was angry and afraid for you, but now I see Harry wouldn’t have ever stood up to that. But Olivia would.”

“So I’m two people?”

He shook his head, “No, just one now.” as he kissed her forehead.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Forgiveness was a strange word and an even stranger feeling. Olivia couldn’t forget what she had experienced growing up as it had, in a way, made her who she was today. Without her suffering at the hands of others; she wouldn’t be a cop and she wouldn’t have experienced any of the things she had to date. Would she have left Montana or met Richard? Would she have found herself or been so badly hurt?

She couldn’t predict alternate paths in her life, but she could forgive her parents. Her own struggle helped her to realize they were only human. People were fallible and weak to their own prejudice without even knowing it. Forgiveness was acceptance of what had happened and an understanding of why.

They had returned from their ride as father and daughter, the change was palpable. Her dad was more comfortable with her and treated her imperceptibly more like her older sister.

When they returned to the ranch house, her mother had been waiting on the steps. She saw them walking up hand in hand and simply smiled as she informed them dinner was waiting.

Richard had returned from Bozeman with their belongings a little before they arrived. He’d been waiting in the family room when she got back and Olivia had kissed him openly in front of her father.

Richard had been a little hesitant to draw her father’s ire but noticed the slight smile on the man’s face and realized his love had succeeded in her quest.

Their meal was comfortable. It felt like family to Olivia for the first time in her life. Richard was by her side and her family loved her. She still felt pain when she noticed Mark’s empty chair. Maybe he would come to terms with her, but she wasn’t sure. She knew now that she could handle his hatred as long as she had people that loved her. It was his fault, not hers.

Olivia ate and laughed and told stories over dinner. She enjoyed the moment in time to simply be.

After dinner, the sun was setting as she sat on the porch with Richard by her side. The couple kissed tenderly, enjoying the warmth of each other’s bodies as they shared an expression of their love. Olivia felt a warm tingle flowing through her entire being.

Her tranquility was broken when the bitter voice of her brother spoke in the dying light. “You faggots are fucking disgusting.”

Olivia separated herself from Richard and looked in the direction of the voice. Mark looked disheveled and drunk. He hadn't appeared to have shaved in several days and his expression was a mask of disgust.

“What bothers you so much about me?” Olivia fired back defensively.

Mark looked like he’d tasted something bitter. “Everything about you Harry… what the fuck have you become? This fucking parody of a girl so you can fuck guys and not feel ashamed about being a faggot.”

Richard stood and squared his shoulders pushing Olivia to one side of him.

“You won’t speak to her like that,” he growled. “Not in front of me.”

Mark laughed loudly, “Her? You fucking believe that shit, don’t you? You’re so fucking closeted you need to think of my baby brother as a fucking girl so you can sodomize him to your heart's content?”

“Mark!” Olivia screamed louder than she’d hoped, her temper flaring. “Get out of here before you say something more you regret. Leave us alone! If you don’t get it, or can’t accept this then that’s ok, but just don’t be so fucking horrible about it!”

Mark stepped forward and raised his hand to strike her but was blindsided by a jab from Richard. Mark landed heavily in the dust and wiped his bloody lip. His eyes lit up with fire and he lunged at Richard, swinging wildly.

Richard held his own admirably against the bigger man. Both of them exchanged blows and ended up in the dirt in front of the porch. Mark ended up on top of Richard and was landing blows on him with hatred in his eyes. Olivia rushed forward and attempted to drag her brother off her boyfriend.

Mark wheeled back and swung upwards connecting with Olivia’s forehead as she bent to grab him. Olivia hit the ground and the world went black.

She came to with throbbing pain burning behind her eyes.

“It’s ok baby, you’re ok.” her mother’s voice soothed as she felt a hand stroking her hair.
Olivia was barely aware of what was going on around her. There was yelling and she saw fast-moving shapes. As her vision cleared, she saw her father holding her brother by the back of his collar, he was swinging wildly still as her father threw him to the ground and yelled at the man.

“What’s going on?” she murmured trying to focus on her mother. She was laying on the ground with her head in the woman’s lap.

“Your brother, we heard the argument and…” she trailed off. “He’s lost the plot.”

“Richard,” Olivia mumbled thickly.

“He’s fine darling, he’s helping your father subdue him.”

Olivia was helped to sit by her mother. Her head hurt, but she felt otherwise fine after a quick check. Off to one side, her father was dragging Mark away by his scruff down towards the barn.

Richard appeared beside her, he had a bleeding nose and a black eye but he smiled at her regardless. “Are you ok?” he asked carefully, wiping the blood from his lips.

She nodded. “Better than you, what happened?”

“You pulled him back and he swung, must have made a lucky connection because you went down hard… right as your dad came racing out and decked him without a pause.”

Olivia let her shoulders droop. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “This is all my fault.”

“No dear,” her mother chided, “It’s his problem and your father is about to educate him.”

Olivia winced as she touched her temple, a tear running down her face. “I didn’t want any of this to happen.”

“Your brother is a product of your father without the perspective of wisdom or love.” Her mother opined.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Olivia’s father returned an hour later. It was clear his temper was still flaring as he returned to the house and made for the drinks cabinet before speaking to anyone. James Dalton drew himself a measure of whiskey which he downed in a single gulp before refilling his glass and slumping down into the armchair.

The mood in the room was tense. Olivia was angry and hurt by what had happened. She knew her brother didn’t understand or seem to want to, but she never expected him to get violent.

Richard was being overly protective and her mother had suggested she go to the hospital to check her over but Olivia had refused. She didn’t want or need the fuss. The day had gone so well until that point. She’d finally connected with her father, a task she had expected to be insurmountable only for it to be ruined at the last minute by her own brother.

“What are we going to do with him?” Evelyn asked her husband. “He hit her so hard she blacked out… that’s inexcusable.”

“I’m aware.” Her father muttered tersely, sipping his drink.

“Just leave it,” Olivia interjected flatly. “I don’t want to make this a big deal. Maybe he’ll come around in time, or maybe he won’t, but I won’t lose sleep over it. I have you guys and I have Sarah, that’s more than I ever hoped for. It would be unrealistic to expect it to be perfect.”

“Honey, what he did was wrong. He hit you and he attacked Richard and me. He’s gone beyond what’s acceptable behavior even if he disagrees with you. This is a family, not a damn bar.” her father countered. “I had a conversation with him, he’s under no illusions that if he can’t be civil, he is not to come around here.”

Olivia was under no illusion of what kind of conversation had taken place. It was James Dalton’s way or the highway. Nobody crossed her father and expected to leave with their teeth intact. She felt sorry for Mark in a way. His own prejudice was going to land him in hot water and he was the type to not notice he was boiling.

“I just feel like I caused all of this… if it hadn’t been for me, he’d be fine.”

Her mother stroked her hair and hugged her. “Never blame yourself, sweetie. This isn’t ever your fault. We love you and you’re always welcome in this home, it’s yours too”

Olivia hugged her mother and felt her eyes wet. “I know Mom. You don’t know how good it feels to be your daughter at least.”

“He’s not going to give her any more trouble is he, sir?” Richard directed his question to Olivia’s father.

James Dalton shook his head. “Not if he likes breathing.”

“Let's give the boys some time shall we?” Olivia’s mother announced standing. “Come on.”

Olivia looked a little uncertain but followed her mother as she led her up to the second floor of the house.

“Where are we going?”

“To our bedroom.” Her mother replied not looking back.

“Why…?” Olivia asked, growing paranoid.

“We’re going to have a long overdue chat.”

Oh, great, birds and bees… Olivia thought. Exactly what she, a sexually active twenty-four-year-old, needed to hear from her mother. Evelyn led her daughter into the master bedroom she shared with her father and sat down on the bed before patting a spot beside her for Olivia to sit.

“Honey,” Evelyn began, a twinkle in her eye. “I realize you’re currently equipped a little differently to other girls, but at the same time we do need a little chat, especially about boys.”

Olivia cringed, “Mooooom. I’ve had sex, I’m not exactly a kid.”

“I’m… well aware.” her mother continued attempting to keep a straight face. “But as a girl, there is still so much to teach you. You’re my child and it’s my duty to ensure you’re prepared for the world, however much you might think you don’t need it.”

The next hour of Olivia’s life was one of the most embarrassing experiences of her life as her mother enlightened her about many things she had not been aware of growing up as she had. Whether she wanted to or not, Olivia’s feminine knowledge base had dramatically expanded. Her red face aside, she was thankful to her mother for her education.

Evelyn got up and made her way to the dresser before opening her jewelry box. “One of the reasons I wanted to talk to you in private was to give you this.” She turned around holding a thin silver necklace with an engraved locket on the end.

“This,” Evelyn explained, “was your grandmother's. I gave Sarah her ring on her sixteenth birthday, I was going to give this to whichever of you kids had a daughter first but now, it is yours.”

She placed the locket in Olivia’s palm. The locket was intricately engraved with a floral pattern and the silver, while lightly tarnished with age, had been well taken care of. Opening the tiny clasp, Olivia found a photograph of her mother and father; they appeared to be in their twenties.

“This is beautiful Mom, are you sure?”

Her mother nodded as she took the locket from her hands and fastened it around her neck. “This is to be passed down to you from me, and when you have a daughter, you’ll pass it down to her.”

Olivia fought back an urge to cry. “I’ll never have children.”

Evelyn embraced her daughter and stroked her hair. “You will one day darling. They might not be your blood, but they’ll be your children. It will make no difference in your heart.”

“It does to me Mom, I just wish I was normal.”

Evelyn turned Olivia’s head to look into her eyes. “Darling, you’re perfect the way you are.”

Chapter Thirteen - The Real World

The week had seemed like an incredibly long time when she arrived but it ended far sooner than Olivia wished. She found herself back at Bozeman International with Richard that Friday afternoon with her parents and sister in the departure hall. The mood was melancholic, it made a change from her arrival just seven days earlier.

“I’m going to miss you guys.” Olivia hugged her mother and father.

“You are going to call us all the time now you don’t hate us all, right?” Sarah chided with a grin.

Olivia nodded and smiled. “I’ve got a lot to face when I get back to the city, but I will. I’ll be home as soon as I can get time, and I will call,” she promised.

Olivia’s father shook Richard’s hand warmly. He’d grown to like and respect the man that had captured his newfound daughter’s heart. Richard was a confident, kind, and intelligent man with principles; James respected that.

“Take care of my girl.” He stated firmly, locking eyes with the attorney.

“You have my word, Mister Dalton,” Richard replied, taking his hand. “She’s very special.”

“Oh I know,” James agreed. “I’m beginning to regret that.”

After their final farewells, the couple boarded their flight back to Los Angeles. The mood on their return was far more somber than Olivia would have liked. For the first time in her life, she felt as though she was leaving something behind that she would miss. No longer was Montana just the place she was from, it was her home once again. Her heart would yearn for its mountains and its valleys in a way she hadn’t before. The people, her family, and everything about that wild place. She snuggled into Richard’s shoulder in the seat next to her and sighed. Life had a funny way of proving her wrong at every step of the way.

She felt a paradigm shift in herself as they cruised south over the Rockies. No longer was she living a dual life, split between who she was and who she wanted to be. The weight that her past had placed on her mind had changed and become a buoyant raft lifting her out of troubled waters. Olivia Evelyn Dalton felt like a whole person for the first time in her life. She knew now that no matter what the future threw at her, she would take it on with her head held high and the people that mattered most in the world by her side.

Her brother still brought sadness to her heart. She knew expecting perfection and acceptance was more than she could have asked for, but she wished he could have had more time to try. Mark had always been headstrong and independent. Her mother had been right, he was a lot like her father. It still amazed her that the gruff and macho rancher had been able to truly see her.

Their flight landed back in LA after eight that evening and they caught a cab back to their apartment. Olivia wasn’t sure when she’d begun to consider the place her home. She mentioned this fact to Richard who simply shrugged and told her that there was little point keeping her place anymore, he had no plans of kicking her out. This earned him a playful slap on the behind.

Neither of them had the energy to cook or go out for dinner, so they ordered takeout. While they waited for it to arrive, Olivia excused herself to change into something more comfortable. Stripping out of her jeans and shirt, Olivia examined herself in the bathroom mirror. The last few months had changed her body significantly. Standing in the bathroom in her underwear, she felt finally comfortable in herself. Her hair had descended to her neck in the time she had been recovering, now pushed back behind her ears. Her breasts had grown to a large A cup and she felt comfortable without the forms she had worn before her trip. Her waist had narrowed and her hips and thighs had begun to fill out nicely. She was so far removed from that gawky boy.

Who was the girl in the mirror? She was a cop, a rancher’s daughter, a sister, a girlfriend, and most of all, she was happy. Olivia thought about all of those descriptions for a moment. They described what she was, but not who. Who was she? She wasn’t entirely sure yet, but she knew that she would finally be able to find out. Olivia waved to her reflection and grinned as she saw Richard slide up behind her in the mirror.

“Hey,” she purred.

Richard wrapped his arms around her midriff and kissed her neck. “Are we gaining a sense of vanity?”

Olivia shrugged at his reflection and smiled. “Maybe a little.”

“Well not that I mind, but you might want to consider putting some clothes on, dinner’s here.”

Olivia turned in his arms and gave him a wicked grin before grabbing his butt and running off cackling to find herself some clothes.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“How was your trip?” Doctor Barton asked when Olivia arrived for her first session since her return from Montana.

“It was far better than I could have hoped,” she admitted, smiling. “The idea of facing them felt so insurmountable but with the exception of my brother, It went really well. My dad took some convincing, but he came around in the end. I think they saw how happy I was and how well this suited me. A lot of it was regret for how they handled things when I was growing up.”

Barton raised her eyebrow. “How so?”

“It was my mom first that really said it,” Olivia explained. “They had good intentions I guess. By the time they realized it wasn’t working and it was hurting me, I’d shut them out and didn’t want to engage anymore… I locked down and defended myself till I could get out.”

“You’re defending their actions because they accepted you?” The doctor countered deftly.

Olivia thought for a moment and shook her head. “No, no I’m not. They have a lot to make up for but I think my own experiences made me realize that before they are my parents, they are a man and woman. Nobody is perfect or holds all the answers to life. It would be naive of me to blame them with intent when none is expressed. Both have told me they are sorry for what they saw as a mistake and what their intent had been. My parents are a little old school, what worked for my brother just didn’t work for me. But that was because I wasn’t the son they or I thought. So no, my forgiveness isn’t contingent on their acceptance of me. I will never forget it… but I can forgive.”

Doctor Barton smiled and nodded. “A measured and reasonable interpretation. I think that shows maturity beyond your age and situation. I was hoping you weren’t going to blindly forgive in exchange for acceptance.”

Olivia looked distant for a moment and she glanced out the large picture window towards the ocean. “When I first got there, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do or say. Over time, and after speaking with them, I began to realize that they were trying in their own way to help. It was extremely poorly honestly, that much is true. Given my own later realizations.” she laughed plucking at her knee-length floral skirt. “I think that played a large part in how I received it. It was like giving a cellist the sheet music for the percussion section.”

Olivia screwed up her face and looked horrified. “I think Richard’s musical taste is rubbing off on me.”

Doctor Barton chuckled. “Not an awful thing at least and an excellent metaphor. How are things with you two?”

Olivia described her relationship with Richard to the psychiatrist. She told her how much she loved the man and how she felt when she was around him, how he had stood by her throughout her recovery and her homecoming. It made her realize just how serious things had gotten between them.

“This may be a little personal,” the doctor began hesitantly, but I’d like to speak about your sexual interactions with this gentleman. If you’re willing of course?”

Olivia frowned, “How so?”

“How for example did he feel when your sexual relationship changed from that of two men to a man and a woman?”

Olivia felt a little sheepish. “Other than a little kissing, It didn’t. I was always a woman with Richard from almost our second date onward. In the more intimate regard, ours has always been that of a man and a woman.”

Marie Barton raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Olivia nodded shyly. “We didn’t plan to do anything that first night he came back to my place, and he wanted to see who I performed as; Mia. We got caught up in the moment and one thing led to another.”

“You were sexually active as a male before this?”

Olivia nodded slightly, her face flushing.

“That embarrasses you? Why?”

She frowned, “I guess in hindsight it feels wrong. It was like it was someone else.” She sighed and brushed her hair out of her eyes. “With Richard, it feels so right. I know I’m still equipped the same way as I was before and I do want to correct that when I’m able to. It feels natural now; as though this is how it was meant to be. It’s not that being gay was wrong, god no. It was a role I never felt comfortable in I suppose. Perhaps I assumed it would get easier, more normal, I was inexperienced and questioning myself. I’m not embarrassed, I’m just… I feel there’s a difference in how I respond to him than I do to anyone else. Being a woman with a man feels normal for me, being a boy didn’t. I can be myself in my most intimate moment.”

Doctor Barton made some notes on her pad and took off her glasses.

“Olivia, you’ve no need to be embarrassed. There is a difference and those roles can change, and we can all feel comfortable playing different parts. We all relate differently and I suspect in part your discomfort is the dysphoria you feel about the male role, even a submissive one.”

Olivia shrugged but paused for a moment before speaking. “How does that explain… ah, When we were in Bozeman at our hotel, we slept together and I initiated sex and I was the dominant one. I took charge of our lovemaking, I was on top.” she flushed scarlet at her admission. “What does that make me?”

Doctor Barton laughed. “Well firstly, you said it yourself; You were on top, not the top. A position doesn’t change anything. That makes you a woman that knows what she wants.” she smiled sympathetically. “I know it’s all new to you, but your sex and how you enjoy sex aren’t connected and don’t need to be. We all have our moments where we want to be taken and when we want to take charge. If anything, this means you’re more comfortable in who you are, that you’re more able to be expressive in an intimate moment.”

Olivia considered this. “I do feel more expressive. I feel more at home in my skin. Every time I look in the mirror I like what I see more and more.”

Barton smiled warmly. “I’m glad, that’s very normal and I’m pleased to say you seem to be responding well; you’ve stopped using the forms I see?”

“I have, I guess I don’t feel like I need them to validate me anymore.” Olivia shrugged. “It’s not much, but it’s all me.”

“It’s a big step, you’ve come a long way in a short time.”

“I’ve had help.” Olivia replied happily.

“One final topic I’d like to cover today is your incident if you’re willing?” Doctor Barton shifted her tone seamlessly.

Olivia nodded. She’d known that she would want to talk eventually. They’d brought it up in a previous meeting but she hadn’t delved too deeply. Olivia nodded. She felt ready to confront what had happened.

“Tell me how you felt when it happened.” Doctor Barton began gently.

Olivia began to explain the incident at the liquor store to the psychiatrist as best she could. Every detail was scored into her mind. Even after several months, she saw it as clear as day. She remembered the gun, the look on the clerk’s face, and the decision to tackle the man to the ground that landed her in the position she was in today. She remembered how time seemed to stretch as she fought the man for the weapon and the searing pain and shock she felt as the bullets hit her. By the time she had finished describing what she remembered as she looked up into Anderson’s face as she lay bleeding, she realized she had been crying.

“Sorry.” She mumbled, wiping her eyes with a tissue. “It brought back a lot.”

Doctor Barton allowed her to collect herself before continuing. “Have there been any nightmares?”

Olivia shifted uncomfortably in her chair as she thought back. “Only a really bad one while I was in the hospital right after it happened. I’ve had a few bad nights but nothing that I really remember.”

“Any strange reactions to anything or outbursts of temper?”

Olivia shook her head. “No, not yet”

Doctor Barton made some notes. “I would ask how you’re coping with the matter of losing your manhood, but I would suspect that’s not really a problem here… check.”

Olivia smiled sardonically, “Yeah I think that was a positive column not a negative. I can quite safely say that on reflection it is no loss. I briefly felt concerned over not being able to pass on my genetics but realized I had no desire to do so… not like that at least. I’d never be able to be a mother genetically anyway.”

“Your mobility has returned,” Barton noted, “Rehab has been successful for you?”

She nodded. “Yes, I’m seeing a doctor about my physical signoff next week with a view to returning to work pending your assessment.”

“I think I can sign you off as a well-adjusted young woman with a reasonable response to her situation given the additional context. You are going to continue seeing me anyway, so we can touch on anything that crops up if we need to.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Olivia pulled her stetson down over her eyes. The sun was blazing down as she relaxed on her towel allowing the heat to warm her body. The surf had been good that morning and they’d ridden the waves for a couple of lazy hours. She was becoming more used to surfing as her body changed. Without the weight of her forms, her center of gravity was still off, but it was within a more manageable range and she found she was able to adapt far quicker to the new changes to her physique. Surfing had long been a solitary escape from city life, but now it was something she shared with Richard and it made her love it even more.

Richard rolled his eyes as he walked up to their little camp above the tide line. “I can’t believe you’re still wearing that thing, it really doesn’t fit the vibe.”

“I’m proud of my heritage.” Olivia protested. “And It’s a good sun hat.”

Richard dug his board into the soft sand and grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler they’d left by their towels. “Yeah, but it’s not exactly surfer attire.”

“It would be if we had beaches in Montana.”

Olivia screamed as half of the water bottle hit her naked stomach.

“Asshole.” she growled toweling herself off. “I was really relaxed.”

“You were in the ocean ten minutes ago.” Richard chuckled as he sat down beside her on the sand.

Olivia glared at Richard for a moment before giggling, unable to maintain her serious expression. Richard smiled and drank the rest of his water.

“I love you,” she murmured softly as she reached up to stroke his cheek.

“I love you too.”

Richard leaned down and removed her hat and tossed it away before kissing her deeply. Olivia felt her heart swell as their lips touched. She moaned and opened her mouth to accept his tongue. She felt his hand grasp her side softly, his thumb tracing little circles on her skin. Every sensation felt like liquid fire as she responded passionately to his advances. She felt his hand slide upward along her ribcage and cup her left breast through her bikini top before squeezing gently.

It took an almost superhuman effort to slap his hand away and push him off. She lay breathing heavily for a moment as she collected herself.

“We’re in public,” she groaned, feeling great disappointment. “Why couldn’t you get this horny later?”

Richard smirked. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Last thing I need is to get arrested for public indecency before I get back to work.” she protested.

Richard looked like he remembered something suddenly. “Oh, you’re free Friday right?”

“I’m washing my hair,” Olivia shrugged nonchalantly, running her hand through her damp locks.

Richard rolled his eyes and ignored her play. “No, I have a little thing at city hall, black tie.”

Olivia frowned, “And you’re only giving me a week’s notice?”

“Sure, that’s plenty of time.” Richard shrugged, failing to see the problem.

“There is so little you know about women.” Olivia shook her head. “Fine, but you’re buying me a dress.”

Richard looked pained as he realized what he had set himself up for. “This is going to cost me big isn’t it?”

Olivia smiled slyly. Richard recognized that look. He’d seen it on sharks at the Aquarium.

Richard was indeed correct, it cost him a great deal. The next day, Olivia dragged him shopping and she didn’t hold back. After several hours of shopping in the Rodeo boutiques, she finally settled on a stunning A-line evening gown with a ruched bodice, half sleeves, and a silk skirt in a royal blue that offset her coloring. The dress was off the shoulder and nipped at the waist to emphasize her slim figure. She insisted on a pair of Milano pumps in a matching blue and a satin clutch to complete her outfit. Richard’s protests over the cost for the purposes of a single event were promptly shot down as Olivia made her case like a seasoned attorney.

She countered that the event would be not only their first major social engagement as a couple, but that it was he, in fact, who would benefit from her making a good impression. Given that the event would be attended by politicians and legal professionals from across the state, they needed to appear as though they belonged in such a world.

Richard gave up when she pointed out that he was simply going to pull his tux out of the wardrobe and possibly shave, she was going to go through far more to look perfect for him and it was entirely his fault she had to rush.

Olivia had booked a salon appointment for earlier on the Friday afternoon of the event to ensure she was absolutely ready. Her hair now reached the nape of her neck and was in dire need of a style now that it was longer.

This was, she realized her first time getting dolled up to the nines since she last performed as Mia. That felt like a lifetime ago in a different universe to her mind. She knew what to do and she could have done a reasonable effort herself but she reasoned that she deserved a little pampering now. It was also evident to her that most of her more dramatic looks were designed for the stage, feminine or not. A swanky party deserved a swanky Olivia.

As much as she played the role of the Prima Donna, she made sure Richard knew she wasn’t deliberately milking him. She cared far too much about the man to spend his money recklessly. Once she had won the argument she had explained more sensitively that it was in no small part her own nerves that made her feel as though she had to be the perfect girl for him. She wanted to make sure she didn’t embarrass him or show him up in front of his friends. This was a new world for her and she felt a pang of self-consciousness at the idea of moving in these social circles.

Richard had understood, he always understood she realized. She needed to feel beautiful and she deserved the best. He made certain she knew he didn’t care if she wore a designer gown or a potato sack, to him she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Driftwood #10 - Mia is Dead.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Driftwood

By Alyssa Plant

Life and Love are far more complicated than we can possibly understand. For one young cop, a journey of self-discovery will teach them that true strength was inside them all along.

Chapter Fourteen - Mia is Dead

It was the day before the gala at city hall, and Olivia found herself back at the hospital waiting to see Doctor Miller for her physical evaluation. She was nervous and she wasn’t without reason. The assessment would determine if she was ready to return to work, or even if she would ever be able to. Physically she felt no repercussions of the incident that had brought her to this moment in her life. Her body was healed and her strength had grown greater than she’d ever known it to be. As far as her mind would rationalize the fear, she knew it was the potential it held than any real power over her.

Doctor Miller greeted her with a smile and welcomed her into the exam room. It wasn’t her usual office that Olivia had visited before, but one a few floors lower near where she had attended physical therapy. The room contained the usual hospital furniture, along with a collection of gym equipment and computers.

“How are you feeling?” Miller asked as she indicated for Olivia to sit in the chair beside her desk. “Free movement I see, any pain or discomfort?”

Olivia shook her head. “None,” she smiled nervously, “I feel good, nothing for some time.”

Miller nodded and made some notes. “We’re going to run you through some exercises today and check your performance and once that is over, I’d like to give you a full physical exam and we can hopefully have this over before lunch.”

Doctor Mille ran Olivia through a battery of tests of both her strength and endurance on the various equipment in the room. She even ran several miles on the treadmill with a mask measuring her aerobic respiration.

By the time she was done, Olivia was drenched in sweat. She’d ditched her tank top and was just wearing her shorts and sports bra as she toweled off, her body exhausted.

Miller sat at her desk writing up her findings while Olivia collected herself.

Miller looked over, “I have to say, you’re a lot different from the person I first treated.”

Olivia glanced down self-consciously and grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, I’ve changed my hair.”

Doctor Miller laughed, “That sense of humor is special, please never lose it.”

Olivia smiled. “I am… well, I was a comedian when all this began. When I first found the world of drag, I didn’t want to sing or dance. I found that when I created that persona, Mia, she was so much more confident than I was. She had a real fire and a sharp wit and I ended up taking to stand up comedy as my act. I think I rolled a lot of her into myself.”

Miller nodded and stood as she gathered her stethoscope. “Let’s hope you find the rest of this just as funny, time to strip.” she gestured behind the partition to where an exam table was partially shielded by a blue curtain. “Grab the robe in there and I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Olivia complied and removed her clothing behind the partition before shrugging into the paper gown. Once she was ready, Doctor Miller joined her and politely asked her to lie down on the table.

Over the next fifteen minutes, Olivia was poked and prodded and examined. Her wounds were checked and her scars were noted. She felt shame when the doctor examined her genitals, as relevant as it was to her case.

Miller smiled apologetically as she covered Olivia back up and sat back on the low stool she had placed beside the table.

“Thank you, I know that was hard.” she comforted the girl. “Just one final check if I may?”

Olivia nodded.

“Sit up, and lower your gown for me please, I want to check your breast development.”

Sheepishly, Olivia dropped the gown to her waist and had to fight the urge to cover herself. It was a strange feeling for her, sitting there topless. She had always had difficulty with nakedness or even showing a lot of skin. Before she had begun this journey, she’d spent much of her life covering herself, bulking herself with clothing, and trying to hide her body. Now much more confident in herself she no longer hid, but this felt different.

Miller carefully palpated her skin and measured her chest before allowing Olivia to dress while she made her final notes.

Rejoining the doctor by her desk, Olivia sat and waited for the final verdict.

Finishing her writing Miller turned and smiled. “Without much fanfare, I can tell you that you’ve passed your physical and are fit to return to work.”

Olivia smiled happily, a warm rush filling her being. Her greatest hurdle was behind her.

“Your strength and endurance are exactly where I’d expect them to be for a woman your age and profession and from what I can see you’ve had no lasting effects from your injuries beyond the obvious,” she added with a small quirk of her lip. “The wounds are healed nicely and your scarring is minimal. As far as your gender is concerned, I’m extremely pleased with your development. From what I can see, body fat has redistributed and your breast growth is excellent. With your younger age, there has it seems been some small growth of your pelvis although that’s likely as much as will occur. Your reports from Doctor Barton show you to be a well-adjusted young woman.”

Olivia took it all in. “I’m normal?”

Doctor Miller nodded. “For your situation yes. Your physical condition is good, I see no problems continuing your path. As far as your job goes, I can sign you off for duty.”

Olivia wasn’t sure what to think. Six months had seemed so long when she was sitting in the hospital bed after her shooting, almost a lifetime. Addressing her feelings and her situation had seemed like an easy choice with so much time on her hands. Now it was over and she was able to return to the job she loved. Would it still love her?

Doctor Miller noticed the look of concern on the girl’s face. “You’re realizing you have to confront that aspect of your life aren’t you?”

Olivia nodded and swallowed. “I’m not worried about anyone I have to deal with knowing but I’m worried about my colleagues.”

Miller nodded. “You’re a strong woman, you’ve made it through all of this mess with grace and a clear head, I have no doubt you’ll handle whatever comes your way.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

It was just after lunch on Friday when Olivia took a cab from the apartment to the Salon she had booked for her battle preparations. The place was an upscale affair just far enough off Rodeo to not be insanely overpriced. She stood on the sidewalk for a moment frozen by a jolt of fear at what she was about to do. She wasn’t sure why she felt concerned, she’d stood on stages in front of crowds and had the confidence to tell jokes. She had spent countless hours in public with other people interacting as a female and nobody had noticed a thing, why was she worried now?

Olivia reasoned that this was the first time she was going to be examined at close range, her face, her hair, and her body would all be on display that afternoon. She tugged at the waistband of her shorts. She’d dressed down in flats, a teeshirt, and shorts for her appointment not wanting to appear overdressed, but now she felt as though she should have put more effort in. Squashing the feeling she made her way inside and walked over to the reception desk with more confidence than she felt.

A rather wild-haired woman with a lot of makeup greeted her with a wide smile when she approached.

“Welcome to DeMarco’s! You have an appointment?”

Olivia nodded. “Olivia Dalton, One PM?”

The woman checked the computer behind her desk and nodded. “Got you here for the works, take a seat and we’ll grab you as soon as we can, you want a glass of wine while you wait?”

Olivia shook her head then changed her mind and agreed. Perhaps it would take the edge off her nerves?

The woman, whose name she learned was Angela brought her a tall slim glass of Chardonnay while she waited. Olivia regarded the surroundings she now found herself in. This was her first visit to a salon and it was a fascinating place. In her life, before she hadn’t taken much care of her hair, and she’d certainly never had her makeup and nails done professionally. As long as she didn’t count the queens that taught her. She still felt a bout of nervous energy about being discovered but reasoned that it was unlikely anyone that worked here would actually care.

Eventually, an effeminate man called Paul introduced himself and whisked her off to a wash station. She felt a little strange at first when she had her neck craned back to reach into the basin but found she rather enjoyed someone else washing her hair. Once Paul had finished, he led her across the room to one of the styling stations and sat her down.

“So my darling, it’s obvious you need to be rescued from whatever that mess on your head is, what are you thinking?”

Olivia grimaced, she hadn’t thought it was that bad. Thankfully she’d prepared. “I had to get my hair cut short a few months ago… I had an accident.”

Paul looked sympathetic, “Dear me, well let's fix that, you’ve enough to work with now, so I’ll take care of you.”

“I was thinking something like a bob or something neat and low maintenance but stylish.”

Paul frowned, “Low maintenance darling? Really?”

“Don’t be offended, I’m a cop I need something that can look good but be manageable for day-to-day.” Olivia smiled at him in the mirror.

“So getting dolled up to be armed and fabulous?” Paul smirked.

“Gala at city hall tonight. I’m not working.”

Paul nodded, “I’ve had a couple in this morning for that shindig. Okay… Let’s take a swing at this. You’ve got enough for something nice without going down the extension road.”

Olivia nodded her agreement and left her fate in Paul’s expert hands. They chatted comfortably as he worked his magic on her hair, his hands flying with comb and scissors as he neatened up the shape she had.

“You’re not from round here are you darling?”

“No, Montana originally,” Olivia responded fighting the urge to shake her head.

“Oh exotic, I’ve always wanted to bed a cowboy.” Paul giggled to himself.

Olivia screwed up her face and laughed. “Nope, not for me, none of them last longer than eight seconds.”

Paul froze what he was doing and squinted at her suspiciously through the mirror. “That’s a rather specific joke.”

Olivia realized there was no hiding her deer-in-the-headlights expression. “Is it?” she asked carefully trying to sound offhand. “I heard it somewhere.”

“Really?” Paul asked putting his hands on his hips. “You know I think I heard it the same place, but you don’t look like the sort to patronize the same establishments I do.”

He tilted his head and stared at her for a moment before using his hands to mask off her hair leaving only her face. His eyes went wide.

“You!” he gasped theatrically. “You’re her!”

Olivia swatted his pointing finger away and cringed. “Please,” she begged. “Not here.”

Paul kneeled down beside her and stared into her face. “You’re her!” he repeated in a stage whisper, “Mia Calafia!”

Olivia’s shoulders sagged. “Yes,” she admitted, “I’m not here for that.”

Paul waved his hand dismissively. “Obviously not darling, gosh, I always thought you were a regular queen.” he sounded almost disappointed.

Olivia felt a small sparkle of happiness at Paul’s assertion. She briefly considered going along with the idea but realized she might need a confidant. “I was once.” she winked conspiratorially.

Paul feigned shock. “No, rea…” he rolled his eyes. “The hair, darling, am I right?”

Olivia blushed and nodded.

“Sweetie I’d never have known if you hadn’t told me, gosh, I love your show… now I know why I’ve not seen you in so long you little scamp!”

Paul returned to cutting Olivia’s hair and chattered excitedly. He continued to make sly assertions and little knowing looks as he worked, he seemed rather enthused to be working on someone he considered a celebrity.

While he worked, a woman arrived and began working on her nails. Olivia was overwhelmed by the attention she was receiving, finding it to be an incredibly relaxing experience. Eventually, the pair were done and she was shown the results in the large mirror in front of the station.

Olivia’s eyes went wide and she fought the urge to cry. She clasped her hands to her mouth and caught sight of her new longer perfectly manicured nails. It was all too much for her and tears fell from her eyes.

“Don’t cry sweetheart,” Paul whispered kneeling beside her. “I know it’s a lot, but you were easy to make beautiful. This suits you.”

Paul had styled her hair into a sleek bob style with a side parting that curved gracefully around her slim face, the tone was somehow richer and more vibrant than her hair had ever been with darker highlights running through the lengths. Olivia could barely take her eyes off her reflection, it was as though she was finally seeing herself for the first time as others did.

“It’s amazing,” she whispered quietly, her fingertips stroking the end of her hair. “I love it.”

“Just wait till we get you all dolled up and ready for war darling, you’ll put that old you to shame.”

Paul was right. Amanda had led her away to one of the other stations where she proceeded to work her magic on Olivia’s face. Olivia had worn more makeup before and even had others do it for her when she was starting out on stage, but she’d never had anyone do what Amanda was doing. The woman used her face as a blank canvas to craft and create a version of her she never imagined possible. She’d talked Olivia through what she was doing and why, and while she understood the techniques and craft, she was certain she would never have the talent of this woman.

When she was done, Olivia could barely believe the image in the mirror was her. From the neck down, she still wore her teeshirt and shorts, but from the neck up, her face and hair were perfectly sculpted to a vision of beauty she hadn’t ever imagined in her wildest dreams. Paul came over and stood behind her shoulder smiling knowingly.

“Not bad blondie,” he noted approvingly. “This suits you.”

Aware they were alone, Olivia agreed. “I think it does. It took me some time to realize that.”

“Will you ever perform again? I always loved you, you were a breath of fresh air amongst those tired old queens.”

Olivia shrugged. “Maybe, but I feel like Mia Calafia’s time is over… Part of her is dead and part became who I am today. Seeing myself like this, I can feel her fire inside me.”

Paul looked pensive for a moment and he fluffed her hair gently. “You’re going to be a force to reckon with my little mockingbird.”

“You’ll keep my secret, won’t you Paul?”

The man nodded and gave her a gentle squeeze. “Of course dear, on the condition that you keep coming back to me.”

Olivia found she could agree to that condition readily. She thanked the staff and paid her bill before hailing a cab back to the apartment. She felt entirely incongruous dressed so casually whilst made up so finely but the driver didn’t seem to care. Well, she knew he cared from the glances in the mirror, but she didn’t think her clothes were noticed.

Once she returned, she made an effort to avoid Richard and retired to dress for the evening. She sat on the bed for a moment taking everything in. Her dress was hanging on the open closet door to her side, and she just stared at it for a moment, lost in her thoughts.

How had she gotten here? She was about to accompany her man to a high-profile event full of politicians and officials. She’d gotten her clearance to return back to work and she would be doing that as a version of herself she never expected others to meet. Her life was so very different from where she had been only a year ago and it was an extremely daunting feeling.

Olivia stood and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window that filled an entire wall of the bedroom. The blinds were drawn and she gazed out over the city below them. She was frightened for the future, and she was frightened for this evening, but she was determined not to let it affect her. Life was finally in her control, and she wasn’t going to let anyone take the wheel from her.

Yes, Mia Calafia’s time was over, the character that had given her the chance to be popular, attractive, outgoing, and strong was gone. She had given her existence to allow a new being to occupy her body and that girl was strong, she was capable, and she was powerful. Olivia Evelyn Dalton was as soft and caring as Harry ever was and as outgoing and alive as Mia demanded of her. Olivia wasn’t just defined by what she did, or who she was to others. She might be a girlfriend, a daughter, a sister, a performer, a cop, and a woman, but she was more than all of that. She was here.

Olivia stripped and changed into the lingerie she had set aside for the evening. She’d selected a black satin bustier and panty set that made her feel deliciously naughty. She paired it with a pair of silk stockings that she clipped carefully to the garter straps attached to the bottom, careful not to run the expensive garments with her slightly unwieldy talons. Once done, she posed playfully in the mirror and gave herself a wink. Mia would remain in some fashion, lending her armor to the cause.

Stepping over to the dress, she removed it from its hangar almost reverently, running her hand along the smooth silk of its skirt. She stepped carefully into it and pulled it up her body. With some difficulty and a distinct lack of grace, she was able to zip the dress closed. Smoothing it with her hands she slipped her feet into the matching pumps and turned to regard herself in the mirror.

Olivia wasn’t prepared for what looked back at her. The woman in the mirror was elegant and sophisticated but radiated an innocence and beauty she had never felt before. Her skinny figure was enhanced by the silk skirt of the dress that swayed with each movement of her body. Olivia felt like a princess.

She checked her makeup one final time and moved a strand of hair from her eyes before deciding she was ready. She paused momentarily at the door to the bedroom, a small moment of nerves gripped her as she wondered if Richard would think she was beautiful. She pushed the feeling aside and stepped out into the living area of the apartment and approached the sofa where the man sat, still in his office attire.

She coughed lightly and he turned to look at her. His expression told her everything she needed to know. Richard stood and walked over to her wordlessly and reached out to take her hands in his. He grinned like a teenager. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

Olivia averted her eyes shyly and blushed. She felt like a teenager, or she reasoned, what she thought she might if she had been. “Thank you.”

Richard lifted her chin until their eyes met. “I almost don’t want to go tonight, I don’t want to share you with anyone else.”

“Looks like you’re not coming along,” she observed dryly, regarding his suit with a raised eyebrow.

Richard grinned sheepishly and shrugged. “I won’t take long, not like I can compare to you anyway.”

He paused and remembered something, “I’ll be back,” he explained rushing off to the bedroom.

Moments later he returned holding a long velvet box that he placed into Olivia’s hands. “I got these for you, for tonight.”

Olivia opened the lid and gasped. Inside were a matching set of diamond drop earrings and a matching choker.

“This is too much.” she protested lightly fingering one of the earrings, her smile betraying her modesty.

Richard shook his head, “Not even close to being enough you mean, I think these deserve you.”

Olivia smiled at his little joke and removed her existing earrings and replaced them with the diamonds, they felt positively scandalous to wear. Richard helped her fasten the choker and led her to one of the room’s mirrors. She could see the light glint off the stones as she moved.

“These must have cost a fortune.” she protested, feeling guilt creep into her good mood. “Tell me they weren’t that expensive.”

Richard shrugged. “Not bad, and I did a favor for a dealer a while back and represented him, he owed me more than one.”

Olivia felt slightly better, but not much. “Go get changed.” she chastised. “I swear to god, I’ve been at this for hours and you’re going to be ready in ten minutes, it’s not fair.”

“You can wear the tux if you want.” he chuckled heading for the bedroom. “Somehow I think you’d still look stunning.”

Olivia smiled. Looking like she did, it would probably be quite amusing.

Her estimation was almost correct. Fifteen minutes later, Richard returned as she stood gazing out over the city, afraid to sit and ruin her dress. He’d scrubbed up well, his hair was neat and his facial hair still stylishly scruffy. His tuxedo fit him like a glove and she felt mildly annoyed at how quickly he’d managed it all.

Taking her arm, Richard led Olivia out of the apartment and down to the lobby where a black town car was waiting for them. Ever the gentleman, he held her door for her and assisted her into the vehicle before joining her on the opposite side. The car drove them through the early evening traffic towards the center of the city.

“I can’t get over how beautiful you are.”

Olivia looked over at Richard beside her and smiled. It wasn’t the first time he’d said that to her, but it felt distinctly special this time.

“I’m a little surprised myself,” she admitted, nervously fingering an earring. “I was hoping I’d be okay, I just wanted to make an effort for your sake.”

Richard shook his head and grinned. “There is nothing okay about you Olivia. You’re beautiful every day but somehow you’ve managed to just blow that out of the water, I’m going to be the luckiest man there tonight.”

“Oh, so I’ve ruined my every day for you now?” Olivia asked sadly, mocking a disappointed frown.

Richard smirked. “That is not going to work on me, young lady.”

“Well I’m glad I meet the dirty old man’s approval.” she parried, a twinkle in her eye.

“I’m only eight years older than you.”

“You’ll always be a cradle robber to me.” Olivia giggled.

Richard smiled and shook his head. “I swear this is a new version of you.”

Olivia looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. “It is. I’ve been a little uncertain of myself for some time, battling guilt and fear and other people’s expectations. Today, I felt like I belonged and I decided that all those versions of myself, those characters were all me in equal parts.”

“Be nice to people tonight. I’m almost worried”

“You’ve got nothing to fear from me, I’ll be a good girl.” Olivia grinned.

Chapter Fifteen - Buck Rogers

The town car pulled up outside City Hall. The building was set on its own block in the civic center district. It had always appeared a little out of place with its sandstone gothic architecture but tonight it was for that reason it seemed so fitting for a formal affair. Lights were playing over the exterior as groups of people moved up the pathway towards the entrance, chatting and exchanging pleasantries.

A valet opened Olivia’s door for her and offered her a hand. She accepted the man’s assistance and carefully extracted herself from the car with as much grace as she could muster.

Richard joined her and she took his arm as they walked towards the doors. She was certainly not underdressed she observed. It appeared as if the city’s bigwigs had pulled out their finest rags for this Hoedown.

An attendant at the door checked for Richard’s name and admitted them into the cavernous atrium of the building. Olivia had only been here once when she had first arrived in the city and the place had been transformed for the event. Music was playing from a jazz band on a small stage to the side while waiters with trays of drinks and food moved amongst the crowd filling the space.

“This is really something.” she mused aloud as they accepted champagne flutes offered by a waiter that had appeared beside them. “I feel rather out of place.”

Richard shook his head, “nonsense, you’re absolutely perfect.”

Olivia was going to comment when she shut her mouth and stared. The Attorney General was walking up, arm in arm with a woman she assumed to be his wife smiling warmly at Richard.

“Richie you old dog, private practice treating you well?”

Richard shook the man’s hand firmly and nodded. “It certainly pays far better than when I worked for you.”

The man turned and regarded Olivia for a moment smiling. “And how is your lovely guest?”

“John, this beautiful woman is my girlfriend Olivia Dalton. Olivia, this political beast is John Michaels, The AG.”

The older man extended his hand to Olivia shaking it firmly. “A pleasure my dear, you’ve managed to tie this wandering heart down I see?”

“Thank you, and you sir.”

“Margret, his long-suffering wife.” the woman beside him explained, taking Olivia’s proffered hand. “Are you in the profession too?”

Olivia shook her head. “No ma’am, I’m a Sheriff’s Deputy.”

“Bloody hell, they improved the uniforms.” Michaels chuckled.

Olivia blushed, she felt entirely out of her depth in this world.

“I worked for John back when he was District Attorney,” Richard explained. “How is the political realm treating you?”

“Exhausting, but I have my eyes on other avenues.”

“You always did.” Richard grinned. “Good to see you again, John.”
They spoke for a few minutes before the Attorney General and his wife made their excuses and moved on to mingle with other guests. Richard led Olivia onwards and introduced her to a number of notable parties in attendance.

Olivia was beginning to feel a little starstruck as official after official seemed to know Richard well.

“I never realized you were this connected,” she mentioned when they finally were able to find a table to rest.

Richard shrugged. “Hazard of the job when you worked for the city, and now work for a lot of these folks in their private matters, all of them want to be on your good side.”

Olivia sipped her champagne. “I promise not to tell them I’m a country yokel.”

“I don’t think a cattle rancher’s daughter qualifies as a yokel by any stretch.” Richard pointed out. “Your dad has a helicopter.”

Olivia shrugged, a gesture she felt slightly incongruous in her gown. “I don’t think these people differentiate beyond the cow shit.”

“Who’s being prejudiced now?” Richard chided playfully.

The room’s attention was drawn to the podium located by the stage when a functionary announced the arrival of Governor Macdill.

The crowd clapped politely and camera bulbs flashed as the man ascended the steps and took his place behind the seal-emblazoned podium.

Governor Macdill was a handsome man in his mid-fifties. He was the very image of a Californian politician with his head of sandy blonde hair and tan skin. The man had been elected three years prior and was beginning his reelection campaign.

As the applause died down, he began to speak.

“Thank you everyone for coming to this little event tonight. I’m honored to see so many of you fine folks in attendance. I promise not to keep you here all night so I’ll make this brief I promise, I know you’d all rather be elsewhere!”

The governor chuckled at his joke before continuing. “As you’re all aware, tonight marks the start of my reelection campaign. I feel we’ve had a strong start at our promises to make this fine state the best it possibly can be, and I implore you to share my dream and help me take us forward into our rightful place at the forefront of the entire nation.”

The crowd clapped loudly and the governor waved and smiled. He was about to continue when a burst of gunfire ripped through the room. The room descended into pandemonium.

Olivia grabbed Richard’s shoulder and dragged him back into a corner as people began to panic. The room was filled with gunfire and screams.

Olivia watched several uniformed and plainclothes officers rush from the wings to extract the Governor, only to be gunned down by men in tuxedos. The band, she realized to her horror. The band was firing into the air, corralling the crowd of startled guests and rapidly neutralizing any threats to their apparent objective; the Governor.

Macdill cowered behind his podium, gripping it as though a life preserver. One of the men approached and jabbed the butt of his rifle sharply into the back of the man’s head, crumpling him to the ground. He stepped over the Governor’s unconscious form and snatched the microphone from the podium.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention,” he shouted theatrically, his voice booming around the entire space.

The shooting had stopped and more tuxedoed men were now herding frightened guests toward the center of the room. Olivia pulled Richard with her and merged with the herd of bodies.

“This is our official protest against Governor Steven Macdill’s systematic ruination of the state of California. Long enough this man has torn down the moral fabric of the state and thrown our values to the wolves. We are here to end that tonight, an example must be set. Civil war is upon us and it’s time to take arms against the systematic erasure of everything we hold true as Americans.”

It was political Olivia realized, the media hadn’t helped in the slightest. Different networks lean to different extremes of the spectrum whipping up radical beliefs and hatred of the other. It was only a matter of time before it exploded into violence. She just hadn’t expected to be there when it did.

The man on the podium raised his rifle over his head and fired a burst into the ceiling.

“This is our Alamo. We are willing to die to protect our America and you will too unless you do exactly as we say. As we speak, my men are securing and boobytrapping any potential exits. Our goal here is to raise awareness for our fight and make an example of this traitor.” he added kicking Macdill. “Do as we say, and you may live through tonight. Cross us, and your blood will feed the flower of freedom.”

The building’s age and architecture were going to work to their advantage in this instance Olivia realized. Its heavy sandstone construction and elevated windows were going to place the police at a distinct disadvantage.
“We’re going to start separating you into groups and moving you to other areas of the building.” the man announced waving to his comrades. “Comply with their orders or there will be permanent repercussions.”

The men worked efficiently. Olivia noticed that a good number of the waitstaff were alongside the men. If they survived tonight, she was pretty sure some heads were going to roll amongst the state’s Law Enforcement Agencies.

Richard and Olivia were taken to a room on the eighth floor by a pair of terrorists along with eighteen other guests. She saw the logic in their tactic. If they had all hostages in a single location, it would be far simpler for the police to mount a simultaneous rescue attempt. By separating the guests, they created confusion and bought the terrorists time to enact revenge for any attempts to restore order.

The room was a long functional conference room with a row of slim windows along the upper edge of the exterior wall that likely held routine civil meetings in more ordinary times. For now, it was their entire world. The hostages were quieter now that the initial shock and awe of the takeover was beginning to fade. Their guards were not brutal in their treatment but were firm in their instructions as they ordered everyone to sit on the floor against the walls.

“Are you ok?” Richard whispered beside her. Olivia nodded wordlessly. She was too busy watching the guards.

Both men had bandoliers of pouches filled with magazines and equipment along with their assault rifles. Their equipment was compact, likely secreted in instrument cases and other innocuous items they could bring in before the event.

Richard saw the look in her eye. “You’re not going to do anything.” he hissed. “I know it’s your job, but you’re only one woman, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Olivia shook her head gently. “I’m just mapping things out,” she muttered. “I’m not planning to do anything silly.”

Richard grasped her hand tightly between them. “You’re not John McClane.”

“I think I have better hair,” Olivia muttered with a slight smile.

Olivia’s eyes were drawn to the windows as she heard the dull beat of helicopter rotors passing low overhead. The cavalry had finally arrived.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Outside the building, the scene was one of organized chaos. Police vehicles were surrounding City Hall and incident command vehicles were beginning to arrive on location. Officers were moving around setting up barriers and tape in a fight to keep back the growing crowd and media circus that was developing once the news had spread.

A tall blonde figure strode purposefully through the officers moving around the scene. Sheriff Reilly marched into the command truck that had arrived moments earlier and regarded the chaotic scene before her. “Update, now.”

While a highly political post, the Sheriff loathed such theater. She was glad this once she had found an excuse not to attend the event being held within their cordon that evening. Otherwise, she’d be hoping someone competent was in charge.

“Ma’am, we’ve not gotten communication inside yet, but we’re informed we have between ten and fifteen armed individuals with high-power rifles holding roughly one hundred and fifty hostages.”

Reilly sighed and sat heavily in one of the chairs and massaged her forehead. This was going to be a very long night.

“SWAT?”

“Enroute ma’am, ten minutes.”

“Have their commander find me the second his boots hit the ground, I want options yesterday.”

She glanced at the monitors on the wall displaying a live feed of the front doors of the building across the block. This was going to be the longest night.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The hostages in the conference room had settled into an uncomfortable silence. There was the occasional comment or muted conversation but most people simply sniffled quietly to themselves.

Olivia glanced around the room cautiously. The group with them was a mix of ages and sexes, no particular effort had been made to separate the young from old, or men from women. She did recognize the Attorney General and his wife on the far side of the room huddled together in fear.

If such a high-value target was here with them, he must of secondary importance. The two men guarding them didn not appear to be particularly concerned about the low level of conversation in the room; they were in charge and they knew it. She noticed them talking into radios occasionally suggesting they had a good level of coordination with their compatriots across the building.

Olivia hugged herself tightly and leaned against Richard’s shoulder. She was frightened but she was still thinking clearly, which was a good sign. She knew what she’d said to Richard, but she wasn’t going to just let people get hurt if she could help it. She would do nothing that might endanger his life, but she was taking in as much as she could all the same. She’d only been on the job a handful of years and she was green, she knew. That wasn’t even counting how extremely rusty she was from her time off. A fire within her belly told her that she wanted to live very badly; she wasn’t going to leave it entirely in other people’s hands. They were never going to see her coming. For the first time in her life, Olivia was going to take her destiny by the horns.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Mike Sanderson was pacing the rotunda, his rifle slung across his shoulder. Five men and two women were on their knees in front of him, Governor Macdill was amongst them.

Sanderson was fifty-three, his body carrying more than a few extra pounds than he had during his army days. He’d witnessed firsthand as his precious US Army had been systematically ruined by politicians and woke initiatives that turned it into a global laughing stock. That hatred finally culminated when his own son, his pride and joy turned out to be a damn fairy. He’d argued with his wife to the point where the woman wanted nothing more to do with him.

They had understood his plight and his passion though, his brothers in the Sonoran Militia had understood everything he told them. They came from all walks of life, men united by a common purpose to defend their rights, fight government overreach, and restore their great nation to its former glory. Many of them were former military like he was. Veterans that gave everything for a nation that didn’t want them once their usefulness was over. Their country took their youth and their blood and gave it over to deviants and liberals intent on forcing their agenda on the world.

“Whatever you want, we can get you but please, let these people go.” Governor Macdill begged, breaking him from his inner monologue.

Sanderson turned toward the man and stroked his mustache. The asshole had the gall to look assertive he thought. This bastard had the cheek to say he valued veterans and patriots yet took their jobs and gave them to immigrants instead.

“I’ll decide when we let anyone go, traitor,” he barked. “Your time has been and gone, now it’s time for patriots to steer this ship once again. When the media gets here you’re going to give a statement and issue a bunch of executive orders to set the path straight before you pay for your crimes.”

Macdill wilted visibly. “I… I can’t issue orders under duress, there’s a chain of command in place. As long as I’m in captivity I have no power.”

“They’ll do it, or you’ll die,” Sanderson answered sharply. “I’m not afraid to die, and I’ll take as many of you with me as it takes. I will go to God with conviction in my heart!”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Olivia shifted uncomfortably. The floor of the conference room was not particularly suitable for spending a long period of time and she was beginning to get restless. They’d been in the conference room for almost an hour now, and the temperament of the hostages had degraded somewhat. Once the fear and shock of the initial takeover had faded, and normality had begun to settle in, more and more people began to speak.

A woman seated on the far side of the room raised her hand as though she were a schoolchild and waved toward one of the guards.

“What?”

The woman appeared suddenly bashful, “I… some of us will need to use the bathroom soon, or this is going to become an unpleasant place to spend any time.”

The guard didn’t reply, but instead muttered into his radio. He listened for a response for a moment before turning back to the woman and nodding.

“Ok, we’ll take everyone in two groups, women, then men.”

The woman seemed satisfied by his response.

After a few moments, a third guard arrived at the door of the conference room and gestured to his compatriots. The decision-maker ordered all the women in the group to stand and head for the door. There were nine, including herself Olivia noted. They were marched in single file out of the room and back along the corridor they had followed to reach the room. Several hallways later, they arrived outside a set of bathrooms on the far end of a corridor amongst what Olivia assumed were municipal offices.

The women were ushered inside and the guard followed them. A few thought to protest the invasion of the bathroom, but changed their minds when the man waved his assault rifle in their general direction.

Taking her turn in one of the three stalls, Olivia sat and did her business. The brief moment of isolation was almost refreshing after being around others for so long. It was only a thin wooden door, but she felt rather irrationally safe. They’d only sent one guard to escort the women, seeing them as a far lower threat to their successful control. This might be the one opportunity she would be afforded to slip away.

Smoothing her dress, Olivia exited the safety of the stall and checked her makeup in the mirror. It seemed entirely normal for a woman to do this, however, it gave her an opportunity to blend in and disappear in the hostage taker’s eyes.

She regarded the man for a moment. He had a shaved head and was neatly dressed, his band uniform consisted of a tuxedo that fitted him well. These weren’t last-minute costumes or a thin charade, these men were organized and appeared to take a pride in what they were doing. His eyes flicked back and forth over the group for any signs of trouble.

Olivia took her place in line and waited whilst the remainder of the group used the bathroom and the guard made to lead them out towards the hallway. She moved in beside Margret Michaels, the Attorney General’s wife, and leaned in close so as to not be heard. “Make a scene when we get outside.” The older woman looked at her sharply, as if questioning the request. She saw the look in her eye, a mixture of fear and uncertainty. Olivia nodded reassuringly and touched her arm, “please.” Margret nodded and returned her gaze to the front.

The guard led them back out into the corridor and started to herd the group back the way they had come. Olivia deliberately remained toward the rear of the group. As she had hoped, Margret threw herself into her role and burst out crying, and collapsed to the floor in hysterics.

The guard’s distraction was momentary, his attention focused on Mrs. Michaels and her wails. Olivia moved quickly and slipped through a doorway into the darkened interior of an office and pushed herself under a nearby desk.

Outside she could hear the muted wails through the door and the gruff orders of the guard. It was clear he’d lost his control over the group and was trying to reassert order.

Olivia briefly considered interceding with the distracted guard but changed her mind almost immediately. That terrorist would be missed sooner than later and she would have eight hostages on her hands to protect, not an ideal situation.

She lay silently in the dark until the voices quietened down and she heard the group moving away toward the conference room. She breathed a sigh of relief; she hadn’t been missed. She felt a brief pang of sadness as she thought of Richard. She hadn’t said a word to the man about her intentions, hell she’d almost promised not to get involved. She shook her head. This was her job, she had no choice, he would understand.

Once the sounds of footsteps had vanished, she crawled out from under the desk and slipped off her shoes and jewelry to reduce the chances that anything that might sparkle or make noise.

Her priorities were clear; make contact with the outside and gather information. These were highly organized armed men that had run through the Governor’s security like they were mall cops. There was no way she was going to take them on directly, it would be suicide.

Olivia tried one of the desk phones in the office and received the expected silence that confirmed her suspicion; the phone lines were down; it was what she would have done herself in their situation. She glanced around the office, hoping for inspiration to strike. The place appeared to be a planning office of some sort with rolls of charts and map tables dominating the space. She started searching the desks and drawers for anything that might be of use. Most of the desks she searched were useless, containing only office supplies or personal effects but the final one had been abandoned by someone in a hurry, possibly someone working late and it had a backpack and jacket tucked neatly beside it.

Olivia rifled through the items and struck gold. Inside the jacket, she found a cell phone and recovered a small penknife and flashlight from the bag.

Clutching her treasure, she tucked herself in behind the desk and tried the phone. It was locked.
She cursed and mashed the buttons in disappointment. There was no way she could unlock it before it became a useless paperweight in her hands. There was a pack of cigarettes in the jacket along with a lighter. She hadn’t smoked in a couple of years. It had been something she picked up when she first started performing and had ditched shortly after, it had helped her with the long nights and lack of sleep.

Feeling deflated she tapped one out of the packet and lit the cigarette before inhaling deeply. She felt the wave of nicotine flood her system as she sat there in the darkness staring at the one brief flash of hope she’d had. She tossed the phone onto the floor and watched it bounce across the thin carpet. The movement must have hit one of the external buttons because the phone’s power-off screen lit up and Olivia recognized one of the buttons on the screen: EMERGENCY SOS.

How could she have been so stupid? All cell phones had an emergency mode that bypassed the lock system that could dial 911. She slid the button across the touchscreen and held the phone to her ear; it was ringing.

“911, Police or Fire?”

“Police, please.”

There was a momentary click as the call redirected. Olivia tapped out the cigarette on the floor with a grimace. She really didn’t miss those things.

“911, can you tell me what’s happening?”

“My name is Olivia Dalton, Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department badge 2628, I’m in city hall, and I need to be connected to whoever is in charge over there.”

“Ma’am, standby.” The voice of the dispatcher was calm and showed no surprise at her request and efficiently processed her call. “Ma’am, we’re transferring you to the command post, please hold.”

Olivia waited, the phone rang for what seemed like an eternity before it was finally picked up.

“Who is this?” a male voice asked sharply.

“Deputy Dalton, 2628. I’m off duty and I’m inside the building.”

“You are? Where are you? Are you safe?” the voice asked.

Olivia began to repeat what she’d seen and what had happened, explaining her slipping away from the hostages, the gunmen, their number, and disposition. The man seemed to take notes before he explained that he was handing the phone over to someone else.

“Dalton, you’re not even back to work yet and you’re already neck deep in the crap,” a familiar female voice remarked. Sheriff Reilly, Olivia realized, she must be in command out there.

“I was here as a guest ma’am,” Olivia explained weakly feeling as though she were being chastised by a teacher.

“Whatever the reason, I don’t need you going all Buck Rodgers on me Dalton, this is serious shit. I want you to keep your head down and pass on whatever you’re able to when you can, do I make myself clear?”

“Roy Rodgers Ma’am.”

“What?”

Olivia smiled in the darkness. “John McClane referenced Roy Rodgers in the first DieHard movie Ma’am, Buck Rodgers was a Science Fiction character.”

She heard a huff on the other end of the phone. “Whatever, just keep your head down.”

Olivia agreed and ended the call. If she needed them, she would go through the emergency 911 system again and be forwarded on. It wasn’t perfect but at least it was communication. She looked down at her stocking feet and wiggled her toes. She had far better legs than Bruce Willis, that was for sure.

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Driftwood #11 - Valkyrie.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Caution:

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Driftwood

By Alyssa Plant

Life and Love are far more complicated than we can possibly understand. For one young cop, a journey of self-discovery will teach them that true strength was inside them all along.

Chapter Sixteen - A Plan Comes Together

Richard was worried. He’d seen the women return to the conference room and didn’t see Olivia with them. He wanted to ask what they’d done to her but thought better of it. He had a pretty good idea of what had happened and he was sick with worry. As the men had been led from the room for their chance to use the bathroom, Margret Michaels had put her hand on his arm and nodded briefly as he’d passed. Olivia was fine, that's what she had meant. It was a relief to know for sure, but it didn’t alleviate his fear in the slightest.

The two guards had led them to the bathroom and back. Richard hadn’t needed to go but went through the motions regardless. Once they were returned to the conference room, the third man who had remained to watch the other hostages left them and set off to patrol the corridors.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Olivia slipped her new prizes into the top of her dress. One thing could be said for women's formalwear, it certainly could carry far more than people realized.

She eased open the office door and listened for a moment. The corridor was silent and dark, many of the lights having been extinguished throughout the building. Slipping into the corridor, she retraced her steps toward the center of the building, hoping to find out more about what was going on. She’d mentioned the threat of boobytraps to the Sheriff and needed to get a look at one of the devices to try to help them if she could.

The building was massive. There was no way the terrorists could guard every exit, which meant the traps were likely a well-publicized threat to not only the hostages but the police outside. If she could get them valuable information, she might be able to help them end this sooner.

Finding a stairwell, Olivia listened for a moment, her ears straining for the slightest sound of movement. Believing the coast to be clear, she started to descend toward the ground floor. She’d managed to reach the second-floor landing when she heard the sound of a door open below her. Rapidly she began to retrace her steps until she was able to find a door to slip through on the landing above.

The corridor was black and there were few doorways nearby so she flattened herself against the wall and waited in silence, her heart beating so loudly she feared it would give her away. The footsteps grew louder as they ascended the stairs outside the door before stopping right outside her door. She held her breath, not even daring to breathe lest she give her hiding place away. The door opened slightly, and an unseen hand held it for a moment before pulling it closed. She could hear the sound of a zip tie being fastened before the footsteps resumed and she was swallowed by silence once again.

Letting out her breath, she tried the door. Whatever the unseen person had done, it was now secured and she had little hope of returning the way she’d come. It was impossible to see in the darkened corridor, so she extracted the small flashlight from the top of her dress and switched it on.

The corridor ahead appeared to be deserted and was flanked by a sparse number of closed doors. Each door she passed, she tried but found them to all be locked. They appeared to be records storage as far as she could tell. Pressing onward, she rounded a corner and found herself in a wider section of corridor flanked by offices. Like before, she found most to be locked but the final doorway had light emanating from beneath it.

Glancing through the small window carefully, she saw that it looked out over a balcony surrounding a large circular ornate space, the rotunda at the center of the building she realized. The door was unlocked, so Olivia opened it carefully and listened.

Down below, she could hear an angry voice echoing slightly within the chamber. The conversation appeared one-sided, so she assumed it was a phone call. Crouching down low, she slipped out onto the dimly lit balcony and looked through the stone railing down to the space below.

A large man in a tuxedo with a rifle on his shoulder was pacing back and forth, with a cell phone to his ear. He was jabbing angrily at a line of hostages as he spoke, his temper flaring.

“I want someone that can make decisions in his place then. I want my demands met or I’m going to start executing hostages, starting with this traitor’s most valuable guests.”

“Yes now… No, You have an hour.”

Olivia could see two other men with him, assault rifles held easily in their hands as they flanked the kneeling hostages. She recognized the Governor and two of his colleagues, the Mayor and the women she assumed to be their wives.

The man’s tone grew darker. “If you haven’t met my first demand within twenty minutes, I will kill three hostages, do not test me.”

Mike Sanderson ran his hand over his bald head and cursed. The negotiators were messing him around and playing for time, he knew their games. He had demanded a feed for a live press conference but they were claiming that it was impossible under the current circumstances unless they were able to secure the release of some of the hostages. He knew it was bullshit but he was in a corner.

He’d given them a deadline, they’d have to pick.

“Mister Sanderson, what do we do if they don’t give us the feed?” one of the men next to the leader asked.

“They will, or we’ll start killing hostages as we promised. We’re in this for the ride, we follow through.”

His radio crackled.

“Sir, we’ve got a small issue.”

“What?” snapped Sanderson.

“We’re missing one of the hostages from the upstairs group probably got lost. Some chick wandered off. They only noticed when we did a count. I’m searching offices now.”

Sanderson kicked at a discarded champagne glass, feeling satisfaction when it shattered against a pillar.

“Don’t fucking come back without the bitch,” he growled, “no loose ends.”

Olivia’s heart skipped a beat when she realized they were talking about her. She slid back from the edge of the banister and made her way around the balcony in a low crouch attempting to keep herself in the shadows. There was a door on the far side, which mercifully, was also unlocked. Olivia slipped inside and slowly shut it behind her to prevent any sound from giving her away.

The game was taking a darker turn. Hostages' lives were being threatened and the man down below sounded unstable and motivated. Those were never a good combination in a crisis. When she’d been at the academy, they’d given the cadets a course in basic negotiation and de-escalation skills. It wasn’t anything compared to what was likely happening outside with the specialist teams that she knew must be on scene, but it was enough to give her a brief insight into the man’s state of mind.

The man downstairs, Sanderson, was in charge. He was politically motivated and he wanted a platform. The negotiators were following the standard protocol of give and receive; for every demand, there would be a request or concession politely demanded in exchange. She’d seen them kill when they first took over the building, she had no doubt the man’s threats to kill hostages were very real.

Slipping into a darkened office, she hit the emergency button on the cell phone and was put through to the Sheriff outside.

“Dalton, update me.”

“Ma’am, I was able to get a look at the Governor; he’s alive as is the Mayor and a few other VIPs. As far as I can tell none of the guests have been harmed yet. We have a number of fatalities amongst the Governor’s security detail, these guys are not afraid to kill. Tell the Negotiators if they’re threatening lives, they mean it.”

“Slow down Dalton.” the sheriff reassured her. “Slow down, and take a breath. Are you secure where you are?”

“For now.”

Olivia leaned her head back against the cool wall behind her and glanced toward the window outside. Emergency lights were lighting up the ceiling in a kaleidoscope of red and blue.

“Ma’am, I need to do something, these guys are really serious.”

The Sheriff spoke to someone off the line before returning. “Dalton, stay out of the way, we’re going to comply with their demands for now and try and get people released in the meanwhile. Stay useful and stay away from them. We’re having the phone company remotely unlock the handset you’re on, get us pictures of their devices on the doors if you can. We’re sending this number to you.”

Olivia hung up and watched as the phone shut down and began to reboot. Once it came back, it was fully unlocked and appeared to be back to its factory defaults. A text message blinked onto the screen with a number.

Suddenly she didn’t feel quite as alone. She looked down at her dress. The silk material of the skirt was dirty and creased. She felt a little disappointed that she didn’t get to spend her perfect evening with Richard, even if it was going to be mostly schmoozing with politicians.

Thinking about Richard made it worse for her. She now had someone to lose if this went wrong. it wasn’t impersonal and professional and she would struggle to act with a clear head knowing he was at risk. She knew she had to put that to the back of her mind, but life wasn’t that simple. With a sigh, she took out the penknife from her dress and slit the side of her perfect skirt up to mid-thigh. She could get another dress if she survived.

She made her way back to the door and listened carefully before slipping back into the corridor and making her way back into the darkness.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Sheriff Reilly was speaking with the negotiators when the commander of the SWAT team finally arrived at her base of operations.

She glanced at her watch and frowned. “About damn time you folks got here. I assume you’re up to speed already?”

The commander shook the Sheriff’s hand and grimaced, expressing his feelings at the scale of the situation they found themselves in. “Ready for whatever is necessary, Bomb Squad on the way?”

The Sheriff nodded before letting her guard down for a moment and speaking less formally. “Alex this is rough, they’ve got us by the throat here. They’re heavily armed, political and we believe, military trained.”

“Did I hear you have someone inside? a Deputy?” The commander asked with interest.

The Sheriff nodded and sipped her coffee. “Yeah, off duty, she was here as a guest. The poor thing’s been off the last six months recovering from a line of duty-shooting.”

The SWAT Commander smiled darkly at the irony of the situation, “Some people’s luck just sucks.”

Reilly nodded and accepted a report from one of the staff in the command center. “They’ve not had the best time of things, that’s for sure.”

The woman appeared older than her years in the harsh light of the command center. The Sheriff looked worried.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Olivia crept along the hallway sticking to the shadows. She’d managed to get to the ground floor and was working her way through the rear corridors of the building, far from the activity in the central rotunda. These areas of City Hall weren’t part of the public-facing areas of the building but instead, the beating heart that made the city operate.

From the map she’d found on a stairwell a few minutes ago, she should be approaching an exit to the exterior that would have what she needed to send to the people depending on her. Thirty meters further down the corridor, she found the fire escape she’d been looking for. It was one of the heavy metal doors with a central push bar found all around the world to expedite exits in the event of an emergency. This one however would spell doom if it was used for it’s intended purpose.

Olivia checked the corridor was clear before turning on her flashlight and examining the device attached to the door. It was a compact and simple affair consisting of a lump of plastic explosive and a blasting cap attached to a length of fishing wire that was hooked around the bar and crossed the edge of the frame. The device was brutal in its simplicity; if the door moved, whoever was nearby wouldn’t exist anymore.

She took out her phone and began to take photographs to send back to the others. There was a reasonable chance the devices were all similarly crafted. If the line was pulled, the cap detonated sending a spark through to the main charge. She wasn’t an explosives expert, but she’d seen enough movies to understand the basic concept.

Switching off the light, she stashed it before focusing her attention on the phone. She began attaching the images to a message and was in the process of sending it to the number she’d been given when she heard the footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Her heart racing, Olivia moved quickly to find refuge in one of the offices off the main hall but was met by only locked doors at every turn. She began to feel her panic turn to a cold dread as she saw a flashlight play around the corner ahead of her. Like a deer in headlights, she stood frozen in the light beam.

“There you are.” the voice growled, its owner marching towards her in the shadow created by the flashlight.

A hand attached to the gruff voice reached out and grabbed her arm, “was wondering where you got off to.”

The man noticed the cell phone in her hands. “What are you up to? Trying to call for help? Give me that.” he barked reaching out to snatch the device.

Olivia reacted on instinct as the man stooped to grab at her lowered hand. She twisted in his grasp and brought her knee up into his sternum with everything she possessed.

The man gasped and doubled over, releasing her from his grip. She dropped the phone to the floor and took hold of the arm that had been holding her moments earlier and hooked her leg behind his knee. The man fell hard, his own body weight acting as a pivot as he tumbled backward onto the floor.

Olivia didn’t waste a moment and lept onto the man swinging punches at his face trying anything to stun the man. The gun he had with him was still hooked to a sling across his chest, she had to keep close or he’d be able to use it against her.

As she sat astride the man swinging wildly she flashed back to that fateful afternoon six months ago and saw the face of the man she’d fought for control of a different gun. She lost her focus and stopped hitting the man, her body locked in fear. The main bucked his hips and threw her to the side. Olivia crashed into the floor and felt the breath leave her body.

The man scrambled to his feet swearing and spitting. “I’m going to fucking kill you cunt.” he snarled grasping at his rifle. The man raised the weapon like a club as he reared over her. Olivia stared blankly up at the man, her face a mask of fear. She attempted to crawl away from the man on her back, unable to look away from the looming figure. She felt a metallic object move inside the bodice of her dress and suddenly remembered the knife. In the poor light of the corridor, the man never saw her pull the blade out and flick it open.

As the man reached down and moved to grab at Olivia’s hair he finally saw the flash of the knife coming up toward him. Olivia swung the blade with every molecule of her strength. She knew it was her last chance to survive.

The knife buried itself to the hilt in the side of the man’s neck. Olivia twisted and yanked at the blade ripping it out of the stunned terrorist’s flesh. There was a spray of blood and the man dropped to his knees grasping at the ragged wound with his hands in a feeble attempt to stem the flow. He stared at her blankly for a moment before collapsing sideways onto the floor.

Olivia sat with her back against the far wall staring at the dead man for several minutes until her heart rate could return back to normal. She had just killed a man. It had been her life or his she knew, but that couldn’t begin to quieten the feeling that what she had done was very wrong.

She swallowed hard and stared at her hands. They weren’t shaking, they looked steady and even, they looked wet and dark with the man’s blood. She should feel worse she knew, but as her pulse returned to normal she felt the fear start to become anger. Anger at what they were doing and anger at herself for her misstep.

Olivia pulled herself up and mentally chastised herself. There was time for tears later and this was not the place. Stepping over the body, she removed the man’s rifle and checked the magazine; it was fully loaded. The rifle was a short-barreled carbine, it was exactly like the one’s she’d trained on and carried every day in her car.

With some difficulty, she removed his belt of magazine pouches and equipment. A quick inventory of her new gear showed she had plenty of ammunition, a radio, and two flash grenades.

Olivia slung the belt over her shoulder like a bandolier and took the rifle in her hands. She glanced at the body on the tiled floor and said a silent prayer for her soul. She had a bad feeling that he wouldn’t be the only one tonight.

Stooping, she picked up the discarded cellphone and typed a quick message before sending the attached photographs.

One less, me or him, armed. Suspect One SANDERSON. Dalton.

Stowing the cell phone in one of the pouches, she caught sight of herself in one of the darkened office windows. Backlit by pale moonlight from the slim exterior windows behind her, her reflection looked almost supernatural. Her hair was a mess and her dress was bloody but somehow the pale glow made her look like a vengeful angel. A Valkyrie sent to bring death to the unworthy. She thrust out her chin and smiled, she was done being afraid.

Chapter Seventeen - Even The Odds

The police held up their end of the bargain and Internet connectivity was returned to the building shortly after Ten that evening. Sanderson and his men began to put their plans into effect.

The Governor was given a script and shoved up onto the stage behind his podium. This wasn’t the joyful campaign speech that he’d planned to give filled with hope and promises for the future of the state. It was not anything he would say in his public or private life but the armed men gave him little chance to refuse. An armed cameraman gave him a signal and the Governor held the edges of the podium to stop himself from shaking as he began to read.

“My Fellow Californians, my name is Governor Macdill. I’m here tonight to read a statement prepared for me by American patriots who want you to know the truth. For many years, we have systematically broken down the moral fabric of these United States. Nowhere more so than here in California. Our policies and laws have been targeted to cripple and limit the freedom of our citizens and promote the liberal agenda at each step. I implore the State Senate to impeach me, and elect a true American Patrot that will restore glory to these lands and free our people from the immigrants, homosexuals, and freedom-hating people that have their boot to the neck of you all.”

Governor Macdill swallowed hard. “If these demands are not met, I will be executed in three hours along with the Mayor. Good night.”

The camera stopped broadcasting and Sanderson stepped out from behind the operator.

“Excellent work Governor. Let’s hope your lackeys are brave enough to follow your words and make a stand for America.”

The Governor felt old, his body frail. He stared at the hateful man before him and shook his head. “They’ll never do it,” he muttered feebly. “They won’t give in to your demands.”

Sanderson smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant expression, but more akin to the look a predator gives its prey before it strikes. “Then you’ll die tonight, Governor Macdill.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Olivia crept along the corridor. She’d somehow managed to make her way back to the eighth floor without being noticed and no alarm had been raised yet over the missing terrorist. She had one of their radios now and she could hear their chatter. The men were organized and efficient, nothing extraneous was said over the frequency, and the airwaves were kept relatively quiet. There had been mention of the police restoring the internet and the Governor’s broadcast to the public; that meant her time would be limited.

Her first priority was Richard. She knew it was selfish and irrational but she had to make sure he was ok. She’d overheard the broadcast the Governor had made and she knew they’d never follow the demands. Her time was limited and she had to make sure that he was safe before she acted. She didn’t have a plan, but she was certain that she could find something by the time she reached the room where they had been held. If even a handful of hostages and Richard were safe, she could act with a clearer conscience.

She passed the bathroom where she’d slipped away from the group and retraced her steps toward the conference room, the rifle in her hands. The dark corridors felt like a mausoleum to her. The oppressive silence inside the thick walls of the building made her every sound feel like a cacophony of noise.

Reaching the room, she pressed herself against the wall outside and listened. She couldn’t make out much, but there was a low level of conversation inside. There had been two terrorists guarding the group earlier, but had the third left? She wasn’t sure. The door had a frosted glass window that made seeing inside impossible. She considered using the flash grenades she’d taken from the dead terrorist but decided against such a loud option. She wasn’t sure if there was backup nearby or what it would do to the other hostages. She had to find a way to neutralise them quietly or she could get them all killed.

Opening a nearby door she slipped inside the darkened office and searched for something she could use to make a noise. If there was something strange, they’d have to investigate, but they wouldn’t leave the hostages alone; if she could separate the terrorists, she had a chance to stop them quietly. Her eyes settled on a computer monitor on the edge of one of the desks and shrugged before shoving it off onto the floor.

The device clattered to the floor causing an almighty racket in the silent space. She tucked herself into the gap behind the door and held her breath. She didn’t have to wait long. After a few moments, she heard footsteps approaching and saw the partially open door creak open toward her. A flashlight played around the interior of the room, glinting off the window on the far side. She saw a dark shape through the frosted glass of the window and held her breath.

The man stepped into the room and played the flashlight over the desks until he saw the shattered monitor on the tile floor. His moment of focus was his undoing. Olivia lept from behind the door and swung the rifle like a bat catching the man in the back of his head. He hit the floor with a dull thud and didn’t move again. Realizing he’d be missed soon, she acted quickly. The men had been prepared for hostages and their gear contained plastic zip ties which she now used to secure the unconscious terrorist on the floor. She leaned his rifle against the wall by the door and stepped back out into the corridor.

Returning to the conference room, she saw the door was partially ajar now. Light was bleeding out into the corridor ahead of her casting a beam across the far wall. A quick glance showed her the other man was watching the hostages, his focus on them, not his comrade’s whereabouts yet. Olivia steeled herself and flipped the safety off the rifle in her hands and took a deep breath. Her hands felt clammy against the weapon, this was everything, all or nothing. Shoving the door, she rounded the corner and raised the rifle towards the remaining terrorist.

“Drop the fucking weapon or you’re dead.” she snarled.

The man had turned at the sound of the door, he had clearly been expecting his friend’s return. There was a look of shock in his eyes when he registered the angry blonde in a bloody gown pointing a rifle at his face. He dropped the weapon and threw his hands up, his face a mask of shock. Some of the hostages gasped and screamed but quickly recovered when they saw she wasn’t one of the terrorists.

“Turn around get on your knees, now.” she barked not giving him time to think. The man quickly complied and clasped his hands behind his head. Olivia stepped forward and kicked him squarely in the back, knocking him forward onto his stomach. “Hands behind your back,” she ordered as she tossed a pair of zip ties to one of the men closest to her. “Tie him up.” she gestured with her free hand. The man hesitated before following her instructions and securing the man’s hands.

Olivia pulled the rifle away from the now prostrate terrorist and lowered her own, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“What the hell going on?” Attorney General Michaels was the first to speak, the older man unsure how to process what he was witnessing.

“This…” Olivia gestured theatrically, “is a rescue. Sorry I’m late.”

Richard was by her before she could respond and pulled her into a tight hug.

“My god, you’re ok. I was so worried,” Richard gasped kissing her forehead. He pulled back and glanced at her bloody dress and looked concerned, “are you hurt?”

Olivia stroked his cheek and kissed him before shaking her head. “I’m fine, it’s not my blood. I’m just glad you’re ok. I know I said I wouldn’t do anything but I saw an opportunity and I couldn’t sit here.” she admitted sheepishly.

“You’re brave and stupid and beautiful,” Richard whispered in her ear letting her go. “Just stay alive for me ok?” Olivia nodded and released his hand.

“What about the other one?” Michaels asked getting to his feet, interrupting their moment.

“Asleep next door,” Olivia explained. “These two and one more downstairs.”

“You’ve taken down three of them?” Another man she didn’t know asked incredulously looking at her aghast. “How on earth?”

Olivia smiled reassuringly. “I’m a cop, it’s my job.”

“What do we do now?” Michaels asked, his confidence returning. “There are more of them I assume?”

Shaking her head, Olivia removed the detained man’s equipment. “Nothing at all. I want you all to stay here where you’re safe. I’ll need a few of you to drag sleeping beauty from next door back in here. There are two weapons here now, so I need two volunteers who have used a gun before.”

Several of the men retrieved the unconscious terrorist from the office and dragged him through into the conference room. Olivia gave them a brief rundown on the rifles the men had carried and showed them what she wanted them to do with them. Her plan was to leave the group here, a safe place where they could defend themselves if necessary. A known location where the police could find them when it was time. Richard had protested that he wanted to go with her but Olivia turned him down explaining that she was able to move more freely by herself. His pride had been a little tarnished but he understood; this was her world, not his.

Her world; that was a funny thought. She wasn’t a veteran cop or former military with a special background. In reality, she was barely anyone in the grand scheme of things. All she knew was that this was something she had to do whether it got her hurt or worse. She had no choice but to step in and do what she could because that was the job she had signed up to do. It wasn’t a new feeling for her, she felt that every day. It had, however, never burned this strongly within her. Part of her wanted to run and hide, play it safe, but her own experiences over the last few months told her it was wrong to run. She had to stand and fight for what mattered now.

She kissed Richard one last time and looked pleadingly into his eyes as their bodies separated. She hoped that there was something in there that understood why she had to go.

“I get it,” he whispered stoically. “I love you, come back to me.”

Olivia nodded and glanced around the room at the other hostages. “Stay quiet, and keep your heads down.”

With that, she slipped back out into the corridor and vanished.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Sanderson was annoyed. The Police had given them the network connection for the Governor’s broadcast and they’d released twenty unimportant hostages, but now they were stalling again. He was going to have to prove his resolve and make them listen.

Maybe he’d use that runaway hostage as an example. He lifted his radio to his mouth and pressed the button.

“Twelve, One, You round up our missing guest?”

There was nothing but static on the other end of the radio.

“Twelve come in.”

There was still no response. Sanderson cursed.

“He was out looking for the straggler boss, he’s not checked in, was up on eight before with the group there.” One of Sanderson’s men offered.

Mike Sanderson wasn’t keen on lacking discipline. He’d deal with him later. “Fourteen, Thirteen, You boys seen Twelve recently?”

The radio was silent. Now he was getting concerned.

“Fourteen, Thirteen.”

Sanderson checked a few of his other men and got responses. “I don’t like this.” he muttered before keying the radio again. “Nine, Ten, go check on Thirteen and Fourteen.”

The men confirmed their orders curtly and signed off. Sanderson kicked the Mayor out of frustration as he passed. The man’s yelp made him feel better but it wouldn’t quieten the feeling that his well-laid plans were beginning to show cracks.

He checked his watch. Two hours and he would execute the traitor.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Olivia slipped inside an office near the stairwell and pulled out the cell phone. She dialed the number and waited while it rang twice before it was picked up. “Dalton.” She heard the Sheriff’s voice over the line.

“Here Ma’am. Did the pictures help?”

“Absolutely, our EOD guys have got a plan worked out to handle them, you’ve helped a great deal.”

Olivia noticed a pair of sneakers under one of the desks she was pacing past and pumped her fist happily.

Reilly continued, her voice more serious. “What was that text message? What did you mean?”

“I got caught by one of them, we fought, and he lost, I have his weapon and radio. It wasn’t planned but I did what I had to.”

“You ok?” a note of concern crept into the voice on the phone.

Olivia didn’t answer for a moment while she tried on the sneakers. They were a little large, but they would do. “I’ll cry later. I have good news though. I was able to get back to where I’d been held and I have two of them detained up there. Twenty hostages are secure including the AG on the eighth floor, conference room, east wing.”

The line was silent for a moment, Olivia checked she still had a connection. “Ma’am?”

“I said no Buck Rodgers,” the Sheriff replied tersely.

“Roy Rodgers.”

“Whatever,” she sighed. “Thank you… I guess. Please for the love of god, no more. I don’t want you to end up dead in there.”

“What would you do Ma’am?”

“That’s irrelevant. You’re not even back to work yet and you’re going to get yourself killed. I appreciate what you’ve done, but you should do what I say, not what I do.”

She noticed flashlights outside in the corridor coming up the stairs. Olivia smiled in the darkness. “yippee ki-yay Ma’am.”

“I swear to god Dalt…”

Olivia ended the call and tucked herself in against the door. She heard footsteps moving up to the landing and turning down the corridor away from her. She’d heard the radio transmission earlier and she knew they were likely going to check on the ones the ring leader had called Thirteen and Fourteen. She figured Twelve was the man she’d killed on the ground floor. She had their numbers scrawled on the back of her hand. This had to be Nine and Ten.

There was no way she could take two of them in the corridor without shooting, she had to separate them and somehow keep them away from the conference room. An idea began to form in her mind. It bordered on insane, but it might just work.

She ripped the door open and sprinted across the corridor for the stairs. She was making a racket, but she was counting on it. She made sure to drag the rifle barrel against the banister as she descended, the clattering sound drew the attention of the men along the corridor as she’d hoped. The radio chirped. “Got eyes on the runaway hostage, we’re after them.” a voice barked.

Olivia ran down the stairs two at a time. She needed to find a place with enough hiding places that the men would need to split up to find her. She had seen a cafeteria on the third floor she hoped would be her salvation. Reaching the correct landing she slipped through the doorway and sprinted down the corridor into the expansive dining area. Her eyes scanned the interior she’d only briefly noticed earlier.The darkened room could seat perhaps a hundred people at capacity and was filled with chairs and tables. She made for the serving window and threw herself over the counter as the footsteps thundered into the room behind her.

Olivia flattened herself against the metal cabinets as the two men came to a stop in the center of the room.

“Go check the kitchen, I’ll carry on and see if they continued.” one man said to the other. “I’ll radio if I find her.”

“You got it.”

She heard one set of footsteps fade followed by the sound of a door opening and closing. Olivia got low and crawled deeper into the kitchen to find a better ambush location.

The kitchen door swung open and a flashlight played across the polished steel surfaces. Footsteps slapped loudly against the ceramic tile floor as their owner entered the room. Olivia tucked herself into a gap between a cabinet and a massive industrial refrigerator and held her breath. The man walked across the kitchen shining the flashlight back and forth just behind the counter. He was checking under the worksurfaces and any gap he could reasonably imagine a person hiding.

Olivia spotted a rack of utensils to her side and grabbed a spatula. She tossed the object across the room hearing the clang of metal on metal as it struck something in the darkness. The flashlight snapped in the direction of the sound and she pounced. The man was three meters from her when she got a good look at him. He was tall, over six feet. She raised the rifle and jabbed it toward his head. The man’s reactions were fast and he was turning towards her when the rifle came flying at him. It clipped his head along the side a glancing blow that dissipated some of its force. It wasn’t enough to knock him out but it stunned him for a few seconds.

He swung wildly at Olivia, his hand knocking the rifle to the ground with a clatter. Olivia remembered Anderson’s words “use their strength against them.” She ducked low under a wild arm and brought her elbow up into the man’s chin. He staggered back dazed, a look of rage in his face. The man bellowed and charged, she tried to sidestep and aim a kick for his knee but her timing was off and the man knocked her flying.

Olivia smashed head-first into a counter and fell to the floor, pain exploding through her body. The man lept on her before she had a chance to recover and tried to pin her to the ground. Olivia bucked her hips and unsettled the man’s balance. She kicked upwards and connected with his groin. The man groaned and grasped his genitals. Olivia wasted no time and scrambled clear. She made it to her feet in time for the man to recover and squared off facing him.

“You’ve got fucking spirit I’ll give you that,” the terrorist growled. “I’m going to fuck you before I kill you cunt.”

Olivia shook her head and grinned, blood from her lip giving her a manic look. “You’re not my type honey.”

The man started toward her and wound up a well-telegraphed punch. Olivia sidestepped him and twisted her body around grabbing at a plate on the counter. The man turned, just in time to see a ceramic dinner plate flying at his head. The plate connected and the man crumpled to the ground in a heap.

Olivia stood panting for a moment, trying to catch her breath. She wiped at the blood dripping from her chin with the back of her hand. “I really want to make a witty one-liner but I’m too fucking sore,” she muttered under her breath. Pausing, she smirked in the darkness. “Fuck it; Dinner is served asshole.”

Nursing sore ribs and what she expected was going to be a monumental collection of bruises, she zip-tied and gagged the unconscious terrorist.

The radio chirped, “Ten, you got anything? I’m coming back.”

Olivia stared at the radio uncertain of what to do. If the man didn’t receive an answer he would be suspicious and that destroyed her edge. A thought popped into her head and she smiled to herself. Dropping her voice as low as she could, she held the radio behind a row of metal utensils to try and create static and spoke.

“Got her Nine, we’re good here.”

“Got it, coming back.”

He bought it. Olivia grimaced at the voice she’d used and tossed the radio.

When the other terrorist returned to the dining room the way he’d come, he never saw the rifle that hit him in the back of the head.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

One of the men came jogging up to Sanderson. “Sir we have a problem.”

“What now?” he snapped.

“I found Twelve, he’s fucking dead sir. Some asshole stabbed him.”

Sanderson cursed. “Who the fuck did that? And why aren’t those idiots answering?

“Sir it’s worse, his weapon and gear are gone.”

Someone had killed one of his men, and now had access to their radios. Had they been listening to them this whole time?

“Where are Nine and Ten?”

The man shook his head and seemed uncertain.

Sanderson held up his radio and pressed the talk button.

“Who out there is running around with one of my radios?”

There was silence on the other end as static hung in the air.

“Answer me god damn it or I’m going to start shooting people.”

There was more static, and then a sultry feminine voice came over the radio’s speaker. Several of the hostages suddenly paid rapt attention to the surprising development.

“Now that’s not a very polite way to get a lady’s attention.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Sanderson seethed.

“Now that would be telling.” said the voice. “I’m sorry we’re not on first-name terms yet. Why don’t you call me… Valkyrie.”

“I’m not playing fucking games with you, give yourself up or I’m going to start executing people.”

The voice sounded playful. “Why would you burn your only resource, Mister Sanderson?” Can’t handle one little girl? I’d think you boys would be more than enough to handle a little kink in your plans. The way I count it, you’re down fourty hostages and five men. I don’t think you can spare any more to come looking for little old me.”

Mike Sanderson felt the blood drain from his face. Five of his men were gone? How? The hostages? How did they know his name? There were too many questions and no way the teasing voice was going to tell him. He glanced around, paranoia growing.

“Look, Mister Sanderson. I’d love to stop and chat but I’ve got an appointment I need to keep, I’m sure you understand.”

“Fuck you cunt, I don’t know who the fuck you are but I’m going to fucking kill you.” he screamed.

The voice was gone, only static remained. Sanderson was livid.

“Did you hear that?” The communications officer asked turning around in his chair. It hadn’t taken the technicians long to scan frequencies within the vicinity and pick up the comms channel the men were using. They’d been vague and indirect until that point, nothing had been given away as though they were aware they could have listened in on.

The SWAT commander took his headset off and smirked.

“Don’t even start Alex.” The Sheriff muttered removing her own.

“That’s quite the little pest you have running around in there.”

“Don’t I know it,” Reilly snapped. “It’s beginning to complicate matters. We’re getting good intel but she can’t seem to keep out of trouble.”

“If five of them are out of action that simplifies matters a lot for my guys. Think we can help them?”

The Sheriff shrugged. “I have absolutely no idea.”

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Driftwood #12 - Game Over Man. - Conclusion!

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Caution:

CAUTION: Violence

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Driftwood

By Alyssa Plant

Life and Love are far more complicated than we can possibly understand. For one young cop, a journey of self-discovery will teach them that true strength was inside them all along.

Here it is, the big conclusion to Driftwood. Thanks for joining me on this journey! Please, let me know your thoughts!

Chapter Eighteen - Game Over Man

Olivia smiled and clipped the radio back to the bandolier across her chest. She’d managed to get firmly under Sanderson’s skin. She wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but she’d felt so out of control that she needed to claw something back to give her the confidence to continue. She needed to unsettle him if she was going to stand any chance alone against this army. Men that were off balance made irrational decisions, clear-headed men made smart ones. She didn’t need him to be smart.

What was more important was what he didn’t say. When she suggested he didn’t have men to spare to come after her he hadn’t corrected her. He was stretched thin now and on the back foot. His threat to kill hostages was relatively empty. Now she had to make it entirely flaccid.

She dialed the command center.

“What are you playing at?” The Sheriff barked into the phone.

“Oh, you heard that?” Olivia asked innocently.

“Yes, I damn well heard that, you’re putting people in danger Dalton.”

“They’re already in danger Ma’am, at least now we know enough to do something about it.”

Olivia could hear cogs turning on the other end of the phone. “We’ve identified four rooms we know are holding groups of hostages. I spoke to our EOD guys a few minutes ago. The traps can be disarmed by simply cutting the wire without moving the firing pin. If you can get our guys inside, we can hopefully snatch most of them before they realize what’s going on. If you’re up to it that is?”

Olivia touched her bleeding lip carefully and winced. “Yeah, I can do that.”

After hanging up the phone, Olivia sat silently for a moment. How the hell in her life had she ended up here? How had that shy skinny boy from a year ago found themselves where she was today? She glanced down at her ruined dress and felt a pang of sadness. Tonight was meant to be magical. A chance for her to spend time with Richard and get to know the circles he moved in. Now she was here all by herself. She was in pain and she was tired. Would it all be over soon?

She pulled herself to her feet and lent against the desk for a moment to steady herself. She had a job to do now and she could bring this hell to an end.

Olivia hurried down the stairwell as quietly as she could manage. She was relatively sure the corridors would be clear but it never paid to be reckless. She held the rifle low, ready to use it if she had to, she had a clear objective now and it was time to do her part to make it happen. She wasn’t foolish enough to think she could do this by herself. She might have joked about John McClane but she wasn’t any kind of hero.

Exiting the stairwell on the ground floor she swept the corner with her weapon before entering the long back hallway. They’d identified a service door on the rear of the building and would be waiting for her outside.

Olivia reached the door and checked to see if the coast was clear. Satisfied she was alone, she set her rifle on the ground and crouched by the device attached to the back of the door. She took out her knife and did her best to stabilize the pin on the blasting cap with her fingers. With a deep breath she brought the blade up to the thin line as it glinted in the moonlight. The knife was sharp, but it wasn’t sharp enough. As she applied pressure the wire began to bend against the edge. Olivia grimaced and withdrew the blade.

Steeling herself, she moved her fingers to more firmly grasp the pin and hold it in place. There was a slight tremble in her hand as she brought the knife back up to the wire and began to slide it slowly against the wire. The pin wobbled slightly in her fingers as the tension changed. She felt the first warm prickles of sweat along her hairline as the world seemed to close in around her to this one single task.

“Steady girl,” she whispered to herself, “steady.”

The wire twisted against the blade and began to fray. Her fingers holding the pin were now slick with sweat and she could feel it twisting against her grasp. Withdrawing the blade, she wiped her hands on her dress and started again. She drew the blade against the wire as gently and softly as she could manage and after three more passes, the wire snapped and fell clear.

Olivia released the breath she’d been holding and withdrew her hands slowly as if waiting for the explosion to come. The pin was intact and the wire was cut. She slowly turned the door handle and pushed. The door swung outward slowly and she came face to face with a rifle flashlight.

The weapon swung away and her eyes adjusted enough for her to see again. There were two Swat operators in front of her.

“About time,” she muttered wiping her hands on her dress. “I think I have more respect for the bomb guys now.”

The men moved past her and into the corridor, silently taking up positions facing in both directions. One of the EOD techs moved up and secured the device on the door with tape before withdrawing back outside. She really envied him now.

“Are you ok?” The team leader asked, pulling down his face covering.

Olivia nodded and tugged at her dress sheepishly. She felt suddenly quite silly dressed as she was amongst her colleagues dressed in combat gear.

“Dalton?” the man asked uncertainly.

Olivia flushed and looked away. “Yeah,” she admitted quietly.

The man shrugged and reached into his pack and pulled out a ballistic vest. “Put this on.”

Olivia took off the bandolier she’d been wearing and slipped the vest over her head before fastening it around her torso. She quickly transferred the magazines and radio to the pouches and joined the others in the corridor.

“Third floor, West wing, room eighteen, which way?” the man asked in a whisper.

Olivia pointed down the corridor to her right and fell in behind the team. She felt suddenly far safer with these guys, although she realized she would soon be answering questions earlier than she’d expected. She pushed it to the back of her mind. Now was not the time to concern herself with that nonsense. Until this was over, she didn’t matter.

She guided the team up to the third floor and watched them take position outside the door to the first room that they’d identified. With quick quiet communication, the men kicked the door open and rushed into the room. She heard a flurry of suppressed gunshots from their submachine guns followed by two heavy thumps. There was a ripple of voices and screams that were quickly quietened as hushed orders were given to the hostages inside. A few moments later the team members began to filter back out into the hallway to join her.

“Room one secure.” the leader announced impassionately over his radio. He gave Olivia a curt nod and gestured onward.

Olivia quietly let the men through the silent corridors towards the second and third locations where any resistance was similarly put down by the team’s brutal efficiency. Olivia was in awe of the swat team. These men worked so smoothly and ruthlessly that she felt utterly unworthy standing beside them. Her ruined dress and generally disheveled appearance also made her feel quite vulnerable and self-conscious now she was around other people again. She hadn’t even worried about it earlier. Now she felt like a silly little girl trying to act like an adult.

They arrived on the fifth floor as Olivia guided the team towards the final group of hostages. With the group she had already freed upstairs, this would leave only the seven that were held in the rotunda with Sanderson and his cronies.

One of the operators turned toward Olivia and grinned in the darkness. “The new look suits you, Dalton.”

Olivia squinted at him in the darkness before her eyes went wide. Rory Parker had been one of the department’s training officers when she had first joined and she knew he’d transferred to the swat team the year before. She also knew he was extremely gay. “It’s Olivia now, and no you can’t have the dress.” she fired back quietly. Parker smirked and nodded. The little exchange relieved some of the tension she felt.

The team lined up beside the final door while one of the men fed a fiber optic camera under the bottom next to the carpet. The man indicated positions with his hand. The point man nodded and booted the door. His colleagues flowed past him into the room and shouted orders and screams followed. No gunshots rang out. Olivia moved inside and moved over to kneel down in front of one of the now cuffed and prone terrorists.

She grabbed his jaw and turned his head to face her. “How many of you are there in total?” she growled.

The man spat and cursed at her. “Fuck you bitch.”

Olivia’s face was thunder. She must have made quite a frightful visage after the evening’s festivities but she didn’t care. “Your friends are all dead or under arrest. It’s over now. You can go down with them or you can tell me the fucking truth. Your bullshit ideology doesn’t matter anymore, you failed”

The man glared at her for a moment before seeming to slump in his bonds. “Fifteen,” he admitted sadly.

“I knew you were fucking cowards.” she spat letting the man’s head fall to the floor.

Olivia counted. She’d dealt with five, and this made thirteen. That left only two remaining, Sanderson and one of his men in the rotunda.

“Who are you?”

Olivia snapped around as she heard the scared voice call out to her. A young woman in a pretty dress with wide terrified eyes was staring at her.

Olivia shrugged and sighed. “Nobody important.” she offered quietly. “Nobody at all.”

Parker stepped up beside her and gave her a playful nudge with his elbow. He turned to the hostages and spoke. “This woman has been in here all night alone working to get you all home safe. We’ve had a pool going on her.”

Olivia looked at him with surprise. “A pool?”

“Sure, on how many you’d get.”

“You were at the party?” a man in the back asked uncertainly, regarding her disheveled dress and police armor.

The team leader grinned. “Yeah, she got five of them before we even got here and disarmed a bomb too.”

He turned to his men and gestured for them to prepare to move out. “Folks, stay here and wait for uniformed officers. Please keep your heads down and stay quiet, this will be over shortly.”

Olivia turned to the team leader and touched his arm. “Last two are in the Rotunda with the HVTs.”

The man nodded and cursed in Spanish. “That’s a big open space, no good sightlines.”

Olivia pondered the situation for a moment and had a thought. “I’ve got an idea for the last group, it’s a little unconventional though.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The radio crackled with a familiar voice. “Are you there Mister Sanderson?”

Mike was pacing in frustration in front of his hostages as time ticked towards zero hour.

“What do you want?”

“I want to give myself up, I’m not willing to risk anyone’s lives.” Olivia admitted more demurely than her earlier teasing tone, trying to inject a little fear into her words.

Sanderson smiled like a crocodile. “Good decision little girl, I was about to put a bullet in some of these assholes if you hadn’t.”

“Where should I go?”

“Come down to the rotunda, first floor. You can’t miss it,” Sanderson ordered. “I don’t want to see any weapons.”

Olivia agreed and ended the transmission. He didn’t need to know she was already on the ground floor only a few dozen meters away. Putting away the radio, she stepped into a nearby bathroom and took off her vest and rifle, leaving them leaning carefully against the wall.

She took in her appearance in the darkened mirror. Her makeup was ruined and her dress was a bloody ripped mess. She was still had her modesty at least, but it was certainly beyond dry cleaning.

Running some water she washed her face and tried to tidy her appearance. It felt extremely vain she realized, but if she was going to die, she wanted to do so with some dignity. A few moments later she appraised her appearance. She looked a lot plainer than her once beautiful makeup had made her look but she felt reasonably human.

Rationalizing she’d stalled long enough, Olivia steeled her nerves and left the bathroom. She walked purposefully along the quiet corridors, now confident she was alone. This night was nearly over and she would either walk out alive or die here, but it would be over.

She allowed the door to close loudly behind her to make sure Sanderson knew she was there before she stepped out into the wide hallway. The broad columned passage led toward the rotunda at the center of the grand building. Olivia stepped out into the open and walked slowly forward with her hands raised. She felt like she was a prisoner walking to her execution chamber.

“I’m here,” she called with more certainty than she felt, her voice echoing off the marble surfaces.

A man was standing over a group of kneeling hostages, his rifle trained casually in their direction.

“Come forward slowly.” another voice called sharply.
Sanderson stepped out from behind a column with the governor in the crook of his arm, a pistol leveled at his head. “No funny business or I blow his brains out.”

Olivia waved her empty hands. “I’m not armed,” she called in a level tone. “I just want to talk.”

“You’re in no position to talk to me bitch. You’ve got nothing I want.”

“It’s not too late to end this peacefully,” she called stepping into the well-lit interior of the rotunda.

Sanderson laughed and pointed the pistol at her. “There will be no peace as long as traitors like this work to destroy our nation. I’m a soldier in a war nobody wants to acknowledge.”

“The gays and immigrants are destroying the state right?” Olivia asked, keen to keep him talking. “Isn’t that a little trite? It’s pretty hard to run a conspiracy while you’re working three jobs and getting your ass kicked.”

Sanderson shook his head. “The liberal elite and trying to destroy American values and replace us with people they think are better than us… people they can control.”

“And you think killing is the answer?” she challenged.

Sanderson seemed satisfied she was unarmed and shoved the Governor away. The man stumbled and fell. He glared at her with undisguised hatred and waved the pistol at her.

“I got thrown out of the Army because I was too patriotic, I wasn’t going to bow to their bullshit sensitivity crap. These fucking assholes brainwashed my kid and made him a fucking faggot. They’re taking everything of our lives and turning it into their idea of a liberal paradise. It’s a damn invasion.” he yelled, his face turning red.

“Your son is gay?”

Sanderson spat. “They brainwashed my baby boy, they ruined a true American man and convinced him he was some sissy faggot. They’re doing it to all our kids, it’s population control.”

Olivia smiled and shook her head. “You’re really that narrow-minded aren’t you?”

Sanderson looked at her with hatred in his eyes.

Olivia stepped forward until she was only meters from him. “I feel sorry for your son. He can’t help who he is. He certainly can’t help who his family is, he doesn’t deserve a father like you. I was afraid I’d get a similar response, but I was far luckier in the end.”

A look of confusion and hatred flashed across Sanderson’s features. “You’re a dyke?”

Olivia shook her head. “No, but I have a lot in common with your boy. I had to come out to my family recently. It was a little different but they accepted me for who I was eventually. It wasn’t perfect but they’re trying their best and it means the world to me. I feel blessed that they were open-minded enough to think about their child first and worry about my hopes and dreams. All my childhood they tried to toughen me up and make me become someone that I wasn’t meant to be. They made a mistake; It took me a long time to realize they were only human and I forgave them.”

“I don’t care what some dyke cunt thinks.” Sanderson spat.

Olivia shook her head and smiled ruefully. “No, I like men actually.”

Sanderson looked confused. “What the fuck are you on about?”

Olivia looked around the room and shrugged lowering her hands. “I was born a…” Olivia had been about to try to reason with the man. Nothing in his eyes conveyed even a moment of doubt over his convictions.

“Oh whatever, doesn’t matter, Surrender now, you’re done.”

Sanderson looked at her as though she was an alien. She could see him trying to process her words. Olivia raised her hands and pointed her hands at both men and formed her fingers into guns.

“Put the guns down and you can live. It’s more than you deserve.”

Sanderson laughed out loud. “What? You going to shoot me?”

Olivia nodded and glanced at the other man who was now paying her rapt attention. “Yes actually.”

Mike Sanderson stared at the creature in front of him and spat on the floor. “You’re a freak and you’ll burn in hell,” he yelled and raised the pistol.

Olivia shrugged and fired her finger guns.

Both men crumpled to the ground as bullets struck their bodies.

Olivia raised both barrels to her lips and blew away imaginary smoke.

The hostages stared at her in confusion. Nothing that had happened made sense.

Ropes dropped around the perimeter of the rotunda and black-clad men slid deftly down from the balcony above. Both terrorists were secured and the hostages were cut free.

Olivia turned to the team leader and extended a hand. “Your timing was impeccable.”

The man shook her hand and grinned. “That was quite some performance.”

Olivia shrugged and inclined her head, “I suppose I’m quite used to the stage.”

The man’s darker features took a more serious expression. “Look, I don’t know everything that’s going on with you, but for what it’s worth, we got you ok?”

Olivia smiled at the man and touched his arm.

The Governor came over to her as he rubbed his recently freed wrists. “Who exactly are you?” he asked cautiously. “Were you the one they kept talking about?”

Olivia nodded. “I’m just a girl that was in the right place at the wrong time.”

The team leader shook his head and put his arm around Olivia’s shoulders. “Sir, this is Deputy Dalton, she saved all your lives.”

Officers started to fill the building as bomb technicians defused the door traps. People flooded around them in a surreal bustle of activity. The Governor extended his hand to Olivia.

“If you did half as much as I think, you have my most sincere gratitude. You’re an incredible woman.”

Olivia shook her head and looked away. “I just wanted to live sir.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

City Hall became a hive of activity as the Emergency Services descended on the building in the aftermath of the incident. Hostages were transferred to medical care and the surviving suspects were taken away by the police for processing. Once quiet hallways had become choked with people and noise as the authorities began the difficult process of unraveling the evening’s events and creating a timeline to answer questions that would surely be asked in the coming months.

Much to her protest, Olivia had been checked over by paramedics on the orders of one of the sergeants handling the scene on the ground. They had eventually released her with only minor injuries. She had been desperate to find Richard when she was able to get out of the building but found the task frustratingly difficult. Nobody she spoke to as she moved through the crowd of hostages seemed to have seen him or knew where he was.

Olivia slumped down on the edge of a flowerbed on the front steps of the grand building and rested her head in her hands. She was more tired than she realized. The night had been long; it was just after two in the morning and the place was busier than daytime. Fear she realized, used more of one's energy than any physical exertion ever could. Her body shook as she cried. The sum total of her emotions washing over her like wave breaking against the shore. The events of the evening had taken her to a breaking point. One she hadn’t known existed beyond her old limits. A part of her knew that Harry wouldn’t have made it this far, but Harry was gone now for good.

She felt an arm wrap around her shoulders from the side and looked up startled. The Sheriff was sitting beside her.

She wiped her eyes and sat up more straight. “Sorry Ma’am.”

Reilly shook her head. “Sometimes we need to let it all out, it rots our brains if we keep it in. Crying is cathartic,” Reilly explained kindly. “You don’t feel brave, but you are. Bravery isn’t trying to be strong, or intending to do something heroic. It’s doing the right thing, even when you’re terrified.”

“I’m sorry I caused such a pain,” Olivia offered weakly.

Reilly smiled and patted the girl’s shoulder. “You’re ok. Truth be told, I’d have done the exact same thing if I were in your shoes, only I’d have caused a far bigger mess.”

“You would?”

The sheriff chuckled, “sure would. Now you don’t go telling people any of that ok?”

“No Ma’am.”

“Enough of that kid, it’s Kate.”

Olivia nodded. “I still can’t believe I did this. I’m not even back yet.”

Reilly laughed. “I always had the same problem before I became Sheriff. I’d get up to all sorts of shit when I wasn’t meant to.”

She looked off into the distance and smiled almost whistfully, remembering old times. Her expression turned more serious and she turned to look at Olivia.

“You were a very different person in there tonight.” she observed. “You’re not the young green cop that I visited in hospital anymore.”

Olivia shook her head. “No, I’m not.”

“You did yourself some favors tonight. Nobody’s going to say a word against you now.”

“That wasn’t why I did it.” Olivia protested.

“I didn’t say you did, and they all know it.”

Olivia looked at the older woman and smiled her thanks.

Reilly paused as her radio chirped in her ear. She listened for a moment and smiled. “I think Anderson found someone you were looking for.” she grinned.

“Richard?” Olivia asked hopefully, her heart quickening, “he’s ok?”

The Sheriff smiled. “Yeah, he’s fine, They’re at the command post, go on.”

Olivia took off running. The Sheriff smiled as she ran through the crowd. She remembered that feeling, it felt like a lifetime ago.

Olivia dodged and weaved and ducked past the hoard of bodies clogging the area outside City Hall. It seemed like everyone had to be there at that moment doing absolutely nothing but get in her way. She didn’t care about her dress or her hair or anything beside reaching the man she’d left behind in that conference room.

Olivia spotted Anderson stood beside a man that looked a lot like Richard. He was facing away from her, talking to her partner. She saw Anderson notice her and point to the man, he turned and she recognised his face.

Olivia ran on, desperate to reach him, it felt like a thousand years had passed since she had last been with him. Richard opened his arms and she lept at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to him like a liferaft. He kissd her with such passion she thought her heart would stop beating. Her head was light and she felt dizzy, she was glad she wasn’t standing.

After what felt like an eternity, Richard pulled back smiling and brushed her hair from her eyes. Olivia stared dumbly at him, a silly grin on her lips.

“Hi.”

“Hi yourself.” Richard laughed.

Olivia could hear clapping. She glanced around for the first time seeing the world outside of her and Richard. Officers and fire fighters were clapping and smiling. It seemed like everyone had stopped and were enjoying their moment. Olivia detangled herself from Richard and brushed her hair behind her ears and stood nervously, flushing at the attention she was receiving. She didn’t let go of Richard’s hand the entire time.

People just stood, what they were doing forgotten, and clapped. Olivia had no way of knowing that what she had done inside had become widely known by her colleagues. Some didn’t know who she was, many did, but they knew she had been the one that had made the difference there that night.

“I think I need to go give a statement.” Olivia muttered to Anderson, shrinking under the attention.

Anderson shook her head. “Sheriff’s waved that off, She’ll send someone over tomorrow. She figures you need some rest, wanna go home?”

Olivia glanced at Richard and smiled. “Yes, I think I do.”

Extracting themselves from the crowd of onlookers, Olivia was able to dodge a lot of the attention directed her way by her colleagues and the media. Anderson led the two of them to a cruiser and drove them away from the madness that had overtaken downtown.

It was just before three when they were dropped off at their apartment. Neither had said a word as they rode the elevator up to their floor and entered the familiar surroundings of their home. Richard simply held Olivia’s hand and led her to the bedroom.

Olivia glanced up at the handsome man before her. Her body trembled more than it ever had in her life. She wasn’t sure if it was residual fear or fresh desire. Richard reached behind her and slowly unzipped her tattered and bloody dress. The dress fell to the floor, forgotten.

Richard stroked Olivia’s cheek gently, his fingers tracing the edge of her bruised lip. His eyes were full of love and sorrow.

“I thought I would lose you.” Richard whispered, his hands caressing her bare arms. “I Didin’t know if life would be worth living.”

Olivia stared into his eyes as she unbuttoned his shirt. Her heart was beating so hard she thought it would break free from her chest. Her breath was short and heavy, she ran her hand up his chest and felt his own heart beating.

“I did it for you.” she whispered. “I would face an an army for us.”

“You already did.” Richard smiled. Without further word, he lifted her up and carried her to the bed.

Chapter Nineteen - Big Girl Pants

Olivia sat behind the wheel of her truck in the parking lot for thirty long minutes unable to leave the vehicle. She’d been offered further time off after the events of the previous Friday, but she’d turned it down. She knew it was time enough to face the music, it was now or never. Somehow the theory had all been well and good until she arrived at the station parking lot.

She knew that a lot of her colleagues were aware of who she was now, it wasn’t the introduction she would have wanted but it was done. She stared at her hands on the wheel in front of her and gripped it tighter until her knuckles changed color. What was she afraid of? Why was this so hard?

She knew that from the moment she walked through those doors her life would resume where it had left off so long ago. She’d started along this path long before that fateful summer day, but for some reason, it had all felt so reversible then. Like it was something she could slide in or out of at will. She knew it wasn’t, but the truth was that life wasn’t rational in the slightest. The last six months had almost felt like a dream; someone else's life that she had gotten to experience for a brief while. It had been a break from her miserable life where she could be anyone. Returning to work meant the dream was over. Just what would the real world bring her?

There was a soft knock on the driver's window that stirred her from her thoughts. Kelly Anderson grinned back at her from behind the glass. Olivia shook her head and hopped down from the cab with a sigh.

“Contemplating your existence?” The redhead observed handing her a coffee cup. “I figured you’d need one of these.”

Olivia shouldered her bag and took the cup with a nod, “It feels super real now.”

Her partner looked her up and down with a raised eyebrow. Even dressed down in jeans and a teeshirt, Olivia didn’t look remotely like Harry once had.

“Blondie, it’s been real the entire time and you’ve handled it like a pro. Most of them know already thanks to your antics on Friday, so what’s the deal?”

Olivia sipped the coffee to buy herself time before she answered. “I just don’t want them to hate me,” she admitted quietly.

“Nobody’s going to hate you, honey,” a voice added from over her shoulder. Olivia turned and smiled weakly at Abigail.

Kelly shook her head and put her arm around her friend and began guiding them toward the station. She could feel the nervous tension in the girl’s body the entire time. Olivia was acting like it was her final walk to the execution chamber, each foot placed deliberately in front of the other.

They rounded the corner and made their way toward the front steps, Olivia focusing most of her attention on her coffee cup unable to look up. Two blacked-out SUVs were parked in the visitor bays at the front of the building. As they approached, the doors opened and a large group of men in blue utility uniforms disembarked and approached the group.

Olivia looked up uncertainly at the men blocking their path. She recognized the patch on their sleeves, they belonged to the city’s Swat team. She glanced at their faces and recognized the men she’d been with at City Hall.

The Latino team leader grinned and gestured at his men, “we thought you’d like some backup for your first day back at work.”

Olivia glared at Kelly who held her hands up in protest. “Not my idea Blondie.”

The leader extended his hand, “Alex Sanchez. Look, the boys and I respect what you did Friday. What you did took a lot of guts and you were pretty kickass in there. Anderson filled us in on what today means to you and we all wanted to walk in with you. For support, you know?”

“Why?” Olivia frowned looking around the group. “I’m a nobody, I’m certainly not a hero. I know I’m going to face a ton of crap for simply existing and I want to keep my head down and get the worst over today ok?”

Parker laughed, “Do you really think you can keep your head down looking like that?” Olivia blushed and looked away.

One of the guys she didn’t know by name spoke up and elbowed Parker, “Hey we all consider you our unofficial mascot after the City Hall job, even Parker’s considered changing sides.”

“Not a chance at all of that ever happening, even for her.” Taylor snickered elbowing Parker. “This guy is almost too gay to function.”

“Don’t make fun of me.” Olivia winced.

Abigail shook her head and smiled gently, “We’re not honey, we’re just trying to make you feel better.”

“Come on,” Kelly tugged at Olivia’s arm. “Let’s go, we’ve got your back.”

Olivia ascended the steps with her honor guard in tow. As much as she protested, she was glad she wasn’t doing this alone. The group entered the lobby and made their way through to the squad room. It didn’t take long for people to notice her presence.

The clapping started quickly and grew to a crescendo as it seemed as though most of the station had crammed into the open-plan space. Everywhere she looked, people were smiling at her and clapping.

Olivia stood frozen in the center of the crowd. She didn’t know what to do or think. She’d played through so many scenarios in her mind and this hadn’t been on the list at all. Her entire plan had been to try to not draw attention and hope she was able to slowly become a part of the furniture. If people found out or made the connection, she’d hoped they might know her better by then. She hadn’t planned to be the focus of attention, and certainly not an apparently positive one.

“Decided to finally join us for work huh?”

Olivia turned to see the Sheriff had appeared nearby, a sly grin on her lips. “Back to work everyone, the show’s over. You’ve all got things to do and if you don't, I’ll find you some.”

As the grass grows, night falls, and waves crash against the shore, the prospect of more work elicits a rapid response from employees around the world. Before long, hurried normality returned to the squad room.

Reilly turned to the group and folded her arms. “Now the appreciation party is over, I expect you wish you’d taken the time I offered you.”

Olivia shook her head, “No Ma’am. It’s been long enough, I just want to get back to work.”

The Sheriff nodded and her expression softened. “It’s good to have you back. Perhaps this was a good idea. I think your shenanigans at city hall may have overridden any drama about your change of appearance.”

She looked at the Swat team members and rolled her eyes. “I’m sure she appreciates your support, but I’m well aware you have better things to be doing. You hang around much longer and I’ll go find some pom poms for you.”

Sanchez gave the Sheriff a nod and led his men back out to their SUVs. As each man passed, they clasped Olivia’s shoulder. The Sheriff watched with an amused expression on her face. “I think you’ve got some hardcore fans there. Those guys are hard to impress.”

Olivia nodded, “They’re good people.”

“You lot get off and get in uniform, you’ve got patrol briefing in fifteen minutes.” The Sheriff chided shaking her head. “I swear I feel like a school teacher here sometimes,” she muttered as she walked away to look for someone making a mistake.

“Yes, Miss.” Anderson chuckled as she steered Olivia away before the Sheriff could react. The three women made their way through the hallways toward the locker rooms to change into their duty uniforms. Arriving, Olivia froze for a moment, a sudden wave of uncertainty hitting her as she stared at the door to the once-forbidden place.

Anderson looked at her sideways, “What?”

“Should I?” Olivia asked uncertainly glancing at the door. “I mean, is it ok?”

“You want to change with the guys?” Taylor smirked. “I mean I’m sure they’d be ok with it.”

Olivia shook her head. “No I mean… is it ok?”

Anderson finally understood and shook her head, “yeah of course it’s ok. Get in there dumbass,” she added shoving her in the back.

Olivia crossed the threshold and entered the women's locker room with a bump. It was identical to the men’s for the most part, although it did smell far better she noted. There really was no difference beyond that. A couple of women from her shift were in the latter stages of changing and didn’t pay her much attention beyond a glance toward the newcomers.

“Your locker’s here.” Kelly gestured towards a row identical to the men’s lockers. “Sarge assigned it last night.”

Olivia dumped her bag on the bench and glanced around uncertainly.

“Get on with it Blondie, you don’t have much I don’t.” the redhead leered suggestively.

Olivia shrugged and pulled her shirt off and began to unbutton her jeans. She paused shyly, before shrugging and pushing them down.

“God damn,” Kelly grinned in a similar state of undress. “I’m actually jealous.”

Olivia smiled slightly and started to pull on her uniform. Kelly had given her one of her spare vests the night before. She was glad, as it fitted her new shape far better than her old one ever had. Finally fastening her duty belt, she turned toward one of the mirrors on the end wall of the locker room and regarded herself.

Her blonde hair wasn’t long enough to put up yet, but she wore it neatly behind her ears out of the way. There were small simple studs in her ears, and her makeup was light and within regulation. For the first time in her life, she felt right in the uniform. She smiled at her reflection in the glass and knew it was real.

“Not bad at all Liv,” Taylor remarked from over her shoulder, “not bad at all.”

“Come on Blondie, we’re going to be late.” Kelly chided, slapping her backside. “Let’s go.”

To say Olivia felt awkward walking into the briefing room was an understatement. That entire morning had been an exercise in self-control to prevent her from running screaming from the building. No matter what she told herself, or how people reacted, she was tensed to receive a poor response at any moment. The only thing that flashed through her mind was the anger on her brother Mark’s face, his words, and his hatred.

She followed the others through to the briefing room. It reminded her a lot of a classroom in many ways, there were desks, chairs and a board at the front. High school certainly hadn’t been kind to her, it was almost fitting that she was here again. Taylor took her seat a little further back with the other training officers for the shift, and Olivia followed Kelly to a seat roughly half way up the room.

Olivia tried to keep her head down and her eyes toward the front of the room to avoid directly engaging anyone. She had noticed some looks directed her way, though she couldn’t tell if people simply didn’t recognize her yet, or had already caught on. Unlike high school, she knew adults would keep most of their thoughts to themselves within earshot.

“Dalton right?” a voice asked as Olivia heard a chair being pulled out beside her. Glancing over she saw one of the women from the locker room, Hernandez, taking a seat alongside them. She nodded.

“You change shift?” she asked brightly, “Surprised you’re working after Friday.”

“Um, no,” Olivia muttered quietly. “I just want to get back to work, been off too long already.”

The woman frowned, unsure what she meant before the penny dropped. “Oh, you’re the one that got hurt in that robbery right? I coulda sworn you were a guy.”

Olivia cringed and nodded slightly, unable to meet the woman’s gaze.

“Ah,” Hernandez chuckled, “I see.”

Kelly chose that moment to step in, she’d noticed the conversation around the room had quietened once Hernandez had spoken. “Yeah she’s joined the better team, problem?”

“Wait that was a dude I was beating off to all weekend?” One of the guys at the back of the room laughed, “Man, fuck!” a ripple of chuckles spread around the room and Olivia hung her head.

Hernandez turned and raised an eyebrow at the deputy, “MacDonald, you’ll beat yourself raw to anything that looks like her, once you can shave your palms of course.”

The room broke into rawcus laughter. Hernandez squeezed Olivia’s shoulder, “Ignore the boys, they’re assholes. They wouldn’t joke if they actually didn’t like you. I don’t think anyone can say anything bad after City Hall. Plus we can chalk that one up as a win for the ladies so we good.” she added conspiratorially.

Olivia let herself relax, “Thanks I guess, I just want to get on with the job, you know? I don’t want to make a fuss.”

The woman nodded, “Yeah all good, bit weird for some but this is LA, shit happens. Just don’t go perving in the locker room ok?”

Kelly snorted, “She’s bagging a sexy lawyer man, she’s not on your team Hernandez.”

The latina raised an eyebrow and smirked.

Their conversation was interrupted by the entry of the watch commander. Lieutenant Wilcox ignored the bustle of conversation and took the podium at the front of the room. “Alright calm down.” he barked silencing them all. “We picked up seven burglaries from night shift and two muggings, that’s going to be you Willard and Carter, I want Heston, Martins and Adams on the burglaries, Anderson and Dalton, you two are on area three today, Wilson and Mar…” The older man trailed off and looked at his notes before looking up at the room again searching around. “Dalton?”

Olivia flushed bright red, “Sir?”

“I…” Wilcox muttered to himself for a moment, “Ah yes, you’re…”

“She’s the badass bitch that saved the Governor on Friday,” Kelly called out.

The Lieutenant seemed to put two and two together, “Ah yes, thank you.” he coughed frowning at his notes.

As Wilcox continued with his briefing, Olivia glanced around the room. She knew that they knew, but nobody was making a scene; she could be thankful for that atleast. As old man Wilcox prattled on about a new outreach program she relaxed and watched her colleagues. Regardless of what they said, she was here and she had the support of the department. She could handle some flack, hell it was part of being a cop. She had her friends, and she knew that a lot of people respected her after what she’d done. She just hoped that it would be enough to override their other feelings with regard to her gender. With her friends around her she could cope, and that would hopefully be enough. She would prove herself to her doubters, and she would show them she was a great cop. She knew who she was, and she knew the people that mattered in her life did too. They’d get used to her, and if they didn’t, that was their problem.

Olivia Evelyn Dalton was just another Deputy Sheriff working the streets of Los Angeles. In their car, it was just her and Kelly. They laughed, they cried, and they chased bad guys. Olivia was home.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Sunset was falling as the waves crashed against the shore of Venice Beach. Amber light glinted off the water as Olivia paddled hard through the waves toward deeper water. Surfing was a glorious escape from the pressures of daily life in Los Angeles. Out here was about as close as she could get to her native Montana; a wild lonely beautiful place that she missed dearly. Out on the waves she was alone in nature’s grasp even as she looked inland towards the city's concrete sprawl. Turning on her board, she dug hard as the wave rose behind her. Catching its leading edge, she stood with practiced ease as her board began to dip as the wave swelled around her.

The ride was always exhilarating, the natural power of the ocean harnessed briefly as she raced towards the shore. Like life, it was fleeting and over before you really knew it. Olivia stood in the shallows after the wave deposited her on the shore. She pushed her hair out of her face and straightening her bikini top. Glancing at the sun she calculated she had at least one more wave before she had to head back to real life.

Slinging the board ahead of her, she began to paddle back out towards deeper water. Surfing was something she had picked up when she first got to LA for college. She was fresh from the mountains and valleys of Montana and the ocean provided one of the few escapes from the noise and vibrance of college life.

She sat astride her board taking in the wild beauty of the ocean. A lot had changed since she first left the mountains of home. That shy uncertain kid that had been the butt of so many jokes and ass kickings hadn’t known who they were. They’d moved away from a darkness that had been there all along and they’d tried to fit into a different, but still unfitting shoe. She didn’t understand why she’d made the choices she had, but she was certain of one thing. Her life was only just beginning. The darkness was gone now and instead, it was filled with the light of possibility. She had absolutely no idea what she would face in the future, but she was sure she would enjoy the ride.

“Just can’t face going back in huh?” a familiar voice called from a short distance away.

Olivia opened her eyes and glanced back over her shoulder. A man was paddling out to catch one last wave too. She smiled, “hey baby”

The man paddled his board over to her and sat facing her. “Hi yourself.”

Olivia took Richard’s head in her hands and kissed him deeply, tasting the salt on his lips. Her heart lept, and her spirit sang.

The End

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Fake It Till You Make It

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Organizational:

Title Page

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Slice of Life

Fake It Till You Make It - 1&2 This Is A Terrible Idea.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Author Note: This started out as a simple edit and continuation of my old work 'Homework' It has since spiraled out of all control into its own beautiful new beast. Enjoy this rollercoaster and hold on tight, we're doing barrel rolls.

A Double bill introduces this monster adventure, so dig in and enjoy!

Chapter One - This Is A Terrible Idea

The world of Transgender Fiction is a truly wild and wonderous beast in the world of literature. In one overarching genre, you can run the gamut from magical tales of gender-bending tomfoolery to an unending tide of teen dramas. It has as many spinny skirts, cute boys, and cheer contests as you can possibly handle without vomiting pink glitter.

While it has delighted the spirits and the underpants of many readers, I’m sorry to have to tell you that this fiction is… well, fiction. The sad reality is that our experience is often nowhere near as exciting or adorable as it is on the pages of a book.

For transgender people, life is often pretty tragic and sometimes quite a violent experience. Our lives are full of doubt, fear, and shame. More often than not it is quite simply depressing and lonely. On rare occasions, however, it can be stranger than fiction. Often it’s hindsight that allows us to see how truly strange life has been. Without realizing it, you might be living out the same tropes that you found on the pages of those very books. Did I get recruited to the cheer squad? Did the captain of the football team take me to the homecoming dance in my pretty dress? Sadly not, but I promise you won’t be disappointed either way.

I write this now, twenty years later, as a very different person. I cannot believe the people I’ve known and the places I’ve been. I’m the person I was always meant to be; living proof that there can be a happy ever after. I didn’t believe it was possible at the time, but desperate times led to desperate measures. Was it funny then? Absolutely not. Is it funny in hindsight? One hundred percent thigh slapper. Welcome to my rather unconventional story; one that is far more true than it is fiction. That might be difficult for you to believe, but I’m sure you’ll probably read it anyway.

As with cake, untangling headphones, and defusing bombs, the best place to start a story is at the beginning. Let’s pretend this is an Alcoholics Anonymous group meeting and I will start by introducing myself:

Hi, my name is Alexander, and I’m a girl. Are you seeing something wrong here? Good, because I wholeheartedly agree with you. That minor inconsistency is why we’re here in the first place. If we hold true to stories of this nature I should tell you that my real name, the name that I gave my true self, is Holly; Holly Juliet Winters.

You know the routine; I’ve always felt as though I should have really been born a girl. As a little kid, I tended to display more feminine tendencies and I played dolls with my sister; all the usual stuff. Let’s not pretend that you don’t know how this all works, it saves us a great deal of time and prevents me from having to tell you my tragic back story of the girly boy trapped in terrible misery and angst. Far too many of these stories spend half the book moping and crying while the protagonist works out what we all knew from the moment we opened the cover.

It’s true, that some people have a moment of discovery. For others like me, it’s something we’ve always known; a cosmic certainty that we’re positive nobody else sees and nobody else wants. No matter what though we feel the urge to correct that imbalance. That first group? They’re the egg. Me? You can call me the chicken. Cluck cluck motherfucker.

Without further ado let us begin. Who am I? Who is Alex Winters? I’m a sixteen-year-old student starting my Junior year of high school today and for most children that’s an exciting time in their young lives. Returning to school means a time to see friends, get your learner’s permit, and enter your cool years of high school. You see, for me, that’s a little different. My school is a private institution and while that sounds very fancy and wonderful at face value, it presents certain challenges if you’re transgender like me. Why, you ask? We’re divided by gender into two schools on one campus, boys on one side, and girls on the other; great.

To explain how I found myself in the situation that predicates the entire plot of this story I need to take a brief detour into the darker side of our transgender world. Like many people in my position, I suffered greatly from my feelings. I hit a really bad patch of darkness during the Christmas holidays last year as puberty was starting to raise its ugly head. I was watching my brother and school friends turning into men and I knew it was coming for me too. It was too much and I had to hit the eject button.

It became bad enough that I reached a major fork in the road of my life where the decision was set before me; self forever-sleep, or transition. Not as exciting or funny as cake or death, but you get the picture. I realize this isn’t what you all want to read about but it was, however, the major motivating factor behind my starting my transition the way I did. Was I stupid? Absolutely.

I have been taking female hormones that I bought from an online source for about six months now. It’s a combination of estrogen and a blocker to overcome my body’s own best-laid plans and to shunt me in the right direction. I know how stupid self-medication can be, you don’t have to lecture me. I had reached the end of my rope and didn’t want to turn into some hulking hairy monster like my brother. I did my research, I was exhaustive and I ensured I was as safe as possibly could be short of being prescribed and monitored by a doctor. Those kinds of things are somewhat impossible as a minor without parental consent.

I’ll preface this by reminding you that this is the early 2000s. Back then, There weren’t a massive number of trans teens running around with cans of energy drink, spinny skirts with Toktik accounts. At the time the average age of someone transitioning was closer to forty. Why is this important? Well, all the anecdotal evidence I’d been given about the effectiveness and speed that hormone therapy worked with was tied to that. Now dial it back twenty-five years and into puberty; HRT goes like a raccoon out of a T-shirt cannon. (Don't ask, he was wearing a crash helmet.)

The effects had been relatively easy to hide for the first few months as nothing major happened to me physically. What did occur was possible to be hidden with relative ease. That was rather useful as I haven’t even told my parents yet. Honestly, that is one of the major challenges I’ve yet to face; “Hey Mom, hey Dad, I’m not your son, I’m really your daughter despite being born a boy and being called Alex.”
Doesn’t sound too logical, does it?

At first, the only changes I experienced were emotional ones. My sense of smell changed and I became far more weepy and sensitive. I was so up and down that it did get me some weird looks. Then again, when you’re not very popular people don’t tend to notice the quiet moody kid in the corner.

I did start to get some development in my chest and hips but it was possible to be hidden with careful choices of clothing. The problem is that things somewhat accelerated over the summer. I lost a lot of weight in some areas and I gained it in some others. Where do you ask? Let’s be honest, you know exactly where; my chest, my butt, and my thighs.

I generally have what one would casually describe as a girl’s figure by now and that has become far harder for me to disguise. I know what you’re thinking; typical trans story; the protagonist looks like a girl but nobody else seems to notice or seems to care about the effeminate kid, well that’s a darn lie. My sister and my mom both noticed and a few of my friends that I saw over the summer noticed too. Most told me that I was looking too girly and that I should probably cut my hair. It’s funny how they mentally gloss over the other bits and seem to think it's ONLY my hair that makes me girly. In all honesty, I could probably shave my head and still look very feminine. Not that I’d ever consider doing that of course!

Now a five-foot-five-inch tall boy with long blonde hair is relatively uncommon, especially when he has a butt the size of New Jersey. Strangers tend to read me as a girl at first meeting, although admittedly, a somewhat skinny and flat-chested one. I love it, but it takes all the strength I possess to do the ‘hell no! I’m not girly’ routine expected of a teen boy when I’m around other people.

Well, what would they think if I didn’t? That I liked it? Of course, I did. I can’t let the normals in on that though can I?

So now we’re all caught up on how we got here we can return to the story proper; the first day of the fall semester of my Junior year of high school. This wouldn’t be much of an issue if I didn’t now look like I belonged in the girl’s division of our school rather than the boys. Getting dressed this morning has been interesting; I’d call it affirming if I wasn’t still very much in hiding. I had avoided trying on my suit for most of the summer as I knew full well how much of a pain it would be.

Allow me to explain my school’s dress code for students so that this makes sense: For most of your time at school between the grades of six and ten, one wears the uniform. This consists of black trousers a white shirt with the school tie and a red sweater with the school crest. Once you become a Junior, that changes to a business suit in your choice of grey or black, a shirt, and a school tie. It’s intended to set us up for a lifetime wearing professional attire while we become business moguls. The reality is we look like a young Republican convention with only mildly less bigotry.

With a tear in her proud eye, my mother dragged me along to the men’s department of our local posh department store to buy me my first big boy suit. Yes, as you can imagine my mom got asked why on earth her daughter wanted to wear a man’s suit. That made her extremely embarrassed and nearly led to an emergency trip to the hair salon until I distracted her.

The fact they cannot see what is happening to me is both a relief and a concern. It reminds me that people have a fixed image in their minds of the ones they love; their ideal version. The fact that somehow mine still reads boy is a reminder that it’s not time for me to come out yet. Maybe they just don’t want to see it? Denial seems to be a fairly big river in Africa when people want it to be.

We bought a suit eventually and I won’t bore you with the details of shopping for menswear; it fits really weirdly thanks to my unusual body and I know I won’t finish the year in this thing. Quite honestly I doubt I’ll be able to look like a boy at all by Christmas. Part of me is excited about that and part of me is terrified because it puts real pressure on me to tell people. The scary part is that it makes it real and real is hard.
So the suit; it’s a dark charcoal pinstripe; boring I know. I found a collection of shirts I could live with consisting mostly of blacks with the occasional dark blue or red. They are simply men’s dress shirts and there is no way I can possibly describe them to you that might make them interesting. They come in one style, one shape, and are still boring. You didn’t read this story to hear about men’s clothes, did you? No, you want to hear about the juicy transitioning parts like skirts, panties, boys, sex, and other sordid details. Hold your horses guys, gals, and others. I’ll get to the good stuff in two shakes of a pom pom.

School tie-tied, I don’t really think that required further discussion. It’s a tie, there are many like it, and unfortunately, this one is mine. I collect my flowing feminine locks in a boy's low ponytail as normal and throw on my black zip-front hoodie. With my suit jacket over the top, I’m dressed and ready for battle.

Why a hoodie you ask? Well two reasons; it's September which is already starting to feel a little cold and it bulks my torso up rather nicely. The major benefit is that it hides my swelling chest better than just a shirt meaning I don’t have to spend my day with hunched shoulders. While not uniform items they are generally ignored by staff unless garish or ratty and mine is neither.

This isn’t your usual trans story and no, I’m not intersexed as far as I’m aware. I didn’t suddenly wake up with double-D boobs after popping my first estrogen pill either. My breasts, and yes that still feels strange to say, are big enough to be noticeable on my frame. Sure, if I was fat they would simply look like moobs, but I’m skinny and thin so they look undeniably like boobs; the jacket stays on.

”Alex, get your butt down here, we’re going to be late!” my father yells upstairs. He gets cranky in the mornings when I keep him from the job he complains about. I ride to school with him each morning on his way into the office.

I grab my book bag and bounce down the stairs to the kitchen. Ow! Damn it, I need to buy a sports bra or work out how to flatten these darned things out. Bouncing, I’ve realized, hurts a lot more since they turned up.

“Did you brush your hair dear?” calls my mom from her office.

“Yep Mom, it's all tidy as usual, I look vaguely presentable.”

”By your standards or mine?” she asks, popping her head around the door frame.

I roll my eyes petulantly while I bite into the slice of toast waiting for me and grab my mug. I really need to control my morning bitchyness better.

I have my learner's permit, but no car yet so my dad lets me drive to school in the mornings before he takes the car on to work. I can’t say I’m thrilled by the prospect but it does mean one day I’ll have my independence. Experience is experience, and a Mercedes is a Mercedes.

We arrive at school after about thirty minutes and I’m deposited in the parking lot as Dad heads off to work. I used to enjoy getting into school early when it was quiet but today it just means more time to think. All of this seems so very real now. I know I’ve waxed lyrical about this already but the truth is that I’m quite scared of the reaction I might receive. People who see you every day don’t notice change quite as much because it’s a gradual process whereas people who haven’t seen you in months will spot things right away. What do I do? How the hell do I get out of Gym class? I have no idea, but we’re going to find out.

Ugh, one disaster at a time. My fingers tentatively press the keys on the electronic pad controlling the pedestrian gate to school. It’s early and out of hours but students have the code to get in if they need it. I get to school an hour early thanks to my father’s schedule so I always let myself in. Usually, this would be something I’d enjoy as it gives me time to unwind, wake up, and get homework done but today it feels like a stay of execution and the Governor is feeling particularly bipolar. A part of me wants this to be over straight away and another part doesn’t want it to happen at all.

I slowly sip my coffee as I walk into the building; the warmth is reassuring and the caffeine is necessary for my own sanity. The corridors are quiet as I make my way inside and toward my new home base; the common room. Juniors and Seniors, as befits their lofty status are permitted an exclusive common room on the ground floor to call our own. I arrive at the doors and tentatively stick my head inside. It's empty at this hour and silent. Normally, I'd be excited to finally get to enter the den of the cool kids but my apprehension is tempering my enjoyment. Right now it feels like a tomb… My tomb.

Picking myself a spot away from the main entrance, I slump down on one of the sofas to wait. I’m far too nervous to go to the library or use the computers like I normally might before school. I feel like I need to see this one coming.

Unconsciously I sit with one leg tucked under me as I feel most comfortable. Today though, it seems far too girly so I straighten myself out and sit properly for a boy; Legs apart and slouching. I chuckle to myself because I’m going to all this effort for absolutely nothing because nobody is here to call me up on my lack of ‘manliness’.

Sadly I know I need to do it even when I’m alone or I’ll slip when it does matter. Hiding yourself like this is exhausting, I have to remain focused or I’ll let people see the truth. I’d prefer to tuck my legs up and sit comfortably as it feels more natural; I never liked sitting with my legs apart because it always seemed crude. When not crude, it was unwise; an open target location for the bullies. As much as being kicked there hurt, I sometimes wondered rather darkly what might happen if they did it one too many times and ruined those hateful things.

The door across the room creeks and I jump. Looking around I realize it’s just one of the cleaners.

”Sorry dear, didn’t mean to make you jump.” she smiles kindly as she goes about her business. The one thing I can’t work out here is whether she means dear in the way women talk to young boys or the way women talk to girls. Why can’t she at least use a gendered phrase so I’d know whether to run home and fake sickness or stay and face the day ahead?

The door goes again and I look around; It is one of the other Juniors, Steve. He’s alright I suppose; he’s on the soccer team, but not a snobby prick like the rest of them can be at times. He’s probably secretly gay because he dresses far too well and I swear he wears makeup sometimes. I listen to myself stereotyping so wildly and shake my head at the blatant hypocrisy of my judgment.

“Hey, Alex! Damn, you’re early already this year! Good summer?” he asks dropping down on a sofa across from me.

“Not so bad, kinda quiet.” I reply neutrally, “yourself?”

“Yeah, It was awesome, soccer camp was cool and our Italy tour was amazing.” He pauses and looks at me critically for a moment, his brow furrowed. “You look kinda different, did you change something?”

Shit, this is working out great. “Aahhh,” I stammer intelligently, “I lost some weight, I was pretty sick for ages over summer vacation,” I offer, hoping he takes the bait.

“Shit man, you’re really fucking skinny, but you just look different. Like you put on weight and lost it… kinda.” He gestured strangely before trailing off. “Sorry dude, didn’t mean to have a go.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I know I look a bit weedy,” I shrug. “Guess I won't be making the Football team this year for JV.”

Steve chuckles and rips open a candy bar before shoving it into his mouth. “Like you’d ever try out.”

I smile and shrug, “You might have me there.”

Steve looks over my shoulder at someone coming in through the doors.

Twisting around to see who’s arrived I see Gary Byrne and his sisters Megan and Kara. Yes, I know I told you it’s a single-sex school, and that’s true. The only difference is that the nurse’s office is in the Girl's Division and the girls will often come over before school because our common room has a snack bar and theirs doesn’t. Yes, girls want to stuff their faces too, weird concept that. Megan and Kara are Gary’s sisters and his general duty entourage so they’re a fairly common sight around the place.

As usual around other girls, I get rather quiet and shy. I’m jealous of them, and feel inferior to them; I sort of feel I have more to prove to other women. I feel more pressure to prove that I belong with them than I do to prove I’m not a guy. Life is complicated. This year I’m hyper-aware that they’re more likely to spot my changes than boys are.

“Hey you two,” beams Megan, the fiery redhead sister. She’s the epitome of the family’s Irish past: Freckles, bouncy, and hair like a burning potato field.

Kara is more ginger than red. She has a more subtle and cute bookish look. She’s a nice girl; we get on rather well. Gary is the odd one out; jet black hair, fair skin, and glasses. The girls often kid him that he’s adopted, despite their father’s very similar hair.

“Hey guys,” I mumble a greeting past my coffee mug PRAYING that they don’t make some blunt comment about my appearance the way Megan has an extreme tendency to.

Steve begins chattering to Kara about some book and Gary slumps on the sofa and throws his feet on the coffee table.
“Just like we’re back home again,” chuckles Megan shoving his feet off the table.

”Hey I’m just getting used to our new palace,” he laughs flicking the TV remote in the general direction of the TV on the wall.
Some random news show comes on, distracting most people's attention momentarily the way any newly turned-on TV does.

“You look different Alex, did you get your hair cut?”

“No he didn’t,” Kara answered assuredly, shaking her head, her ginger straight hair wagging around in front of her eyes.
“He lost weight though. You have GOT to give me the name of the diet you used. You’re skinnier than me!” She pouted trying to look hurt.
“He had some exotic disease or something,” chimed in Steve.

“You look different, but I can't place it,” Megan replied slowly, squinting her eyes at me.
I felt VERY uncomfortable as they all scrutinized me in ways I didn’t need.
“He looks kinda like a girl with that hair.” Gary laughs.
I cringe, these are NOT the words I wanted to hear already! Part of me knew it was only a matter of time though.
“I think he’d look like a girl even if he was bald,” smirks Megan, holding up her fingers to frame off my face like a photographer.
“Get lost all of you.” I huff, crossing my arms to square my shoulders. “Get a new joke.”

“Just kidding Alex,” Megan grins, “Come on, you might want a haircut though eventually.”

Quick, Fury Girl! deploy smoke bomb! “I Just like it ok?” I bluster, “And so what if I look a bit girly, I’d take that any day than be your adopted ratboy brother.”

“Hey go die in a fire dweeb!” Gary growls, launching the TV remote in my direction. Thankfully it’s the distraction I need to change the topic. I enjoy settling back into the background and allowing the conversation to take its own life. Every conversation where I’m not heavily involved is a safe conversation. It’s a shame really, in an ideal world I’d love to be more open with Meg, Kara, and Gary, they’re good people.

Conversation thankfully changes track and I’m no longer the center of attention. As the clock approaches nine, the room fills up with the rest of the students and the sisters head off to get ready for their own homerooms. For a very brief while, I’m invisible and I can just exist in the sea of students. Everyone’s far too busy catching up with friends to bother with me this morning. Before long it’s time to head off to homeroom and begin the day. One hurdle is down and a few more to go. I’m hoping that if I can survive the day and let people get used to me they won’t notice how I look quite as easily. The plan is solid, but I’m feeling pretty uncertain about its efficacy.

We pile into the Geography hovel that is our homeroom. It’s full of maps and rocks and all sorts of natural curios to fiddle with in the name of academia. We’ve been in this same classroom with the same seating assignments since we were freshmen. This year the room starting to feel a lot smaller though. Most of my classmates have grown significantly over the summer. They are wider, taller, and generally bigger in nearly all directions while my skinny butt stated the same (relatively speaking). All around me are muscles, facial hair, and dear lord, the smell of guys.

So here’s one thing that the typical trans story never seems to mention; boys smell! It’s not necessarily bad, I’ll give you that, but when they’re in a group it’s a general tangy musk that seems to invade your nostrils. Add to that their proclivity for drowning in body spray and cologne and it’s almost a choking hazard!

Mister Carstairs calls us all to order and runs through roll call with his usual detached boredom. He’s known us for two years and he’s not particularly paying much attention.

“Winters,”

“Here sir,” I call nervously.

Carstairs raises an eyebrow and looks back at me through the mass of bodies. “Winters, try to hit a growth spurt this year please.”

A wave of sniggers runs through the room at my expense, I feel my cheeks redden but I brazen it out, there’s a law even in the jungle and a reply is expected. “Absolutely sir, as soon as you grow some hair.”

Carstairs frowns but the rest of the class laughs openly at my quip. Honestly, if we had a Christmas play we could cast him as Baldylocks and the Three Hairs.

“Touché Mister Winters,” Carstairs replies dryly. “At least speak up, I can barely hear you.”

“I’ll try sir.”

You’d think someone in my position would keep their head down and try to maintain a low profile. What you don’t understand about schools like this is that that approach can often get you noticed more. A certain level of tet-a-tet is expected and non-participation in the good old boy’s culture will get you in some serious trouble. I might not be a boy, but I have had to learn to coexist with them.

Homeroom wraps up and we’re dispatched to our first class. For me, that’s Physics. I’ve always loved the sciences. To me, there is nothing is more clear than the atoms that make up our world. Whether it’s the cells of the body, a formula for a chemical compound, or the reaction of excited molecules I find peace in the order it creates. Sounds lovely and fluffy too doesn’t it? Makes this entire work seem somehow loftier and more meaningful. Truth be told I’m rather good at them so I consequentially enjoy them. Studying is a really easy single-player game when you’re limited on friends and generally don’t want to hang around and socialize as a boy.

The way I see it is the harder I work now, the more money I’ll make later. Awfully capitalist of me I’d agree, however, the world runs on money. Being transgender, you need a fair bit of it. Whether that is surgery, or simply being able to afford to live somewhere you won’t be abused it’s really important. That and I plan to become an incurable clothes horse in the most stereotypical fashion.

I really want to be a doctor if I can make it to a good college. Mom’s a surgeon, did I mention that? My mother, the woman who birthed and raised me is a Cardiothoracic Surgeon at Mercy General in our city. It’s why I have enough medical knowledge and drive to pursue self-medicating myself at my age, it kinda rubs off on you in that environment. Mom’s a badass and if I can be half the woman she is one day I’ll be truly happy.

I want to say that I want to go into medicine so that I can give back and help others like me, to save other young trans people in horrible situations but the truth is I really think I can pull off the Merideth Grey vibe. Am I joking? Who knows. But I will say I want to end up in a career that sees me making a difference. Not that all software developers in their programming socks don’t contribute… but god damn, y’all are a stereotype.

The school’s corridors are packed with students of all ages. It feels strange to be out of the familiar uniform but I’m rather glad to be free of it. I’m pretty certain I’d struggle to pull the look off these days. The crush is significant and boys are anything but gentle when they’re in a hurry. The corridors often feel like sharing a log flume with most of the logs and three Grizzly Bears. I clutch my books to my chest and reduce my size; my standard defensive tactic when the waters get choppy. I’m getting eloquent aren’t I? Must be that academic influence. I feel a body move in alongside me as I walk, a look confirms it’s one of my few friends.

Andy is my best friend here at school, you’ve not been introduced to him yet because it wasn’t relevant to the story. It now is, so surprise; meet Andy. Be warned, this isn’t a prelude to him becoming a mystery romantic interest as this progresses so get your horny minds out of the gutter. I will not be falling head over heels in love with my friends. What? He’s the real man after I go boy-crazy over jocks that don’t really love me? Pull the other one!

“Ready for Junior year Rapunzel?” he grins, nudging me with his elbow.

I roll my eyes at his delightfully appropriate choice of words. He’s called me this since we were Freshmen. I would worry that he spotted something but it’s always been this way. Andy and I have an understanding; both of us have a lot to lose against the school bullies. Me, problematically feminine and not actually a boy. Him? Incurable nerd with glasses thicker than the Hubble Telescope and a permanent limp thanks to his dad’s swimmers recruiting from the kiddy pool.

The dregs of society, school, or otherwise end up grouping together like flotsam in a river. The few friends I have are from this social sewer. Although as you’d expect, there are actually far cooler people there than most give credit for. The misfits that we are include the only two out gay boys in school, most of the nerds, and anyone that simply doesn’t fit with the expectations of the good old boys. Not athletically gifted? Big, broad, or chiseled? Any defects or flaws? Down you go. To them, we’re the scraps. To us? We’re the goddamn Ninja Turtles living down here with Master Splinter.

What the ‘cool’ kids don’t realize is that in twenty years this social group will contain inventors, scientists, doctors, and tech moguls. We are the ones who invent social media, start tech companies, and go on to big careers. Them? I hear Willymart is hiring greeters.

Here is where you find people playing fantasy card games over lunch or nerding out in the computer lab. These are the artists and the creative people that I’d rather know if I’m being totally honest. Andy has never judged me for what I look like. None of them have. They care about who I am, and how I treat them. Well, they care about who I present to them. I’m not sure they’d be ok with the real me.

Modern Day Holly speaking here; Andy actually went on to found a dating and hookup app that now titillates half of the planet’s loins, I’m not kidding. This sweet bookish nerd became the digital playboy he never dreamt of. Still a great guy to have over for dinner.

“Two more years and we can get out of here,” I sigh, narrowly dodging a knuckle-dragging linebacker that’s meandering through the crowd without a care in the world. “Two years and I’m at college and free.”

Andy chuckles and shakes his head. “You make it sound terrible dude.”

I ponder the thought for a moment as we walk. “It’s not that it’s bad,” I admit slowly. “I just want to be somewhere with more… more.”

“That makes so much sense,” Andy laughs. “More sir! Please sir, can I have some more?”

“Shut up, you know what I mean, I just want to be somewhere that isn’t this place. I’m done with the traditions, the cult of jock and I’ll just about take anything that isn’t all boys anymore.”

“I get it,” He nods as we file into the classroom. “Somewhere that isn’t ruled by the jocks would be nice. Where my limp doesn’t make me a loser.”

“No, you manage that on your own, the limp is just a bonus,” I grin as we take our seats.

Andy unpacked his textbooks and looked momentarily more serious. “I never took you for the girl crazy kind you know.”

“I’m not, but it would be nice, uh, you know.”

See, if this was the typical trans fiction adventure Andy would be pointing out that hanging with me is like having a girl around. We would laugh about it and I’d play it off and secretly fall in love with my best buddy who sees me as a girl when nobody else does. That is if this was a typical adventure. Spoiler alert; it isn’t.

The truth is that Andy doesn’t see me any differently and I keep it that way. I value his friendship but I’m still not telling him a damn thing. Not a single one of these people can know the truth; if I let it out once then the whole house of cards can come tumbling down. I can’t afford for that to happen.

I’d love to go class to class and detail every moment of my day so far but quite honestly it's really boring. The teachers don’t actually care what we look like as long as we follow the dress code and pay attention. For them, we’re here to learn, and learn we do. My appearance might raise an eyebrow in the teacher's lounge, but they daren’t mention a thing about it lest they get accused of something dodgy. Thank you Teacher/Student scandals I suppose.

Physics is followed by History, English Literature, and Algebra before we break for lunch. This isn’t the kind of institution that eases students back in on the first day of term. Here we go hard or go home. I suppose when our parents are paying thousands of dollars a year for us to attend they expect us to not waste any time with such niceties as comfort.

We spill from Algebra and the entire school begins the ritual of lunch. See, unlike normal high schools where this is a typical counter service or bag lunch affair, we’re served at the table. It’s another cooky tradition that this school shares with the ancient past it draws inspiration from. Here, we have our assigned tables with an upperclassman as the head. The catering staff provides the dishes and the head organizes its distribution to everyone with the Juniors assisting. There’s so much man of the house, patriarchy taking care of your family shit to unpack in this that I don’t even have words.

I make it down to the dining hall for my sitting and find my assigned table for the year. There’s always a mixture of years and ages to each table to avoid any major clique shenanigans and drama and I suppose further that ‘protect the weak family members’ attitude the school attempts to beat into us. I barely recognize any of the names I’m set to join so I make my way back through the throng to find my spot.

By the time I get there, there are maybe three of the eight spots on the long wooden benches filled. I grab one of the far ends, I like the ends; it’s only possible to get elbowed by one person at a time. Our table head is there and I immediately recognize him as one of the Varsity football gods the school romanticizes so heavily; Brandon Michaels.

“Come on down this end Winters.” Brandon grins aloofly in his newfound power as table head. “We’re sitting in descending grade at table twelve this year.”

“Does it really matter?” I ask tersely, not actually moving from my nice remote spot.

Brandon bristles and straightens his back aloofly. “Yes, it’s my decision and this is how we’re doing it, I can report you to a prefect if you want me to.”

I am not one for violence, but there are many things I would do to him with a fork right now and none of them enjoyable. Rolling my eyes so severely I’m pretty sure one nearly fell out I move my butt down to the far end of the bench nearest to him. “Happy?”

Brandon smiles smugly and nods. By this time more of our table are arriving and I’ve no further interest in making a scene to start out the year. Brandon has laid down his claim to authority and I suspect it won’t be his last while he attempts to convince everyone he doesn’t have a micropenis (probable).

The table fills and the catering staff staff begin their rounds and hand out serving dishes to each of the tables. It seems they at least are making an effort for the first day and it’s a rather delicious roast. I know it sounds improbable for a high school, and yes, I realize most of you were dragged up on pizza squares and mystery meat but when you're paying several thousand dollars a term, the least they can do is make the food edible, really really edible.

“Ok Winters, you can be mommy, start passing these down to the guys.” Brandon sneers handing one of the dishes to me. I bite my tongue; nothing I say here will be useful. He’s an upperclassman and he’s my tablehead, we do as we’re told. While I don’t mind the odd femininity dig from someone like Andy, others like this hulking turd mean it as an insult.

Let me clarify something. I have no problem being called female, feminine, or girly: I am. These are all facts and honestly, they are ones I’m currently trying to minimize for the sake of my own survival. What I do have a problem with is when people say it with malicious intent. When they mean it as though my being female or feminine makes me somehow lesser or worse than them. I’m no feminist gunslinger, but I do know my mother and sister are both amazing, strong, and proud women who hold our family together. I would give my left testicle to be counted alongside them… and the right one. See? I can make jokes even when I’m this depressed.

I know that if I call attention to girly Alex then people will look all the harder. Trying to dance this insane ballet is exhausting. I never truly felt like I belonged in this world of men, but now with more estrogen flying around me than the grade seven girls I feel utterly alone. It’s everything I can do to maintain my mask and preserve my truth. I told you bits of this would be depressing, promise I’ll talk about panties in the next few paragraphs, maybe.

Lunch is actually as delicious as expected. By the time I’m able to get to my own, the piglets up and down the table are already nose-deep in the trough. I’m still not sure how they manage to actually grunt out conversations around overstuffed mouths but it leaves me feeling mildly nauseous.

“Am I going to have to swap you out with one of the Sophomores Winters?” Brandon interjects gesturing at me with his fork.

I pause, a green bean halfway to my mouth. “What?”

Brandon chuckles to himself in that self-important way assholes do that signifies that they’re totally finding their own joke amazing and you should too. “You know when you were at the far end of the table earlier I thought you’d get bigger when you got closer.”

I roll my eyes at the insanely original height joke and return to eating my food. I really do not want to engage with him because it will only get worse. He’s on the varsity team and he’s my table head; it’s the way it works around here, he has the clout. This is how a lot of the abuse works at the school; it’s passive and it’s power-driven. It’s part of the culture designed to turn us into good strong leaders who wield power with manly authority. Can you tell I really am done with this shit?

Lunch wraps up and we ensure our plates are stacked neatly for the catering staff to collect. That falls to me and the other Junior to complete. I don’t really know him much, but I think he’s one of the sportier types. As we’re leading the dining hall that very junior slides up beside me and nudges me casually with his elbow and leans in.

“Don’t feel bad about Michaels, His girl dumped him for one of the guys at St James’ Academy over the summer so he’s extra pissy.”

I’m mildly suspicious as to why this guy I don't even know feels the need to make me feel better for Brandon’s asshattery but I smirk at his words regardless. “Not sure why a girl found him attractive in the first place.”

The guy grins and nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, you get it. Kinda hard to find any positives in that meat sack. I’m Rick by the way.”

“Alex,” I offer with a shrug.

“Cool, see you around Alex.” The guy offers cheerily and jogs off to join his friends. I can’t help but feel like he was picking up something I was certainly not putting down.

At my school, our Lunch takes place in two sittings, being on the first now means that I have the following half hour to myself before class resumes at one thirty. For many, it’s time to go outside and burn off energy or hang with friends. My preference however is the library.

Our library is my favorite part of the school. It’s located on the upper floor and extends for half of the entire wing and reaches up high into the open ceiling. It’s all wood and leather and smells of ancient paper. This place feels like it’s been pulled directly from A very famous fantasy author with a penchant for turtles and disks’ idea of a potentially less-than-visible university. Obscure reference? I think you’ll find it’s an exceptional reference, read a book. Preferably not one of those Logwarts magical wizard ones written by that feckless hag.

The library has been my refuge for as long as I can remember. Whether I was a lonely Freshman trying to hide from bullies or later, during my extensive research into what I was feeling, it provided me with a safe and comforting environment where I could feel in control. Before you criticise me for using school computers to search about transgender topics, fear not; Mar A Lago has tighter security. I settle into my favorite alcove toward the back of the library and pull out the novel I’m currently reading. Half an hour doesn’t seem like a lot of time but when you can extract a moment of silence in somewhere as noisy as a high school it’s incredibly precious. Today, it seems is not that day.

“Alex, I see you’re back for another year.”

I smile and close my book. It’s one of the few members of staff I look forward to seeing each year; Mrs Inverbrook the librarian. A jovial woman in her fifties, Mrs Inverbrook is the epitome of the librarian; she flits around in big flowing skirts, cardigans, and glasses on a string. Her hair is already grey, but it’s full and beautiful in a bun behind her head. Honestly, if I’d created a fictional character to play her, it would actually be her.

“Sadly yes, but I’m always glad to be here,” I reply giving her a genuine smile. “Did you work through the summer here?”

Mrs Inverbrook sits down primly on one of the chairs nearby and nods, “Every year your summer is my inventory and audit period. The entire library gets deep cleaned and damaged books repaired or replaced, our work never stops.” her expression softens and she gives me a more motherly look. “Now tell me, are you still hiding in here this year? You know you can report any issues like this to me or the other staff.”

I chuckle to myself and shake my head. “I enjoy it here, it’s quiet. I get to read and enjoy some peace. The benefit of being out of the path of the knuckle draggers is not bad either.”

Mrs Inverbrook doesn’t entirely believe me but she nods regardless. I do feel a moment of concern as I watch her eyes rove across me with more focus. “Are you doing ok dear?”

“I’m fine,” I smile cheerfully. “Was sick over the summer, really sick. I am recovering though, I just lost a lot of weight.”

Mrs Inverbrook eyes me with undisguised suspicion for a moment but I keep my expression as honestly neutral and pleasant as I can. Of all of the staff here, she’s the one that’s spent the most time with me over the years. If any of them were going to be smart enough to spot what was happening it would be her, and that could be a problem.

“If there’s ever any trouble or any… problems. You can talk to me.” She offers carefully. “About anything. You can confide in me Alex.”

This is the point in the adventure when our brave protagonist throws her lot in with the supportive teacher and gets the help she needs to seek professional help and come out to her parents, it’s the big key moment that turns the entire story and allows our perfectly feminine little miss to be her true self at school. Well, that isn’t happening here. I haven’t gotten as far as I have without being extremely paranoid. Nobody learns about this unless I can help it. I won’t be trusting any adults, especially ones with a duty to report and or cover their own asses. That is a road to baby getting locked up in some military school or an asylum.

Think I’m overreacting? Put your very existence on the line and we’ll talk.

I know she doesn’t believe me, and I can be reasonably sure she has suspicions, but without me coming out and saying it she can’t really make the connection for certain so it will remain our unspoken secret.

“Very well,” she nods, conceding the round. “Remember Alex, I’m not far away.”

I can imagine you’re getting a pretty dismal view of me and my situation so far. Honestly, I can agree with you. In contradiction to what many of these stories suggest, the experience of being a transgender teenager isn’t particularly fun. Being one that’s stuck at a single-sex school and is trying to both actively transition and keep it secret? I’m genuinely surprised that I never lost my mind. I feel like a spy in my own life trying to live, but trying to conceal. It sure does lead to some hilarious moments though, with significant hindsight. At the time I can assure you they were far from fun for the most part.

Chapter Two - Code Ermergerd

My afternoon classes passed with thankfully little incident. The pace at which we return to the semester keeps most people focused on their work and not on each other. I’ve been surprisingly lucky so far and the real challenge will kick in after school ends for the day; girls.

Private schools generally come in two flavors and we are what is called a day school. It means you go home each day and nobody stays there like a boarding school. It’s really simple but you’d be surprised how many people think all private schools are boarding. Anyway, while my dad might let me drive to school I have to make my own way home and that is by public bus. The school has a fleet for most routes but those of us that live a bit further away take public transit. It’s not that awful, and it's more relaxed than the school buses.

The local service stops just outside the school grounds twenty minutes after class gets out and I share it with quite a lot of students from both divisions on our campus. While I narrowly dodged the girls earlier this morning in the common room, I will be stuck with them for an hour now and so far women have scored higher when it comes to smelling a rat.

Gulp.

I reach the stop about five minutes after the final bell as I’ve little reason to stick around and chat with anyone. It isn’t long before Gary arrives along with a knot of other students.

“We made it through the first day huh?” he sighs, looking like his brain has been exhausted of every neuron, all three of them.

I nod and lean back against a tree with my hands in my pockets. I’m trying to look casual like I haven’t spent most of the day on a razor’s edge. “Yeah, just a bunch more to go.”

Gary grins and bobs his head. “Yeah, I just hope they ease off the pace or i might have to actually study this year.”

“You’re never going to actually study, don’t lie slug,” Megan calls out as the sisters arrive with other members of the Girl's Division.

“I might!” Gary manages to actually look hurt. His sister’s expression explains quite clearly how little she believes that statement.

The bus arrives before long and the hoard mounts up. There are about twenty-five of us boarding and it’s pretty full but Gary and myself manage to grab a seat while the sisters take the row in front of us.

“One less day of school till Christmas time!” Megan smiles happily as she spins around to kneel backward on the seat so she’s facing us.

“You’re already focused on that? We’ve still got Homecoming, Halloween, and Thanksgiving before we get to that,” Gary pokes his sister.

I’ve always been rather jealous of the Byrne family. They might all be insane but they have a closeness that I truly long for. My family is far from terrible; my parents love us and my siblings aren’t utter assholes. The problem is that Rob is a year older than me and a senior. He and I are pretty good, but I’m not the brother he thinks I am. I think that forms a bit of a disconnect between the two of us and It makes me quite sad. My older sister Christine and I used to be super close growing up. She’s away this year in Chicago for her first year of college. We drifted apart as we became teenagers because apparently boys and girls aren’t supposed to be that close. I miss her, I really miss her.

“You guys know who you’re going to ask yet?” Kara asks, turning around more delicately in her seat. “It’s only a month or so away. I’ve already been asked by Kyle Martins.”

“Kyle?” Gary seems taken aback. “You said yes to Kyle?”

Kara rolls her eyes and gives him that ‘you’re so stupid’ look that sisters nail every damn time. “Of course not, I just said he asked me.”

“What about you Alex? Any ideas about who you might ask?” Megan asks eying me carefully. “Any girl or, boy, catch your eye?”

She’s been needling me about that for a long time. Megan has had it in her mind that I’m secretly gay and she’s the only one that’s noticed. I really don’t have the heart to tell her that I’ve been called fag, sissy and queer since my Freshman year.

“Nope, probably not going again.”

“You’ve got to go,” Kara protests with a dramatic pout. “It’s a major life event and everyone goes. You don’t even have to go with someone, plenty go by themselves or with friends!”

“It’s just a stupid school dance and a popularity contest. I don’t like or play football, and I don’t want people to think I’m cool, so why bother?” I shrug. “Anyway, you three will all have dates so which friends am I meant to go with exactly?”

Megan looks a little dejected at my flat refusal to entertain their stupid dance. She’s always fancied herself as the defacto matchmaker of the group. “I know you said you didn’t find anyone interesting but that’s got to change eventually right? You can’t go through life not liking anyone.”

I cross my arms, “I just don’t ok? It’s not like I can force myself to be into people. I’m really very happy on my own.” I attempt to keep my tone level and sincere. See, this has been my message for years because it used to be the truth. Before I started on estrogen I really wasn’t even remotely interested in anyone; male, female, or cheesecake. The idea of romance and sex just didn’t enter my little squirrel brain. Technically you would call it Acearo; Asexual and Aromantic. Honestly, I had zero interest at all. The truth is I think those people actually mentally acknowledge they have no interest, I honestly just didn’t notice. I think a large portion of that was that I genuinely was so wrapped up in my identity and my gender that sex didn’t even get any time left.

This would be likely my continuous state of being for the duration of high school if female hormones hadn’t had an unfortunate side effect: They had woken up my sexuality and unfortunately for me, it turns out I’m incredibly straight; as a girl. How did I discover this life-changing fact you ask? I was away with family on vacation and a group of boys at one of the villas near ours were regular surfers. It turns out the sight of teen boys soaking wet in nothing but boardshorts is a violent awakening for the latent sexuality of a developing girl. It honestly scared me.

Naturally, in my current situation, I can’t even consider acting on my feelings. To the world, I’m a boy and they would see me as gay. There’s nothing wrong with that obviously, but I have no interest in a boy that would be attracted to me as another boy, even as a feminine one. The only boy I could possibly even consider would be one who saw me as a girl and nothing else. Chances of that happening in an all-boys school? Zero. Stop hoping for a whirlwind steamy romance with an enlightened boy who is both hot and willing to suspend his sense of disbelief. It’s not gonna happen.

“Leave him alone Meg,” Kara interjects kindly. “Alex is who he is and he’s our friend. We’d just enjoy his company there as a friend. If he doesn’t want to go then that’s his choice.”

I groan loudly now I’m caught in the sister trap. “See Megan I can turn down because she’s easy to ignore. You Kara, I can’t because you make me feel guilty,” I muttered glumly.

Kara smiles broadly and puffs out her chest. “Mom does say that guilt is my superpower,” she agrees proudly. “I can get anyone to feel awful about anything with very little effort.”

“It’s the cute little sister thing, nothing more,” Gary mutters rolling his eyes. “Everyone just likes you because you’re the baby.”

“That one doesn’t work for me.” I offer. “I’m the baby too in my family and they just ignore me.”

“That’s because you’re so mopey and depressing,” Megan pouts, poking me in the chest with an accusatory finger. Of course, this is that moment where the unknowing friend nails me right in the boob. Not just anywhere, but dead center, nipple shot with an extended finger. The pain that courses through me is like a bolt of lightning, It’s all I can do not to yelp audibly.

Megan gives me a weird look and I brush it off by slapping away her arm and giving her the finger. “I’m not depressing!” I hiss through gritted teeth. Keeping my voice even is not easy. I’ve only ever hit myself in the boob once before. It was a month ago and I walked into a doorframe. I was on my knees for ten minutes. Right now I cannot afford to explain to them why my chest hurts. Some careful breathing and the throbbing pain is under control. For those of you that have never been poked in the boob, I can only compare it to a boy getting kicked in the junk. It really, really hurts.

“I mean with his hair and looks he should totally win baby of the family points but I think she’s right,” Gary grins. “You’re too emo and everyone just feels bad for you.”

“Can we manage a conversation where I’m not the center of attention perhaps?” I grumble, still feeling extremely sore from Megan’s prod. “What’s your common room like?” I ask the girls. They’re both in our year and I know the Girls Division has its own equivalent. It’s just far less likely for the boys to visit there and somewhat discouraged.

“It’s pretty good,” Kara enthuses. “It’s not go the snack bar like yours but it's super comfy and it’s got a bunch of work areas too for us to study if we want to.”

The topic is successfully changed and the debate moves on to the difference between our two divisions of the school. I’m able to blend into the background finally where I can avoid people asking me probing questions like ‘How are you?’.

I’ll admit, this is where I’m most comfortable; just out of the spotlight. I like being part of things but not the focus. When I’m the focus, people notice me. Noticing me is bad as you can appreciate. It’s honestly a pretty awful way to live, but it’s what I have to do to one day have the freedom I dream of. It sounds awful but I can manage.

Thirty minutes later, the bus drops us at the edge of our neighborhood and we disembark for the brief walk home. We’re some of the last kids on the bus as we live the furthest from school in this direction. It means it’s pretty quiet by the time we get off and it’s just the four of us walking. I’ve always enjoyed the trip home, it’s given me time to think, listen to music, and unwind.

Gary and Kara are walking ahead of me talking about some anime when I feel Megan slide up alongside me as we walk.

“What?” I ask, giving her a healthy dose of side-eye.

“Nothing.” She replies casually, shrugging without actually looking at me. “How’s your chest?”

Le gulp. “It’s fine, why do you ask?”

I can see a half grin on her lips. This bitch knows something and has the balls (Irony) to play coy here. “Why’d it hurt like that?”

“Because you poked me, why else? So?”

“I bet that’s why you wear hoodies too right?” she adds and my heart goes cold.

“I… don’t know what you mean?” This was most no bueno. If she was onto me this could rattle everything.

“Gynocomastia duh.” She gives me a sympathetic look and smiles. This is not what I was expecting at all and I’m utterly speechless. “Don’t tell anyone but Gary had it for a while. They got him on some stuff and it went away. I can tell from how you flipped out when I poked you; sorry by the way.”

Somehow she’s managed to grasp the wrong end of an entirely different stick. She’s noticed exactly what I was trying to hide but her brain has somehow processed it as something entirely different… yet the same. This is an outcome I had not foreseen or considered but it does give me a plausible camouflage going forward should I get the right situation.

“Um, yeah, thanks I guess,” I mumble trying to sound embarrassed for that totally boy reason. “It’s kinda humiliating, I didn’t want to tell anyone.”

Megan scoffed and patted me on the back, “Sheesh, don’t worry about it ok? You can get it fixed, no problem. Gary’s doctor said it’s normal for boys your age. Can happen to anyone.”

I looked at my feet as we walked and nodded along to what she had said. “I guess I’ll speak to my mom and see if we can see the doctor.”

“Ah you spoiled it.” Megan groaned slapping her leg in mock frustration. “If only you’d actually seemed reluctant to tell your mom.”

Kara and Gary were already walking up their driveway, lost in their own world talking about whatever weeb crap they were currently watching and totally ignoring the scene Megan was creating out here on the sidewalk. I stopped and stared at her. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Megan shook her head and gestured up to the house. “Come on up and we’re going to have a chat, Alex. I’m pretty sure you’re going to need it.”

Goose officially cooked: please send help and a fork.

* * *

Let me paint this picture for you because this is one of those pivotal moment type of deals. I’m sat in Megan’s bedroom waiting for her to get back. She’s downstairs talking to her mom and grabbing drinks for our ‘study’ time as she’s spinning it. Her room is the typical teen girl paradise of dusty pastels and white furniture that I honestly expected it to be. It’s certainly not one I’ve been in before besides my own sister’s at home but she moved on from pastels at age thirteen. The bed isn’t a canopy as thankfully she’s not that far gone to girlyness but it’s big and fluffy and honestly looks kind of amazing. I’m perched on her desk chair awaiting sentencing.

I have a deep sinking feeling that Megan has cracked my subterfuge wide open and her gynecomastia angle was some ruthlessly cunning bullshit. This chick goes up three notches on my threat board going forward. Where do we stand? I’m pretty convinced she knows I have boobs and I’m pretty convinced she knows that they’re not an accident either. How much more is entirely up for play but my cards are now a lot closer to my chest, which might be part of the problem.

The door opens as Megan returns with a pair of tall glasses of coke in her hands. Kicking it closed with a foot she offers one to me and places hers on the nightstand. I figure I can attempt to bluff her out and hope she keeps quiet or wait and see what cards she’s going to play.

“Isn’t your mom going to be worried you closed the door with a boy up here?” I ask, hoping for some reprieve from her private torture chamber.

Megan grins and shrugs nonchalantly, “She didn’t mention it actually.”

I know her inference. I’m pretty sure a lot of people think I’m gay or otherwise inclined. I accepted that possibility a long time ago because I didn’t actually care. It’s hard to be offended for being called something you aren’t when it doesn’t offend your sensibility of what you are. Being seen as gay is fine; I’ve no male ego to be offended. The simple fact is that I don’t have it in me to play both a macho girl hunter and a boy. I’m really not into them at all that way.

“So.” She announces dropping onto her bed and fixing me with a grin. “Where shall we start? Hmm, are you maybe a little warm?”

“Huh, no?”

The truth is that I am absolutely too damn warm; I’m boiling. I suspect that this skank has turned the heat up when she was downstairs because September should not feel like June. If this is her opening salvo, touché Megan, because I can feel a bead of sweat dripping down my spine.

“You sure?” She grins broadly. She reminds me of a Great White Shark circling her prey. “I know you have boobs Alex so why pretend otherwise?” Take your jacket and hoodie off, it’s just us in here.”

The problem is that I know she’s right and she knows that I know that she knows that I know… God, even I’m lost.

So far, her opening salvo is exposure; I can pretend to be fine and suffer which leaves her assumptions without much evidence other than her inference. Alternatively, I can comply and leave myself at her mercy and see what happens. I can’t lie; the idea of someone knowing about me is really quite tempting. My desire to share this part of me is so overwhelming that I’ve fought it for so long. I let my shoulders sag, ditch the suit jacket and unzip my hoodie. I give her a wilting look and shrug it off my shoulders. I feel far cooler straight away and I know she’s won.

Megan doesn’t say anything at first, but I know she’s looking at me more closely, trying to see the extent of my chest. Fuck it, I’ve hidden long enough. I sit upright, pulling myself out of my perpetual hunch, and for once, don’t hide myself. “It’s not gynecomastia.”

Megan smiles gently, “I know.”

I adjust my posture and how I’m sitting to be more comfortable more me. If I’m going to tell someone, I’m damn well going to be me when I do so. My slump and slouch might be part of my camouflage but it won’t get in the way now. Pulling my legs together and sitting up straight, I know my chest is far more visible now, I can see that from the look in her eyes. Why are words hard? You have this image in your mind of the perfect reveal, the perfect statement to declare to the world who and what you are but you just stumble like a moron because your heart is in your mouth and you’re shaking like a leaf.

“I’m trans…um, I’m a transgender, um girl? I’m a girl.” I stumble and trip over the words I’ve been desperate to say for so long and make an utter ass of it. In levels of coming out, it’s about there with tripping over my own bra, if I had one.

I can’t look up, not at Megan. I just sit here staring at my hands in my lap, feeling a hotness that isn’t part of her torture plan burning up my face as I await her response. I’m not expecting the hug that wraps around me.

“I had some idea you know, but I wasn’t certain sweetie,” Megan whispers as she envelops me in a hug. “It’s ok, you’re safe here.”

So, yeah, as you expected this is the part where I blub my guts out and break down now the emotional Rubicon has been crossed. It’s not pretty at all honestly; pretty crying is reserved for when you’re faking it. Real crying, the real emotional outpouring is ugly as hell. Snot, tears, nose blowing and strange faces are all part of the deal. After an unknown amount of time, I managed to pull myself together. I must look like a total sight to Megan but she doesn’t seem to care.

I tuck my hair back behind my ears and try and pull myself together. We’ve ended up sitting on her bed together and now that the storm has passed I can honestly say that a significant weight has been lifted from me.

“So you don’t hate me then?” I ask sheepishly, hoping that the stubborn snot bubble has disappeared finally.

Megan smiles and shakes her head. “No, of course not sweetie but… wow, this is big.”

“Yeah kinda.” I chuckle darkly. “Life ending big.”

“Your parents don’t know?” She asks gently, her expression shifting to one of surprise when I shake my head. “Wait, so… all of this.” She gestures at me. “They have no idea? How?”

“You get real good at hiding who you are over time,” I reply. “Having to hide everything about my personality, and my feelings meant that my appearance was just another level of disguise.”

“So you’re not seeing a doctor?”

“No,” I admit slowly. “Now I know you’re going to say it’s dangerous and stupid to take things without supervision but I did my research and I had no choice. There’s too much at risk; I couldn’t spend years being psychoanalyzed and told to wait for some far-off specific date or age. I couldn’t let myself…” I take a deep breath and try and fight back the tears I know are close. “I couldn’t become a man.”

Megan shakes her head and runs a finger along my cheek. “You know, now that I can see it, I don’t even know how anyone sees you as a boy.”

I laugh for the first time in our conversation. “Most people don’t, but people who know me all have this preconceived idea of what I am so they just ignore the other signs. Plus, I dress and behave to hide it all… kinda.”

“I’m so sorry for poking you,” Megan grins slyly. “I know how much that hurts.”

“Asshole,” I grumble not entirely still mad at her for it while I rub my chest. “That really does hurt, I’ve only banged them twice so far and it’s been a shock.”

“How long?” she asks.

“Six months nearly,” I admit grinning sheepishly. “It’s becoming a bit much to hide now.”

“You’re afraid to tell your parents, aren’t you? Do you think they’ll get mad?”

I nod, it’s been my fear the whole time. I’m pretty convinced it won’t fit with their plans for my life and if they don’t toss me out on my backside entirely, I’ll be sent off for correction lest the neighbors find out. “I’m afraid they’ll ship me off to military school or a therapist or something,” I murmur. I didn’t think I had a choice.”

“Oh, baby.” Megan sighs, wrapping her arms around me. “I’m the first person you’ve told aren’t I?”

I nod into her shoulder, not really able to form words at that moment and she hugs me tighter. “I’m sorry for forcing it out of you then” she mumbles into my shoulder. “I’ll help you ok? With whatever you need.”

“You don’t need to do that, I’ve managed this long on my own.”

Megan shakes her head. “With girl stuff or with hiding girl stuff, you’ve got me in your corner ok? No expectations, no requirements., I’m just here for you ok? I don’t know how I’d cope with bottling so much up and keeping it from literally everyone. Do you ever actually relax?”

I smirk at the very idea of relaxing, “When I’m asleep maybe.”

Megan looks me over critically and raises an eyebrow. “So let’s see what we’re working within either direction then… girl up or boy up, let’s see… Wait, no, ok, you’re wearing underwear right?” she jumps up and runs over to her door and ensures it’s shut. “Off with everything.”

“Everything?” I balk, “No way!”

Megan rolls her eyes. “Keep your underwear on but everything else… off,” she demands. “Look, you’re a girl, right? So am I, it’s fine. Now stop stalling and strip, I want to see what we’re working with if we’re going to try and hide this”

Reluctantly I unfasten my belt, which is mostly all that is holding up my pants, and let them drop to the floor. Stepping out, I begin to unbutton my shirt. “This feels super creepy with you watching me you know,” I grumble at her. “Can you make me feel less like a cheap hooker?”

Megan crosses her arms and taps her foot impatiently and simply raises an eyebrow. With a sigh, I slip my shirt from my shoulders and stand there in a tee and my way-too-tight boxer shorts. I can barely bring myself to look at her as I remove my clothes, I don’t know what she’s going to think of my strangeness. I turn around and pull the shirt off and cover my chest with my hands before turning back to face her. The look on her face is exactly what I was expecting; total shock.

“Dude, you’re a girl,” Megan splutters. The look on her face is genuinely one of those I wish I had a camera ready for. I don’t think I’ve seen a human being look so confused before as she stands there in front of me..

“How the hell did I not see any of this?” she murmurs walking around me. You know, because I didn’t feel enough like meat without her doing a three hundred and sixty degree assessment.

“I guess I dress to hide it.” I shrug. “Can I put my clothes back on?”

“Nah,” she replies nonchalantly as she tosses me her dressing gown. “Put this on.”

“I’m not wearing your clothes or dressing up for you.” I assert, hoping this isn’t the plot to some bad trans-fiction adventure where I get dolled up in her frillies and her mom thinks I’m some random girlfriend.

“No, don’t be daft, we don’t have enough time for that.” she offers dismissively. “You’re right though, that’s going to be hard to conceal. What are you doing for gym class?”

I tie the sash on her terry cloth dressing gown and sit back on the bed. “I have no idea.” I sigh with resignation. It’s Wednesday and I have no freaking clue what I’m going to do.”

I will admit that sitting here in her dressing gown, not actually having to hunch or compress my posture is monumentally liberating. There’s nothing boyish or girlish, it just feels gloriously comfortable.

“There is no way you can change in there with the boys or go out there in gym clothes.” Megan points out looking almost horrified. “Your secret will be exposed the second you take off your shirt, fake an illness?”

“Maybe for one, but it won’t help with the next week onward,” I admit reluctantly.

“I’ll think about it and find you something to do,” she waves the topic away. “But your appearance is going to be tough even in school. I knew something was off this morning but after this…” she gestures at my body. “I honestly can’t unsee it.”

“That ugly huh?”

Megan sits down beside me and shakes her head, “No, not ugly honey. You’re… really average; for a girl your age.”

I let out a breath I think that I’ve been holding for six months. “What the hell can I do?”

Megan seems to ponder the idea for a moment. “Short of cutting your hair off and growing a beard, not much we can do. Obviously, we need to flatten those things out.” She gestures at my left boob. “That’s the big problem, pardon the pun.”

“I’m considering using sports bandages, Rob has a bunch from football.”
Megan nods along with my idea. “That or a sports bra.”

“Someone touches my back and feels a strap and I’m dead, a bandage I can explain as an injury.” I counter.

“How big are you?” She asks, tilting her head to one side like a curious puppy. “Like, A, B?”

My expression conveys my lack of remote knowledge of the subject. That and I haven’t dared measure and make things real. I figured I’d ignore it all and hope I’d make it to college first.

Megan rolls her eyes and pulls me to my feet and ruffles the lapels of the dressing gown. “Off with this, I want to measure you.”

“Do you have to?” I moan clutching my lapels and my dignity like a fifties housewife.

Megan ignores me and pulls the tie open and forces the gown off my shoulders. “Stop being such a prude, this is normal, now stand still and let me get one of my bras.”

“I am not dressing up Megan.” I insist as firmly as I can while covering my chest. This is one of those firsts in life and a valuable lesson for anyone else out there in my position. If like me, you are having a conversation with your breasts in your hands, you really don’t have as much authority as you might expect.

“I just want to compare sizes, you’re a similar size to me in the torso so we should get a good idea of cup size at least. If we know that going forward we know what we have to work with”

Sound like a trap? Absolutely, but at the time I had no idea why. What turned out to be far more amusing was that neither did she.

Begrudgingly and not without a little huffing, I allowed Megan to strap me into one of her bras. I will admit it was quite amusing when she had to tighten the straps and use the tightest hooks to get it to fit my slightly smaller torso than her own. The cups were far emptier than hers as we both expected, but in a feeling I can only describe as both joyful and terrifying, they were far from empty.

What surprised me most was the feeling of security and support it gave me, it managed to make me feel a way I’ve never felt before. Did I put the cart before the horse with this transition crap? Absolutely. I’m doing all of this ass-backward, but standing here with my breasts in a bra felt utterly out of this world correct.

“I don’t know how I feel about this,” I admit, jiggling my chest in the bra as I stare down at my honest to god boobage. “This is crazy.”

Megan scratches her head and grins sheepishly. “No kidding.”
The mirror in front of me is complicated. I see a teenage girl in a boy's boxer shorts and a bra, but I also see myself. I see my flaws and I see what I consider my male features. It’s a confusing image but one that I accept looks more female than male currently. A small part of my brain wants to see what I look like in girl clothes, but the self-preserving part tells me how terrible an idea that is.

You think my brain is messed up? Imagine you’re taking active steps to transition and live your true life, but at the same time have to hide it. Can you actually fathom how much shame and mental trauma that generates? Answer? Quite a lot.

The very fact that I made it this far in one piece was a true shock to me in hindsight. It would take me a lot of years and a huge therapist's bill to unfuck the mess that was my self-esteem at this point in time. Honestly, I had more therapy for that than I did for being transgender. That shit was obvious.

“I don’t know how you manage,” Megan says softly, snapping me from my reverie. I wrap my arm around myself, under my breasts, for the first time not attempting to hide them or worried that they’ll show.

“I have to,” I admit sadly. “One day this will all be worth it.”

Megan smiles kindly, we’re sharing a moment. It’s really cool because it’s my first moment like this… girl to girl. We know what we each mean and we don’t need to say it and that feels unusual but correct. The problem is that the first cherished moment of shared bonding is ruined when the bedroom door slams open and Kara piles into the room at full speed. “Meg I….”

Kara slides to a halt in the middle of the floor, I’m standing there in one of Megan’s bras with my hair loose and she’s speechless. Neither of us is moving or speaking, but we’re both staring at Kara.

“Uh, Alex?” She asks slowly, very uncertainly, as though she’s suffering sudden onset brain damage.

Megan snaps out of her stupor and rushes past her sister to slam the door closed. “What the fuck Kar? Since when do you barge in here when my door is closed?”

“Uh, all the time, I thought you were alone?” She fires back totally forgetting me until my reaching for the dressing gown catches her attention. “Waitagoddamnminutewhatthefuckisthis?”

I have no way to reply to this, I’m basically frozen in panic. I’m standing here in one of my female friend's bedrooms in her bra and my underwear, my hair is down and my body is on full display. The cat that had been in the bag is now enjoying a comfortable career as a writer for the Times after publishing its best-selling autobiography, ‘How I Got out of the Bag’.

I have just enough mental fortitude to grab the gown and tie it tightly around my waist. I know how I probably look but that’s the furthest from my mind currently. I’m on the edge of hyperventilating, and I’m looking back and forth between Meg and Kara uncertain as to what’s going to occur next.

“Kara you can’t say a word about this,” Megan answers sternly, fixing her sister with a glare. “You cannot tell anyone about Alex.”

Kara turns to stare at me properly, her eyes wandering the length of my body and face. I know what she’s seeing; it’s the closest to the real me that anyone has ever seen so far. My hair is loose and I’m wearing Megan’s pastel green robe. My legs are exposed and my chest and waist are quite visible in the thin garment. I look female yet she know’s its me, Alex, her male friend. I’m well aware of what I look like this way and it makes me feel conflicted. I’m both overjoyed to be seen by other people and terrified of the potential this causes.

“We can explain,” Megan insists, eying her sister carefully. “You can’t tell Mom and Dad ok?”

Kara looks dumbfounded, she’s clearly struggling to associate what she sees with what she knows and it’s breaking her brain. If this was a cartoon, steam would be pouring out of her ears.

“Alex?” she asks dumbly, “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

My heart rate is slowing and I’m able to find my voice finally. “Kara, this is kinda complicated, well,” I pause and mentally shrug. “It’s not; I’m trans.”

“You are?” “she blinks, “How do you look like a girl? I came in here and you had boobs, and hips and…” she trails off looking vaguely confused.

I go through the entire explanation again. It’s actually a lot easier now that I’ve told Megan. She helps me with her sister and together we fill in my sordid antics up until her shenanigans with a bra, a bra that I’m still wearing. That and I’m sitting here in a short green robe… with girls, as a girl. Holy shit this is actually happening.

Megan smirks and shakes her head as I finish my retelling of the story. “You know, this entire time I’ve not seen a single male mannerism from you, it’s uncanny.”

“I mean he was never that manly before” Kara points out before she whinces visibly. “Oh gosh, Alex I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s totally fine,” I shrug, feeling my boobs jiggle in the bra. That’s a weird as-heck experience. “I mean that’s kinda a compliment.”

“It is?” Kara blinks.

I nod, “Sure it is; It would be weird if I was manly and a girl.” I shrug sheepishly.

Kara seems to get it. I think somehow she thinks this is happening against my desires. Like some genetic spaghetti that I can’t control despite my explaining quite clearly otherwise.
“This is so weird.” she breathes shaking her head.

“You’re not going to tell anyone are you?” I ask nervously. Honestly, I’m not sure what she’s going to do. Megan is one thing I hadn’t budgeted for, but Kara is truly breaking the bank.

“So will you be going to our school?”

Her question is innocent but I know there’s absolutely no way that is happening. This is where we diverge from the typical fiction fodder, sorry.

“What, and do a quick change in a phone booth each day? No way Kara. All I want to do is hide it till I get to college.”

“Hang on, your parents don’t know about… all of this?” she gestures in my general direction.

“It turns out people don’t pay that much attention when you’re a depressed loner,” I admit with a sardonic smile.

I want this to be abundantly clear, my parents don’t mistreat me or neglect me in any way at all. They were great parents in most respects. We never wanted for anything when it came to school or our health but we were actively encouraged to work to earn our own money. If I wasn’t transgender and felt like my siblings I would have had the happiest of childhoods imaginable.

The difference in my case is my whole not being their son deal. It’s gotten in the way for a long time and it’s driven a wedge between us that I hope to one day repair. I also realized that if I withdrew from my family, they wouldn’t notice my true nature. Originally this was just about my behavior, but it came in really handy when I took matters into my own hands.

This is why I can exist in a world where my mom doesn’t quite notice how feminine I’m getting or how her son has what we’ve established to be a full A cup’s worth of boobs.

“How the hell are you planning to hide all of this?” Kara asks when I’m done explaining everything, including my hair-brained scheme to stay in the boys school. “Do you even realize how crazy this sounds?”

“Not like I have a ton of choice is it?” I mutter sourly. “If I come out, I run the risk of getting sent off to be ‘fixed’ or straight up disowned. My only other option was to suffer and wait meaning that I slowly turn into my brother; neither outcome is a success really. My only choice was to do something to stop this nightmare and hope I can hang on long enough to be the real me someplace safe that I control.”

“I don’t think you’re going to survive until Thanksgiving like this,” Meg jokes softly. I know she means well, and I know deep down that’s great, but it’s also terrifying. I know that as much as I joke and make light, this is serious business.

“I’ve got to try.”

We continued to talk while I got myself dressed again. I’m sure you want me to say something like ‘It’s all girls here, tee hee’ but it was simpler to say that I had nothing left to hide, aside from one thing nobody in that room wanted to see, including me.

Kara shook her head when I was fully dressed again in the clothes I’d arrived in. “Honestly, I can’t see you as male anymore babe, I know you look the same as this morning but It’s like… we opened the box on Schrödinger’s experiment.”

“So I’m a poisoned cat?” I frown, recalling the whole cat in a box with poison experiment we’d been covering in Physics. I adjust the tie around my neck and does rather feel more like a noose after this afternoon’s shenanigans.

“No you’re not a cat dumbass,” Kara grins, “I just… I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner.”

“I didn’t exactly want you to, that was the point.” I roll my eyes.

Megan elbows her sister and tosses me my bag. “We’re going to play dumb with Gary and everyone else, got it?” We’re going to keep Alex’s cover, as long as… I see her literally freeze over the pronoun like it’s a landmine. I know she wants to say she, but she’s resisting the urge for my sake. “he, needs us to.”

I gave her a grateful smile in return and heaved the bag over my shoulder and made my exit. I jogged down the stairs and was almost at the door when I heard my name called from the family room.

“Alex, that you? What are you doing here?” Gary wandered into the hallway in dirty sweatpants with a bag of chips in his hand and his xbox headset over his ears, the classiest example of manhood.

“I was hanging with Meg, why?”

Gary gave me a funny look, “You never hang out with my sister bro, what’s up?”

“They’re ahead of us in physics, I wanted her notes is all.”

Gary seems to accept my academic ploy without question. The idea of schoolwork to him at this time of day is difficult to stomach so he reverts to disinterest. “Right, ok, well, see you tomorrow I guess.”

I wave and beat a retreat before he can question why, in the first week of school, the girls are somehow ahead of us academically. My friend is wonderful, but he’s not the brightest sometimes. Gary if you ever read this… surprise I guess?

I make it home a little after five and head straight up to my bedroom almost immediately. Mom is home and making dinner and my sibling creature Rob is somewhere in his cave judging by the awful music I can hear through the walls.

I ditch my school clothes quickly behind the locked door of my room. Somehow my chest feels naked now without Megan’s bra. I can’t think about such things; going down that road will get me caught. I climb into my customary oversized hoodie and baggy jeans. They are as much a practical disguise as they are a comfort to me. It used to be that I wore clothes like this to hide my shitty body; it let me pretend I didn’t look like a boy. It’s ironic that the same clothes now mask my burgeoning womanhood. I could make a long and complicated analogy about how one prison can serve two purposes, but that would take effort and I’m a teenager, ok?

I have a couple of hours before dinner, so I settle down and get to work on my assignments. First day you say? Yeah, we do, welcome to private school.

* * *

“How was school boys?”

My brother Rob shrugs at our father’s question and stuffs more potato into his gaping maw. “Ok I guess,” he mumbles, barely managing to avoid spraying the table.

“Robert, don’t talk with your mouth full!” my mother chides from across the table. “What about you Alex dear?”

I shrug and swallow my own food like a human being with decent table manners.“It was okay I suppose. Not much to really tell I’f I’m being honest; it was only the first day after all.”

“Why can’t you answer normally like your brother?” Mom returns her attention to my more unevolved sibling. “He took the time to swallow his food before speaking in full sentences.”

Rob rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He’s heard this story a million times. Mom has always resorted to playing us against the other. This is one of those parental guilt tactics that moms are so amazingly good at. Somehow, one of us will have screwed up and the other will be a paragon of perfection, this will be pointed out to us ad nauseum. At the time I hated it, but what teen didn’t? Many years later, game would respect game.

“You trying out for football this year?” Dad asks me casually, glancing in my direction. He has done this every year since I started middle school and he’s convinced that I’ll turn into Rob with just a little socially acceptable violence in padding. By golly it made him the man he is today apparently and he’s desperate to turn his youngest into a chip off the old block. There was once a time when I would placate him and offer excuses. If I make the right noises I’ll get him off my back, but these days I just tell him the truth.

“No Dad,” I sigh. “I’m still not even slightly interested.”

“I don’t see why not,” he counters undaunted. “It did great things for your brother.”

“And my brother has the IQ of a gas station corndog, what’s your point?”

Rob flicks a slice of carrot at me from across the table and sneers. “At least I’m not a scrawny little dweeb that needs his ass saving every day.”

Mom’s glare halts Big Brother in his tracks. This is pretty typical of us honestly, and I don’t hate it. Our family is as dysfunctional as any, but we still love each other. Rob has defended me at school, and I’ve been to his games to watch him play. I may not really be his brother but I do love him, even if I really enjoy pressing his buttons.

We finish dinner and go our separate ways for the evening. Mom and Dad settle in front of the TV and I make best speed for my room; my loner disguise is pretty effective these days in distracting from the truth of the matter. I can tell Mom is worried at times, but there’s not much I can do. We’re a traditional family, and my parents have good serious careers.

We’re loosely Methodist and only tend to do church on major holidays or events. Thank god we’re not some of those loopy wackjobs that are starting to spread across the country. I’m pretty sure I’d be dead already if we had one of those fire and brimstone pastors. Between our general ‘Christian moral values’ as a family and the company my parents keep, I’m well aware that my coming out would be a problem.

Whatever their personal feelings about trans people or me in particular, I know the truth coming out would affect their lives and people’s views of them. Dad and his job, Rob and his classmates… Mom would probably be cast out by her friends. I shouldn’t be putting everyone else before me, but I can’t help it; it’s always the way I’ve been.

The evening is quiet and thankfully free from new drama. It’s only the first day of school and everything’s already fallen apart. People have noticed some changes, though thankfully not what those changes mean. Two whole people, two human beings know my secret. I’m not sure how to mentally unpack that one, but considering they’re cool about it, I guess that’s… good?

I guess we shall see what the future holds, but for now, bring on the black oblivion of sleep. Something tells me this isn’t going to get any easier with time.

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Fake It Till You Make It - 3 - Liar Liar, Panties On Fire

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Three - Liar Liar, Panties On Fire

Now, this isn’t the kind of transgender tale where I go crazy with details and describe every single day in infinite minutia. You won’t find me describing my breakfast or my morning shower unless it becomes relevant and dear god I hope it doesn’t. That would truly be a tragic state of affairs indeed. If you only came here to read about descriptions of my panties and the frilliness of my frock you would be a little disappointed I’m afraid.

The second day of school was considerably easier than the first now that the great social bandaid had been torn off the collective student body. People, it seemed, were paying each other far less attention now the threat of actual schoolwork existed. They had caught up with the people they wanted to and anything weird had been processed. It was time to get back to business and while our teachers were willing to give us the inch of a day, but not the mile or two to get re-acclimatized to the system.

The sisters didn’t join us before school today, so I was saved from the awkwardness of socializing with people that both knew and didn’t know about my ‘inner reality’ (Pick your choice of metaphor here). That entire concept was new for me; until this point, nobody at all had known and it had been comfortable in its own way. Sure, it was terrifying, but it was a fear I was used to; I knew its limitations.

Now I was in the wilds of the unknown. Other people had a controlling hand on my secrecy and it was terrifying. A good part of me was relieved that someone else now knew; it did however also create far more opportunities for exposure. If I wanted to keep this under wraps I would have to keep my guard higher than ever.

Homeroom was a non-event and I managed to suffer through my morning classes with little to no fanfare. Education was back on the menu and so far, thankfully, I’m back to being nobody important. I’m very grateful that to most of my classmates, I am just that runt Winters. Nothing to see here folks! Nothing at all!

Lunch and the antics of Count Brandon Von Fükwitt went without any real incident today. Turns out, doing what he asks takes a lot of the sting out of his behavior and he really can’t emasculate someone that doesn’t want to be masculine. Is it irritating? Yes, but it’s easier than causing a fuss. If I keep my mouth shut I’m less tempted to say something stupid.

My major problem with bullies is normally my mouth; it’s big. Not physically of course, but metaphorically it’s huge. When people are assholes I have a troubling tendency to call them on their shit. If you combine this with my insignificant stature then this is a situation that typically ends with me getting a good hiding. As such, I’ve learned to keep my mouth closed and suffer in silence.

The truth is that I’ve also discovered that if you don’t react, they generally leave you alone. Is this approach right? No, of course not, but high school is about survival. All I know is that one day I’m going to be the real me, and someone that will stand up for herself. Until then, I’ll make do so that I can see that day.

My afternoon consisted of history and German classes. Neither of which contained any transgender drama as you might imagine. I would describe them in detail but you would be quite bored unless you have more than a passing interest in describing your lunch or the First World War… or describing your Mittagessen im Ersten Weltkrieg. No? I didn’t think so.

Truth be told, after last night, the moment I was most worried about was the bus ride home. With my history, you can imagine I’m slow to trust people. I can’t lie though, a tiny part of me is really excited to let this out finally.

I follow Gary out to the bus stop a little reluctantly after the final bell. I trusted Meg and Kara most days of the week and with almost anything. The crux of the matter isn’t that I believe they will deliberately out me, but rather, that they would slip and make a mistake. The entire reason I had kept my secret to myself was the same reason that spies kept close circles; the fewer people knew something, the fewer chances for it to be revealed. Granted, three wasn’t significant, but it now included two people with far less invested in the game than me.

The girls were already waiting by the time we arrived at the stop and I gave them a little embarrassed wave before stopping myself as I realized how girly it probably looks.

“Uh, Hey.” I gruff out in my manliest voice. For the record, it’s not very manly.

“Hey Alex,” Meg grinned. “Gary not bore you to death yet?”

“He’s been trying but somehow, my dreams have yet to come true.”

Gary barely has time to scowl at me as the bus pulls up beside us. We all piled aboard for our journey home amongst the throng of school kids all desperate to get away from the place we tolerate.

“Alex, come sit with me,” Meg called grabbing me by the hand and dragging me down into a row of seats towards the rear of the bus.

I shoot her a hard look that I hope translated into Meganese to ‘Don’t say or do anything weird.’ but her stupid grin seemed to suggest otherwise. Kara and Gary following behind drop into the row in front and we set off for home.

“So why the hell are you suddenly so friendly with my sisters dude?” Gary asks, turning around in his seat to face us.

“Can I not be?” I ask innocently.

“We’ve got a similar study style and Alex is helping me with Algebra.” Megan offers her brother, smiling innocently.

Gary frowns and looks between the pair of us. “You said you were getting Physics notes from her yesterday.”

Shit, consistency of story is the first place a good conspiracy falls apart.

“Uh.”

Gary’s eyes narrow. “Dude, Meg… you’re not…”

I look at Gary, Gary looks at Megan, Megan looks at Kara, Kara looks at me, I look at Megan, Megan looks at Gary, Gary looks confused. Three of the four of us burst out laughing, can you guess which?

“Oh my god ew.” Megan gags. “I’m not… I’m not interested in Alex like that.” she rolls her eyes.

“Can’t they just be friends Gary?” Kara asks without looking up as she flicks through a graphic novel. “Boys and girls can be friends.”

“They’re up to something, I can tell.” Gary narrows his eyes and looks at us both. “I don’t like it.”

Megan shrugs nonchalantly. “If you must know, Alex is helping me with Algebra this semester. His Physics story was a cover because he didn’t want to embarrass me. I really can’t afford to fail this class and he’s just better than I am.”

Nice Megan; self-deprecating, logical, and most important for a good cover; boring as hell. Who really wants to dig into remedial algebra lessons? Nobody. This girl has a future as an intelligence operative.

Gary shakes his head and sticks his headphones before proceeding to ignore us.

Meg glances over at me and smiles. Suddenly I don’t feel quite so alone. She knows what we avoided and she knows what it means to me. I take my comments back; having someone who is in the loop and knows why it means so much to me is more important than I realized. I’m not alone now.

* * *

Wednesday Morning started out exactly like Tuesday; everyone in the common room was mostly focused on their own business and gravitated towards their individual friend groups. That’s one of the real benefits of high school if you want to go unnoticed; you might all know each other, but generally, people stick to their cliques and don’t bother the others. For me, that’s the nerds. I’ve told you all of this before, but it’s the best place to hide if you don’t fit in. Even in my precarious state of existence, there's always someone weirder than you.

Homeroom completed, we were kicked out and sent off on our way for our first classes. For me this morning that was Chemistry. I’ll admit, it’s not my strongest subject, but I’m working hard at it. I’ll need a reasonable grade for medicine and I am maintaining a 3.9 GPA at the moment. I need to improve that if I want my best chance and it won’t be coming from Phys Ed that’s for darn sure.

Speaking of which, today is the first Gym class of the semester. I have yet to find a valid excuse to avoid it and I'm running out of time. It starts after lunch, so I have the morning classes to work out something viable or I’m totally screwed. Megan is absolutely right; there really is no way I can actually change with the guys. It would be like throwing a Prada bag to a gaggle of Karens.

Have you ever tried to get out of something you didn’t want to do? It ends up just turning your mind into absolute brain fog. You become so hyper-focused on finding a solution that you miss everything obvious and simple. Had I considered just faking an illness that day and skipping? Sure, but when your mother is a Doctor that idea is basically impossible. The same goes for just skipping class or ditching after lunch. At a school like this, that kind of thing makes it back to your parents almost instantly and results in international sanctions from the parental UN Council. No, any solution I come up with needs to come from within school and there alone. More importantly, it has to pass the parental smell test… Difficult eh?

Classes finish up and I’m sitting at the lunch table. Honestly, I’m considering going home early and just not showing up. Sure I’d take some heat for it, but so far, it's been the best idea I can come up with. I may get found out but it will buy me some precious time. I simply cannot get exposed at school above all else.

“God this fish is awful,” Lord Brandon sneers, shoving his plate to one side. “I’m shocked they’d serve this to us with what my Father pays.”

Rick, the junior I met the other day, takes a bite and chews thoughtfully. “I don’t know, it tastes fine to me.”

I wonder if this is my opportunity. It always works in the movies right? “I don’t know,” I offer drawing their attention as I push my half-finished plate aside. “It does taste funny to me,” I mutter. “I don’t feel fantastic either.”

“Aw, little baby got a funny tummy?” Brandon sneers. “We can’t possibly have that now can we?”

Yes, the guy who literally started this fish discussion is now using it as a stick to beat me with, what’s new in hypocrisyville today?”

“I think I need to go to the bathroom. I’ll catch up with you guys,” I mutter and slide out from the bench. I start walking briskly back towards the main door as Brandon calls out behind me. “You can’t leave yet, we’re not done!”

He’s not entirely wrong, we should typically wait till lunch is complete before leaving but it's not a black and white rule. My plan is simple; head to the nearest bathroom and get myself to throw up. It’s risky, and I hate the idea but it's got a real shot of working. As it stands it’s my only remaining option and it requires a bit of prep work.

Have you ever tried to make yourself throw up? It’s surprisingly difficult when push comes to shove. You have to fight your natural urge to stop yourself gagging and force yourself to leave your fingers in your throat. You’d think it would be easy with how bad this bathroom smells.

Don’t misunderstand, the bathrooms here are spotless and the school is a very hygienic place. It is difficult for me to explain quantifably, but since starting hormones, my perception of smell has shifted dramatically. Now quite a lot of things smell different and boys are a major one. They are a confusing mixture of interesting and disgusting scents that both enthrall and appall me in equal measure. One of the ones that ironically makes me gag is the overpowering stench of the boy's bathroom. The problem is on its own it’s not quite enough to get the job done.

I managed to keep my fingers in place long enough to trigger convulsions of my stomach right as the door to the bathroom creaked open. “Alex?” A voice calls out, reverberating off the tile walls and high ceiling. It sounds familiar but I can’t place it while I’m on the porcelain telephone to god.

I moan out something unintelligible after returning my lunch to the toilet bowl. The door moves gently against the lock as someone tries the handle. “Alex, are you alright?”

“Threw up,” I mutter wiping my mouth on some toilet paper. “I feel like crap.”

“Open the door, Alex, you need to go to the nurse.”

I reach behind me from my spot on the dubiously clean floor and unlatch the door. It opens carefully and Rick from Lunch leans in He frowns when he sees me on the floor. “Are you ok? You took off so fast I had to come and check.”

I glance back at the toilet and make a face, “the fish wanted a word.”

Rick nods as though he expected this. “Come on, I’m taking you over to the nurse’s office.”

“I’ll be fine,” I grimace, “it’s not worth the bother.”

Now you see, there’s a certain level of protest expected when faced with an offer like that. As a boy, I would want to seem tough and unbothered by such trivialities as food poisoning. A real man would shrug it off and go back down the mines to work his shift. If I’m too quick to accept his suggestion it might seem like the act that it actually is.

Well, act of sorts. My already irritated stomach convulses a second time driving me into a series of dry heaves over the bowl in full view of this guy. Not exactly my proudest moment. Hey, at least he didn’t hold my hair. When I’m convinced I’m done I slump back down and wipe my mouth. “Ugh.” I groan. It's not my finest idea this.

“Yeah, you’re fine,” Rick fires back. “Cut the bull and let me take you.”

I nod weakly, now feeling far sicker than I had planned. Without waiting for me to stand, Rick pulls me to my feet with surprising ease and supports me with an arm around my torso. I nearly die of panic as I realize his left arm is literally inches below my breasts. Not thinking I grab his arm and hold on tight. It looks like I need support staying upright but it’s really to make sure he doesn’t touch something awkward..

“Steady dude, I’ve got you. Let’s get you over to the nurse.”

Rick leads me out to the door and back into the hallway. Our sitting is still in lunch and the others are mostly outside meaning that the halls are relatively quiet. Before long, we’re exiting our school and walking across the central quad to the Girl’s Division opposite.

I didn’t mention that, did I? The school nurse and her clinic are located in the Girls Division which belongs to our campus. I used to love going to see her when I was younger because, for a few minutes, I could pretend I belonged there with the other girls. There was something special about closing my eyes and only hearing female voices; it felt right.

“I can’t stick around too long,” Rick continues the one-sided conversation he’s held since we left the bathroom. “I have football practice this afternoon and the coach will kill me if I’m too late.”

“Yeah, that’s ok. I mean, thanks, I guess.” I mutter. “You didn’t need to bother really.”

“Sure I did, don’t be stupid Alex! I couldn’t just leave you there in a filthy toilet stall.”

For someone I barely know, he seems to care an awful lot. This seems unusual in my eyes as life has taught me that nobody really cares unless they have to. That people only ever do nice things if they want something, or they feel that they are obligated. The very idea that someone might help to simply be a decent human being feels rather suspicious to me.

Entering the school and signing in at the reception, we navigate the ground floor corridors before arriving outside the nurse’s office. Rick uses his free hand to open the door and guides me bodily inside. The nurse looks up from her novel and suddenly appears far more focused as she spots me being helped in by the huge football player.

“Oh dear, come on, set her down over here.”

Her? Oh shit.

Rick it seems, hasn’t noticed the perilous pronoun and proceeds to explain what’s going on. “We had fish at lunch, some guys were saying it tasted weird and then Alex took off to the bathroom, I found him on the floor throwing up.”

The nurse seems to take a better look at me then and I see the confusion in her eyes. “Right, very good of you to bring, him, over. Let’s get him sat down over here,” she adds gesturing to an exam table.

Rick guides me over to the table and helps me to sit down. I let my shoulders sag and generally hunch myself over as though I’m in pain. “Thanks.” I smile weakly. “Look, I’m sorry for wasting your lunch break.”

Rick shakes his head and grins. “Hey, it’s nothing dude, I just wanted to make sure you’re ok right? Brandon was making cracks about you being a wuss but when you didn’t come back I just wanted to make sure. Good job I did huh?”

“Brandon’s an asshole,” I mutter darkly.

Rick smirks and nods. “True enough, he’s the one guy we all love to dump in practice.”

“Right, off you get dear, leave me with…?”

“Alex,” Rick answers for me.

The nurse smiles. “Alex, right. Well, thank you, young man, off you go.”

Rick beats a retreat with a little wave and I get the weirdest feeling ever… like I was glad he was there... What the heck is wrong with me?

The nurse isn’t some old fuddy stuck here in a high school after she retired from a real job. No, she’s an honest to god real nurse. In her mid-forties, she’s been here as long as I was with the school. Apparently, her mom was the nurse here before she was. When she retired, Nurse Carter left her job at the local hospital to take her place; tradition is weird at this school.

“So funny fish eh Alex?” the nurse asks as she begins examining me. “That boy said you’ve been vomiting?”

I nod weakly. “Yeah, just once or twice, but I feel kinda awful.”

“You do look a bit pale,” Nurse Carter muses as she checks me over. “I’ll need you to lose some of these layers,” she adds. I’d like to take a look at your tummy.”

Fuck… Plan A to exit the frying pan has left me squarely in the fire that was heating the pan in the first place. You’d have thought an intelligent girl like me might have foresaw that visiting the nurse might put me in the crosshairs of some form of exam? It’s not like I’m medically naive; as mentioned, my mom is a doctor and I’ve grown up around them my entire life. The very thing I needed to skip gym for might well get spotted.

I shrug out of my suit jacket and unzip my hoodie. If I’m able to keep my shirt mostly on I should be fine.

“Lie back and lift your shirt up, dear.”

I recline on the exam table and lift my shirt to expose my abdomen. Thankfully the bunched fabric keeps my chest covered and I’m not raising it any higher. The nurse palpitates (that’s doctor for presses) around and seems to frown a few times. “Ok, you can put your shirt down, dear.”

I sit up and wince a little. Turns out that forcing yourself to vomit can pull some muscles. Nurse Carter interprets this as more discomfort.

“I can give you something for the nausea, but you’ll want to stay here for a while so I can monitor you. I think you’re going to be fine; your body rejected whatever it was pretty quickly and there’s no indication that it is a deeper problem.”

“Yeah, it wanted out pretty quick.” I agree weakly. “I’m really sorry to be a fuss.”

“It’s nothing at all dear. Come on through to the other room and take one of the beds for an hour or so, alright?”

Result! Our school infirmary has a small ward for kids who need to rest or stick around to get collected by a parent or ambulance. In cases like mine, it’s just so she can keep an eye on me until she’s satisfied I won’t implode on the spot. Either way, the result I wanted is here; a valid excuse to not be present for Phys Ed. If I miss the start, she’s not going to clear me to rejoin the others part way through. To borrow a football metaphor, it was a hail Mary pass in the 90th minute and I made it stick for the touchdown. Look at me talking sports like a real boy!

A quick injection and I’m shuffled off to a bed in a quiet corner of the little infirmary. Settling into the creaky metal hospital bed I feel pretty smug about the outcome of this one. Have to admit, I didn’t expect Rick to help me sell it, nor for him to care that much. He’s not anyone I really know that well; I’ve seen him around but we don’t share any classes. Lunch this semester is the first time we’ve interacted for an extended period of time and he seems right. Generally, I avoid the football players, they tend to run short on brain cells; just look at Rob!

The bed is not exceptionally comfortable but it does the job. Soon, I’m dozing lightly in the dim light of the room. Honestly, other than a few sore muscles and a little lingering stomach pain from forcing myself to vomit, I only feel extreme relief. This will only work once and I’ll have to find something else for next week; a new solution of some kind. Perhaps with a bandage, I can bind things and get away with changing in a bathroom. Who knows, but I’m not going to be able to dodge this all year. It is a grade after all and I will need it.

While I’m lying there kind of sleeping I can hear the nurse on the phone. From the sound of it she’s on the phone to the office; likely telling them where I am so that I’m not marked tardy. The phone clicks then I can hear her dialing again.

“Hello, Mrs Winters?”

Oh shit.

“Oh, sorry Doctor, perfect!”

Oh fuck.

“Well It’s not an emergency, but I have Alex here. Yes, well… no, he’s fine really. He’s had an upset stomach, likely a mild case of food poisoning… Yes, yes, I already spoke to the kitchen staff and the office. I’m informing you if you wish to collect… no, of course. I gave him a low dose of Zofran, he should be fine. No intestinal hardness so given that he expelled… yes, I agree, no real danger being here. I will Ma’am, of course.”

There’s silence for a moment as I assume my mother speaks with Nurse Carter.

“One last thing Doctor Winters… yes… Well, when I examined Alex I noticed that he’s severely lacking in muscle tone, I might recommend a visit to his primary care physician. For a boy his age he’s a little on the lower end of the spectrum. If I didn’t know better I might think… perhaps, yes… okay… I will do that, thank you… Goodbye.”

The Frying pan to fire jump was only briefly dodged as I apparently tripped and dove head-first into a new pan full of boiling cabbage. When it comes to her kids, Doctor Mom doesn’t comply with any of the known Hague or Geneva Conventions on armed conflict.

“I’ll let him know. Ok, thank you Doctor Winters, Goodbye.”

I hear the phone hit the cradle then a chair roll as I close my eyes and pretend to be resting. I can hear the nurse walk into the room and tap lightly on the door frame. “Alex, are you asleep dear?”

I crack an eye and look across at her innocently.

“I just spoke with your mom, she’s not able to get away from the hospital and your dad is at work, she said you have a key?”

“Yeah, we all do.”

Nurse Carter smiles. “Great, I’m going to have the office call a cab and have them take you directly home. Rest up for the afternoon and we’ll see you bright and early tomorrow. I’d advise you to visit your urgent care if necessary but with Mom around… I think you’ll be fine.”

So yeah, Mom being a doctor is not ideal when you’re paying hormonal buckaroo with your own puberty but surprisingly unless it’s their specialty or they look too hard, doctors are as blind as anyone else. Plus, Mom is a surgeon, so she focuses on the physical not the hormonal. How convenient would having an Endocrinologist for a mother be? Her specialty or not, whatever the nurse was waffling on about might subject me to a parental exam, however. This might present a problem, but I can work my way around it if I have to. A tantrum isn’t ideal, but I can potentially argue that I want a neutral doctor to see me naked if it comes to it. Unlike a mother, they have to keep schtum, good old Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act.

* * *

I was lying on my bed later that afternoon watching TV when my cell phone rang. It wasn’t a number I recognized, but I’m a curious teen with no sense of caution so I pick up anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hey, is that Alex?”

It’s a male voice that I’m not 100% positive I recognize, but It seems familiar.

“Yes, who’s this?”

“Rick, from School?”

“How’d you get my number?”

The voice chuckles, “I spoke to your friend Gary. He was hesitant to give it to me, he figured I wanted to kick your ass or something. I managed to convince him I just wanted to make sure you were good. I heard you got sent home?”

I must make a note to remember to kill Gary later.

“Oh, yeah I did. She gave me something for the nausea and sent me home to rest. Go to the urgent care if I turn into a scene from Aliens, you know?”

“That’s good,” Rick replies sounding pleased. “I didn’t see you come back from the nurse so… yeah I dunno, just wanted to make sure you hadn’t died or something.”

“Yeah, if I had I think we’d have heard. The food’s not great, but it’s yet to be weaponized.”

“Well uh, I’m glad you’re doing ok, um, I’ll let you rest ok?” I’m not sure why but suddenly Rick seems awkward. Then again why he would even call to check on me is a bit unclear.

“Ok, well thanks for checking, see you around dude.”

He hangs up and I stare at the handset for a minute feeling a little bemused. It was nice of him to check on me and it reminds me of just how easily he lifted me off the floor. A weird conversation to be sure. I actually feel happier knowing someone cared, even if I did fake it. Not even the presenter of the number himself Gary bothered to check.

Just before six that evening there’s a knock and the door creeks open as Mom sticks her head inside my bedroom. “Darling, everything ok?” Still in her scrubs from the hospital, she’s got this concerned look on her face that usually means she’s worried about me. Given today’s activities it's warranted for once.

“Yeah Mom, I’m fine, really.” I offer her a smile to show I’m really alright. “Something weird for lunch but I feel fine now. It just got me all out of shape for a while.”

Mom makes her way into the room and plops down on the end of the bed beside me. She focuses her attention on me in that motherly way that makes me feel protected. “You sure? No persistent effects or nausea?”

I shake my head. “I feel fine now, a little sore maybe but that’s it.”

“Hmm,” she murmurs. Despite years of medical schooling, on-the-job training, and advanced technology at her fingertips, she sticks the back of her hand on my forehead and looks thoughtful for a second as she judges my temperature by hand, literally.

“Seems normal, no fever, no other reported cases of food poisoning. Now I wonder, and this is just me hypothesizing, is this some grand conspiracy to get out of gym class?”

Crap.

“No, I actually threw up.” I protest, coloring up immediately.

Mom frowns and shakes her head. “The nurse seemed to agree with you, but she did seem a little concerned that you were a little underdeveloped… physically.”

Mom has literally no filter when it comes to medical matters, she couldn’t even soften a blow like that even if it might have offended me. I mean, what mother thinks it’s cool to tell their teenage son that they’re physically underdeveloped? That shit is how people get a complex.

She continues unbidden. “I was… well, your father and I know you’re not the biggest boy, we were worried that maybe you felt inferior to the others?”

How to best play this? This question represents the trans teenager’s golden opportunity to come out. It’s either the best segway into the, ‘but I’m really a girl mom,’ pathway or the point where you vehemently deny femininity because girls stink! The third pathway is my choice, obviously, I can’t do anything simple, can I? I’m surely not going to admit to my feelings but it doesn’t mean I can’t lay some groundwork. Honestly, during this period of time I was doing whatever I could to try and feel them out, hoping some cosmic sign would show they loved me enough to understand. Sounds pessimistic, but it turns out that fear makes you incredibly blind.

“Mom, I promise I was actually sick ok?”

Statement = True.
Causality = Not Relevant, shut up.

“Yeah, I’m much smaller than most of the guys and sure, I’m not exactly a super sports enthusiast. I can promise you I don’t feel inadequate or less than the other boys; I’m kinda fine with being on my own path.”

This is my way of saying that yes, I have noticed a variance from the standard type (In this case because I caused it) and that I’m ok with that situation (reason; unclarified). I acknowledge a deviation away from a stereotypical male behavioral pattern and that I have a diverging pathway. In isolation it’s neutral, but in context, I’m testing the water and laying the groundwork. If they find out one day, there will have been signs. (Huge neon pink ones)

Mom eyes me for a moment before pursing her lips and nodding, seemingly satisfied. It seems to have had the desired effect for the time being. “I’d still like to book you in with Doctor Harris anyway, I want to make sure nothing is wrong with you overall.”

Not unexpected outcome, can circumnavigate issue, minor concern going forward.

“Sure Mom, I’ll see him, but I’m okay really, I promise.”

Mom ruffles my hair and smiles fondly. “Ok kiddo, I do worry though. You get some rest and I’ll bring you up something light for supper.”

God, I want to tell her the truth so badly it hurts. What hurts me more is that I lean heavily on the belief that her love is conditional on my being a boy and being normal. I cherish that feeling of love, possibly more, knowing that it could all disappear one day. I fear coming out in equal parts because I fear their reaction and also, perhaps more importantly; what society will put them through.

Mom heads off to acquire sustenance for child number three seemingly satisfied with my answers. I feel relieved; I’ve seen off the risk for this week, but I have so many more to face. Not sure what I can do, but I will find a way I’m sure. This is going to be the hardest semester of my life. When I told myself I could do this and manage to keep it quiet for two whole years until college I must have been insane.

You think this story needs more romance, skirt spinning, and girl bonding, don’t you? Yeah, there’s some coming, but fear not. I’m still trying my hardest to hide the obvious, so I’m currently in my ‘act as manly as possible and hope nobody notices era’. This is apparently only working in my own head.

* * *

The remainder of the week was almost business as usual now we had found our rhythm again. The routine of school has kicked back into full flow and we are firmly focused on our work. I wasn’t kidding when I said private schools don’t mess around with easing you back into the semester. They know our parents want their money’s worth and work us like child slaves. At this age too, they’re focused on getting us ready for college. At a school like this, that’s an expectation, not an option.

It’s exactly this workload that has me snowed under in the library on Friday afternoon the first week back. I have a free period after lunch and I’m working on knocking out a History essay and a handful of Algebra problems so that I don’t have to waste my weekend with this stuff.

“Hey Alex,”

I glance up and see Rick staring at me from the end of the table. This dude is turning into a bad penny. “Can I help you?”

“Nothing, wanted to say hi, homework?”

This is suspicious. Nobody just wants to say hi to me, I’m not that important.

“Yeah, a bunch of stuff I want to get rid of before the weekend, you know?”

Take the hint buster, clear off, and let me get this essay done. What does he do? The asshole pulls out a chair and sits down.

“So how come I’ve not seen you at lunch since Fishageddon?” I ask, not looking up from the math problem I’m solving.

“Coach has us doing extra drills over lunch breaks in the run-up to the first game. Kinda sucks but it should pay off.”

“This is why I don’t take part in any sports; Nobody can take away my free time.”

Rick chuckles, “You come to the games though right? I think I saw you at a few last year.”

“My brother is on the team; Rob Winters.”

“That’s it!” I thought you looked familiar!”

I look up from the problem I was working on and raise an eyebrow. “I look nothing like that anthropological divergence.”

“Oh!, yeah, no, I mean, there’s a family resemblance of course you don’t look like him. I didn’t mean….”

I’m not sure if he’s stupid or blind, or a combination of all three. I just stare at him while his brain tries to find a gear. Why is this confident, sporty, popular guy tripping over himself?

Rick grins and seems to collect himself. “Sorry, I swear that makes sense in my head. But hey, means you’ll be there tonight, right? For the game?”

I give him a cautious look and narrow my eyes. “Uhuh, most likely yes.”

Rick grins and nods to himself, “Cool! Look, I’ll let you get finished Alex, maybe see you later I guess?”

With a dumb half-wave and a grin the errant jock departs and lets me get back to my work in peace. I still have no idea what the hell he wanted.

This is future Alex speaking, well, I’m Holly at this point… but that’s not exactly a spoiler is it? Timelines are confusing leave me alone. While you, dear reader might find the developing narrative exceedingly obvious, Alex doesn’t see anything yet. At this point, our hapless heroine is only just clawing her way out of the swamps of asexuality to discover that she finds boys attractive. She hasn’t yet gained any ability to detect when a guy is hitting on her or showing interest. What makes it even funnier is that at this point in time is that some guys don’t even realize how they’re treating her/him either. It’s comedy gold in hindsight, but to all parties involved at the time, it's uncomfortable and strange.

Why am I talking to you now from the future? I don’t know, perhaps I’m bored and there’s a rift in the multiverse. Yes, those films all happened, but you have to remember back in little Alex’s mind, it's thankfully back when superhero movies were few, and largely awful.

* * *

Living so far from school makes traveling back for games a huge pain in the ass. I only go to these games for two reasons; one, to support my brother. I might not be like him, but I do love Rob. There’s absolutely no way I wouldn’t want to cheer him on. He’s actually pretty good for an unevolved ape man too. The second and most advantageous reason is that Dad is convinced that I at least like sports. Which, in the absence of playing them, somewhat gets him off my back.

Do you think I watch it? Well, yes, I do. I even have a vague idea of what goes on in a football game, color me different from most trans-fiction protagonists who are so desperate to be as feminine as possible. Girls can watch sports too!

There are still the last vestiges of summer in the air as we make our way into the stadium just before six that evening. It’s the first game of the season so it’s always been a pretty popular one with the students and families. We’re playing a local public high school and a lot of their people have shown up too. I think they just enjoy using our facilities.

“Alex! Over here!”

I glance over my shoulder and spot Kara and Meg elbowing their way through the crowd towards me. I slow my pace out of the way of the press of bodies and the girls come bounding up.

“Oof! No Gary?” I squeak out as I get hugged simultaneously by the pair of them.

“You think dweeb boy wants to come watch the game? Meg smirks, “Come on, we can get good seats before they’re all taken.”

I had agreed to meet up with the sisters earlier in the week. They, it turns out, mostly come to ogle football players and a tiny amount of misguided school spirit. We find seats halfway up the home bleachers and away from a lot of the other students and get settled in.

“You know, I don’t actually see a boy here at all tonight.” Meg opines giving me a once over. “Are you sure you’re not sailing too close to the wind, chica?”

I deflate, “This is me being full boymode.”

Oh, I forgot you guys love to hear clothing described in detail. Tonight, I’m wearing a far too large school hoodie that once belonged to my brother Rob and a pair of regular boy jeans. Such feminine attire right? This scintillating detail for you lovers of good transgender fiction, I think not. The hoodie is precious to me; once it hid my incorrect body, now it disguises and protects me as my body becomes what it’s meant to be. Hoodies are a trans girl’s best friend. Something something dysphoria hoodie.

It’s a zip-front style in our school’s maroon with big but faded gold lettering for our team, the Lions. With my hair in my usual low ponytail that I keep tucked into the back of the hood, I suppose I do look a little tomboyish. What I haven’t factored in and what Meg is putting down is that it’s a neutral outfit, unlike my school suit, it doesn’t lean one particular way. Normally not something I’d worry about, but she does have a good point.

“Shut up, nobody will notice,” I mutter.

“Gir…dude, relax. It’s only because we know ok?”

I give her a sideways grin and shrug.

Kara leans over and jokingly punches me in the arm. “Don’t worry sport, we got your manly back.”

I roll my eyes. With friends like them, who needs enemas?

Our attention is drawn down to the pitch as the pregame festivities begin. The band marches out and the cheerleaders start their routines. All of a sudden we enter the gaudy spectacle of high school sports; American Style.

I won’t bore you with details of the game, you didn’t come for that and honestly, I can’t remember. The team we’re playing isn’t particularly good and we end up flattening them 56/12. Rob, I’m glad to see got plenty of game time tonight. He’s a Defensive End and based on tonight’s performance, a pretty successful one. Many a play was foiled by our defensive line’s patented smash and grunt technique; high sporting science.

I did notice my new shadow getting some field time tonight too. The Juniors don’t tend to get the whole game or to start unless they’re spectacular, but Rick was fielded for the third and fourth quarters tonight in Wide Reciever; good for him.

Do I feel jealous seeing the girls on the cheer squad doing their thing pitchside? Sure. This wouldn’t be a trans high school story if I didn’t express some sort of jealousy or even mention them. Not for the role they fill, of course, I personally think it’s playing into the patriarchy in an outdated and archaic way that forces young girls to take a supporting role to boys from an early age.

I do however feel jealous that they can freely express their femininity in such a public setting. The girls are gorgeous and honestly, I dream of moving through this world in such an unshamedly feminine manner. Would I prefer to do gymnastics for my physical education credits? Absolutely. Shake pom poms for the boys? Eh, not so much.

“Hey Rob!” Meg croons as we arrive pitchside after the game. The players are hanging around chatting to family and fans after the rip roar victory, so spirits are high. Rob looks over his shoulder and spots Meg and Kara, he grins broadly at the sisters before spotting me to one side.

“Alex dude, you came?”

I smile fondly at my brother. “Not going to miss you flattening people Rob, great game.”

He smiles at me, and it’s times like this when I actually feel that sibling love. I just wish I was his sister, rather than his brother.

“We came to cheer you on!” Meg offers interrupting the moment. “Awesome game!”

I can smell her interest a mile off and i resist the urge to smile. Megan has crushed on my brother for years and he’s oblivious to her interest. He merely grins at her and takes the compliment without even noticing that she clearly put extra effort into her outfit, hair, and makeup tonight. Is it weird that one of my closest friends is into my brother? No.

Until recently I had zero interest in anything romantic or sexual. So other people’s romance or sexual interest was something I could observe from a detached third-party perspective. I never felt revulsion or imagined them doing things because I didn’t care. While Megan’s never told me that she liked him in so many words, it wasn’t hard to notice. I suppose it was never something we would have talked about until, well, now. I will say observing the cringe from a third-party perspective does have its amusing moments.

We’re chatting about nothing in particular when I feel a hand clasp my shoulder. Turning, I come face to face with a wall of Lions football uniform. Looking up, I stare straight into Rick’s smiling face. “Uh, hi.”

“Hey, enjoy the game?”

“Yeah, I did, cool that you got some game time.”

Rick grins and nods happily. “Yeah, it was ace. Coach put me out at half time and I even managed to score a touchdown!”

“Yeah, I saw,” I remind him, “I was here.”

“Man I’ve got such a buzz right now, I’m ready to play again.”

I’m happy for the guy, but his enthusiasm is quite excessive for a high school game. You’d think he just won the Super Bowl. I default to the smile and nod.

“Well you might need to wait till next game eh?”

Rick looks between me and the girls, “We’re all going to West’s after we get changed, you guys coming with?”

“I hadn’t planned,” I admit. “It’s not really my scene.”

“I mean you’d be more than welcome, plenty of friends and family come along.”

Rob takes this moment to overhear the conversation and step in, saving me an embarrassing refusal. “Dude, you need to realize that my little bro is completely antisocial. The fact he comes to my games still boggles my mind. I’m pretty sure something like West’s would put him in meltdown.”

I shrug, “Yeah he’s got a point. I’d only cramp the cool football vibes.”

“Ah, all good, another time huh?” Rick looks briefly sad about my refusal but quickly turns back towards Rob. “Come on dude, let’s hit the showers. Bye, Alex!”

The two players trot off towards the locker rooms leaving me alone on the field with the sisters. Our reason for being here is over, so it’s time to head for home. I’m catching a ride with the sister’s parental taxi, so we make our way towards the parking lot.

As we walk, Meg slips her arm through mine and leans in. “So not only do I discover you’re really a girl and annoyingly, but now I find out you’ve got a football player panting over you? Girl, you’ve been holding out on us.”

I try to shake my arm loose of the girly embrace and stare at her. “What did you say?”

Megan looks at me like I’m speaking Klingon, or stupid, or both. “You can’t see it? Rick Taylor back there? He’s so into you it’s unbelievable.”

I turn the same shade as my hoodie as I shake my head vehemently. “No way, nuh huh, nope. No he’s not.”

“She’s right,” Kara offers unhelpfully, “he really is into you. Pretty much the same way Meg wishes your brother was into her.”

“Kar, what the fuck?”

Kara rolls her eyes. “Alex already knows, you aren’t subtle at all Sis.”

Megan looks between us dejectedly and deflates. “OK fine, I’m sorry Alex.”

Hey, I’m off the menu, I’m happy to be gifted some moral high ground for once. I squeeze her arm and smile. “Honestly, it’s cool; I don’t mind actually. I’ve known you were into him for a while now anyway. Like Kara said, you aren’t exactly subtle about it, to anyone with a brain.”

“This is why it's obvious you’re a girl.” Kara points out. “A boy wouldn’t notice stuff like that.”

“It wasn’t like she was hiding it.” I shrug, keeping my happy little affirmation inside.

“We’re not getting off topic here though,” Meg continues. “You are aware Rick Taylor is into you right?”

Shit.

“Uh, no, we’re just friends. He helped me out the other day, I barely even know the guy, honest.”

Meg raises an eyebrow. “I’m no expert, but that boy was crushing bad. It’s interesting though, I never really had him picked as gay.”

“I don’t think he is,” Kara offers as we walk. “It’s not like Alex here is exactly a bastion of masculinity. He might be, but I’d think it’s more likely that he’s not actually aware of what he’s doing.”

“Alex is here you know,” I complain.

Meg ignores me and continues to talk over me. “That’s true! Wait, do you think he’s like, picking up on vibes and stuff?”

“Probably,” Kara agrees. “Oh boy, Alex, if he realizes what he’s doing, you’re going to have one really confused dude on your hands.”

“What the hell do I do?” I groan.

Megan bounces on her heels with excitement. “Do you think he’s hot? Wait, we don’t even know if you’re even into boys or girls?”

I slow down slightly and glance around to make sure we’re alone in the rapidly emptying parking lot. I take a moment to walk over to a low wall and sit down, hugging the hoodie against myself against the growing cool of the evening. “I’m pretty sure I’m into boys, as far as I know. It kinda started raising its head this summer.”

“That makes sense,” Kara offers, “You did start hormones. You’re going through puberty and it’s starting to fire off all those signals.”

“I suppose. But no matter what, I can’t and won’t do anything about it while we’re here at school. I don’t want a guy to be into me as a boy, and I can’t have a guy be into me as a girl. I just gotta knuckle down and ignore it till college, when I can be me.”

“I still don’t think you’ve got a prayer of making it to college as a boy.” Meg snorts.

I give them both a serious look. “I’ve got to, I don’t have a choice.”

Meg looks more serious for a moment as she squeezes my hand and smiles sadly. “I know sweetie, I know.”

Daddy Taxi arrives at that moment, ending our heart-to-heart. I rapidly recenter myself and push the Alex mask up to the front as we pile into the car.

“Hey girls, where’s Alex? Wasn’t he getting a ride with you?”

“Uh, here Mister Byrne.” I offer from the darkness of the back seat.

The girls' dad looks in the mirror more carefully. “Oh, ah, sorry Alex, didn’t see you back there. Still not hit a growth spurt I see?”

I sigh, I must remember this is meant to be sad. “No Mr Byrne, one day soon I guess.”

As we drive homeward I manage to sink into obscurity as the girls regail their father with tales of the game and the social gossip of school. It lets me think though, and oh boy, do I suddenly have a lot to think about.

Is Rick really into me? Is he gay, or is this some psychological thing he isn’t aware of? I mean, it makes sense if you think about it; I’m probably giving off confusing pheromones or something. Oh god, am I going to suddenly start attracting boys who will kick my ass for turning them gay?

This wasn’t part of my plan. Thanks to my… sexual awakening over the summer vacation I know with reasonable certainty that I’m straight. Girls seem to do nothing for me and boys, well, boys absolutely do something for me. I’ve been trying to avoid seeing my classmates in a romantic light and so far I’ve been pretty successful. The biggest advantage for them is that I know them, and most of them are assholes.

Rick is a blindspot for me; I don’t know him that well and he seems to be problematically nice. Is he attractive? God yes he is; he’s tall and lean with dark hair and noticeable muscle. He’s got a light dusting of facial hair and this chiseled handsome face that does things to me when he smiles. The other day when he helped me to the nurse's office I could feel his easy power as he lifted me up. No matter what I might think, I cannot permit myself to even casually crush on him. I have to maintain my focus on the task at hand; surviving undetected. Anything of this sort is going to cause issues I cannot afford.

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Fake It Till You Make It - 4 - The Gorgeous Speedbump

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Four - The Gorgeous Speedbump

I roll out of bed on Saturday morning a little after ten. That’s pretty late for me especially now that we’re back in school, but I think I deserve it after this week. It’s only been five days, but already I feel like I’ve run a marathon with the amount of stress I’ve had to handle. The worst part? It’s only week one of many to come. Great sodding joy.

I typically sleep in sweats and a baggy T-shirt because it’s enough to disguise my shape and comfortable enough to let me relax. I know, like you, I’d love to slither into bed in something silky and feminine but hey, that’s for the pages of fiction, right? The big problem there is that I can’t exactly lock my bedroom at night, as much as I would like to. My parents are concerned for our ‘safety’ and pesky things like ‘fires’. Ok, that is admittedly a very valid thing for parents to worry about, but what teen really wants to admit that though?

Crawling out of my pit, I shuffle into the bathroom and brush my teeth before making my way downstairs in search of morning sustenance. This isn’t some bright beautiful fictional world where my parents have a delicious cooked breakfast prepared every morning. Like many, they have lives too and I’m pretty sure at this point they’re off doing something far more important than waiting on their offspring hand and foot. Weekend or not, at ten am I’m most certainly on my own when it comes to feeding time.

I do however smell coffee in the kitchen, so my senses are elevated slightly above neutral by the time I enter the room.

“Morning squirt,” Rob mutters from the kitchen island, his own cup in hand. My brother looks up and catches sight of me and shakes his head. “Jeez, you’re a fucking sight.”

I glare at him and make a stupid face before heading straight for the coffee machine without speaking a word. Anything I say now will be pure insult and that isn’t sporting behavior for family members who put the machine on in the first place.

Filling my cup, I add a generous helping of milk and sugar before immediately sipping my steaming brew. Slowly, very slowly the caffeine begins to permeate my brain and I grin lazily to myself as I slip onto one of the stools at the island.

Rob shakes his head. “I think you’re worse than Mom without coffee.”

“Mhmm.”

“Glad you came to the game last night, it means a lot to me. I know you’re not a huge fan, but it really does.”

I eye my brother warily. It’s far too early for me to resist treachery. “you’re….welcome?”

For once, Rob looks surprisingly genuine. This seems like an opportunity.to build some bridges. I smile, “I don’t mind watching the sport, but i really don’t want to play. Plus it matters a lot more when there’s someone I care about in it.”

He raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Bullshit aside squirt, I appreciate it. Gives me a reason to dig deeper when I know family is watching me.”

My eyes start to itch and I want to cry because it’s a lovely sentiment and I’m far too tired to resist the urge. To deflect it, I drain my coffee cup in one and hurry off to grab some pop-tarts to throw in the toaster. Phew, disaster averted, I can’t allow emotion to show in front of boys.

Rob looks at me funny for a second as I’m stood by the toaster. “When the hell did you have so much hair dude?”

“Huh?”

“You,” Rob gestures vaguely at my head.. “Look at you, it’s like someone dragged a horse through a hedge backward.”

I run my hands through my hair defensively trying to tame it back into something approaching masculine decency. I was a little too sleepy to find a tie before I came downstairs and I’m suddenly quite embarrassed that I let my guard down.

“No wonder some of the guys thought Chrissie was back home last night,” Rob chuckles between bites of toast.

“Um, what? No, I don’t.” I mutter intelligently.

Rob raises an eyebrow. “Not sure you’ve seen a mirror recently bro but you kinda do.”

Brain broke, not sure what to say… getting called out and being barely awake isn’t the best time to mount a comprehensive legal defense. My solution? Clam up and turn red. It’s that kind of blush where you can literally feel the heat radiating off your skin and you almost expect to start sweating.

“Sorry,” Rob mumbles seeing the state I’m now in. “It’s probably just you hanging around with those girls constantly. Tell me you’re at least dating one of them?”

I shake my head slowly, “No, they’re my friends.”

Rob sighs and pushes his now empty plate aside and reaches over to give me a friendly fist bump on the shoulder. “Alex, look, I know you get a lot of shit and I’m sorry for adding to it. You know I got your back at school. If I’m saying anything now, it’s to help you, ok?”

“I dunno how it helps,” I mutter, not able to look at him. “Not like I can do anything about it.”

I can feel him quietly watching me. He doesn't actually say anything but I can feel how awkward this moment is. Before you wonder if I’m about to come out to my big brother you are dead wrong. I may have broken my vow of silence to Meg and accidentally now Kara, but this isn’t some cutesy moment where Big Bro realizes I’m actually little sis. No way… not now.

Rob sighs and leans over and lifts my head up till I’m looking right at him. “Look, Alex, I could tell you to cut your hair off or go lift weights, but I’m gonna give you some better advice; just be you. It sounds washy and stupid but fuck that; just be yourself. Whoever that is, own it. You’re sixteen; you’re not a little kid anymore. I spent too much time trying to be who I thought others wanted me to be and who I thought Dad wanted me to be. I’m none of them, I’m just me; my own man.

You’re a lot more like mom, you’re thoughtful and you care about others. You want to be a doctor for Christ’s sake Alex, that’s awesome. Be that person; don’t change any one part of it to try and fit in.”

This is profound with a capital fucking P. I am seeing my brother in an entirely new light. We might squabble and argue and act like brats towards each other sometimes, but god damn if he isn’t being a textbook big brother right now. I want to cry and hug him, but I know that’s the wrong answer in our current relationship. I want to tell him how much I love him but I think that might ruin the mood.

“Thanks, dude.” I offer as a masculine consolation.

Rob smiles and ruffles my hair, undoing what taming operations I had managed to accomplish. “Go get the fuck out of here and do something useful with the day huh. Go touch some grass.”

He pauses and checks his phone. “Actually, don’t do something useful. I’m heading down to the mall later to meet up with Face and RJ. You, my dude, are coming with me. We’re going to have some bro time.”

Oh god, no thanks.

“I don’t want to cramp your style Rob, but thanks anyway.” I offer, hoping he takes the hint.

Rob shakes his head and grins. “Oh no, not gonna happen. You’re coming with and we’re going to bond and do bro shit and earn you some cool points so people don’t try to kick your midget ass this semester.”

Fuck shit fuck shit damnit. Why do things have this unwavering tendency to go from bad, to good, to fucking worse?

* * *

An hour later, we are driving down the road in Rob’s car and I’m not entirely happy about it. I would far rather have spent my Saturday lounging around playing video games or reading, but no, I’m on the way to the mall to go hang with ‘the dewds’; lucky me!

Look, I can appreciate the sentiment behind the whole thing; my brother is trying to be a good guy, a proper big brother. He wants to help me feel better. To him, hanging out with his teammates is a surefire way to earn me respect and social status that will solve all my worldly ills. I’ve no doubt they’ll be chill considering they like my brother, but I don’t know if I really feel prepared for the impending level of machismo.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Rob observes over the obnoxious hip-hop he’s listening to on the stereo. “I’ll take you home if you really didn’t want to come.”

I shake my head, “No, it’s fine. I just worry I’ll cramp your style or have nothing in common with them.” Both are accurate statements.

“Eh, football aside, they’re just regular guys.” Rob shrugs. “We’re just going to chill, play some games and vibe, nothing fancy. Anyway, you’re my bro, that's the only in you need.”

God, I really want to tell him how wrong he is, to point out that I’m his sister but I can’t. The truth is, I really want nothing to do with his bro time, but I do want him. As much as the idea is not my favorite, I love the fact he thought of me. At the very least the sentiment was worth it Rob.

I love that he cares and that’s really the crux of the matter, isn’t it? I’ll come today because he asked me to, nothing else. He’s my brother and that matters more to me than suffering his goon squad for a while. Hell, maybe it will help, and hanging out with the manliest men will get people to see me more as a guy for the time being. Guilty by association, right?

Fifteen minutes later we pull into the lot at our destination, the Three Pines Shopping Mall. It’s the shopping and social networking mecca for the local teen population in our city. You know how these places operate; come the weekend it's overrun with kids that parents want out from underfoot. Here, like the African plains, the circle of life occurs… breeding, hunting and even grazing.

Yeah, like you, I’d love to be here as a girl hanging out with my besties and browsing the lingerie stores, trying on shoes, and drinking smoothies but that shit isn’t going to happen. At least not for a few years yet. I sure hope you’ll be able to curb your enthusiasm a little for now.

What am I wearing? Oh yes, that’s important, isn’t it? Regular old tan cargo pants, Rans sneakers, and a baggy vintage Blitzkrieg Flop sweatshirt. It’s bulky and comfortable; just the way my dysphoria likes it. My stupid hair which caused so much trouble this morning is neatly tamed into a low ponytail to keep it out of the way. This is my boymode; it’s not much, but It’s mine. It’s stood me in good stead, but even now I can see Meg’s point; it’s leaning hard to neutral and isn’t going to work for much longer without harsher steps.

Who are the mysterious Face and RJ we are meeting? Ah yes, I remember you asking that a while back. These wonderful nicknames belong to Kyle ‘Face’ Johnson and Ricardo ‘RJ‘ Sanchez. They’re two of Rob’s teammates and part of the defensive line alongside him. This means they’re hulking monsters of teen boy meat and, unlike Rob, are on the more median end of the brain cell bonanza.

We step through the doors and I’m hit immediately by a wall of human noise. The cavernous space is absolutely packed with human flotsam and it’s not even lunchtime yet. Rob knows where he’s going and he’s recounting last night’s plays to me while we walk. I say walk, but compared to his long loping stride I’m practically trotting just to keep up. Side benefit, however; he manages to part the human tide in ways I never possibly could.

We arrive outside one of the arcades and I spot Rob’s friends waiting for us. (Yes, this is 2004, our mall still has arcades ok?)

“Yo Iceman, how’s it hangin’?” RJ bellows clasping Rob’s hand in some bro-shake.

‘Iceman’? Oh boy, that’s ammo for later.

“Sup dude, the others here yet?”

“Gettin’ food man. We’re gonna head there now and get lunch early.”

“Oh, yeah, this is Alex, my little bro, remember?” Rob adds gesturing at me.

“You a Freshie kid?” Face asks, tossing me a casual bro-nod.

“Uh, Junior.”

Face’s… well, face is a picture. “You’re… a junior?”

“Face…” Rob warns, sensing a problem.

“Nah man it’s cool,” Face shrugs and eyes me a little suspiciously. “Hey dude.”

It’s going to be a long, fucking, day.

We’re walking to the food court when my phone vibrates. Now you have to understand, that this isn’t some modern smartphone, this is 2004. This brick is my baby, the Nokia 3210. This thing barely texts and you’re limited in characters, so for speed and to get your point across everyone uses text speech. Autocorrect? What’s that? Try typing with your number pad zoomers!

Meg B - ‘hru wyd?’

Yes, Megan is a strong proponent of text speak, and she can be quite confusing sometimes. I fire off a reply.

Alex W - ‘@ mall w R, nb chce :(‘

Stuffing my phone back in my pocket I try to keep up with the three varsity football players. Just picture the difference here; I’m 5’6 and skinny, and these three are all over six feet tall defensive players. If I’m not jogging to keep up, I’m lost in their wake.

The guys look through a few shops as we make our way towards the food court. They're not in any particular hurry and they’d far rather eye the flocks of girls that populate the mall on weekends like this. Thankfully, we reach our destination before anything too embarrassing occurs. My phone vibrates again.

Meg B - ‘sad, u hng l8r?’

Alex W - ‘Ys, l8r.’

I put my phone away, at least I can use that as an excuse later on to dip off and avoid any further plans. I appreciate my brother, but if I can dip out of Bro-fest without looking ungrateful I’ll be happy. That is if I can manage to get through lunch with the ‘guys’. I love Rob, and I love what he’s trying to do here, but I have very little in common with these guys. It’s going to be very difficult to relate, I’m sure they’re lovely people, really, I am. I just don’t know how to relate to them this way.

Everyone grabs food and drinks from the various vendors. Mostly a broad selection of burgers, chicken, and other fried foods. Me? I’m not exactly going to get away with a salad, am I? Instead, I settle for a shake and some fries. It’s not exactly hours since breakfast and I’m not eating to power a football team like this lot. When we make it to the table I realize to my great regret that I should have attempted to excuse myself far sooner.

Rick, my ever-present shadow is sitting right there in the booth in front of me. Ordinarily not a huge issue, but now I realize what he might be thinking it’s a lot weirder. He’s chowing down on a burger and chatting to three of the other team guys. Worse yet? He spots me before I can think of an excuse to run off.

“Hey! I didn’t think I’d see you today,” he grins sliding along to make space. My only other choices are to sit with Face and two of the guys I don’t know or in an entirely different booth and be antisocial. Reluctantly, I slide in beside Rick and get bookended by Rob’s hulking form.

“Uh, hi,” I reply intelligently, “Rob’s idea that I came along.”

“Glad you did,” he offers as he eyes my meager lunch. “Not hungry?”

I shrug. “It’s early and we did only just have breakfast so… yeah.”

Rick nods seriously. “Good idea, avoid the fish eh?”

“I… yeah, good point.” I grin sheepishly.

Face leans across the table interrupting our conversation and points at Rick and then me before talking directly to Rob.

“You’re telling me those two are in the same grade?”

Rob rolls his eyes. “You know you don’t gotta be the same height to be the same age dumbass.”

Face seems to consider this then grins like he suddenly gets it. Rob catches my eye and just smirks at me.

“When is your birthday?” Rick asks.

“February 6th,” I admit between fries. “You?”

“Damn, you’re older than me.” he grins, “May.”

“See Face?” I call over to the brain trust. “I’m actually older than him.”

This seems to undo all of Rob’s hard work. “Huh? But you’re so little,” he replies scratching his head.

Rob shakes his head. “Leave him alone Alex, you’re hurting his brain cell.”

Several of the guys chuckle and I feel like I inadvertently earned points.

Lunch isn’t really that bad honestly. I kinda keep to myself after making a point with Face and generally avoid being involved in the more boisterous conversation topics. I don’t have anything against any of these guys but they really aren’t my people. Conversations about girlfriends or girls they want as their girlfriends, sports, and sports teams are rolling over my head as I focus on my fries. Lunch drags on for half an hour or so as the guys alternate between stuffing their faces and watching girls around us in the food court.

Once we’re done, there’s a general exodus back in the direction of the arcade where we met Face and RJ. Rick decides to stay with me to talk, much to my chagrin.

“You do much on the weekend usually?” Rick asks as im finishing off my shake.

I shrug. “No, usually just play some games, read, relax.”

“My dad would kill me if I wasn’t up with the birds to get chores done early,” he smirks ruefully. “We live out on a cattle ranch so I’ve got responsibilities before school and they don’t stop on weekends.”

Our city is right on the edge of a more rural part of the state, so it’s not that unlikely.

“So you’re a cowboy huh?”

“No, but I do gotta feed the horses and a bunch of other stuff. At weekends I just help out where I’m needed when I’ve not got stuff on.”

“I guess I feel lazy now for sleeping in and feeling put out that Rob dragged me along.”

Rick smiles, “I’m glad he did. You’re cool Alex, look, I know we don’t exactly mix in the same circles but I’d like to be friends… if you want to be, that is.”

Danger Will Robinson, Danger.

“I guess,” I offer. “I don’t know why though?”

“You’ve got hidden depths.” he points out, hitting FAR closer to that given nerve than I’d like. “It’s like at school; you seem to keep yourself so controlled and contained. I remember thinking you were pretty funny last year, you always seemed to have the right thing to say at the right time. This year though, it's like you shut down and just buried it all.”

“It’s only been a week.” I point out.

“I know, but I stand by my point.”

He’s not wrong. I have locked myself down and put serious controls on what people see since I started hormones. It’s difficult and apparently not unnoticed, but at least the real reason has remained secret.

“I’m just a private person.”

“Lonely,” Rick suggests more accurately than I’m prepared to hear.

“So what is it?” I cask with a little more fire than I probably should have. “So I’m just a charity friendship; the Jock befriends the nerd to make him feel better for his social standing? Either it’s a misguided act of honor or you’re planning to draw me in to make fun of me later. Either case, I don’t want it.”

Perhaps I went a little too far, Rick looks hurt by my remarks. He stops walking by one of the railings that overlooks the lower floor of the mall and watches the sea of human traffic passing below us. He’s silent for a few minutes, leaning against the railing before he speaks without looking at me.

“When I was in middle school I got bullied a lot by the other kids. I was pretty small and considered the token farmboy who didn’t belong at a school for the rich and powerful. They loved to target me,” he admits, not looking over in my direction. “I got my ass kicked and called names almost daily. When I came to high school, I told myself I wouldn’t be that guy again. I worked out, I got into sports and I became popular. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy football, but it started as a means to an end.”

He looks over at me and I see this honest pain on his face. “You remind me a lot of myself in middle school, but… I don’t know, like you gave up? I see how they are killing your spirit and I see it pushing you back inside yourself and bottling your personality up tight where nobody can hurt you. I’m not trying to be friends because it’s charity but rather, because I’ve been there, and you look like you could do with one.”

Who knew that someone could be so sensitive to your troubles and yet you don’t even know their name until a week ago… my god, I feel like such an asshole.

“I’m sorry.” I offer weakly, not quite sure how to respond. “Please, forgive me?”

Rick smiles, he has a nice smile. I mentally shake myself and focus. “Yeah Alex, of course. I know you’re kinda on the defensive all the time.”

“Do you blame me? Out of nowhere, a popular jock decides he wants to be best buds with the dweeb of Junior year. You’d be suspicious too in my shoes.”

Rick laughs and shrugs. “I get it, I know I would be too. You gonna calm down now and actually act like a human being or are you going to keep acting like I’m about to punk you?”

Oh boy, he has no idea why I’m reluctant to let my guard down around him, for more than one reason.

We resume walking, although slightly slower now because we’re not trying to keep up with the others. Rick’s story yanked at my heartstrings something rotten. I had made a snap judgment about him simply because he was a jock. I’ve severely sold him short and that was uncool of me. One thing I’ve realized over time is that trans crap can make you really introspective and ignorant of other people’s struggles.

How do I befriend someone that I can’t even tell the whole truth to? How do I let him in but keep him at arm's length? Dear god, what a position I keep putting myself in. It’s worse now because I’ve seen through the exterior he presents; he’s a good guy. We have so much in common yet we’re so different. Why does life have to be complicated?

“I can’t let you in,” I admit, feeling a sudden desire to be honest but not too honest. “Not all the way, but I can try.”

Rick glances over and smiles, “I can work with that.”

We talk about nothing in particular as we walk towards the arcade. It’s actually nice now that I’ve let my guard down a little. I’ve got to work to maintain my mask of course, but what’s new there? Why is it that when I finally start transitioning and becoming my true self, I start to actually make friends but I have to hide it from you? Life sucks.

We catch a little stick for turning up later when we finally arrive at the arcade but it's clearly only meant in a friendly way. I’m able to relax a little and just enjoy some gaming; after all, we’re in my domain now. These guys might be the football gods, but my thumbs are faster. I’ll give him credit where it’s due though, Rick, as it turns out, isn't too bad himself. This guy can play some mean Dino Disaster.

“You’ve got to change how you hold the ball.” Rick laughs as he watches me fuck up this basketball hoop shooting game for the fifth time in a row. “Here, watch.” He pops another quarter in the machine and takes my spot in front of the contraption.

“The game is rigged,” I huff, my arms crossed in frustration.

“Nah, watch.” He proceeds to flick the ball up and straight into the hoop. The machine whistles and flashes to further rub his success in. “Come on, stand in front of the machine” he offers pointing to the spot he was just in with the ball.

I take his spot and wait. “What now?”

“Right, look at the hoop.”

“I am, it's not going anywhere.”

“Look at the hoop and throw.”

I hold the ball like he was and aim exactly where he tells me. I release the ball and it goes flying off the backboard, bounces back, and ricochets off the mesh screen preventing it from coming back to get me.

I shriek and flinch to protect myself from the ball that never arrives. Rick? He’s laughing his ass off.

“It’s not funny,” I whine. “I thought it was going to hit me.”

“God you throw like a girl.”

Gurk.

“Nah, girls throw better than Alex does, even their team doesn’t want him.” Rob offers from behind us. I hadn’t even noticed him arrive, but then again it's dark and loud in the arcade.

(Note from future Holly: Rob, you were wrong. The girls' team absolutely wanted me.)

“Perhaps.” Rick agrees. “I’m trying to help, but I’m pretty sure he’s a lost cause.”

“I am here you know,” I complain. “Playing sports games doesn’t mean you can recover from the ass-whupping you got on Plumber Kart.”

“Point.” Rick laughs.

Rob wanders back off to join the others leaving the pair of us alone at the dumb basketball machine.

“One last go, I’m positive you can do it.” Rick offers. “I’ll even help. If you score a basket then drinks are on me.”

“What if I don’t?”

He looks thoughtful. “Not going to happen, I’m amazing. However in the unlikely outcome that you do somehow miss, you’re buying.”

I shrug and grab the next ball from the holder and line up. Rick steps in behind me and takes my arms and positions them so the ball is held just below my sightline.

“Right, just rock back and look just above the hoop then release.”

I take a breath before doing as he asks and suddenly smell what I’m convinced is his aftershave or cologne. Whatever it is, it’s musky and not an entirely unpleasant scent. At the exact moment I’m about to release the ball I realize that a boy is standing really close with his arms around me. I’m close enough to smell his scent and my pubescent girl brain skips a gear and goes into reverse. I miss the entire basket despite it being barely ten feet away and bounce the ball wildly off the side of the cage.

I duck out from under his arm and grin sheepishly. “Oh, whoops, look’s like I owe you a drink uh, dude, yeah.”

Rick raises an eyebrow and beacons me back. “Nah, one more go, come on.”

I hesitate, frozen to the spot with a stupid grin on my face. Why am I letting this happen? What am I letting happen? He’s just being friendly right? What signals am I putting out? How much is the fish?

I return to the shooting spot reluctantly and wait for Rick to take up his position. I’m now deliberately taking tiny breaths through my mouth to avoid smelling him. I’m aware of this warm presence behind me as I grab the ball and wait. I don’t know what it is, but I feel this flutter in my chest that I cannot explain. It isn’t anything I’ve felt before and it isn’t unpleasant.

“Now relax, jeez, you’re like a ball of wire. Just loosen up ok?” Rick’s voice rumbles behind me. He grips my shoulders and kneads them in something I’m pretty sure he thinks is a massage. It’s probably not, but it didn’t feel horrible. I can only manage to quietly eep to myself as I stand there in a busy arcade being touched by this guy, this guy that I learned only the day before seems to be ‘into’ me. Gulp.

Rick takes the ball and holds it out while he waits for me to grip it in the correct position. I close my eyes and exhale and do exactly as he directed and release the ball, my eyes fixed just above the metal hoop on the back of the machine. It feels like an eternity as the ball sails through the air before landing slap-bang in the middle of the hoop.

I’ll admit, I’m pretty bloody awful at sports. This isn’t some boy loser-to-girl jock transformation. I suck as any sex.. This one is entirely on Rick, and I’m not shy to admit it. And no, this isn’t the moment where I lose myself in the moment and happily bounce and hug him… no.

I slip away from Rick’s proximity and smile awkwardly. “You were right maestro. I concede the point.”

“I told you you could do it,” he grins proudly.

“That was more you than me.” I point out, “But who am I to turn down a free drink?”

Rick seems amused by my reaction but says nothing. Instead, he walks across to the concessions counter and returns a few moments later with a pair of tall cokes. Handing one to me, he offers me a symbolic toast.

“Deal’s a deal, you did score a basket. I didn’t specify how.”

“Thanks,” I concede, “You know, you’re not an awful teacher.”

“Thanks, I help coach at a basketball camp during the summer.”

“How old?”

“Middleschool.”

I roll my eyes. “That made me feel a lot worse.”

Rick shrugs and grins. “Some people just aren’t cut out for sports. There’s nothing wrong with that. Heck, you can beat the pants off me at most of those games.”

He has a point. But then again, having no friends means you do play a lot of games. It’s an unfair advantage most nerds have. Before we can talk more, the rest of the guys return and we’re rolled up in the tide of broventure. I’m glad for the distraction honestly, things were getting far too real with Rick. This allows me to slip back in with my brother and stop thinking about the scent of Rick’s aftershave.

I don’t know what the hell that was with the basketball game, but none of that felt like two boys hanging at the arcade. There’s every possibility that I’m reading into things but I’m not convinced it’s that simple. I’m going to have to try and police myself around Rick: This cannot happen, not now, not ever. In the best-case scenario, he gets weirded out and runs away telling everyone about the freak kid. The worst, he beats the crap out of me when he realizes what’s going on.

I tell you what this is; a terrible idea for my continued living. There are more chances of this getting my ass kicked and humiliated. And yet somehow people in this world think we transition for benefits, for an easier life; what a joke! I have to keep myself focused on what matters here; surviving high school.

Rick, as much as I don’t want him to be, is a gorgeously distracting speed bump in the way of a life of happiness. I have to ignore him, I have to play the boy. Why do I feel like Viola falling for the Duke Orsino?

Damnit Shakespeare, why did you have to be such a downer?

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Fake It Till You Make It - 5 - Friends Without Benefits.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Five - Friends Without Benefits.

My second week of school began without any real fanfare. I went to school like normal, and I started my classes again, like normal. I think I was most surprised by how much people ignore when they don’t expect to see something. I remember back in the first days of my transition when I was first letting my hair grow and taking care of my nails and skin better. I was terrified that people might see even a hint of femininity and call me on it. The reality is that people are extremely unobservant. It’s amazing that we’ve lived this long as a species.

With the fear of my return to class in the rearview mirror now and a relatively peaceful start to the year, I was feeling pretty positive about my chances. I would write about Monday, but nothing of interest actually happened. What truly saved my ass with this entire enterprise started on Tuesday morning at the end of homeroom.

“Remember boys,” Mister Carstairs calls as we prepare to leave the room for our first classes of the day. “The sign up sheet for your Phys Ed options are on my desk, complete them BEFORE you leave please.”

Begrudgingly and a little anxiousness to get to class, I follow the line of drones toward Ol’ Carstairs's desk as the whole subject of gym class resurfaces in my head. What the hell am I doing to do to dodge it this week?

I look down at the sheet and scratch my little head. “What’s the last one on the list, sir?”

Carstairs looks over. “Oh, Juniors and Seniors are able to elect to take a pass for the local Gym rather than formal Gym class here in school.”

“So we can just… go work out?”

He nods like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Sure, or play badminton, tennis, swim, hell you could even take a yoga class if you wanted. We accept most of you aren’t going to be the sporty types so why bother harassing you with it? You’re paying enough for this school so we give you options for your Physical Education credit.”

This is Holly again, sorry for interrupting but I need to explain something here. I need you to understand that this is not just a convenient plot device to aid me in my wonderful tale of transness. No, this is actually something that happened. I was preparing to try and fake my way out of gym class for as long as I could manage before sucking it up to talk to a doctor for an actual exemption when my school offered this to me the first semester of my Junior year. Most convenient thing ever? Yeah, it’s like a mattress truck driving past a building as you take a header off the top floor. This one option offered by my school pretty much single-handedly saved my ass.

I signed up for the Gym pass so fast that I think the pen burned a hole in the paper. I knew the particular Gym in question. It was a fairly upmarket establishment perhaps a half mile from school. What was most important was that I knew the changing rooms had single stalls. I could actually participate and not lose the credit I sorely needed. I’m still terrible at most sports, but I can at least attempt it and that is what counts here. The how would be interesting but it was certainly possible with a little help. I might need to take Meg up on her offer after all.

My morning classes passed without any real fanfare. For once, I was actually feeling pretty positive about my chances going forward. There had been some missteps already and a few setbacks but my cover was still intact. So far it was holding pretty strong; I think I’ll make it if I’m careful. And I was beginning to get the feeling that I’d make it if I was careful. Even Brandon the Moronic wasn’t able to dampen my mood at lunch. Feeling particularly sociable in my excellent mood, I chose to spend my remaining lunch break in the common room rather than alone in the library. If things have been ok so far, why avoid everyone?

I’m sat with my usual friends, the nerds, and we were talking comic books. You know, the typical nerd things to do in most stereotypes and all realities, no matter the multiverse you live in. At the moment we’re arguing about who was the best movie Furyman. Obviously, Connor Kevin wins overall best for the Animated series, and this is of course before Brian Christian’s phenomenal role in the Dark Fury trilogy… so far I’m on the side of Kevin Michael.

“Yo, you weren’t kidding dude.” The voice booms over our sensibly volumed conversation and I feel a hand clasp me on the shoulder with a hearty level of force. I turn around expecting to get attacked in some way only to see the huge form of Face grinning down at me.

“Face?”

“You weren’t kidding when you said you were a Junior, man, I was convinced they were punkin’ me.”

I look at him like he’s got brain damage, which considering he’s on the Defensive line, he most likely does; TBI’s are serious business folks. “Why would I lie?”

“Man, you’re so small I was convinced it was a joke dude. Why’d you hang out with these nerds huh?” he asks, missing the tone of the conversation he’s just dove into head first. We might be the nerds, but he’s come to our corner and we will scowl disapprovingly if he’s not careful.

I’m not sure why, but I feel emboldened by the day’s successes so I try a new tack rather than cowering in fear. “They’re my friends, Face, don’t be a dick.”

Face seems to think, which is quite a visual experience. “Oh, yeah sorry dude, catchya yeah?”

As he trots off to the football players on the far side of the common room Andy turns to face me with a look of absolute respect on his face. “Dude, what was that?”

“Face? Oh, he was convinced I was a freshman at the weekend.”

“Nobody tells the Football guys to stop being jerks, what if he’d pounded you?”

I shrug. “Face just needs you to be a bit literal sometimes.”

Andy looks at me like I’m a god. This has always been one of the many things about male social hierarchy that confused me. Why is everything so power-based? Is my knowing someone of a higher social circle suddenly elevating me to a higher position? Why? It bugs me that this benefits me and it bugs me that it's this simple. Rob was right, and it's so stupid.

Nate, one of the other guys who, for the record, was on team ‘nipples on the Fury Suit’ seems extremely suspicious. “How’d you know him?”

“I was at the arcade with Rob and his friends on Saturday at Three Pines. Not my idea of a good time but they’re not that bad when you get to know them.”

My own friends now seem to think that I’m an alien. I’m not super comfortable being the center of attention. Thankfully the bell goes and I’m able to get out of there before things get even weirder. High School is difficult enough when you’re learning to navigate the strata of society, doubly so when you’re like me, trying to just keep your head down.

As I’m heading out of the common room on my way to German class Rick jogs up beside me.

“You know, if I’m seen with another football player, I’m afraid my fellow nerds will shun me for being too cool.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” I grin. “What’s up?”

“Not much, you seem like you’re in a good mood,” he opines.

I think about it for a moment. “Yeah, I think I am today. It’s certainly not the worst day.”

“Cool,” he grins. “Look, I know the mall was a bit nuts this weekend, wanna come over and hang out at the weekend? Nothing crazy, just play some games and chill?”

This is the point I should be formulating my excuses. I like Rick, he’s a nice guy, but I’m incapable of pushing back and staying away from him. Not only do I need to stay strong for myself, but from what Meg said I need to consider how I’m making him feel. Whether he realizes it or not, he’s reacting kinda like I’m a girl. I am, but that’s not the point. I’ll be honest, even I can see it now.

“Sure Rick, sounds fun.” I hear myself answer before I even know what I’m doing. I am such a traitor.

“Cool, catch you around Alex,” he grins as he darts off down a corridor to what I assume is his next class.

What the hell did I let myself in for? I’m not stupid, by this point I’m well aware of how this is heading but I feel almost powerless to stop it. A tiny part of my animal brain says hot boy good.
The pragmatic part of my brain that is stopping me from living, stopping me from risking exposure is screaming at her to shut up. Nobody is listening it seems.

* * *

“So it’s just you and him, hanging out, together?” Megan confirms later in her bedroom after school.

I lie back on Megan’s bed, squeeze my eyes closed, and nod, “I’m such an idiot, I know.”

“I don’t think you are,” her sister offers. “People wanting to be your friend is really intoxicating when you’re lonely. Combine that with your hormone-addled brain sending you funny signals about boys and I’m surprised that you can even function.”

“My brain is not addled.” I protest, tossing a cushion in the direction of the voice.

Kara chuckles, “About as much as ours were at twelve or thirteen, sweetie.”

I look over at her and frown. “This is normal?”

“Yup, boy crazy; It’s kinda impossible to fight.”

“I have to.” I grump. “I can’t let anyone see this or I’m so dead. I can’t let myself get dragged down this path now. Why can’t I just go back to having no interest at all in anyone? It was so much simpler.”

I sit up and look at the girls. Kara is actually paying attention and Meg is doing her homework at her desk. “How the hell do you control it?”

“Being in an all-girls school does help somewhat.” Meg offers without looking. “No boys to lose our minds over. You girl, are kinda screwed.”

I roll my eyes and flop back down. “Great!”

I feel the bed sink down as someone sits beside me. Kara’s voice is suddenly a lot closer. “Just go; be friends. The best way to avoid showing you care about him might be to express that interest in a different way… as a friend.”

I look up at her. “Will he buy that?”

She looks me over theatrically and shrugs. “Depends if he can see the obvious or not.”

Oh, what’s going on? Oh, yes. We’re at the Byrne house relaxing after school. Right now I’m enjoying being able to let my proverbial and literal hair down. I’ve ditched my jacket and hoodie and I’m enjoying being able to just hang around them in the T-shirt I wear under my shirt. It provides me reasonable compression but on its own it’s obvious what I am. Around the girls, I don’t need to hide it anymore.

They’re being extremely helpful with my Rick issue… Rissue? I like that. They’re trying to be supportive but I don’t think they grasp how knotted up my brain is about the idea of A, liking boys, and B, this boy in particular.

I’ve said it before, but I feel it needs to be reiterated. I’m comfortable in my identity and It’s not that I feel like I’m ‘gay’ for liking boys. I’m so very used to liking nobody that it’s just weird to like anyone. I’m also very aware of the risks and the fact that people will think I’m something I’m not. It’s all self-protection in the end. In any other circumstances, I’d be swooning over a boy like Rick. The only problem is I’m not the girl he would want and he’s not going to be the boy I need.

“Oh,” Meg segways. “You know we can get passes to use the gym near school now?”

“They told us this morning,” I admit. “Can you guess who signed up immediately?”

“Spot of luck. Do you think you can manage to hide all this… at a public gym?” She asks gesturing at me.

“I might need some help on that front, flatten things out, you know?”

Kara looks thoughtful. “Is this all you do now?”

“Sure.”

“No sports bras or binding at all?”

I make a face. “I haven’t really had any options.”

Meg goes over to one of her drawers and starts rummaging around. She’s there for a minute or two before she pulls a black piece of fabric out. “Here, try this.”

I look confused and she unfurls the fabric revealing a plain black sports bra. “Mine from the end of Middleschool, maybe a 32A. It should flatten those girls out and give you some support at least. I wore it for Cross Country.”

She tosses me the bra and I catch it. I feel almost guilty holding an item of women's clothing even though it was handed to me like a certain elf received a sock. I know that sounds stupid but welcome to the compounded guilt of my weird situation.

“Try it on.” she urges, looking at me like I’m thick.

“Here?”

“No, in Gary’s room,” she rolls her eyes. “Yes here.”

I mean, they’ve seen my chest already so I sigh and stand up. With a mental shrug, I pull my T-shirt over my head and politely cover my breasts. “How do I put this on?”

“Like a T-shirt,” she offers. “Over your head, pull your hair out and arms through then pull it down.”

I follow her instructions and wriggle into the tight garment. It takes me some time to get it settled but once it’s in place it holds me with a strangely unfamiliar security. I bounce on my toes and feel very little movement in response. Turning sideways, I look in the mirror. I’m shocked to see a girl looking back, her long hair loose and the boy's pants cinched tight at her waist a stark contrast to the black sports bra she’s wearing.

“Huh, it works,” I murmur. “Feels kinda tight.”

“Yeah, they’re supposed to.” Meg grins. “God I hate your figure.”

“Right now so do I,” I admit. “I’ve got to keep hiding it.”

“Not forever sweetie,” Kara offers. “And with that, I’m pretty sure you can pull this off.”

I look back at the mirror. And tried to imagine a few layers. “You know, with a couple of shirts, maybe a sweater, I probably could.”

“There is one problem with that.” Kara points out. “It’s not just gym class at school surrounded by people you know. At school, they expect Alex the boy so they see that as long as we hide the obvious differences. This is a mixed public gym where nobody knows you… I suspect it might be more complicated.”

I had not considered this. A new environment means new people with new perspectives. New perspectives mean new problems.

“I’ll just have to play it by ear,” I shrug. God that feels weird with the bra straps pulling as I do it.

“Seeing you like this just feels so normal now,” she admitted with a grin. “I can’t believe we never saw it.”

“This is why I’m the smart one,” Megan grins. “I spotted it first.”

“I think I win that one,” I admit. My expression turns suddenly more serious. “Thanks by the way; for not freaking out and telling everyone.”

Meg gives me a reassuring smile. “Girl, it didn’t even cross my mind. We’ve been friendly for years, but we’re friends for real now. No way I’d ever screw you like that. Plus even without your irritatingly hot bod, there’s no way that anyone that thinks like you could be a boy.”

“What do you mean?”

Meg seems to think for a moment before answering. “Your way of approaching things, how you relate to others. You seem a lot more observant and sensitive to others' feelings. You’re kind and sweet and… I don’t know. I just get a vibe; a girl vibe.”

“Shit if it was that easy I’d have come out years ago.” I grump. “Wish I could make it that simple for my parents.”

“You’re really convinced they’ll take it bad?” Kara asks.

I ponder her question for a minute before answering. “I don’t honestly know,” I admit. “That’s what stops me from doing it. The uncertainty, the risk. For anyone else this might not seem like the end of the world, but to me, it’s everything. I can’t go back to being him… I can’t. If it went wrong and they shaved my head and sent me off to military school, I’d…” I don’t finish the sentence. It’s too painful.

Meg frowns. “Your parents are good people, I’m sure they’d be fine with it. They obviously love you, they’d never do that to you.”

“I really can’t see them doing anything like that, they love you,” Kara adds.

I fix both sisters with a look. “If you knew half of the stories I’ve read of loving families turning on their kids over this, you’d be as terrified as I am.”

* * *

I get home as it's turning six that evening. It’s unusual for me to be out this late as I’m normally the first one home in the afternoon. It turns out that when you have people you can trust to be yourself around, you actually enjoy spending time with them, who knew?

I change out of my school clothes and into a nice cosy hoodie and jeans. I’m feeling a little hyper-aware because I’m still wearing Megan’s sports bra but honestly, it's so comfortable. My chest feels more supported and far less visible, which is honestly giving me so much confidence. The only downside is that my terrified brain is convinced this thin piece of fabric no thicker than a tank top is visible to anyone that looks at me. It’s funny how our brains work, right?

I sit down and get to work knocking my homework out before we eat. For once I didn’t get a chance to do it at lunchtime so it’s a game of catchup to get myself back on track. Who knew having a social life could impact your studies this much?

Dinner is relatively uneventful. We typically eat a little later than most families because we wait for Mom to get back from the hospital. Her shifts aren’t insane but they run a little later meaning that we eat around eight. I might have given the impression that my dad is some sort of macho man obsessed with having sports star sons, but he’s really not. Most weeknights he’s the one cooking because of Mom’s hours.

We eat, no blood is spilled and we go our separate ways. Dad made a rather delicious roast tonight and I’m absolutely stuffed; you can’t just have one helping! I’m ensconced in my room later that night finishing off the last of my English paper when there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in,”

Mom sticks her head in, “You busy honey?”

“Just finishing my paper,” I admit, “sup?”

She walks in and sits down on the bed. “I made you an appointment with Doctor Harris for next Monday. I’ll take you, then I can drop you at school afterward, ok?”

Monday… Monday; my first periods are English and Algebra… awesome. “Sure, works for me.”

Should I be more worried? Yes, this can potentially out me, however, I can contain it if that occurs. Doctors are signatories to HIPPA, meaning that he can’t tell Mom if he finds out anything. I’m over sixteen now which makes me, in medical terms, able to decide my own medical fate. That’s my worst-case scenario and honestly, it’s manageable even if it’s not preferable. Why not just tell my doctor and seek treatment? Insurance bills tend to get you on that front.

Mom looks a little like she wants to talk so I spin around and raise my eyebrows.

“So your father was telling me you’ve been out socializing a lot more since the semester started. It sounds like you are having more fun at school?”

“I’m making some friends I guess.” I concede.

She smiles. “I’m glad sweetie, you’ve had us a little worried for a while. I was really afraid you were struggling to get on with people..”

I feel really bad about this because I can’t tell her why. I want to tell her, I have for years, but I know the risk is too high. I’m afraid of them trying to protect me from myself. I’m afraid of them trying to decide my future.

“I’m fine Mom,” I offer. “I’m doing okay.”

“You can talk to me,” she insists fruitlessly. “You know that, right?”

I wish I could Mom, I really do.

“I know,” I mumble.

I can see that she doesn’t quite believe me and it hurts me so much to lie. I just know this is too much for her to handle.

“Are you happy Alex?”

No, of course, I’m not happy. I’m hiding myself from everyone that matters to me and I’m terrified of being discovered. I’ve fought off suicidal thoughts and depression. I’m nowhere near alright. I’m so far from ok that I’d need to take three boats, one plane, and a bus to get there.

It’s selfish of course. To me, my problems are the worst in the world. I have a roof over my head, parents who technically love me, and an education at an excellent school even if it’s the wrong one. I could be doing far worse and I can survive two years.

I give my mom a more real smile and nod. “I’m good.”

She seems relieved and she leans in and gives me a hug before I can protest. It feels good, but when she pulls back there is an odd look on her face for a moment. It vanishes and she smiles. “Good night sweetie.”

“Night Mom.”

When she leaves, I get up and pull off my sweater so I can get ready for bed. It’s only then that I catch sight of my sports bra in the mirror. She… didn’t, did she?

Oh shit.

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Fake It Till You Make It - 6 - Work It Out.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Six - Work It Out.

“This sure beats dodgeball or running around the gym like idiots.” Andy opines as we walk into the lobby of the Skyline Fitness complex early on Wednesday afternoon.

We left shortly after lunch and made the ten-minute walk the handful of blocks down to the sports center for our first session replacing our regular gym class. According to Mr Carstairs, we treat it like a regular gym; walk up, present your card, and get admitted. We’re able to leave directly from here without returning to school but they will be checking our check-in/checkout times to ensure we are actually going. Fancy eh?

I haven’t ever really described where I go to school, have I? It’s an expensive school in an expensive part of town situated on a big broad leafy boulevard. About half a mile down the same road is Skyline Fitness’s complex which covers most of a city block. It’s a huge sports facility catering to those expensive homes and clients. From school, it's a leisurely walk along the treelined sidewalk and we’re outside the place in no time at all.

We walk up to the counter and approach the attendant. I let Andy do the talking just to prevent things from being weird with pronouns. I had wanted to come earlier and on my own to avoid this, but he insisted on coming with me. Friends; can’t stand them!

“Hey, welcome to Skyline Fitness! Are you members?”

Andy answers in the affirmative and we both hand over our cards. He swipes Andy’s before handing it back to him, no problem at all. When he runs mine through the machine he glances back at me for a second before frowning at his screen. I’ve seen this before; this is the double take where they’re trying to work out if their eyes or their information is correct. I smile casually like nothing is wrong. The man seems to mentally shrug and hands me my card without further comment. “Changing rooms through on the left, enjoy your time with us.”

As we walk through the main atrium area beyond the reception there are big glass windows showing various activity spaces currently in use. The place seems busy and extremely high-end for kids like us. This isn’t some grotty gym in a warehouse; it’s one of those snazzy private facilities that cater to the young and beautiful; Mineral water fountains-R-us.

At the end of the corridor are the changing rooms. One Male and one Female. It shouldn’t be complicated but you know this story already means that’s a total joke. I follow Andy inside and hope nobody makes a stink about my appearance.

The place is nothing like the school’s facilities; it’s clean and tidy and it smells extremely fresh. There’s still this indescribable tang just behind the cleaning products; like fresh balls on a summer morning. The walls are sparklingly white and there’s soft music playing over hidden speakers. There are long wooden benches along the rows of lockers and what appears to be, thankfully, about half a dozen changing cubicles. It’s not perfect but given my options, it’s better than nothing. Without waiting for Andy to decide, I make a beeline for one and lock myself inside before I see anyone else. My goal? Become a changing ninja.

I’ve probably over-prepared for today; I change out of my school uniform and into my workout gear. My plan for this first day is just to check the place over, explore a little, and work out a little while I decide what I want to do with my time. Will I likely get involved in more interesting activities like Badminton later? Sure… but not today.

I pull on my shorts and sneakers followed by my T-shirt and an oversized sweater. It’s a bit much maybe, but I’m trying to bulk myself up a little. The bra is doing a great job of flattening things down up front and I’m even able to stand up straight without it showing. If I’m honest with myself, I might need to see if Megan can get me some more of these things, they’re fantastic.

I’m a little nervous that people will see the outline through my clothes. I know it’s unlikely, but I made sure to wear a thicker shirt and specifically dark colors; nobody gonna catch this girl slipping on a wardrobe malfunction. I tuck my hair into my sweater and make sure things look nice and boring. I look scrawny, but from what I can see, I look like a young boy. This should do just the trick.

Venturing out of the cubicle, I find the locker room now quite a bit busier with guys all over the place. Not everyone from my year chose this option but there are perhaps a dozen guys I can recognize in various stages of undress. I keep my eyes to myself and lock my belongings away before heading out to the Gym proper where I can cease blushing quite so furiously.

So far nobody’s said anything to me, and none of the public members of the gym seem to have noticed anything off. You think I’m obsessed with how people see me? Try living this dual life. It’s exhausting.

“You didn’t hang around,” Andy observes as he joins me outside the changing rooms. “What do you fancy doing?”

I shrug. “Maybe check out the machines, fancy having a look around at what’s on offer?”

“Sounds good,” he shrugs. “Although I do kinda fancy checking out the pool maybe. It would be good for my leg.”

“I er, I'll pass.” I grimace.

We start wandering the lanes of the gym space. To give you a visual representation of the space we’re in. The changing rooms let out into the main fitness area of the center. Around us are all sorts of torture machines and weights designed to abuse your body to the maximum. Being quite an upmarket joint, there are TVs everywhere playing MTV and other channels for the bored exerciser to enjoy. On the far side, there’s a glass wall looking out over the pool, and other rooms that branch off each side hosting things like yoga, pilates, and other group classes. From what I know of the map in the entrance lobby, there are dozens of rooms and spaces for every sport imaginable. To top it off? There are also outside and indoor courts for Tennis and Badminton.

“Now come on, I’m the deformed one, why are you suddenly so bashful?” Andy asks, reaching out towards a convoluted-looking weight machine before rapidly changing his mind.

“Just not a big swimmer and I really don’t react well to all the chlorine,” I admit with a shrug.

Andy looks unconvinced but drops it. “Man, this sure as heck beats rainy soccer or athletics. I can finally feel my gym bag drying out.”

“Changing room’s not bad. Doesn’t stink like school.”

Andy looks confused. “I never really thought they smelled of anything. Maybe wet kit sometimes, but never particularly strong.”

I grimace, “ew.”

He gives me a funny look but says nothing.

Honestly, I’m a little intimidated. “I think I’ll start small today.” I offer, making my way over and claiming a static bike. “This feels more my speed than anything that’s going to rip my arms off.”

Andy chuckles and joins me as we start a relaxed cycle through the nowhere.

“I don’t think I imagined this year going like this,” he admits as we spin our pedals lazily.

“What, riding a bike or going nowhere?”

He shakes his head. “Them treating us like adults and letting us choose this rather than forcing us to be bad at various sports they decided we should play.”

I get his point. Andy has an abnormality that means one leg is shorter than the other. He’s had surgeries to try to lengthen his left leg, but nothing takes very well. It’s meant that he’s always been slower and less capable athletically. It’s never stopped him, but it did make him a target for the bullies. It’s something I can relate to; something about you just being wrong according to everyone else.

“Yeah, not sure I could have survived another year of regular old gym class.”

“Thanks, Alex.” He blurts suddenly. “I mean it.”

I frown at him, “What for?”

“You know; being my friend.”

“I should be thanking you.” I chuckle, “I’m not exactly rolling in friends.”

“You seem to be doing ok this year.” He points out.

I make a face, “That’s not the point and it’s kinda an exception. It’s just random chance luck.”

“So you’re not in tight with the football team and hanging out with loads of girls now?”

“Only the Byrne sisters because we live near to each other. As for the football guys, I don’t think having met a few of them once really counts.”

“I’m just glad, that’s all.” Andy offers giving me a meaningful look. “There was a point last year when I was pretty convinced you were going to do something stupid. Things seemed to start improving so I didn’t say anything. I’m just glad to see you come back from summer almost a new person.”

Shit, for a teenage boy he’s insightful as hell. I should be more concerned with how visible my depression was that others at school saw it, but Andy’s always been pretty in touch with stuff like that. Shut up, no he’s not Trans too.

“Kinda,” I offer tentatively. I don’t want to give him too much to work with. Do I feel bad lying to people? Absolutely, but it's for their safety and mine. If I don’t tell people the truth, they can’t reveal that they hate who I really am. Shrodinger’s asshole is my theory. Somehow it hurts less to pretend that they’d be your friend still.

“I’m going to go try something lower impact,” Andy offers. “Leg’s bothering me.”

As he wanders off I consider what he was saying. To me, my experiences are the worst in the world. My problems are the greatest and most traumatizing of all bar none. I never stop to think that to others, their problems are just as profoundly difficult for them. Others must also struggle with their inner voices. It might not tell them the same things as mine, but surely, words don’t need to be the same to hurt as much.

“Anyone using this machine?”

“Oh, no, sorry.” I snap out of my reverie and look over at the owner of the voice.

The guy grins and hops onto the bike and fiddles with the settings before starting off. “I’m Chris.”

“Alex,” I offer.

“You looked like you were really deep in thought.”

“Uh, I guess, just something a friend said,” I admit. The guy’s pretty athletic, and I don’t think he’s a high school student, at least not one I’ve seen.

“Oh, that must have been really profound then. What was it about?”

I think about how to phrase it. “How your problems seem like the worst possible thing in the world till you meet someone else the same thing, then you realize that to each of us, our worst problem is the end of the world.”

He chuckles, “Yeah actually that is kinda deep. Kinda heavy lifting for even a gym.”

That one makes me smile. “I should keep my thoughts light, maybe it would make the workout easier.”

“So what do you do when you’re not pondering the universe on an exercise bike?”

I wonder about that for a moment, what do I do? “I like to read and watch movies. Getting lost in a good story is honestly so fulfilling.”

“Not bad,” Chris grins. “So, you wouldn’t want to ca…”

“Hey, Alex!”

The interruption surprises me, but I spot Kara and Megan bounding over. “Hey girl, come on, you going to join us for that yoga class? We’re gonna be late!”

What the fuck, is wrong, with her…

I stare daggers at her but she just beams broadly. “Come on silly!!”

I turn back to Chris and smile apologetically. “Sorry, friends, huh?”

He grins and nods, “See you around Alex.”

As we’re walking away I angry whisper in Megan’s ear. “What the fuck was that about? Why the hell are you calling me girl in front of other people?”

Megan smirks. “I didn’t think you’d want me saying “‘Hey bro’ in front of the guy that was hitting on you.”

I stop walking and stare at her. “What?”

“Honey, you’re not exactly Mister Macho right now.” Kara giggles. “You were all smiles and head tilts and he was lapping it up like Sunday dinner.”

“He thought… I was… oh jeez.” I groan, quite literally facepalming. “What the heck.”

I follow the girls over to a corner of the gym and join them in doing some stretches.

“Is it really that bad?”

Meg shrugs whilst doing a splits I can only dream of. “I mean, he was cute, so you do the math.”

“Great.” I huff, attempting to reach my toes. “I was aiming for cute when I got up this morning. Kinda falls short of ‘guy’ though."

I think back to what Andy said earlier. “Am I that different now? Compared to like last year, I mean.”

Meg thinks for a moment before nodding nods. “Yes, and more than just physically.” she grins. “You were there but you were kinda distant. It was like you were disconnected from everything and no matter how much you performed ‘friend’, you didn’t really believe it yourself.”

I chew on the idea for a moment. “This year?”

“I knew something was up that first morning.” Meg opines. “You were far happier but you were absolutely hiding something.”

“That obvious huh?”

“Do you think Gary has any idea?” Kara asks.

“He hasn’t acted weirdly about anything.” I shrug. “I know he’s suspicious as to why we’re suddenly besties.”

Megan grins. “Yeah, we’re the regular ol’ three musketeers now.”

That makes me smile and in turn, the others do too. Holy crap, this feels so good. I don’t try to hide the tear that’s forming in the corner of my eye, instead, I just feel glad. For the first time in my life, I feel glad to simply exist. I’m glad that I have friends that know the real me and I’m glad that I’m at least making the right steps to see a future for myself. I’m especially glad that I get to at least share a tiny tiny slice of teenage girlhood, even if it is deep undercover.

We hang around for another hour trying various machines before we finally get bored. I’m happy to see that Bike Guy heads for the lockers long before we finish our workout so I won’t have an awkward reunion later. We didn’t get past the gym itself, instead mostly talking as we worked our way around the less scary equipment.

I think I’ll enjoy this place, given enough time. I will probably need to reevaluate how I participate going forward, but for now, that’s manageable. The ice I’m skating on is extremely thin and if today is any example, I'm in line for a dunking sooner than later.

I hunch up and gruff my body language up as much as possible before heading back into the locker room once we’re finished. It’s not very occupied, so I can grab my stuff and change without any major problems. I have to say, I do feel more awkward here than I do in the lockers or bathrooms at school. Here, there are members of the public, people who don’t EXPECT a boy when they see me. It makes the risk of detection so much higher.

I escape back out to the lobby with only one or two weird looks from gym patrons before I’m waiting for the girls outside. Thankfully Attendant man is gone from the front desk so I didn’t have to deal with any more weird looks.

“So what do you wanna do? We’re a bit earlier than normal.” I ask when they finally arrive.

Meg shrugs, “We could head into the city for a bit. If we hung around long enough we could try and beg a ride off our Dad?”

I’m not opposed to the idea. The bus sucks, even if it is cheap. I’m more surprised that the idea of socializing is actually exciting for me now Who even am I these days?

The weather at the end of September is still pretty decent, so it’s quite pleasant as we make our way into the city center. It feels good to just exist for once without the pressure of pretending to be someone I’m not. I wish I was walking with them as just another girl, but for now, its a darn good second best.

We head into a couple of stores and I won’t lie, I find it a little uncomfortable. I know my appearance is somewhat mixed, but I still have this mental image of myself as being seen as a boy. A boy being in women's clothing stores is bad and I’m scared someone is going to rush up to me and yell “Pervert!”

It’s dumb, and I don’t need to worry because I’m way more feminine than my stupid fish brain will recognize, but it's also unfamiliarity. I should be super excited to be here, but Im too scared of being seen as not belonging to enjoy it.

Kara is the first to notice and drops back from the whirling shopping dervish that is Megan Byrne.

“You ok?” she asks, falling in alongside me.

“Kinda the first time I’ve been in girls' stores,” I admit sheepishly, fighting the furious blush.

“Ah, I did forget about that,” she grins. “Even dressed like that I kinda forget you’re doing ‘boy’.

She looks at me for a moment and frowns. “You know, we could make things a bit more ambiguous and let people make their own minds up. Nothing crazy ok?”

“I don’t know about that, it feels a little like inviting trouble.”

Kara waves her hand dismissively. “Come on, I got this. I won’t embarrass you I promise!”

She doesn’t wait for my reply before she drags me off towards the changing rooms at the back of the store. There’s no attendant, so she drags me straight inside and secures us behind the curtain.

“Ok, off with the jacket, hoodie, and shirt, come on.”

I roll my eyes and start removing layers. Honestly, I’m starting to get to a point where I don’t question these two; it’s part trust and another part resignation.

When I’m down to my trousers and tee, Kara eyeballs me seriously for a moment before going in without warning and unfastening my belt, and hiking my pants higher.

“What are you doing?” I blurt, surprised at her forwardness.

She ignores me and finishes what she’s doing and steps back to take a look. “Hmm, better, but not quite there yet…” She dives into her bag and starts sorting through things. A few moments later she stands up and hands me a light grey hooded sweatshirt. “Right, lose the tee and put this on.”

I do as she asks and pull the hoodie on after removing my own T-shirt. Kara quickly removes my hair from the neck and pulls the tie out before re-tying it slightly higher in the middle of my head. She pulls a few hairs loose in strategic places and seems satisfied. Digging into her purse, she whips out lipgloss and a mascara tube before giving me a quick touchup.

“Right, take a look,” she says turning me towards the mirror in the cubicle.

I look at the mirror, skeptical of what she’s done until I catch my own reflection. Looking back at me is a plain dressed-down teenage girl. My black pants pulled higher make my thighs look more shapely and longer. The light grey hoodie is from Kara’s gym kit and it’s oversized and comes down past my crotch, somehow making me look tiny in it. My hair is still back in a ponytail, but it’s out of my clothes and over one shoulder. The whisps and the super subtle makeup almost make me look a little cute if I dare say so myself.

This is no pretty princess transformation but I appear undeniably more female now. After gym girl, or going to the store girl. I think deep down, I imagined people meeting Holly in a pretty dress, but I’m far happier that my best friends are meeting regular girl Holly first; this is the real me.

“Wow,” is all I can think to utter, unable to snap my eyes away from the mirror.

“Does the job huh?” Kara grins over my shoulder. “It’s just little things to nudge you over the line, but if we have to, you can pull the pants back down and tuck your hair away and you’re good… well as good as normal.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shoves me out of the cubicle while I hastily stuff my clothes into my backpack. “Normal for you sweetie, is a girl trying really bad to pretend to be a boy. Now go on, git!”

We make our way back to Megan who is decimating a discount rack like a Racoon in a trashcan.

“Where did you two get…wow.” she gawps. “Oh, we’re doing this now are we?”

I shrug and grin sheepishly. “I guess I am, blame Kara.”
Meg smiles at me and leans in for a quick hug. “Not bad for dressed down girly. One day we’ll do the works on you, ya hear?”

Kara paused suddenly, as though struck by a thought “What do we call you? Do we still call you Alex or something else? I can’t believe I never asked before now.”

I look at my friends and smile. “My name is Holly.”

Meg grins, “It suits you, girl.”

“Can we get on with shopping now without you being all miserable and weird?” Kara asks. “If you’re lucky we can actually get you some more of your own bras.”

I hadn’t considered getting them myself, but with these girls by my side, I feel brave enough.

We go from shop to shop just browsing. Occasionally one of the girls will try something on but I’m not quite ready to do that myself. Kara is right though, I feel far more comfortable like this. Now I know everyone sees three girls I don’t feel any awkwardness at all.

“You know, I don’t even know what my style would be,” I admit. “There’s so many things I want to try, but I really don’t know what I like.”

Meg nods. “Yeah, it takes years to establish a style, but there’s plenty of staples you’ll want anyway; jeans, tees, skirts; stuff you can mix and match. Any kinda more specific style is totally on top of that.”

“Oh, over here, they have a sports section.” Kara gestures dragging me by the arm. “We can get you some bras of your own.”

“Nothing super feminine, and preferably something people won’t feel through my clothes.” I insist. “I’m pretty sure I’ve had a few close calls already.”

“Short of using a sports bandage for an excuse, you’re going to just have to be more careful. We can get some less visible colors though so things shouldn’t show through your clothes.”

The store thankfully has a pretty broad selection of sports bras varying from ones designed to be worn on their own as a top, to ones that are more subtle for under your clothing. Between the girls and I, we managed to select four that should do a fair job at controlling the twins. I’d love to describe them to you in delicious feminine detail but they’re basic sports bras; there’s no lace, no pushups, just nice comfortable compression. These are to keep my girls in order, not put them up as the headline act.

I have a feeling that I won’t be able to stay out of that kind of underwear for long with these two idiots helping me; given half the chance they’ll have me dressed up like a frilly Barbie doll. Will I let them? Probably. I just have to avoid any permanent changes like piercings, plucking, or cuttings and I’m gold. Come on, those are the number one mistakes in trans fiction; our heroine gets her eyebrows done, or ears pierced when she’s not paying attention and the jig is up.

There’s not really a ton of exciting trans drama to this trip; I don’t try on pretty dresses or get a makeover. We enjoy browsing and chatting away and It feels so normal that I’m in heaven. I look forward to this being my typical shopping experience. One day Holly… one day. For now, I just have to take what little joy I can find, and by gosh I do.

“Here you go girls, enjoy.”

I take my coffee from the Barista while Megan and Kara grab their cups of caffeinated goodness. So far, not a single person has considered me anything other than another girl this afternoon and I’m well aware that I have to put this back in the box shortly. If I’m honest, I’m considering flights to Azerbaijan so that I don’t have to.

“Dad will be here in twenty,” Meg tells us sadly, checking her text messages. “Might want to neutralize Holly before he gets here.”

“God, I wish I didn’t have to go,” I admit quietly.

“I’m going to have to be so careful going forward to call you Alex,” she admits smiling forlornly. “It feels so fake now.”

Kara squeezes me in a friendly side hug. “Girl, if we weren’t already convinced that this is the real you, today would have just cemented that. You might have to pretend to be Alex for a while but our BFF Holly will always be just behind the surface.”

BFF… blub.

As I return myself to the neutral boy mode mess that is Alex, I can’t help but feel quite hollow now. This was the first time I really outwardly presented as female to the world at large with intent and it would change me forever. Seems silly that a half-assed makeover and shopping with my best friends was so monumental, but it felt like vindication after twenty years behind bars.

In those early days, even little experiences like this one felt amazing, and going back to full boy mode always stung. It wasn’t hard, being Alex. He was a good kid and he had a decent life. The truth was that it just wasn’t who I was.

Today had caused a problem; a little Holly had reached the surface and now she was gasping for air. The can of worms was opened, the signal beacons were lit and the cat was out of the bag. Keeping myself hidden behind Alex was now a countdown timer.

I suck at counting.

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Fake It Till You Make It - 7 - This is not a date.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Seven - This is not a date.

I had absolutely no idea where I was, but I was almost certain I could hear the faint and terrifying sound of banjoes. The bus had dropped me in a small town about thirty minutes away from home and about an hour away from school if my math was correct. According to Rick, this place was only a short drive from his parents' place, and from where I was standing, it seemed like a short drive from the middle of nowhere.

He’d offered to come pick me up from my place, but I didn’t feel that was entirely appropriate given the unspoken situation that was afoot. Being a big independent totally male friend, I’d asked for the closest I could get by bus. This hole, Johnson Creek, was it. According to Rick, he was heading into town to grab some supplies for his dad from the local hardware store so he’d pick me up and run us both out to the Ranch. This was totally the arrangement two dudes would make who are platonic male friends.

The last heat of summer was starting to fade now, so I’d thrown an open plaid shirt over my plain black T-shirt and cargos. I hoped I looked fairly in theme for hanging out in the country, but I honestly had no idea considering that I was a suburban kid. I was increasingly happy with the sports bras I’d bought with the girls earlier in the week, which, when combined with a shirt and sometimes an overshirt gave me a decent facsimile of a male chest. I was fairly confident I was flat enough to avoid having to constantly resort to bulky sweaters which was a relief. The advantage of the open shirt was that it gave me more bulk around the waist too.

Willy’s Hardware was a weatherworn little storefront on a fairly quiet strip of shops here in the center of Johnson Creek. I’d call it a strip mall, but it would give it far more credit than it deserved. It had been barely a two-minute walk from the bus stop and so far, nobody had given me any odd looks for standing around and waiting on their sidewalk. It seemed that out here, people kept to their own business.

I was only waiting a few minutes further before an older red Chevy pickup swung into the lot and parked directly in front of me. Rick hopped down from the cab and smiled. I’d seen him out of school before, but at the Mall, he dressed like all the other jocks in sneakers and designer brands. Right now, he was in a pair of beat-up cowboy boots, jeans, and a grubby gray T-shirt that fitted him extremely well. This wasn’t Mister Popular, this was the farm kid with his mask off. I’m sure it’s a strange way to phrase it, but I thought he looked far more real this way.

“Have you been waiting long?” He asks brightly.

I shake my head. “No, only just got here. I thought the bus was taking me to some old shack in the woods.”

Rick grins as we head inside Willy’s store. “Yeah, it’s a little bit out in the sticks but it’s worth it for the view once you get out of town.”

I shrug, “I’ll take your word for it, I’m not super outdoorsy really.”

“You’ll like it, there’s nothing like it.” He replies with enthusiasm. “We won’t be long here, Dad needs me to grab him some nails and a bunch of wire.”

The inside of the store is poorly lit and well-worn but still incredibly neat and tidy. Whoever Willy is, he takes great pride in his little store. I follow Rick like a hapless puppy as he confidently navigates the isles filled with tools and supplies until he finds what he needs. Approaching the register he drops the tub of nails and wire drum on the counter and rings an old-fashioned bell on the wall.

“I’m a-comin', hold yer horses!” a time-ravaged voice plucked directly from an old western movie hollers from somewhere deep in the back of the store. A few moments later a stooped old man shuffles in from the storeroom and smiles toothily at Rick. He’s wearing faded denim overalls and a neat button-up shirt. What little is left of his hair is a shock of white.

“Your pops send you in for more stuff eh?”

“You know Dad,” Rick smirks, pulling out his wallet. “Kids visiting you this weekend Willy?”

The old man rings him up and rolls his eyes dramatically behind thick wire-rimmed spectacles. “Whenever they have time for me you mean! They keep tryin’ get me to move in with 'em, but I won’t give up the old store.”

“Won’t be the same if you did,” Rick grins. “Oh hey Willy, this is Alex, we go to school together.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Alex, he’s a good boy this one.” Old Willy tips an imaginary cap.

I turn bright red but Rick doesn’t seem to notice as he’s busy checking his phone for a text message. “Crap, we gotta beat it Willy, I gotta grab some stuff for Mom before we head home. Catch you around.”

“Have a good day kids,” Willy waves, already halfway back through the door to the stockroom.

“Well, he’s a character,” I opine as we leave. I’m still slightly embarrassed by the old man’s assumption.

“Yeah, Willy’s been around longer than I have. He was running that store when Dad was my age.”

“So you’ve always lived here then,” I ask as we walk along the row of shops, “your family?”

Rick nods, “Since 1890 according to Gramps. Always been Taylors on the land up here.”

“My parents moved from New York,” I offer. “They met at college there; Cornell.”

“Your Mom’s a Doctor, right? That’s a damn good school.”

“I’m hoping to make it there myself,” I admit. “If I can bump my 3.9 to a 4.0.”
Rick whistles. “Not bad at all. I’m hoping to do business, should set me up to take over the Ranch one day for Dad.”

“What’s what you want to do? Run the family place?”

Rick nods. “Yeah, I want to keep it in the family, I see it as a legacy thing.”

It’s a side of him I’ve never really seen before but one I can respect. Like me, he wants to follow in his parent’s footsteps; I can relate to that.

We make our way into a grocery store at the end of the strip and Rick grabs a cart from a rack outside before pushing it through the doors. “Sorry for dragging you around doing chores, parents eh?”

“All good,” I admit. “Wasn’t going to do anything else other than hang out with some chump from school anyway.”

He just gives me a look and shakes his head. “You’re as bad as my sister.”

“I should probably be insulted,” I chuckle. “I never knew you had a sister.”

He nods. “Yeah, Anna’s twenty-five, she’s a geologist down in New Mexico someplace. She’s working for an Oil Company. Back when she was here she’d give me so much crap, I miss her though.”

“Just you two and your parents now?”

He nods and grabs a pack of bread rolls off the shelf. “Yeah, just the three of us at the moment if you don’t count any of the ranch hands. It’s quiet but I kinda like it that way, you know?”

I nod, realizing that this guy’s a lot more lonely than he lets on at school. We certainly have that in common. I wonder if I would have done something similar to him if I’d been a boy, well, If I'd been happy as a boy. Whatever, you know what I mean.

We continue around the store and acquire the rest of his Mom’s list before checking out. Thankfully I manage to avoid any more genderings from any of the townsfolk and we head back out to his truck with grocery bags in hand. Rick takes the bags and his hardware acquisitions and loads them into the bed before unlocking the cab. I hop up on the passenger side before any door weirdness can occur and belt in. (Hey, I’m a good city girl ok? Always wear your seatbelt)

Rick starts the truck up and backs us out of the lot. Before long we’re heading out of the small town and into the rolling countryside beyond.

“I can’t believe it’s this wild so close to where I live,” I murmur, my face glued to the window like a certain cartoon orange cat.

Rick glances over and smiles proudly. “Yeah, amazing how small our worlds can be sometimes. I really don’t get into the city much besides school and stuff. Dad wants to make sure I get the best education possible.”

“Here was me thinking you were like all the rest of the jocks; brainless and going nowhere after high school.”

Rick rolls his eyes. “That school clique shit is such bullshit. I went from being the butt of jokes to supposedly one of the cool crowd in the span of a year because I’m playing a damn sport. You get treated like crap because you don’t and you like comic books.”

For the first time, I feel like joking about my social life. “I mean, I am particularly awful at sports, you can attest to that.”

He nods and turns the truck off the road and onto a long gravel driveway. “So terrible I ain’t letting you near a gun or anything sharp. This,” he gestures through the windshield towards a large ranch house, “is me.”

The Taylor home is a beautiful two-storey timber ranch house with a huge stone chimney and slate roof. Off to one side is a long stable block and a barn with what appears to be more buildings poking out behind it. Several cars are parked out front along with a pair of trucks carrying a logo. He wasn’t kidding when he said the place was a working ranch.

“Damn, now I feel like I live in a hovel.”

“You’ll give me a big head,” he admits sheepishly, pulling the truck up beside an expensive-looking European BMW Sedan. “I’m lucky though, I know.”

We hop down from the truck and gather up the shopping before heading up the wide wooden steps to the front of the house. I’m still in awe of this place. I thought I had a nice house in the ‘burbs, but it’s nothing compared to this. Our big four-bed colonial feels pokey in comparison.

“We’re back Mom,” Rick calls as we enter the foyer. “I managed to get everything but the Basil!”

“It’s fine, I can work with Oregano but it won’t taste the same.” a female voice called from what I presume is the kitchen. A moment later a dark-haired woman in her late forties pops into the room drying her hands on a towel. “You said you had a… oh, hello dear.” she smiles directly at me. “Rick said he had company today but he didn’t say who was coming, I’m Rebecca, his mother.”

“Mom, this is Alex, we go to school together.”

“Lovely to meet you dear,” she smiles diving straight in for a hug. I stand somewhat wooden and accept the sudden invasion of my personal space and somewhat awkwardly pat her once or twice before she steps back. “How long have you two…?”

“Uh, only since the start of term really,” I admit sheepishly. “But we kinda knew each other for a while I guess.”

Rick’s mother smiles. “Rick, take that shopping through to the kitchen and put it away please, what do I pay you for?”

“You don’t,” he mutters taking the bag from me and disappearing through into the kitchen.

Rebecca Taylor smiles and I watch her eyes flick across me in that analytical way many women do to assess someone new. She smiles kindly, “Did my son tell you something about ranches and horses and not provide any context?”

“Uh, I guess Ma’am,” I smile sheepishly. “I mean he said he lived on one.”

Quick, change the topic and distract with compliments.

“You have a beautiful home, Mrs Taylor, It’s so lovely out here.”

“It’s Rebecca remember, and thank you, dear.”

Rick returns and extracts me from the awkward parental interaction. “Alex, come on, we’ll have a few hours till lunch.”

I bid his mother goodbye and follow Rick through to a large family room on the far side of the house with a deck that looks out over broad rolling pastures.

“Wow,” I breathe, looking out of the floor-to-ceiling windows. “This place is gorgeous.”

“It’s pretty neat,” he admits. “It’s always been home so I guess It’s pretty normal, but the view never gets old.”

“So what do you want to do?”

Rick drops down on a huge sofa and picks up a controller. “Plumber Kart rematch?”

“Oh boy, you are in for it now.” I grin.

* * *

“Lunch!”

“Thank god,” Rick sighed tossing his controller on the couch. “I don’t think I can stand getting my ass kicked for any longer.”

I stretch and don’t try to hide my self-satisfied smirk. “I’m afraid I’m just better.”

He looks pleased. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you genuinely look this happy.”

I shrug feeling a little self-conscious suddenly. “It’s nice to be able to just kick back, no pretenses, you know?”

Rick nods knowingly and points towards the kitchen. “I get it, now come on before Mom yells at us.”

The kitchen in the Taylor house is as stunning as the rest of the place. The large space is dominated by a central island and a full suite of appliances and amenities. Not something I would come to fully appreciate till I had a home of my own in many years time. That’s not a woman thing, it’s an adult thing. Trust me; no kid is interested in fitted appliances and granite countertops.

Future Holly: You should see me in a home store, I’m like a Tornado in a Texas trailer park. But I’m being a nerd, so I’ll apologize and get back to the juicy ‘will they won’t they’ tension.

Rick’s Mom smiles as we enter. “I’ll take it from all the noise that you two had fun with your video games?”

“Yeah, and Sorry Mom, Alex was kicking my butt,” Rick grins elbowing me gently.

“And I fully support that,” she adds with an approving nod. “Rick and his Dad are both sore losers, they need bringing down a peg sometimes.” She adds, giving me a pointed look I don’t follow. “Lunch on the side, I’ll be up in my study.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Rick grins as he slides onto a stool on the island and grabs a plate.

“She seems nice,” I offer, collecting my own lunch, a lovely roll that I seem to recall from earlier this morning. Chicken Ceasar? Nice.

“She must like you, my teammates only get to call her Mrs Taylor.” he chuckles between bites. “Man, how did you get that good at Plumberkart?”

“A lot of time to myself,” I admit with a sardonic smile. “Plus I’ve always preferred games like that over shooters. You should see me on BashHandyScoot. I can whip all comers until they’re begging for me to end their suffering.”

Rick looks a little more serious for a moment. “That’s what I mean; you have this sadness about you, like a shadow that follows you around. Occasionally though when you’re comfortable or nobody is watching, you have this brightness that shines through.”

“I hope you’re not writing that for an English essay, you’ll get a D for it.” I opine, using the sandwich as a mask to hide my blush. Why does this guy have to be so… right?

“I mean it.” he pushes. “Like earlier; you were a totally different person; much freer and a lot more fun to hang around.”

Rut Roh Raggy.

“I was?”

His face takes on a weird look for a moment and he nods. “Yeah, it was cool.”

My brain doesn’t really want to work so I take a bite of the sandwich. “Uh, That’s good I guess?”

“It is,” He nods. “Phase two starts this afternoon; we’re doing something completely outside your comfort zone.”

I furrow my brow and lower my sandwich. “We are not riding horses are we?”

Me and my big mouth…

* * *

“Woah uh, slow down girl.” The horse I’m perched precariously atop is moving without any input from me and Rick is not helping at all. To think that I believed he was a nice guy this morning…

“Just relax and stop being so tense, she can tell you’re terrified,” Rick laughs from down beside me. We’ve not gone far, we’re still in the coral next to their barn and I’m sitting atop a piebald (apparently) horse called Clover. Right now I’m positive she has designs to kill me.

I force myself to relax my legs and release the death grip I’m maintaining on my poor mount. The several tons of animal between my legs start to slow down. Rick shakes his head at my terrible riding and swings himself up onto his own steed. He trots over to the gate and leans down with relaxed ease to open it before walking through. “Come on over here, just turn her right.”

I gulp and start to steer my mount towards the now-open gate. The horse seems to comply and follows my instructions without question. She has yet to bolt violently for freedom so I’m optimistic that I can stay on her back for the time being. We walk slowly through and I ease her to a stop while Rick closes the gate.

“You ok?” he asks, pulling up alongside me.

“I’m not dead yet,” I postulate, “But there’s still time.”

Rick grins. “This isn’t so hard, I promise. I’ll stick with you no matter what. Now come on; we’re burning daylight.”

With that, and a gentle squeeze of my mount, we start moving away from the Ranch. The training wheels are off now; it’s just me, a horse, and a moron.

We ride up and away from the yard and out towards the forest to the south of the Ranch property. To his credit, Rick is a very patient teacher and before long I’m managing a decent trot without screaming in terror. This is my literal first time on horseback and so far I’ve not managed to hurt myself, I count that as a significant achievement.

We chat casually as we ride along the treeline that borders the southern pasture. Having lived in the city my whole life, everything I’m experiencing today is brand new. The scenery out here is breathtaking and the smell of real-life honest to god pine trees is intoxicating.

“You know, now you’ve settled down, you’re doing just fine.” Rick offers casually. “Fun isn’t it?”

“I don’t hate it,” I admit. “I still prefer solid ground and video games but fair is fair, you deserve a win.”

“I’m not trying to win. I just want to see you focus your attention on something different and stop worrying.”

“You sure you’re not cut out for psychology than business?” I quip. Look, jokes are my defense mechanism. When people get too close, I evade with comedy, I do it even to this day.

After riding on for another thirty minutes, we arrived at a wide shallow creek that flows lazily out from the forest and across the pasture. Rick leads the way, and I follow carefully down the bank towards the water.

“This is safe, right?”

Rick looks back at me as he’s halfway across and waves me forward. “Come on, it's not even up to her knees. Tell her to go forward and she’ll do the rest.”

I utilize what little control I have over this hairy beast to urge her forward slowly out into the water. He’s right, it’s not that deep, but I’m still learning to cope with horses on land and I haven’t taken the amphibious class yet. What happens next is entirely of my own doing, but there is a reason. I’m blaming it on inexperience and prior knowledge of horse-related injuries, all entirely gleaned from movies.

I slip my feet out of the stirrups, nervous about getting caught up if the horse falls over and I drown trapped beneath the animal. In all the western movies, someone gets screwed over by their horse. Hell, do you remember the scene in The King’s Comeback where the King of the Horsemen is trapped under his mount and dies? I figure a river crossing is a likely spot for this to happen to me. It turns out, however, that for me, this was the first of several compounding mistakes. What really kicks it off, is that I have Clover going so slowly that she steps on a rock and her hoof slips sideways. She’s forced to rebalance herself which results in a jolt that I would have withstood had I been properly seated; I am not, I’m twisted around to see how far we’ve come out into the river and how deep it is…

“Oh shiiitttt!”

Clover sidesteps, my feet only find air and suddenly I’m sliding sideways off her back and heading straight for an untimely death. With an almighty splash, I land in the creek butt first. It’s just deep enough that It doesn’t hurt, but shallow enough that I’m soon resting on the bottom and I’m staring up at a very concerned-looking Clover who’s wondering why her idiot passenger decided to make a swift exit.

“Alex!” Rick rides over and dismounts straight into the water without a care in the world and pulls me upright. “Are you ok? What happened?”

I spit hair out of my face and shake like a wet dog. “I… that… blegh!”

Rick looks at me for a second and then bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, you are a sight!”

I push my hair back and scowl at him. I am soaked to the bone and this git has the balls to laugh at my misfortune? This whole mess is made worse because I can’t even remove my soaked clothes to wring them out without revealing some problematic secrets.

“Come on,” he grins, shaking his head. “I’ll get Clover, try and find dry land.”

He leads the horses over to the far bank and ties them off to a tree while I trudge across the rest of the creek and up onto the far bank. Now the shock of the dunking is past, I’m starting to worry about my current predicament. I am wet, and I cannot get dry without exposing my secret.

Turning away from Rick, I pull off my overshirt and wring it out as best I can. It’s sopping wet and still dripping, but it’s a slight improvement. I discovered to my great concern that my hair tie is missing and I only have a spare back at the house in my backpack; not entirely ideal. I pull off my sneakers and empty the water out before clambering up the bank. Rick is watching me, and his expression is hard to read. He doesn’t look like he’s laughing, but he doesn’t look pissed either. “Uh, Yeah best I can manage,” I admit with a shrug. “Sorry, I messed everything up.”

He stares at me for a second before seemingly shaking himself and looking at me properly. “I.. sorry!” He grabs a jacket from the saddle of his horse and hands over it awkwardly. “It’s the only dry stuff I have, we can head back to the house, I’m sure we got some stuff you can wear. Jeez, I didn’t think…”

“My stupid fault” I smile sheepishly, “I slipped. It wasn’t Clover’s fault.”

Rick shakes his head. “We’ll head back and get you dry, I know a shortcut. Are you going to be ok to ride?”

I shake a sodden leg and shove my foot back into one of my sneakers. “I’m going to have to be, aren’t I?”

I catch him looking at me again, and it’s a little unsettling. I pull my wet hair back behind my ears and shift my weight awkwardly. “Rick?”

He seems to focus and smiles like nothing is wrong. “Sorry, was just thinking about something,” he admits with a silly smile. “Come on, I’ll get us back and we can get you dried off. I’m really sorry Alex.”

The trip back to the ranch is somewhat awkward at first. Our conversation is a little stilted and he doesn’t seem to want to talk too much. I’m worried that he’s seen something, that I let my guard down or the dunking revealed more of me than I wanted him to see. I think in reality, he might be more embarrassed that his fun adventure has ended up with me miserable and soaking wet on the back of a horse. Thankfully, my fears are unfounded and soon we’re chatting away again like nothing is wrong.

The ride back takes around twenty minutes and the wind has managed to turn me from soaking to soggy. Truth be told, I was starting to get the hang of this horse business. It’s my first time riding, but I think If I got a little more experience I might actually enjoy it. Once we’re back and we’ve stabled the horses I’m able to trudge my way up toward the house. Rick’s mom appears from upstairs as she hears us enter.

“Rick, is that you?”

“Yeah Mom, we’re back uh… we had a bit of a mishap.”

She appears around the corner and her eyes go wide. “Oh gosh, what the heck did you get Alex into?”

“Yeah, uh, horses, rivers, and me don’t mix too well.” I offer awkwardly, trying my hardest to not drip.

“Come with me,” she orders, scowling at her son. “Let’s get you dried off and into some fresh clothes before you catch your death. And you,” she adds, gesturing at her son. “Go tell your father dinner will be ready soon and to get the hell out of whatever he’s doing in the Barn.”

“Yes Mom,” Rick salutes and beats a hasty retreat.

That leaves me firmly in the clutches of Rebecca Taylor.

“Come on now honey, let’s get you sorted out. My darn son can be such an idiot at times showing off. You’ve never ridden before have you?”

I shake my head. “No, It’s my first time.” I feel the need to defend Rick suddenly. “I did like it though, it wasn’t his fault.”

“Oh it’s great, but it needs a little practice. And that boy takes you through the creek on your first ride? Of course,” she sighs. “Right, the bathroom is here, grab a shower and I'll bring you a change of clothes okay? Grab any towel off the side.”

I go inside and lock the door before spotting myself in the mirror. Beyond my somewhat disheveled and soggy appearance, my hair has been wind-dried on the ride back and is now rivaling Tina Turner for volume. Now I know why Rick was giving me weird looks, I absolutely look like a girl right now.

I strip out of my wet clothes before tackling my sports bra. In case you haven’t ever tried to take off a wet one, it is like wrestling a greased-up raccoon in a phone booth; nobody comes out as the winner. Eventually naked, I slip into the shower and turn on the water. The Taylor’s shower is a walk in and it features one of those deluge heads that utterly soaks you all the way down to your soul. I borrow some shampoo and conditioner and manage to get myself washed and clean in no time at all.

The powerful jets of water manage to pound the soreness out of my infrequently used muscles.
It’s moments like these in the shower where I feel most like me. With one… glaring exception, I’m just a girl in the shower. I can pretend the world is right, at least for a little while. If you think this is some sexy prelude to me fantasizing about Rick and having a really nice time on my own, you have another thing coming, dear reader.

I get out of the shower and wrap myself in a towel while I dry my hair. My reflection in the mirror is undeniably female at the moment, though the towel around my boobs and my soggy blonde hair isn’t helping that. I’m contemplating just how girly I was looking after my dunking earlier when there’s a knock on the door. Without any sort of warning the lock clicks open and Mrs Taylor steps inside with a stack of clothes in hand. What’s the point of knocking if she isn’t going to wait for me to answer? It’s like asking if someone is lactose intolerant and then feeding them a whopping slice of cheesecake anyway.

“Feeling better?” she asks brightly, totally ignorant of the deer in the headlights expression on my startled face.

“I got you some dry things to wear honey, they should fit you just fine. They belonged to my eldest Anna before she flew the coop so don’t worry about returning them. She was a bit of a tomboy like you so it’s nothing too frilly, don’t you worry.”

“Eh?”

She looks at me like I’m stupid. “Clothes honey, so you don’t have to wear your wet ones?”

It all seems to dawn on me at once. She thinks I’m a girl, meaning that she’s thought this since I arrived this morning. Wait just a hair-brained second, does she she think I’m Rick’s girlfriend?

OhgodwhatthefuckamIgoingtodo.

“Uh, thanks Mrs…Rebecca, I appreciate it.”

“No problem honey, you get dressed and there’s a hair dryer in the cupboard below the towel rack ok?”

She lets herself out and leaves me there in a towel holding a stack of clothes in my arms. I’m still processing what just happened and I’m trying to work out what to do to avoid any weirdness. Does Rick suspect? Is it just his mom not putting two and two together?

I drop the clothes on the countertop and examine what’s there. A pair of fairly plain-looking jeans, some plain cotton panties, a white T-shirt, and a plain bra. Along with all this, is a navy blue sweatshirt with a crest on the back that looked vaguely Jesusy. Honestly? Could be far worse. If this was some work of Transgender fiction, she’d have given me a dress and everyone would be complimenting me on my pretty pink panties.

Without many options, I pick up the panties and examine them; they’re clean, cotton, and dry, It’s not like I’m showing anyone these, so whatever. I’m not explaining tucking to you guys, you know exactly what it is… I slip the panties up my legs and ‘take care of business’ so that things appear more normal in that regard. The jeans come next and they’re a reasonably good fit. They fit a bit more snugly around the waist and hips than I’m used to, but it’s surprisingly comfortable. I button the fly and settle them higher around my waist. A quick glance in the mirror shows a girl wearing jeans, jeans that actually fit her. Honestly, I’m a little shocked by how well.

The bra I reject out of hand; there is no way I’m going to do anything to make these things any bigger! I can just claim it didn’t fit if anyone even bothers to ask. I slip on the teeshirt which fits far too well, it doesn’t really give me any compression but it adds a little bulk. The Sweater is a saving grace; it’s oversized and comes down to just below my crotch and the sleeves hang past my fingertips so my chest is far less visible once it’s zipped up and I assume my classic hunched posture.

Once I’m done taming my mane with the hair dryer, I finally look somewhat presentable. The jeans are a little too fitted and they make my hips look quite curvy. The blow dryer has made my hair look more full than I’d like, but overall, I’m reading mostly boy. This is apparently not what Mrs Taylor has seen at all. It’s the best I’m going to get, so tidying up my own clothes, I cautiously exit the bathroom.

I can hear voices downstairs, I’m trying to work out what to do when Rick exits what I assume is his room down the corridor. He too has changed, now wearing sweats and a tanktop. “Hey, Alex! You good?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so. Your Mom lent me some clothes to wear home, I didn’t… my stuff was still wet.” I offer holding up the soggy bundle.

“I can take care of those for you, we got a dryer in the basement” he offers reaching out for the clothes. I allow him, thankful that I’d stuffed my damp sports bra into the hoodie pocket. He frowns for a moment and looks at my back. “Ah, I thought it was.”

“Was what?”

“That sweater was my sister’s… it's from her school, St Josephines.”

“I uh, she just… she just gave me this stuff, I guess because im a lot smaller than you.” I bluster, hoping it sounds right.

Rick chuckles and shakes his head. “Don’t worry dude, you’d swim in one of mine.”

“Come on down, we can toss your stuff in the dryer then chill for a bit while it dries.”

“I don’t want to stick around all day, I don’t want to outstay my welcome.”

“Nah, it’s cool. Mom loves you and I kinda owe you one after letting you get dunked.”

I suppose the combined mental and physical exhaustion of the day had finally worn down my reluctance because when Rick had offered to drive me home later that evening I accepted. It had been a good day overall and I had enjoyed myself. The confusion with his mother aside, it had been one of the most distracting days I’ve had in a long time.

We pulled up outside my house a little after nine and Rick shut off the truck.

“Hey, thanks for today,” I offer. “I really did have a good time, even with the horses and rivers.”

“It does get easier, I promise. You can even manage to not get wet normally.”

“Well, you’ll have to do a better job of teaching next time.” I quip before realizing it sounds like a date. I blush, but in the darkness, I hope it’s not visible.

“Yeah, I will,” Rick replies with this weird half-smile. “I’ll see you at school Alex.”

“See you,” I offered, hopping down from the cab.

As I head up the driveway, I hear the truck start and pull away from the curb. I stop for a moment and watch it head down the street and vanish into the darkness. I actually miss him, and I was looking forward to seeing him again on Monday. I swallowed and shook my head, I have to be strong; this is only a friendship. I’m just not used to having actual male friends and missing them. I miss Megan and Kara and want to tell them about today. That feels the same way, right? I sighed and hefted my bag over my shoulder and headed for the house.

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Fake It Till You Make It - 8 - Doctor Doctor! I'm a girl!

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Eight - Doctor Doctor! I'm a girl!.

“Alexander Winters?” The nurse called from the end of the corridor.

“I’ll see you soon honey,” Mom smiled, barely looking up from her magazine. Yes, the mighty Doctor Winters, Cardiothoracic Specialist extraordinaire was reading a fashion magazine in the doctor's waiting room like a regular mom doing regular Mom stuff.

I got up, walked across to the nurse, and followed her to the Doctor’s office. I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t a little apprehensive about this appointment. I know it’s likely the closest challenge I’ll have in this precarious adventure of mine. It also might be the first time I have to fess up, gulp!

“Hi, Alex, how are we doing?” Doctor Harris asked as I plop down in the seat beside his desk.

“I’m good, I guess.”

Doctor Harris smiles and gives me a quick once-over with his eyes. “Your mother said you had a bit of food poisoning last week and she had some other concerns, how are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling great,” I offer with a big happy, and totally authentic smile. “I even went horse riding at the weekend (Thank you Rick for that excuse). I’m honestly feeling all better now. It was just the fish I had for lunch that week.”

Harris nods in that knowing way Doctors do that already have the answers to the questions they’re asking. “Sometimes our bodies can just have a glitch like that without reason,” he offered fixing me with a more knowing look. “She did mention you might have been reluctant to go to gym class though, that you perhaps felt inferior to the other boys, perhaps developmentally?”

Ah, the main thrust of this appointment. Time to counter; “I’m fine Doctor, I promise. I was in the gym last week, I’m actually very happy with my body.”

Yes, I do like my body… because it’s mostly fixed bar one small issue.

“All the same, I’d like to take a look at you and check you over. Nothing major, just so we can be sure you’re running on all cylinders as it were. Let's call it checking under the hood eh?”

Ah, yes, tell the teen boy a car metaphor and he’ll get it; good work Doctor.

“Do we have to do this?” Hey, nobody ever said you couldn’t ask…

Doctor Harris raises an eyebrow. “Well, it’s not technically required. You could refuse, but I wouldn’t see why. I’m just trying to ensure that you’re healthy, Alex. You’re a growing teen, and it’s for your own good.”

Here we reach the big hinge point. Mom has put me in this position, but I need to get out of it in one piece. I don’t think I have a lot of options to avoid him finding out about me and if this goes right, it might help?

I cannot put into words the immobilizing fear of coming out to someone. It’s terrifying and it’s one thing I won’t ever forget for the rest of my life. I’m not stupid though, so I’m going to ensure I’m covered in case of shenanigans.

“You’re required by HIPPA to limit any medical information regarding my health to me because I’m sixteen right?”

Doctor Harris eyeballs me hard. “Yes, I am, why?”

This is it, the cash money moment where I tell a doctor the truth about me and hope for the best. I’ve read all the horror stories in the past of unsupportive physicians, ones that might try to tell my parents because I’m still a legal dependent even though I’m sixteen. It’s something I’ve been reluctant about because of the overriding pressure of parental control. I have to take a leap of faith.

“Doctor, I’m... uh, transgender.”

Harris’s eyebrows rise as it clicks. “I see…” he murmurs, surprised by my news before the penny drops. “I suppose I now see your reluctance.”

He hasn’t tried to sacrifice me for Sky Pixies yet, so there’s a chance he isn’t a hater. I sit up straight and pull my posture in. Now I’m behaving more like the real me, not the boy mask. So far, I’ve only let two people see Holly on purpose, now it’s three. “Yes Doctor, I know this might come as a surprise, but I hope you can understand both my reluctance to do gym class with boys and also my nerves regarding my examination.”

“I would like to still perform one, if I may, if you are to pursue any treatment regarding this it might be of benefit to you going forwards.”

Time for the sauce. “Uh, there might be a slight problem there.”

Harris eyes me suspiciously. His eyes flit across my general appearance and he sighs. “Let me guess, you’re already in treatment, and your parents don’t know?”

I purse my lips, “Somewhat right on both accounts.”

Harris looks irritated. “Are you telling me the s…d…child of a physician is going against best advice and self-medicating? You of all people should be aware of how dangerous that is?”

“I know that Doctor, I promise I do,” I admit feeling more than a little sheepish under his rightful ire. “You have to understand that I didn’t feel as though I had a choice. I reached a point of extreme desperation and I did my research. I sourced it from a safe place and I’ve been monitoring for issues as best I can. I cannot be certain my parents wouldn’t take action against my desires. It was do this and prevent a male puberty or it was a far darker outcome”

Doctor Harris turned his chair around to face me, unclipped his name badge, and tossed it onto his desk. “I’m not Doctor Harris right now, I’m Tony Harris; the guy who went to school with your Mom, the guy who’s seen you grow from diapers to dungarees. Off the record Alex, your mom isn’t that kind of person.”

“People often manage to surprise you,” I reply only slightly bitterly. “If you affect their lives and careers people will change their tune pretty quickly. If I disturb things I’m afraid I’ll get shipped off to a military school or something religious.”

“I know Veronica pretty well,” The doctor points out. “I don’t think she’d ever put her child through anything like that. How long have you been taking the drugs, and what exactly are you taking?”

My lip quirks, “A GNRH Hyperagonist by subcutaneous injection to suppress my puberty and Testosterone output and then supplemental Estrogen and Progesterone by pill to kickstart the puberty I was meant to have. I performed my research and I sourced everything from reliable places.”

Harris shakes his head and smiles slightly. “Like mother like daugh… wait, is it ok to say that?”

I smile, “Yeah, it is, and that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Harris smiles at me and I feel a little safer with him. “I don’t agree with the process but I can appreciate the why, Alex. If you insisted on proceeding, ordinarily I’d offer a bridging prescription and send you to an expert but I can’t prescribe you anything without it going on your insurance. That means your parents would find out. I can however randomly and without any explicable reason perform general blood panels once in a while to make sure you are a healthy growing teenager without any broader issues.”

I know what he’s suggesting and I’m glad for it. “I understand Doctor.”

Harris picks up his name badge and fastens it to his shirt again before giving me a pointed look. “Now, I think more than ever I need to perform that physical. Although I think I need to get a nurse to chaperone it, don’t I Miss Winters?”

God, that feels so unbelievably good to hear.

A few moments later I’m sitting behind a curtain on the exam table in Doctor Harris’s office. I’m wearing a gown that was provided before he left to go find and explain my situation to a nurse. Other than this thin paper garment, I am as naked as the day I was born. The idea of being nude in front of others has always bothered me; mostly because it was wrong, and also because I never liked my body. Now, I’m actually more nervous for two polar opposite reasons. That a man will see my breasts, and that a woman will see… well, the rest of me, and know I’m a cheap imitation.

I hear the door open beyond the curtain.

“Are you ready in there Alex?”

“As much as I ever will be,” I reply, my heart rate soaring to apocalyptic levels.

Harris and one of the practice nurses enter and she gives me a little smile. It’s a comforting smile, one intended to make me feel better as if she knows how terrified I am of this moment.

“I’m going to take some blood for Doctor Harris once we’re done here, ok sweetie?”

I nod, “Sure, not too bothered by needles, just nudity.”

Harris chuckles. “I think we all are, let’s get this over nice and quickly shall we? I don’t want to prolong this for you. Pop that off and stand up for me please.”

I nod and stand. I reach behind my back for the velcro closure and release it. For a moment, I hold the gown to my chest like a towel before swallowing and slowly removing it fully and placing it on the table. Doctor Harris looks surprised but suppresses it quickly. The nurse, her expression is unreadable but her eyes appear sad. I don’t know what that means.

Future Holly here; I’m going to be extremely clinical in this next paragraph because I don’t like remembering moments like these. To me, they remind me of the shame I felt during this time, the denial, the fear, and the disgust with my own body. My younger self hated this, it took her a long time to get past feeling wrong.

Doctor Harris examined the Sixteen-year-old patient who was assigned male at birth. The patient displayed strong female secondary sexual characteristics within general medians of female adolescent development. Measurements of the adolescent patient’s hips, shoulders, and height were taken. Skeletally, they were found to be within developmental medians for her age. The patient’s breasts were small but within Tanner stage four development which placed her slightly behind her expected median. The patient’s male genitalia were found to be underdeveloped, likely in part due to the use of GnRH Hyperagonists and supplemental Estrogen therapy. The patient was One hundred and nineteen pounds in weight and five foot six inches in height.

“You can get dressed Alex, then Nurse Campbell will take your blood ok?”

I slid my clothes back on quickly and gave myself a moment to get settled. I knew what had just happened was necessary, but I also hated every damn second of it. Moments like this proved just how weird and wrong I was, it wasn’t particularly enjoyable. “I’m dressed,” I mumble.

The curtain twitched and Nuse Campbell stepped inside with a tray for drawing blood. “You ok honey?”

I nod and look a the floor.

“For what it’s worth sweetheart, you’re very brave.”

I rolled up the sleeve of my sweater and presented my arm for vampirism. “It doesn't feel that way.”

“I’m sure things will get better honey, it won’t be this way forever.”

I smiled my thanks and lack of desire for a heartwarming discussion and allowed her to finish her work and depart.

“Well Alex,” Harris announced. “Pending bloodwork, you’re healthy. Officially I cannot condone this pathway, but if you are insistent I will provide periodic bloodwork to ensure your safety. From my examination, you appear healthy and normal for a growing girl, but I’m concerned about your male presentation. Do you expect to be able to maintain this for particularly long?”

“So, I might have been given my advice and anecdotes on how fast this stuff works by older patients,” I admit. My age might well be a factor there.”

“No shit,” Harris agreed with uncharacteristic bluntness. “Your desire to remain in secret and also follow this path will be difficult to reconcile. At your current rate, I’d expect you’ll need to confront this before the new year at the latest. Your chest is developing extremely quickly and you don’t exactly look much like a boy, Alex.”

“Ordinarily I’d be ecstatic,” I grin sarcastically. “You won’t tell my mother, right?”

Harris frowns, “Against my better judgment, I will not. That is your decision as my patient. My advice is to tell her, Alex. Veronica is a good woman and an excellent doctor. I full well know she supports people like you. I doubt she’d reject her own daughter.”

My heart does a happy little flip at the word daughter. It’s the second time I’ve heard it today and It’s more powerful than you can imagine.

“I’ll consider it,” I concede. “I don’t expect my timetable of college will hold much water.”

Harris stands and opens his office door for me. “If you can still present successfully as a male by the time you reach college, I’m a veterinarian.”

Back in the waiting room, Mom was surprisingly still reading her magazine. I had honestly expected her to be talking shop with any number of the staff she knew here.

“According to Doctor Harris, I’m not dead,” I offer as I arrive before her.

“I could have told you that,” she replied with a parental roll of the eyes. “Let’s get you off to school so I can get into work. I have a bypass this afternoon to prep for.”

“Never let it be said that my health came before the needs of the Cardiologically infirm.”

Mom walked past me and clipped me on the back of the head as she passed in a way that never actually hurt but showed me that she loved me despite my mouth. “School, gobby one.”

* * *

Getting to school late after an appointment had to be one of the highlights for a kid. You had empty corridors and a hall pass to be late. Honestly, you got to feel a little special. The reality loses a little glitz when you collect your missed homework from the receptionist when you sign in, however. My third class of the morning was German and I made it just in time for the bell, despite Doctor Harris’ best designs.

Class was a fitting distraction after my morning of medical merriment. Truth be told, I felt both relief and concern having shared the truth with Doctor Harris. A problem shared is a problem halved right? I’d ordinarily agree with you, except Harris affirmed something I had started to fear; that I won’t make it much longer in boymode.

Something else that has me quite perplexed is that my mother has yet to press me for details on my appointment; suspicious Mater, suspicious. She’s the one that had worries about my health and development. That she isn’t interested in finding out what we talked about, even casually makes me wonder if that was why she sent me at all.

Thankfully I have little time to focus on any of it at the moment because school waits for no woman. I’m back in class with a very rude awakening; German. If anyone ever asks you about the Dative tense in the German language, run away screaming. German grammar is some of the most irritatingly complex in the world.
What improved today’s lesson however was news of our upcoming field trip to the Fatherland itself. Yes, private school, international field trips, suck it losers.

“Right, I’ll need your consent forms by Friday at the latest and your passports sorted no later than November First.” Frau Whistler declared loudly, leaning on her desk at the front of the room. “We will fly out on December first and spend six days in Germany before flying home the following weekend. Full itinerary will be emailed to your parents.”

The bell rang, signifying the end of class and the mass migration towards lunch. I was still pondering how my overly complicated life would work with international travel when Paul appeared beside me. “Excited for the trip?”

“Uh, I guess,” I admit, dodging a large idiot shoving his way down the corridor. “I might need to update my passport.”

“How out of date is it?” he asks suspiciously.

“I was ten,” I admit with a sheepish grin.

“TSA will have a field day with you, although I’m pretty sure the only thing that changed since then is your hair,” he smirks.

“I grew taller, I reply defensively. “I was like five feet tall then at most.”

Paul pauses as we arrive at the door to the dining hall and gives me a deeply condescending look. “Sure you did Rapunzell, sure you did.”

I’d totally kick him in the shin if he wasn’t already a cripple.

“Got here in the end huh?” Rick grins as I sit a the table.

“Doctor.” I offer with an eye roll. I’m not letting on the why, not to him.

“Are you having your period early?” Brandon sneers vindictively. “It wouldn’t surprise me.”

I bite my tongue and ignore him. His sole goal this year appears to be bothering me and I don’t want to play his little game. Well, the joke’s on him this time; I want a period so the joke doesn’t hurt me for the reason he thinks it does. Sadly, it hurts because I want one!

He does appear to be in particularly rare form today, much to my irritation. He proceeds to make cracks against me at every opportunity he can. I know at least I have an ally in Rick now, so anything Darth Dipshit manages won’t ever be more than just names. The funniest part is that his entire show isn’t designed to upset me, it's actually designed to play towards the rest of the table. Brandon’s entire routine is for their benefit, as though he needs to prove how superior he is to a bunch of younger boys. I’m pretty sure psychiatrists could make several determinations from that.

Lunch was eaten and I kept my head down. To tell the truth, I was still quite focused on my conversations with Doctor Harris. I was both relieved and scared about what had happened that morning. A professional knew about me and seemingly accepted me. I was on the first step of the path. More importantly, I had bloodwork, which made me feel a lot better about self-medicating my hormone regime.

Present Day Holly: The whole subject of self-medicating hormone therapy is one thing I would like to address if I may, dear reader. I know that by writing this account of my journey, I sound like a proponent of taking matters into my own hands. The reality couldn’t be further from the truth; as a teen, and especially now as an adult and a medical professional, I cannot stress how dangerous this is. At the time of starting, I was a scared and suicidal teenager who had run out of options. What I did was not a whim or done without copious research and care. It was however still monumentally dangerous. I’d be a hypocrite to say never do it, but I would suggest it be a last choice.

Now that my public service announcement is over we can get back to the story… wherever you were… oh yes, young me had just had her first major coming out moment.

Where was I? Oh yes, after lunch I did something I never thought I’d do. I was chatting to Rick about some game as we left the dining hall and inadvertently followed him all the way over to the Jock’s area of the common room. I sat down and continued the conversation before I realized other members of the team had arrived and joined us.

“I should probably go,” I admit a little sheepishly, realizing just where I was and how far it was from my own social strata.

“Ah fuck it, it’s not a law or something,” he shrugs. “Anyway, we like you more than Face.”

“Huh?” the linebacker blurted, hearing his name.

“Nothing dude,” Rick grinned, smirking at me. “Go back to your cartoons.”

“So what’s the thing with that level anyway?” Marco, one of the wirey Running Backs asked. “I keep getting stuck on the bridge jump.”

I sucked my teeth and shook my head sadly. “I can’t tell you all the secrets, but it does involve a power-up.”

“What is the faggot doing here?” Brandon declares loudly, drawing our attention to his arrival. “He’s not on the team, he should be with the other losers”

“We like him,” RJ shrugged at the Offensive Lineman, “and he’s not a douche.”

Brandon blusters and storms off towards the doors without another word.

“Fuck that guy,” Rick mutters. “I don’t even know why coach lets him play.”

“Because of daddy’s donations,” Carson Orlinski the Quarterback offers. “Bro thinks he’s god because his pops throws money at this place. I hate asshats like him.”

Watching these guys making fun of Brandon is quite fulfilling in a surreal way. That I’m not the target of the popular kid's ire is a surreal experience for me. It’s still not quite as strange as being privy to their distaste of one of their supposed own is, however.

I’ve never liked Brandon Michaels, and it had nothing to do with his father’s wealth. He’s a snobbish bully who looks down on others and treats people like they owe him one. I might be heterosexual and he might be conventionally attractive as far as boys go, but it’s as clear as day that he has an ugly spirit. Do not want, no ma’am!

Do I have a type? I suppose it’s entirely possible that I do. My perspective is clouded by my proximity to boys, but there are certainly features and facets to the male of the species that draw my attention. Muscles, facial hair, strong jaws; something about masculine strength really draws me in. It’s ironic that I’m doing my best to run away from masculinity while at the same time, my body finds it so alluring.

“Alex, do you have brain damage?”

“Huh?”

My mind focuses and I finally notice my brother, Rob, “What?”

He looks at me like I’m insane. “You were just staring at the wall with a weird smile on your face you fucking psycho.”

Oh damn, I think I was enjoying that thought far too much.

“Nothing,” I grin. “Just thinking about something.”

He shakes his head and goes to head slap me but I duck like a ninja. You have to remember I have sixteen years of practice of being the youngest child. My avoidance gets me a rude hand gesture in response and he receives one petulant stuck-out tongue; a fair trade in my book.

“Brothers are so annoying sometimes, you want one?” I ask Rick as sibling two wanders off to continue his discussion with his buds.

Rick seems to ponder the question for a moment. “I dunno, I find horses are far easier to deal with than people. An older sister was enough for me.”

“Siblings have yet to dunk me in creeks.”

Rick smiles and he chuckles softly as he remembers. “I said I find horses easier to deal with, not that you did. Anyway wasn’t that your fault?”

* * *

Once again after the conclusion of school, I went home with Meg and Kara. I’m pretty sure Gary is convinced I'm sleeping with one or both of his sisters, but he’s giving us a wide berth so I’m fine with that state of affairs.

We’re up in Kara’s room listening to music and finishing our homework. We’ve been chatting about anything and everything and it has become one of the parts of the day I look forward to the most now. When I’m with them, I feel all girl; things just feel right. We chat, we gossip and we share our concerns and feelings with each other. I’m learning so much about the girl world from them, and conversely, I’m coming to realize just how right it is for me there.

When you’re trans, it’s only natural to have some doubt. People will say they never had any, that they knew from age four with absolute certainty; 100% female, male, rocking chair, doesn’t matter. They have zero doubt. Why? Clout.

Trans people like many others love to outdo each other. It’s the gender equivalent of ‘Keeping Up With The Joneses’. They transitioned sooner, they knew they were trans sooner. It’s even found in who’s more conventionally attractive or got bigger boobs faster. Admittedly cis girls do the last two just as often. Even ‘my trauma is more traumatic than your trauma’ is a points competition.

Where was I? Oh, yes; doubt. It’s natural to have some doubt, in fact, it’s human and reasonable. It doesn’t mean you are undecided or uncertain about a given subject. Just that your brain wanted to run a few ‘what if’ scenarios to make sure it was comfortable. Typically it all comes up aces and for me, I was already more than convinced I was female and wanted to spend the rest of my days that way.

In this case, it was that girl time with Meg and Kara that convinced me beyond any reasonable doubt that I belonged on this side of the fence. These were my girls; my ride-or-die best friends. I didn’t need to ask to know they felt the same way about me. There were no secrets anymore between us.

“I think I have a problem,” I admit, closing my textbook.

“Yup, you certainly have a problem,” Meg agrees. “Boy takes you out riding with him and comes to your rescue when you go full damsel? If he doesn’t know you’re really a girl, he’s probably getting really confused right about now.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” I cringe. “I’ve started noticing little things about him that I like and I caught myself thinking about his muscles today after lunch. I nearly drooled on the poor guy. I’m trying not to crush, I really am.”

“How do you think he feels?” Kara asks while she cleans the polish off my toes that she had been testing.

I shrug, “It’s hard to tell, but I’m pretty convinced he’s confused. Every now and then I catch him watching me, or giving me these weird looks that he snaps out of a few moments later. I’m worried that I’m letting him see too much of Holly, and that’s confusing him.”

“I specifically recall saying that you would give that boy an identity crisis,” Megan reminds me, “those exact words.”

“Yeah yeah,” I groan, burying my face in a pillow. “I’m terrible at this, ok?”

“Maybe you can have a joint wedding when Meg finally snags Rob eh?” Kara giggles, artfully dodging the plushie-shaped missile that her sister had unleashed.

Oh god, weddings. Images of me as a bride in a beautiful white dress. Rick in a tuxedo looking so freaking handsome that I might die. I can see it now, out on the pasture in front of the ranch house with a white archway, flowers, and soft classical music. My dress blowing in the breeze as I walk up the Isle so slowly… after the wedding, a first dance, a hotel room…

I snap back to reality as I feel a poke in my ribs and come face to face with a grinning Megan.

“Is that the look you had when you drooled on him?”

“Screw you.”

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Fake It Till You Make It - 9 - The Bother With Brothers.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Nine - The Bother With Brothers.

I staggered down to the Kitchen that Friday morning in a total heap. For whatever reason I have struggled to sleep this week. No, before you say it, it was not because of big sexy dreams about a particular Rancher’s son who played wide receiver for the Elsworth Lions.

Modern Day Holly: Yeah, writing this I can see how you might see Rick as a huge fat stereotype of the love interest. The Football playing, popular, corn-fed all-American boy who is the masculine yet sensitive son of a rancher. It's an utter bodice ripper prime trope is it not? The problem is, I assure you he is unfortunately very real. More on that later.

“You look exhausted,” Mother opines as she sips her coffee. “Are you sure you’re ok to go to school?”

“Uhuh,” I complain, dumping my bag on the table next to me. “Just a rough night again.”

I catch a maternal hand on the forehead as she places toast and coffee in front of me. “You’re not running a fever, any other symptoms?”

“Just tired, not sure why.”

“Well if you can’t think of a valid excuse, I’ll be packing you off to school… what’s this?” she asks, pulling the half-exposed form for German class from my bag.

“Uh field trip for German class.”

“And I’m guessing it’s not to the local Christmas Market, right?”

“Uh, the actual ones in Germany, week, the start of December.”

A delicate eyebrow is raised. “When were you going to tell me about this? It’s due to be handed in today?”

“Oh, I forgot.”

I didn’t forget, I left it this late by accident. You might say it’s ‘just too late’ to get signed off on. I knew she’d want to talk to Dad and he’s away for a few days on business. I guess she won’t have time now, it's such a shame!

Frankly, I’d love to go, but I fear my ‘personal’ issues with Immigration and TSA might be problematic.

She reads the form and frowns. “Talk about last minute, Alex. I’d normally want to speak to your Dad about this first but I’m sure he’d be ok with it. I’ll get the forms for your passport when I’m in town later.”

Shit.

“You’re sure Dad will be ok with this?” I ask skeptically. “I know I left it so late, it’s my fault I can’t go.”

I get another eyebrow. “We spend twice this on Rob’s football needs in a school year. You never ask us for anything and you don’t play any sports so I don’t see why not. You do want to go, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, it would be quite exciting,” I admit. “I’ve never been to Germany and it would make my classes way more relevant.”

“Then you shall go to the ball Cinders,” Mom declares as she signs the damn form. I think my private little yay at being called Cinderella is overshadowed by the worry about flying like this. Why do I manage to hop from frying pan to fire so regularly?

Traveling to school with Mom is quite a different experience from driving with Dad. When I’m driving, she doesn’t criticize me for the little things like he does. It’s not that she’s not observant or I’m a bad driver, rather, that Dad can be a bit nitpicky at my style. I’m maybe a little more cautious on the road than he’d like, but I value protecting my car over driving like I own the road.

“You should invite that friend of yours over some time,” Mom offers as I pilot her Mercedes C class through the morning traffic.

“Hmm? Who?” At that moment I’m convinced she means Megan or Kara, but my list of friends isn’t that big.

“The one you went to see last week, Rya, no.…Rick?”

Uh oh. “I could,” I concede slowly. “I would feel quite inferior though; we don’t have a ranch and horses. I'm sure he’d be bored just playing games.”

“It’s just polite,” Mom continues. “Anyway you both play games and watch TV, you can go for a walk. There’s plenty to do. We don't exactly live in a slum.”

Do I want Rick anywhere near my house? I’m not sure I want to face that, given the circumstances. I suppose it would be better than his parents thinking I’m his girlfriend again...

“I’ll think about it, ok?”

She smiles. Mission accomplished; parent satisfied.

A few moments later we pull into the parking lot at school and both hop out before she settles into the driver’s seat. “I’ll see you tonight, alright darling?”

I give her a hug. “See you, Mom, I will.”

“Get me some passport photographs before you get home this afternoon, do you hear me? Do not dally around with this until it’s too late, Alex.”

I sigh. “Yes, mother.”

I’ve never been so sad that my mother said I could go on a foreign holiday.

When Gary, Meg, and Kara arrive at the common room fifteen, I’m sitting cross-legged on a sofa with a huge cup of coffee in my hands entirely untouched. Instead, I’m just staring at the wall across from me, inhaling the steam.

“Are you alive Alex?” Gary asks, giving me the strangest look. “You look almost comatose.”

I shake my head and focus on him. “Huh?”

“Are you ok?”

“Nosleeptired,” I mumble incoherently. “Wannagobackbed.”

Meg drops down beside me and starts leafing through her homework. “Thanks for the help on that physics last night, it made the difference.”

“Huh? What physics? Purple nail pol… OW, HEY.”

Without warning, Megan had elbowed me in the ribs like a convict shanking their favorite corrections officer. Somehow I’m barely able to maintain control of my coffee, although the little that does escape jolts me awake when it hits my thigh. “What was that for, bitch?” I complain rubbing my ribs.

“Whoops I slipped sorry! She grins theatrically. “Nothing wrong here eh? Just thanking you for the physics help, ALEX,” she repeats, emphasizing my name.

“Don’t call my sister a bitch you dumbass,” Gary scowls.

“She deserved it,” I glare back, giving her the slightest wink that he can’t see. The pain and the hot coffee snapped me awake enough that I realized I was about to casually let slip our nail polish adventures rather than our study cover. I need to get a serious grip on myself.

“Are you sure you’re not dating? You two are like an old married couple.” Gary stares at us both suspiciously. “Somethin' is weird here and I don’t like it.”

“What if I’m the one dating him?” Kara asks innocently from beside her brother.

Gary looks both suspicious and disgusted by the idea and I’m actually starting to have fun. “I’m dating them both Gary, I’m sorry to tell you this, but they arranged to take turns.”

“I preferred you miserable,” he scowls back at me crossing his arms. At least then you weren’t putting horrific images in my head.”

“Oh, Alex darling,” Megan coos as she leans over towards me. “If only he knew what we did in my room.”

Gary gags and I can’t help but laugh at the entire scene. Maybe this is what being happy feels like. It’s certainly better than feeling cut off from the world.

The bell rings and we head our separate ways to the salt mines of learning.

* * *

You all know how pep rallies work right? The entire school body gets ‘encouraged’ down to the sports hall and made to watch the band, the cheerleaders, and the football team perform their little social dance to encourage us to give a shit about high school sports. It’s a carefully managed little dance to engender us with ‘school spirit.” without really giving us a choice. God, I sound so cynical, don’t I?

The truth is, I would probably have some school spirit without it being forced on me. After all, I had Rob to cheer for and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I was cheering for my friend Rick. Yes, just a friend, nothing more.

I can see you judging me, sod off.

The rallies always took the same format for us; the whole school piles inside and takes up the bleachers in what usually hosts our Basketball and netball games. The band plays from their area, the cheerleaders do some routines and skits and the team is introduced. Us being a swanky private school, there’s none of this name on a T-shirt business. No, the team wears dark slacks and red blazers with the team crest on the breast pocket. It’s very pro team at a major event and honestly a lot classier looking.

Carson the Quarterback gives a speech and the principal espouses the team’s successes to date. This week, we’re up against Southerton High; a local school with a pretty decent reputation, this should be arguably a tougher game than our first couple. Once everyone wraps up their speeches, skits, and various announcements, it’s time for a parade through the school grounds led by the band.

I spotted Meg and Kara hanging with a group of girls as we filed out to join the procession. They seemed happy; chatting and giggling away to each other. God, I long to be part of a group like that. To be able to chat and laugh with my girlfriends at school would be absolute eutopia. Kara spots me from across the crowd and gives me a little hand wave. I think she saw and wished the same thing too.

We go through the theatrics before we’re dispatched back to our afternoon of learning. For me, that’s Algebra and Chemistry with a rather relaxing double period of art to end the day. Art is one of the classes I truly love. Sure I was really into my sciences and knew what I wanted to do with my life, but art was something I truly enjoyed for the simple pleasure of creating something. It gave me an outlet; a way of expressing myself and honestly, I wasn’t exactly terrible at it.

I let my brush stroke lightly across the canvas as I put the finishing touches to a piece I had been working on since the start of the semester. It was a rather stylistic painting inspired by fantasy and comic book art that featured a sorceress wearing a long flowing robe. She was reaching out towards the viewer as she cast a spell, the light from the apparition playing off her skin and clothing as she channeled her passion into the act. I’d always envisaged it as an emotional moment and secretly, I saw myself in her pain and fury.

“The object source lighting here is excellent, Alex, I love the texture.”

I glance up at Mrs Canterbury, my art teacher standing just behind me. “Thanks, I wanted to really make it feel sharp and raw, kinda felt like being really smooth in my transitions didn’t tell that story. Does that make sense?”

She nods and points to the worn fabric of the robe. “I like the overall tone of the materials, nothing is too smooth, you choose to use texture in your brushwork to transition shades and it allows a far more elemental and vivid emotional response. This had better be for your portfolio?”

I glance back at the painting and nod. “Yeah, I think it is a keeper.”

“There’s a lot more emotion in your work this semester Alex,” Mrs Cantebury continues, still taking in my painting thoughtfully. “Prior works were accurate; you had good technique but it was very by the book. What I’m seeing now is a lot more expression and feeling. Not sure what you’re doing, but keep it up.”

‘Oh I’m just on large quantities of female hormones and it’s pushing my body through the correct puberty. I can finally open my eyes and feel like I’m the person I’m meant to be and I don’t want to play self forever sleep roulette.’ I don’t say…

“Thanks, I think I’m just in a better place at the moment.”

She smiles at me and continues on to the next student. Am I happier? Objectively yes. This year isn’t going the way I had planned but it’s not the worst problem to have in my situation. I might complain, but being ‘too’ girly has never exactly been a downside for me. Might it cause some problems? Yes, but not ones I can’t resolve. At the end of the day I’m positive that the source of my expression is the fact that I’m doing something about my biggest problem; being Holly Winters.

* * *

“Come on Rob! Smash him!”

“You are so into my brother,” I giggle over at Megan as I stuff more nachos in my mouth. “You want me to put a word in for you?”

“Don’t you dare Holly!” she gasps slapping my arm, a look of panic on her face. “Don’t you dare say a word to him!”

We’re sat a little bit away from most of the supporters. For mid-season games, we tend to have a bit of room to spread out before the playoffs. I’m rather glad of that fact at the moment as both of them are unapologetically calling me Holly. I’m also not acting like much of an Alex either; fuck it, who cares.

I decided to risk things a little bit tonight and I probably shouldn’t have in hindsight. I’m wearing the jeans that Rick’s mom gave me after the Creek incident. They’re not super tight but they fit me well; they could I guess pass for tighter boys' jeans if you didn’t look too closely. Most importantly, I know they’re girls’ jeans and it makes me feel better. With a baggy oversized sweater and my Rans sneakers, I feel like I can pretend I’m just another casually dressed down high school girl out here hanging with her besties at the game.

The game is in its third quarter and it’s been a bit of a nail-biter so far. We’re down twenty-six to twenty-nine and the Southerton guys are proving to be a rather tough challenge for our guys. Rob’s been battered black and blue and the rest of the team doesn’t look any better.

There’s a stoppage, and the coach pulls the right wide receiver and two other members of the offensive line off to replace them with substitutes.

“Hey look! They’re playing Rick!” I point out excitedly as I see the twenty-four jog out onto the field with the new players.

“She doesn’t like him,” Kara tells her sister theatrically. “Nope, not interested at all.”

“Shut up,” I growl with as much menace as I can manage. Look, I’m allowed to root for my friends. I know how much this means to him, I can certainly relate to wanting to be seen for who you are rather than what others think. He’s a good player too; I’m glad he’s getting time on the… Fine, yes, now I see it too.

The play starts back up again and I can sort of make out what the coach was planning from up here. I’m no expert, but I can see them filtering their plays to the right-hand side of the O line and towards a rather fresh Rick’s position.

The play kicks off and the quarterback, Carson catches the ball. He sends it long towards Rick’s side of the field and I watch the bodies surge in his direction. Almost like magic, the offensive linemen surge and crash against the bulk of the Southerton guys and Rick intercepts the pass.

I fight the urge to yell and scream as he runs the ball forward. The team is screening where they can but soon he’s clear of our guys and only has three of the defense left to handle. He dodges the first one, then a second player but as he reaches the line, the final opponent grabs him, and the two swing around. He looks like he’s about to stumble but he manages to keep his feet and he breaks free. Right as he’s about to be jumped by four guys, he manages to turn and lunge across into the endzone; Touchdown!

“Yes! Go Taylor!” I yell, jumping to my feet like the rest of the crowd. God, my heart is racing. I almost felt like I was down there with him.

“Aren’t you still meant to be pretending to be a boy?” Megan asks as the celebration dies down and we return to our seats.

“Yeah, I am. I have to,” I reply confused by her statement.

“Then why are you bouncing around screaming your ass off and making moon eyes at certain football players?”

“Am not,” I huff, crossing my arms and staring away pointedly NOT at Rick or any of our players. “It’s just school spirit.”

“Girl, you’re an awful liar.”

Kara steps into my defense. “Leave her alone Meg, she needs to let her chick flag fly sometimes, we just gotta make sure nobody else notices.”

“I’m not being that girly,” I complain.

Both sisters give me this look that translates to ‘Are you sure about that?’ and I sag. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Nobody’s noticed anything, they’re all more focused on the game.” Megan shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But I have to,” I sigh, the fun gone from the moment. “If I let myself slip at the wrong time I’m in serious trouble.”

“You’ve got to admit at some point that you like him,” Kara needles gently. “It’s ok, you know?”

I fidget awkwardly. “I have no problem admitting that I like boys,” I concede, refusing to look at them. “Just that one in particular.”

“Why? Liking him doesn’t mean you have to do anything about that.”

“I don’t want to give him any signals or let myself slip and risk that someone will see me like that.”

Kara squeezes my arm comfortingly. “Fighting it won’t help either, it’s painfully obvious that you’re into him, honey.”

I sag and simply nod. “Ok fine, I really like him ok? Being his friend is so difficult because it means that I get to see firsthand what a wonderful guy he truly is; he’s kind, sensitive, and gentle. He’s perfect and I cannot possibly have him, or any boy right now. Window shopping might be ok, but it’s pretty awful when you can’t ever have the dress.”

“I get it,” Meg replies with a smile. “It won’t be forever though, ok Holly?”

We’re having this touching little moment and my guard is entirely entirely down. Factor in for a moment, that Megan has just said my real name. We are not paying attention and it lands us in hot water number forty-five of the story so far.

“Hey! I thought that was you guys,” a female voice calls out from just along the bleachers.

Now remember, I’m wearing form-fitting jeans with an oversized sweater and my hair is out of my collar. Look, it gets irritating tucked in there all the time. Not only that, but I’m pretty much the same size as both Megan and Kara, and we’re sitting close together in the way girlfriends tend to do. Nothing here is screaming boy, truth be told, it’s not even whispering it softly.

A girl appears beside us and plops down on the bench. She’s a little taller than me and she has rich dark hair that flows around her shoulders in gorgeous waves that compliment her caramel skin.

“Oh Hey Moni,” Meg smiles. “You here for Ricardo?”

The girl rolls her eyes, “Yeah, but coach has had him benched all game, total waste of his talent.”

“Yeah, he’s making some weird calls tonight.”

She nods and makes a little ‘what can you do’ gesture. “I came over to find out if you got Miss Walker’s problems done in AP Algebra or not? How far did you get?”

“Third page,” Meg sighs, “It’s doing my head in.”

“Barely got past two so far,” the girl grimaces before she notices me trying to blend into the nopeness and her expression brightens. “Oh, hey, sorry, rude of me, Monica Carlos. I think I‘ve seen you around school…?”

Gulp, she probably has seen me in passing or with the girls but probably can’t place why or where right now. This isn’t going to be ideal if she does.

“Oh, uh, maybe,” I fib, “ah, hello.”

“Meg said, Holly, right? You go to our school?” she looks down and sees the crest on my sweater and rolls her eyes. “Silly me, course you do.”

“I uh, um, Holly ah, yeah.” my mouth is dry and I’m stumbling over my words. “Uh, my brother plays.” I thumb towards the field.

“Neat,” she grins. “My boyfriend, he’s on the team too; Ricardo Sanchez.”

I recognize the guy and nod my acknowledgment. He was there with Rob and his friends at the mall, remember RJ? I’ve seen him around school, I think he’s one of the seniors. This is getting messy fast and I’m entirely out of my depth. My pea brain has pretty much factored that she thinks I’m a girl, but she’s trying to work out why she hasn’t seen me around. I’m pretty sure my only saving grace is my guess that she’s a senior like Ricardo.

“Uh, I’m a junior,” I squeak, “like Megan and Kara.”

“Ah,” she grins, “That explains why I don’t know you. I’m in AP Algebra with Megan so that’s how we know each other.”

I smile politely and feel untold relief when she turns her attention back to math problems and Megan. I chance a quick look at Kara who is trying to decide if she wants to giggle at my nerves or join me in sweating. This isn’t a situation I had wanted to get into and we had sat ourselves away from the others to allow a little freedom. We had hoped that people would be focusing their attention on the game, not their fellow spectators. The problem was a small but troubling pile of lies was forming.

Another girl now knew that my name was Holly and was under the impression I was a junior at the Girls’ Division and our social circles were problematically close. While not high, so a chance meeting wasn’t entirely impossible. It was only my fairly recent addition to that social circle that had prevented this meeting from being super weird already. After a few minutes of chatter, Monica returned to her friends with a little wave. Don’t get me wrong, she seemed like a nice enough girl, but I really didn’t need to risk more problems at the moment.

“That’s a potential problem,” Kara frowns. “Good job we don’t move in the same social circles as her that often.”

“Yeah,” I grimace, “but I might.”

The girls look confused so I explain the predicament. “Ever since Rob got me to come hang out with him I’ve started to actually know some of those guys. Now add in Rick entering the scene, I’ve actually hung out at least twice voluntarily with those guys. I expect she sometimes hangs out with him too.”

“Oooh.” Kara joins the grimace train. “That is a problem.”

A cheer goes up from the crowd distracting us as our guys kick a field goal to supplement the touchdown. The excitement gave me a little reprieve from my worries, but it’s yet another straw on the camel’s back, straws intent on breaking it. Just like the match, my grasp on my tricky situation is a lead, but it’s a slim one.

In the end, our guys won by that very same narrow margin, one point; 30-29 to the Lions. It’s not a stomping but it’s a win. One they had to work far too hard to achieve. I can sympathize with that right now.

I tuck my ponytail back inside my sweatshirt and adopt my Alex hunch as we make our way down from the bleachers at the final whistle. It’s not quite as chaotic an atmosphere as the first games of the season but it’s a win and the team are still celebrating. I’m a little more reluctant to get too close to people since my run-in with Monica so I hang back and let the girls take the lead as we try to find Rob in the crowd of people.

“Hey squirt,” he grins as we find him chatting to Carson and Face over by the tunnel. “You guys good?”

“Yeah,” I shrug. “You ok? Looked rough out there tonight.”

Rob shrugs and for a moment I see past the big brother facade to the boy. “Yeah they were a little heavy-handed but I’m good, thanks, Alex.”

“I didn’t want your ass getting demolished out there, you’re my ride remember.”

He grins and ruffles my hair irritatingly. Why do tall people do that to us short folk? It’s rude.

“We doing West’s?” Carson asks the group.

“Gotta take these losers home and I got more homework than I wanna think about,” my brother grimaces. “Gonna have to be a rain check for me, dude.”

“I’m always down,” Face grins.

“Pretty sure you don’t got a home to go to dude,” Rob laughs. “Catch you guys, gonna head now.”

With a wave and a clatter of cleats, he jogs away down the tunnel to goes to get himself changed out of his uniform. After a few minutes of idle conversation with the others, we make our excuses and head out towards the parking lot to wait for Rob.

“You didn’t go say hi to Rick,” Meg observes as we walk.

“Nope,” I agree. “I guess I must have missed him in all the excitement, so unfortunate that, eh?”

“So, certainly not avoiding him on purpose.” she opines, eying me slyly.

“Certainly not. That would be incredibly childish and irresponsible.”

“Oh, of course not, no; not something a mature young woman would ever consider doing to solve her emotional problems.”

I roll my eyes but smile at the same time. That’s actually the first time someone’s ever said young woman to me and it feels incredibly right.

“You realize you’re basically being Meg at age thirteen right?” Kara chips in. “She pulled this same shit and still does it.”

“That’s not your place to say!” her sibling retorts playfully.

It’s one of those things I love about the Byrne girls. They tease and they dig but I know they have each other’s backs when it matters. I really wish I had that kind of relationship with either of my siblings but both age and gender have played a big part in that whole mess. It’s one I wish might have been very different.

Chrissie, my older sister, and I were once very close as children but as she grew, having her little brother hanging around wasn’t seen as cool. I sadly got kicked to the sidelines, which hurt especially badly given that I was in reality, her little sister. The pains of being transgender never let up, do they?

Rob; well he’s been fantastic if I’m objective, and what teenager is? He went out of his way to protect me and to show me kindness and I loved him for it. We might not be the relationship he thought, but I value him a great deal. More than he could possibly know.

“Oh hey, guys!”

Oh shit.

“Ah, hi Monica,” I smile politely. “Not heading to West’s with everyone else then?

She makes a face and crosses her arms. “No, Ricardo didn’t want to go because he didn’t get to play.”

I give Megan a wide-eyed ‘DANGER” look and use my eyeballs to suggest we should get rid of her. Yes, it looked as stupid as it sounded.

“You riding with him?” Megan asks leaping onto the ‘get her out of here’ train. “I’m sure he wants to leave after such a crappy day on the bench eh?”

She seems like a lovely girl and is, by all accounts pretty smart, but she doesn’t pick up what is being put down at all.

“Wait, this is Rob Winter’s car, right?” she asks looking back at me, “You’re Rob Winter’s sister?”

Gah, fuck.

“Uh, yes she is, but I think she’s got to… wait, is Laura waving at you Monica? Over by Sally’s car, I wonder what she wants?” Kara nudges with zero subtlety to try to dislodge our pesky conversationalist.

“Hey girls, Alex,”

Triple stack fuck burger with double fucking cheese.

"Rob, hi!” Monica beams, “Great game tonight.”

“Thanks,” he grins puffing up a little. God you predictable male, brother mine.

“I was just talking to your sister and I was like wow, so crazy huh?”

“Chrissie?”

“No Holly, silly,” she beams doing that wobbly head grin thing some girls do.

Oh no, please no…

“I knew you had an older sister but not a younger one too.”

I’m frozen there, I have no idea what to do right now so I’m useless for my own defense. My world is collapsing and I can only stare blankly at the middle distance.

“Rob, don’t we have to go for that thing?” Meg calls out, moving swiftly to the car door. “You said you’d get us back for… you know?”

“Yes!” Kara grabs my arm and drags me towards the back door and waits for a dazed Rob to unlock the car before stuffing me unceremoniously inside. “Haha, great joke Monica, see you at school on Monday!” She calls piling in after me.

A few moments later, a very confused-looking brother climbs behind the wheel and turns to look at us.

“What was all that about?” He asks, eying us with suspicion. “Why were you rushing me out of there and what the hell was Monica Carlos on about sisters?”

Thankfully Kara is on her game. “She was picking on Alex, calling him a girl, the sister quip was just her being a dick.” she rolls her eyes theatrically. “We just wanted to get out of there Rob.”

“Seriously?” he growls, his expression turning dark. “Fucking assholes are not going to do that in front of me. I’m going to give that bitch a piece of my fucking mind.” In a heartbeat, the door is open and he’s starting to step out of the car when I give up.

“Rob, wait!”

“One of you tell me the truth right now or I’m going to tear some chick apart,” he orders. His tone is not exactly encouraging but I don’t really have a choice anymore. Shit.

“Rob, it’s… Rob I uh… She didn’t do anything wrong.”

Kara interjects, “Rob, we’ll tell you everything but we’re not doing it in the parking lot at school. This isn’t the place for this conversation. We’ll tell you everything if we can go someplace a bit less public, ok?”

He looks like he wants to protest but he simply shrugs and slams the door. Without a word, he starts the car and pulls out of the lot and into traffic.

“What are you doing?” I whisper to Kara, “Aren’t we sticking to...?”

“With Monica's big mouth and him in the same social circles, this could explode in front of other people if you don’t do this now. This is your opportunity to get ahead of it. We could just explain earlier and move on, but this is a chance, ok?”

I stare out of the window and into the growing darkness as we drive away from school. My heart is in the pit of my stomach right now and I don’t want to confront this mess at all. I want to retreat back into my shell and hide because it’s easy. The status quo is safe, even if it hurts in the long run.

Rob pulls the car into a small park near home and shuts the engine off.

“Hey, Meg, go take Rob over to those benches, I need a word with Alex first,” Kara tells her sister. With a nod, Meg gets the message and takes Rob away before he can protest leaving just the two of us in the car.

“Take your sweater off,” Kara tells me. “Here,” she pulls her T-shirt over her head and hands it to me.

“What the hell are you doing? No, why?”

She looks at me, and it’s this motherly, kind, yet firm expression that I seriously hope I can master one day. It tells me ‘I know best, and you should be quiet and just do it.’

I shrug and pull my sweater over my head. Underneath, I’m wearing a looser shirt that I shrug off with it until we’re both sitting in the back of the car in our bras.

“Here, pop my shirt on, ok?” she offers handing me her far more fitted blue top.

I pull the top on feeling more than a little uncertain as to what her end goal is here. I trust Kara, absolutely. Whatever she thinks is right I’m willing to do.

After she shrugs on my baggy shirt, she pulls my hair out of the tie and finger combs it out until it's flowing around my shoulders. She nods approvingly and cracks open her handbag and sets to work on my face.

“Not that I don’t appreciate a makeover Kar, but why now?”

“Quiet,” she chides me as she outlines my left eye with a liner pencil. “If you’re going to be telling your brother, he needs to see the whole of you. He needs to see Holly at her best, not Alex at her worst.”

I can see her logic, but I’m so scared. I’m just glad someone else has a plan at the moment. Without the girls here I’d be a gibbering wreck of a girl. Kara finishes up with a few swipes of Mascara and traces my lips with a sweet-scented gloss. I can’t see myself at the moment, I’m sitting in the back of my brother’s Chevy in the park, but I can feel my hands shaking.

“Beautiful, Holly Winters, just beautiful.” Kara nods and smiles. “I’m going to go talk to him with Megan, when I call, you come and join us, ok?”

“What if this goes wrong? What if he tries to hurt me, or he yells and tells Mom and Dad?”

“Hush baby girl, he won’t, I know it,” she soothes. “He loves you, it's plain for anyone to see. Trust me on this, ok?”

I swallow and nod, and she gets out of the car and walks across to where the others are talking. Rob looks pretty miffed with both of the girls. I probably would be with this level of secrecy and subterfuge. Kara starts talking, and Rob seems to focus intently on her. The window is open and I can hear voices but can’t hear the exact words that they’re saying as the breeze carries them away.

I slouch down in my seat and try to quiet my violently beating heart. About forty feet away, my best friends are telling my brother that I’m really his sister; that the boy he grew up with is really a girl. I won’t lie, I’m freaking out inside my head, but I’m doing my best to keep my cool. I’m so glad that Meg and Kara are here and are doing this for me. I think on my own I’d have been a gibbering mess.

“Hey, Holly?” Megan calls softly as she approaches the car. Her words snap me out of my fog and I glance over.

“Is he mad?”

She sees what Kara did to me and smiles. “You look beautiful girl, and no, he’s not mad. Let's go see him huh?”

With a reluctant sigh, I slid out of the car and nervously adjusted my top. I feel so utterly exposed right now, everything I do to hide Holly has been stripped away, leaving her on full display. I’ve never actually been out in public as one hundred percent girl, add to that seeing my brother? Dear god, I’m shaking.

“Come on girl, don’t be afraid, ok?”

I look at Megan and grin sheepishly. “My heart is beating so hard right now.”

Megan reaches over and takes my hands in hers and smiles. It’s a simple thing but I feel so safe all of a sudden. Gathering all my strength, I keep hold of one of her hands and turn to face the two figures a little way off. Taking a deep breath, I stand up straight, there’s no point in hiding now. I walk across the grass from the parking lot to the picnic bench where Kara and Rob are standing talking, all the while fighting the urge to run away.

I get within about fifteen feet before I can make out the look on Rob’s face. He looks surprised, but it’s mixed with another expression I can’t quite read yet. I stop when I’m about five feet away and clasp my hands together in front of my body and wait for him to say something.

“Holly, right? Kara said that was the name you prefer?”

I swallow and nod, my voice comes out as a croak, “Please.”

“Is that really you?” he murmurs, staring at me. He shakes his head as though realizing how stupid the question sounds. “Of course it is, god… it’s not even that big a difference is it? Damn…”

“I’m sorry Rob; I didn’t want to ruin your night or life. I… it’s kinda complicated,” I sigh.

“Gender Dysphoria; Kara said. Like, you felt like you should have been born a girl like Chrissie.”

I raise my eyebrows. “I couldn’t carry on Rob. Every day moving through the world as Alex the boy just felt wrong. I… it isn’t who I am. I was hoping to make it to college before I told everyone. I didn’t want to risk getting thrown out or converted or upsetting you guys.”

Rob takes a step forward and I flinch away involuntarily, irrationally terrified of him. He looks nervous all of a sudden, as though he’s worried that he scared me.

I step forward and try my best to smile, but it comes out looking a little forced. “I love you, Rob, I just… I couldn’t take it anymore. This is who I am; Holly is the real me, not some act or some phase. This is who I really am inside. All I can ask is that I hope you don’t hate me.”

“I couldn’t hate you… Holly.” he smiles. “You’re my br…sister?

I smile, it feels good to hear him say those words.

“I’m not surprised,” he adds quietly. “Well, I am, but not at the same time. Somehow it all makes a strange sort of sense.”

Erk.

“What do you mean?”

“I think I’ve known that we were different for some time, I just didn’t really see it until you walked over here. We are related, but we’re not the same and we never have been. Don’t get me wrong, I know what you were born, I’ve seen your thing.” he chuckles darkly before cringing apologetically when he sees the twinge on my face.

“I mean, I think I’ve seen the girl sometimes, somewhere in there behind my little bro. I didn’t know what I was seeing. kinda like a guy who doesn’t know he needs glasses. The second he gets them though, it's so obvious, right?” He pauses and smiles slightly. “When I think back, I think I’ve seen my… little sister, showing through.” He says the words strangely, like he’s trying the word on for size. “Strangely it makes all the sense in the world.”

“You have?”

He nods. “Little moments, little gestures. There were times when I didn’t quite recognize you for a moment and I thought you were someone else. The mall the other weekend; when you were playing that game with Rick, the one with the basketball? For just a second, when you were laughing with him, it was like… I saw… a boy and a girl.” he gestures at me.

I really need to get a grip on my behavior; noted for the future. On the whole, though, this is going far better than I could have hoped; I’m still breathing and no straws are required.

“Is that a bad thing?” I ask slowly, testing the water.

He shakes his head and swallows, “I don’t think so.”

Shit, what are the chances?

“So… you want to be a girl, like, forever?”

I speak to him for the first time as myself, my real self. I look my brother in his eyes as his little sister and I nod assuredly. “I already am Rob, I just want everyone else to know it too.”

“I kinda figured,” he replies quietly. “It does seem to suit you, Holly”

Rob opens his arms and hesitates for a second. I see what he’s doing and I smile and step forward to accept the hug he’s offering. He wraps me in his arms and I hold on as tight as I can. It's been a long time since he’s done that and it feels incredible. I can’t control myself and tears fall from my eyes.

I don’t know how long we hold on to each other but by the time I step back and glance around, I realize Kara and Megan are back by the car giving us space.

“Where do we go from here?” Rob asks uncertainly.

“I have to keep this to myself, I can’t tell Mom and Dad yet. I don’t want to risk bad things happening Rob.”

“I’m sure they’d be fine Holly, how do you expect to hide… uh… all of this.” he gestures sheepishly at me.

I uh, don’t know,” I admit, “but even you didn’t see it till now.”

“I don’t know how I didn’t,” Rob admits. “Now I know, it’s so obvious that you’re a girl.” he freezes for a second then frowns. “How is it that you look… I mean, you… uh.”

Oh, tits question; this will be fun.

“Uh, when someone is trans, doctors block their birth hormones and put them on replacements that are bioidentical to the right kind they should have. I’ve ah… well, I found a way to get the medications that stop the wrong puberty and other ones that start the right one. ”

Rob sighs and shakes his head. “I should have known the kid of a doctor who plans to follow in her mom’s footsteps would find a medical solution to the problem.” he frowns suddenly, “Are you sure that it’s safe though? Is it permanent? Are you sure you want to go down this path forever?”

I reach out and take his hand and squeeze it. It’s a gesture I wouldn’t have dared to ever really share with him before. “Rob, I’m certain. When I first spotted the signs of puberty last year, I lost my mind. No offense, but the idea of my body becoming like yours horrified me to the point of dark thoughts. This is who I am, and it always will be. It’s who I’ve always been, I just had to hide.”

He thinks about what I said for a moment and then nods. “I had to ask Squirt.”

We turn and start walking back towards the car. “So, what does this mean going forward? Are you going to be hiding as Alex till you can’t anymore? What then?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. The Doctor knows, Meg and Kara, but I just… not yet, ok?”

He rolls his eyes and nudges my shoulder with a fist. “I guess the bro trip the other week wasn’t the best idea then huh?”

“I appreciate the gesture,” I offer. “It meant the world to me that you cared about me.”

“So, the thing tonight with Monica, she just assumed you were a chick because you were with those two? You do get yourself into some jams Spike.”

“Spike?”

Rob opens the car door and grins at me. “Yeah, I just thought of it now; Spike, like Holly bushes are spikey, real prickly. You’ll always know I mean Holly when I say that and nobody else will.”

Damn, unmelt my heart, please.

“That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said.” I beam.

“You guys good?” Kara asks as we both get into the car a few moments later.

Rob and I look at each other and smile. “Yeah,” I agree. “I don’t think I ever really considered it possible, but yes, we’re good.”

The ride home is a surreal experience for me. I’m here in a car with my best friends and my brother and everyone is treating me as Holly Winters. I almost can’t believe this, from the disaster panic of Monica Carlos and my terror at the idea of telling Rob, I never stopped to consider that my brother loved me more.

I swapped back to my own clothes and returned Kara’s shirt while we drove. I was sad to return to Boymode, or whatever actually counted as Boymode in my weird world. Letting Rob meet me as my authentic self had been incredible, but I knew it couldn’t last; I still had a persona to present at home. The makeup she had so carefully applied had been destroyed by my tears and so it had to be removed anyway. After we dropped them at their place and I gave each the biggest hug of their lives, we set off back to the house in relative quiet.

We pulled into the driveway and Rob shut off the car before turning to face me. “I’ll go along with your desires and keep tonight a secret, but I want you to promise me one thing, ok?”

“What?”

He fixes me with a serious look. “Don’t think I didn’t hear what you said about dark thoughts. You keep me in the loop going forward, ok Holly? This might all be new and it might be strange for me to adapt to but I’m going to try my best. I love you and you’re my blood, brother or sister. If that’s as my little sister Holly, I’m fine with that. I want you above ground and in my life, not miserable and dead, got it?”

I touch his arm and smile. “Rob, ever since I started doing something to correct nature’s mistake and set myself on the right path, those thoughts have been long gone. My life might be in two worlds right now, but It’s a life I want to live so very badly. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You looked so much like Mom tonight,” Rob murmurs quietly, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear that had escaped since I re-tied it. “I saw photographs of her as a kid and it was uncanny.”

“I guess that’s a good thing?”

“I worry for you at that school,” he replies, a look of concern on his features. “I was afraid for you before; you were never a fighter. Now though? Knowing what you are keeping hidden from them every day? Jesus Holly, I’m going to be freaking out.”

“Welcome to my world.” I chuckle darkly. “Welcome to the last sixteen years of my life.”

Dear Readers, I will not be able to post for two weeks as I'll be on vacation, but fear not, Fake It will return on an epic scale once I return to the country! Sh*t is about to get real!

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Fake It Till You Make It - 10 - He's Not My Boyfriend...

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Ten - He's Not My Boyfriend...

My phone’s ringtone woke me rather abruptly on Saturday morning. Isn’t it awful when you’re in the middle of a perfect dream, and then all of a sudden, the voice of the gorgeous dream boy you’re snuggled up with changes from a deep husky rumble into the shrill Nokia ringtone. It kinda puts the kybosh on any pleasant thoughts you had been imagining.

“Mmm, hello?”

“Man, you sound like you’re half dead,” a deep and familiar voice chuckles. It reminds me very much of my slumber-time mystery man.

“Wanna go back to sleep. Be quiet, was comfy.”

The voice chuckles and it sounds exactly like my dream guy. In my sleepy state, I am not particularly quick on the uptake. “Go back to sleep, wanna cuddle…. WHA”

I sit bolt-upright in the bed. “Rick? What?”

Rick laughs on the other end of the phone. “I’m pretty sure you just sleep answered the phone.”

“Uh, erm sorry,” I squeak, my cheeks turning crimson on the other end of the line. “Uh, what did you want?”

Rick laughs at my weirdness. “My Dad’s given me the day off so I’m spinning my heels here. I figured maybe you might want to go into town and do something? No horses this time, I promise.”

“I guess I could,” I concede tentatively. “Wouldn’t you rather hang out with the other team guys?”

“Nah, I had that crap yesterday. Plus I didn’t see you after the game so I figured we could catch up, huh?”

Do I want to spend more time with this guy? God, the idea scares me more than I want to admit. Deep down, behind my inhibitions, I know I want to say yes. Fuck it; “Sure Rick, when?”

“An hour? I’ll pick you up.”

“Uh, ok,” I answer a little surprised at the suddenness. My heart does that nervous, apprehensive squiggle thing. “I’ll see you then?”

Rick hangs up and I sit there staring at the phone for a moment trying to get my bearings. I know that on the surface, friends go and hang out with one another all the time. This, however, feels like an extremely dangerous decision given my now-accepted feelings for him. I know that academically I should avoid him like a case of Herpes and keep him at arm's length, but somehow, the idea of spending time with him is so intoxicatingly hard to avoid. The very fact that he thought of me first on his day off makes me unreasonably happy. Did he suggest that he missed spending time with me?

*Happy flutter*

I take care of my morning routine and make my way downstairs to grab the most important meal of the day; breakfast. In my case, girl or boy, this is a pop tart and a big mug of coffee. To this very day, it’s almost as important to me as a steady supply of Estrogen.

I’m idly flipping through a paper while I munch my sustenance when Rob wanders in like a zombie.

“Coffee’s in the pot,” I offer neutrally. I tentatively glance up at him; truth be told, I’m a little apprehensive as to how I’m supposed to act around him now.

He ruffles my hair on the way past, “thanks, Spike.”

“So we’re sticking with Spike are we?” I ask as he makes himself coffee.

“Yeah,” he answers after a second. “If you’re ok with it?”

I ponder what it means on a far grander scale. “It’s taking some getting used to, but I think I do.”

“You’re up early, you off somewhere?”

“Rick wanted to go hang today so… here I am.”

Rob sits down beside me and glances over as he sips his steaming brew. “I don’t know if I really approve of you hanging out with guys alone anymore… Holly.”

I fix him with a look, and for the first time, it’s a real sister look. “Rob, I appreciate the concern but I’m fine, honestly. As far as he’s concerned it's just two dudes hanging out, there is nothing more than that. To the rest of the world, I haven’t changed; still regular old Alex Winters.”

He smiles apologetically. “Sorry, I just… I already worried about you before, but now? Now I worry even more. Not just because you’re… god, I can’t unsee it.”

I’m sitting there in baggy cargo pants and a zip hoodie over a tight tee. My hair is tucked in the back of my hood and I look as grungy and boy as I can manage usually.

“I look the same as normal.” I point out shifting awkwardly in my seat.

“I guess I never realized just how ‘girl’ your normal is Holly.” he opines with a smirk. His expression suddenly changes to one of concern. “Wait, you and Rick aren’t…”

“NO!” I splutter. “No way, not a chance, what?”

Can you imagine what a human looks like when they turn bright red? That’s me right now. My attraction being fact notwithstanding, I am NOT having this discussion with my brother about one of his teammates; not happening.

“Relax” Rob laughs, “I’m just teasing you.”

Phew.

“Look, last night… I don’t know how I didn’t see it,” he admits. “Sitting here now, it’s just so obvious.”

“I’m trying not to be so obvious,” I complain as I finish my coffee. “That’s kinda the whole point. Plus Mom and Dad don’t think it’s so obvious.”

Rob smirks. “How do you think I feel realizing my pretty sister goes to the same school as me?”

I balk and stare at him. “I’m not pretty.”

“I’m afraid to leave you alone with any of the team guys going forward, yeah, you are, weird as that might feel for me to realize.”

Furious blush activated.

Thankfully there’s a knock at the door which Rob walks off to answer giving me a moment to calm my spicy nerves. The last thing I need to do is to give away that little chestnut of information. I can hear distant Broitudes, so I assume my ride and perpetual shadow has arrived.

Walking through, I find Rob and Rick chatting by the front door. Rick smiles when he spots me. “Hey Alex, you good?”

“Yeah, thanks for giving me a ride dude.” I offer, doing my best to bro it up for Rob. Anything to distract from whatever he might be thinking. A girl would never call a guy she’s into dude, would she? Nope!

“Catch you around man,” Rob grins, “Make sure this one doesn’t do anything dumb ok?”

I want to scold Rob for being overly protective but I bite my tongue and toss him a wave as I head out the door. “Cya later!”

“He seems a little weird today,” Rick asks as we hop into his truck. “You guys good?”

“We’re fine,” I shrug. “He’s just being my brother. He’s always been that way. So what’s your plan for today?” I ask changing topics quickly.

“I’m not sure,” Rick shrugs. “I figure we head into the city and wander a bit. Maybe check out some stores, lunch, then see how we feel?”

“Sounds fine to me, I did fancy stopping at the comic book store.”

“Man if people see me in there my cred is totally gone,” Rick chuckles.

I roll my eyes. “You’re hanging out with a dweeb, I’m pretty sure it’s gone already.”

“You’re not a dweeb,” he opines. “You’re funny, intelligent and you care about other people a lot more than you let on. Sure, you might be a massive geek, but we all got our vices.”

“Maybe you can cure yourself of the uncontrollable urge to hit other people for fun.”

“What’s wrong with football?”

“Nothing,” I shrug, “I don’t mind watching, but I just don’t see the attraction of playing it,” I admit.

Rick looks thoughtful for a moment. “I suppose for me, I’ve got this need to compete. It gives me an outlet for my competitive energy and aggression.”

As we drive, I watch him for a moment. I can appreciate why he plays but his reasons and his logic confound me; it proves how different we really are at a core level. We’ve got a lot in common but our root selves are so very different.

I’m not naive enough to believe that all men carry big caveman urges that they must express or explode. To assume every man is the same would cheapen the great variety that exists within them as a sex. In so much as I am a girl, Rick is a boy. His approach to how he rationalizes his feelings and his expression differs so intrinsically from my own and it feels so very alien.

Present Day Holly here; Excuse lil Holly’s flawed attempts at crayon psychology. She means well, but she still doesn’t really know the worlds of men and women yet. I could make some witty and hilarious remarks about peeing with the seat up or that testicles are just plain hilarious, but it wouldn’t serve the purpose.

My entire childhood was spent feeling alien from my assigned sex. Sure, that term upsets some people as much as Cis tends to put a twist in their knickers but both apply fairly well as descriptors of difference if not for everyday use.

For myself and many like me, childhood was confusing and frightening. It’s easy to slip into hating the sex you were assigned but the reality is, it’s not their fault. They’re different, but it's not better or worse; just different. For every wonderful woman and evil man, I’ve met equally as many awful women and wonderful men. Pick the man or the bear, but it’s all relative. Now back to the steamy non romance you filthy dogs.

* * *

“Ugh, I need to sit down,” I moan as I drop into the booth of a small pizza place we had chosen for lunch. “You walk too damn fast.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so short,” Rick chuckles as he slips into his seat across from me and grabs a menu. “And you did insist we check out those last four stores.”

“Not the point,” I counter, gesturing at him with a menu. “You dragged us a mile out of the way to look at football shoes.”

“Boots, and need new ones, what can I say?” he smiles smugly.

We had spent the morning wandering the city center, checking out shops, and talking about nothing in particular. It wasn’t particularly interesting to you ravenous readers hell-bent on gender adventures; we did boy shopping, and there were no spinny skirts in sight I’m afraid.

“Split one?” I ask, looking up from the menu that’s making my mouth water. “I’m good for whatever as long as it’s not got barbeque sauce on it.”
Rick wrinkles his nose. “That we can agree on… Hmm, sausage and bacon?”

I smile like the cat that got the cream. “A man after my own heart.”

A waitress comes over and smiles expectantly.

“Give us a large pie, sausage, and bacon, I’ll have a coke and…. Alex?”

“Same,” I shrug.

“Won’t be long y’all,” the waitress smiles as she departs.

“I’m glad we did this,” Rick offers. “I think I need some time away from my world; things have been super chaotic.”

“I know what you mean,” I agree wholeheartedly. “Every step these days feels like a minefield.”

“I can’t wait for Christmas,” Rick sighs. “Feel like I’m exhausted already only a month in.”

I know what he means, far more than he realizes. A month back at school feels like six years of hard labor in a Soviet Gulag. I’m growing increasingly positive that something will inevitably go horribly wrong.

“Here we go guys, your drinks,” The waitress announces returning. “Your coke sir, and yours, miss.”

Gerk

“Uh, thanks,” I blush.

Rick gives me a conciliatory smile “It’s just your hair and your size from her angle, Alex. She probably wasn’t even looking that close; don’t worry about it.”

Why is my stupid ass considering testing the water? Do I like piranha nibbled toes?

“It happens a lot,” I admit with a shrug. “I don’t mind so much anymore. It’s not like I’m ever going to look like you.”

These are all statements of fact, he just doesn't know why.

Rick just shrugs and makes a face. “Fuck 'em; you just keep being you. Who gives a crap what people think? Guy, girl, or apple pie; you’re pretty cool Alex. I’m glad we’re friends.”

I don’t quite know how to translate that, but I’m pretty sure it’s positive... Ish?

“Me too, I just feel like I don’t bring so much to the equation,” I chuckle sheepishly. “You have your truck, your amazing place, the social standing. You’re the popular sports guy. Me? I’m just the nerdy charity case you seem to want to tag along.”

“It’s not that,” Rick replies with surprising certainty. “I always thought you were pretty different. I always regretted that I just never really took the time to say hi and get to know you. We move in different circles but we’re not that different, not where it matters. We’re both gamers, we laugh at stupid stuff and we get on pretty well. Honestly? I’m just glad to have an honest friend; someone that I know likes me for me. I haven’t actually got a whole lot of those.”

“I don’t exactly have many myself.” I agree. “I guess I just feel like I’m mooching.”

“Don’t think that way. I like hanging with you Alex, you’re way cooler than you give yourself credit.”

The arrival of our pizza cuts off my chance at a solid reply and I decide to ditch it for the rest of our lunch. This just doesn’t feel like the time or place for any kind of heavy conversation about how useless I feel sometimes. Truth be told, I want him to say that he cares about me, that he sees the girl screaming and beating her fists on the glass silently crying out for him. I try to keep her quiet and it makes my heart heavy.

The pizza is good. It’s not one of these stupid Chicago monstrosities that is essentially a quiche gone wrong. No, this is a proper Italian pizza; wood-fired, fresh, and thin. The sauce is delicious and the cheese is just right. Look, I might be a girl, but I love a good pizza. In the end, I manage three slices and Rick inhales the rest; he’s a big boy and I’m pretty sure he’s just being polite.

I pay my half of the bill despite his insistence that it’s not a big deal. Sure, I’d love to let him pay and pretend that this was a date, but I cannot allow myself to get into that headspace. I know he’s just being kind, and it doesn’t mean what I imagine it does. The truth is that it feels a bit like it is one, and that confuses me. Part of me wonders if he’s even aware of how we interact with one another. Perhaps it’s perhaps subconscious? I make sure to pay so that we both know this is two friends hanging out, and nothing more. God, how the fuck am I going to manage this?

The comic book store is about halfway back towards the parking lot where we left Rick’s truck. Secretly, I’ve been relishing this moment all morning, because finally, I get to make Mr bigshot football star feel awkward and entirely out of his depth.

The bell rings as we enter the kingdom of Nerdia. You know the type of place this is; the interior looks like a nerd’s wet dream come to vivid and exotic life. The walls and shelves are stacked high with comics, art, and memorabilia from every imaginable comic or anime franchise. This place has been one of the happiest destinations in my childhood. Here, the characters showed me that being different wasn’t bad; here, being different was amazing.

“This is kinda nuts,” Rick admits looking around awestruck. “I kinda feel like a dumbass not coming in here sooner.”

I nod, proud of my people. “Here you’ll find everything from the freshest Manga out of Tokyo all the way to OG Darkman comics.”

“I’ll admit, I’ve dabbled in a little Steel Wonder, but not much else.”

“You seen SpaceConflict right?”

Rick nods, “the original ones and the two new movies, yeah.”

I lead him over to the appropriate area of the store and watch his eyes light up as he takes in the variety of goodies on display. Guys might pretend to be too cool for nerdy things but put them in front of trinkets and action figures and for some reason they turn into little boys.

I can tell he’s going to be a good while as he peruses the laser wizard delights, so I wander over to find the latest edition of Darkgirl. Hey, I might be trying to hide myself, but Brianna Grey is my girl. More importantly, nobody really worries about you reading female superheroes, they just call you a nerd!

After a little searching, I managed to locate the issue I was after and began leafing through some Toxic Vine back issues.

“Anything I can help you find?” a feminine voice asks, breaking me out of my perusal.

I glance over my shoulder and spot a freckle-faced girl with mousey brown hair grinning at me.

“Oh just looking at what else you have, I found what I was after though thanks,” I reply waving my copy of the latest Darkgirl.

“That’s a good one,” she smiles approvingly. “I love what they did with Grey in Year One.”

“I know,” I enthuse, “she’s so different to so many other female heroes. It’s got a lot more realism with them including her balancing being a vigilante and being in high school, you know?.”

“Is that guy you came in with your boyfriend?” She asks jerking her thumb in Rick’s direction. “Nice catch girl.”

“I uh… erm,” Initiate blush module. “He’s not my…”

“Oh, ‘just friends’ huh?” she grins literally not believing me. “Must be a really good friend if he’s willing to follow you here while you nerd out.”

“I mean he games…” I offer feebly. “We game and he’s into…”

“Oh yeah I can tell he is, he keeps glancing over the entire time you’re in here.” she chuckles. At this point, I’ve pretty much given up on trying to correct her on either assumption.

“Uh, thanks, well I guess we’re kinda working out where we fit.” I offer, hoping that agreeing will get her to drop the bone.

She smirks knowingly and taps the side of her nose as she wanders off to help a homeless-looking man in sweatpants and a lewd anime girl T-shirt.

“What was that about?” Rick asks, making me jump as he appears behind me. “You two seemed to be really getting into it. Going to ditch me for a nerdette?”

“Oh I’m not, I mean… Uh… she’s not my… we were just talking about comic books.”

Classy Holly, real fucking classy girl.

Rick looks almost relieved for a moment, but I could be imagining that. He holds up a couple of StarConflict figures and nods towards the register. “You good to go then?”

I nod and follow him over. Thankfully Nosey Nelly isn’t running the register, but the geeky guy behind it most certainly leers at me. Apparently, grungy tomboy is in this year for the shaved palm brigade.

After leaving Nerd-vana (Yes, that’s the name of the store), we made the decision to head back to the truck and get ourselves out of the city. I’ll admit, I was a little quiet as we walked, my mind choosing to overanalyze the day’s events. Between the waitress and the girl in the comic book store, I was beginning to seriously question if hanging around with this guy was sensible or safe, given how perception was leaning.

Naturally, the issue of attraction was a major problem; I really did like him. The problem today had revealed was that someone sooner or later was going to say something in front of him. At least twice I’d been overtly gendered as female to my face, how many more had just assumed it? The way Rick and I seemed to act, apparently told people we were a couple, was that intentional, or did people just assume boy + girl = romance?

Was that girl right? Was he glancing over at me? Had he invited me out today on some form of quasai undercover date? Was he secretly gay? Did he see me as a boy or a girl? Did he even realize? They were all fantastic questions that would have been answered had I not rapidly applied Newton’s third law.

*CLANG*

One minute I’m walking, the next, I eat lamp post just outside the parking lot.

“Jeez Alex, are you ok?”

I don’t think I passed out, but I was flat on my back seeing stars and little cartoon birds flittering around. “Ow,” I complain rubbing my forehead. “Who put that there?”

“I’m pretty sure it was there the whole time,” he grins offering me his hand.

A boy wouldn’t take his hand, but I take it. He lifts me to my feet so effortlessly that once vertical I stagger forward, a little off balance. It’s a natural reaction of course; as I stagger, Rick grabs hold of me to stop me from falling. For a brief moment, we’re facing each other, his hands on my waist and we’re just staring into each other’s eyes. It can’t have lasted more than a few seconds, but it felt like we stood there for an eternity. Yes, it is possible for two people to blush at the exact same moment.

“Uh, yeah, ah, thanks!” I grin sheepishly, ”I’ll watch where I’m going next time, stupid me!”

Rick looks as confused and embarrassed as I am. He mutters an apology and I avoid any form of eye contact, I don’t want him to think that I’d love him to do it again. God, how I wish he would do that again. Even now I can feel his hands on my body and it felt so right.

When Rick dropped me back at home, the air was still a little strange between us. We had both tried to play it off as nothing but there had absolutely been a moment between us. The truth was, that neither of us had been expecting it and it had clearly startled him. I think it told me that Rick was absolutely getting mixed signals from me. As nice a guy as he was, I vowed to give him some space and let things cool off. I hated doing it because I genuinely enjoyed being around him. God, why did life need to be so complicated?

Rob hadn’t noticed a thing when I got home, thankfully, so I avoided twenty questions. I know he meant well, but his ‘newly discovered brother to a little sister’ routine was already quite exhausting. Did I appreciate the heck out of the effort? Of course, I did.

Monday was going to be my first major challenge when it came to avoiding Rick and keeping an overprotective Rob at bay. Boys! Can’t live with them, really can’t find a valid excuse to bury them in the desert.

* * *

Avoiding Rick at school was far more difficult than I had imagined it possibly might be. I suppose that’s not particularly surprising when someone sits across from you at the dining table, is it? The library managed to provide me a worthy refuge from both him and my darling brother before school and during our morning break but lunch itself had been far more awkward.

I even went out of my way to make conversation with just about anyone else at the table who would tolerate me that day. At one point, I think I caught a hurt look in his eyes when I traded a barb with Bradon. I didn’t linger on it, even though it tugged at my heart to do so.

When we were dismissed, I saw him attempt to catch up to me but I managed to slip away in the press of bodies making for the exit. The library wouldn’t do…he’d know to look for me there, wouldn’t he? The real question was where to go so that a determined and quite confused boy wouldn’t come looking for me. I finally had a smart idea, it just didn’t pan out entirely the way I had hoped.

I slip into the classroom and close the door behind me. I managed to make it all the way to my German classroom without getting noticed. I’ve got this first period after lunch, so a quiet spot to read and a short commute? Seems perfect.

“Your lesson isn’t for another thirty minutes yet, Herr Winters.”

I jump out of my skin at the sound of my teacher’s voice. What manly thing do I do to maintain my cover as an average teen boy? I squeak and gasp; go me…

“I’m sorry Frau Whistler,” I gasp, trying to calm myself into something remotely masculine. “I thought the classroom would be empty about now.”

My German teacher eyes me suspiciously. “Nothing against you sitting quietly and studying, but wouldn’t you rather be outside having fun with your friends?” She shakes her head. “No, you’re avoiding someone; bullies or a falling out?”

“Do you teach German or Criminal Investigations?”

Whistler smirks at that. Outside of class, she’s always been one of the more relaxed teachers with us. She’s in her thirties, I think, and has curly brown hair that always seems to be up in a huge bun behind her head. Almost as though it’s one of the few ways she's found to restrain it. Her style is somewhere between coffee shop and Boho chic with lots of chunky knits and maxi skirts.

“You’re a decent student but nobody is this keen to get started on compound prepositions.”

I cringe at her reminder and she chuckles. “So which is it, no, I’ll guess… you’re avoiding a friend you had a falling out with; one that doesn’t have this class. I don’t see you hanging around with that many people so it’s either Paul Harding, unlikely. Gary Byrne, but not plausible as he shares this class, or who is that one?”

Uh oh.

“Herr Taylor doesn’t study Deutsch, I believe he’s in Mister Carver’s Spanish class; I’m going to put my money there.

Damn, she’s actually good. Time to go on the counter-offensive.

“You got me,” I admit. “What about you though? Surely you could be relaxing in the teacher’s lounge not worrying about us for another half hour?”

Frau Whistler rolls her eyes and smirks, rather uncharacteristic for an educator. “No pulling the wool over your eyes.” She admits. “I’m avoiding people too; Mister Alder from Economics is trying to sign us all up for a charity run and I would rather do literally anything else.”

Teachers are humans too. Who knew?

Not to be deterred, she redirects her attention back towards me again. I always liked Frau Whistler, she was always light, funny, and personal with us all. Not in a creepy weird got a Webflix docu-series twenty years later sort of way, but a genuinely good teacher way. It’s a shame she might have to die now.

“So why are you and Junge Herr Taylor at odds? Conflict enough to drive you into my clutches.”

“You don’t need to worry Frau, it’s just schoolyard nonsense.”

Frau Whistler raises an eyebrow. “Well, you managed to separate me from a rather good book so the therapist’s office is officially open.”

Do you really think I’m going to come clean and tell someone else? I’ve come out twice in the last seven days, I’m not looking to make it three. I settle into a desk and put my bag down while I formulate what to say. I can’t tell her the truth, so I need something equally plausible that might actually throw her off the scent. This one is annoyingly good so far. Sometimes sticking closer to the truth is actually easier.

“We’re not exactly a lot alike and we move in different social circles yet he started trying to befriend me this year. I figured he wanted something, or he was setting up for a long con to punk me or something. It turns out that he felt bad for me and it was all charity for the loser kid with no friends. Some misguided sense of duty to be nice because he used to be bullied in middle school.”

“Are you being bullied?”

I shrug, “No more than anyone else.”

Frau Whistler laughs. “The number should be zero Alex, but that’s beside the point. So you feel betrayed by his perceived friendship of charity? Might he not just recognize another lonely soul? Someone with whom he shares a great deal in common?”

“I guess,” I admit. “It just feels like people think I’m sad and lonely.”

“You were,” she points out, giving me a sympathetic look. “I don’t know what changed, but something significant has. Perhaps this friendship you seem hell-bent on rejecting is part of that, but you are much happier this year, Alex.”

Oh, it’s not because of that, lady… but deflect all the same.

”I don’t think I’m any different.” I hedge innocently.

“You might say that, but more than one teacher was worried about you last semester. A few have commented on you being far more socially active this year.”

Did they notice? Fuck, depression makes you sloppy. Does she have a point? Yes, unfortunately, my desire for a quiet and drama-free year has been utterly trashed by people wanting to hang out, be friends, and generally enjoy life. I can’t say it's all been terrible though.

“Not entirely wrong,” I admit reluctantly. “I guess I have been more involved.”

“It’s good to see and it suits you well enough,” she smiles, as she sorts through a pile of worksheets. “I think I saw you with the Byrne girls at the football game on Friday evening. From what I saw it looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

Fuck, quick, manly sportsball comments.

“Ah, yes, it was a tough game, they really had us with their offense.”

Frau Whistler raises an eyebrow and smirks and I feel a sudden sinking feeling. What did she see exactly? I shouldn’t have let my guard down like that, rookie move.

“I go to support Rob mostly.” I offer, hoping she’s not going to say anything, and Gary really isn’t into Football at all.”

She nods and smiles kindly. I can’t tell if she’s politely accepting my flimsy explanation or genuinely just being nice. My spidey sense tells me she knows more than she’s letting on; Le gulp.

“Friends are important, finding people you can really be yourself with does matter a great deal, Alex.”

Fuck.

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Fake It Till You Make It - 11 - Mom, I can Explain…

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Eleven - Mom, I Can Explain...

Tuesday morning builds on Monday’s fine start to Operation; Avoid Rick and Weird Feelings. The title isn’t very snappy I know, I’m workshopping replacements. My morning begins with another session in the library before Homeroom. Isolation isn’t so unfamiliar to me, this used to be my life most mornings. I almost miss the common room, weird huh?

I make it through Math and Geography, and I only have one class remaining before I have to see him again at lunchtime. I’m pretty convinced he’s going to manage to talk to me this time, but what he’ll say, I don’t know. I have far too much on my mind between yesterday’s hints from Frau Whistler and Rick’s… situation. Why can’t my life be simple?

“Does anyone have the answer to this? What was so significant about Elizabeth Blackwell?” My History teacher, Mrs Benson asks, as she glances around the classroom. “This should be fresh in your memories as we covered it only last week.”

I tentatively raise my hand.

“Alexander.”

I HATE teachers who use our full names, it particularly bothers me for reasons you might appreciate.

“Elizabeth Blackwell was the first woman to get a medical degree in the United States in 1857, Ma’am. She founded the New York Infirmary for Women and Children with her sister Emily, and Marie Zakrzewska.”

Mrs Benson nods approvingly. “Absolutely correct! And it was this clinic that paved the way for female physicians in the United States going forward, your mother is a physician, isn’t she Alexander?”

I cringe a little but nod. “Yes Ma’am, Cardiologist at Mercy General.”

She’s very pleased with the response. I can thank my mother for my knowledge of Blackwell and her clinic actually. It’s a story she told me years ago and one I strive to follow in the footsteps of. Mom didn’t realize it, but she inspired me to be like them and her one day.

The bell goes on history twenty minutes later and we’re making our way to Lunch. I’m still working out how best to avoid a guy I sit across from at the table when a foot catches my ankle and I hit the deck hard.

“Fucking nerd faggot,” A voice chuckles darkly as its owner vanishes into the crowd of students. Nobody stops to help me up, they just briefly part as I struggle back to my feet. I could make a fuss, but it would never make a difference; this kind of stuff happens to people like me. The socially privileged think they have a right to abuse the rest of us for appearing to slight their intelligence, their feelings, or just plain fun. I’m pretty sure this one didn’t like the fact that answered a question and was praised for it.

I’m still nursing the bruise on my shin when I reach the dining room. Rick is already sitting there when I arrive and I catch sight of the look on his face; this time it’s most certainly one of hurt. I hate doing this but I have to for both of our sakes. He doesn’t need the confusion and I don’t need the hope I feel when I’m around him. Better for us to remain acquaintances that don’t get too close than to suffer any of what lies ahead.

As we sit down, I discover Lord Brandon is in fine fettle again today and he’s gunning for a reaction from me. If earlier examples from this year haven’t been enough of a clue, I have been designated his target of choice. Remember what I said about my big mouth? Sometimes it’s an asset and sometimes it gets me in more trouble than I’d like. Sometimes, it gets me out of trouble too, I’m quite smart. This isn’t one of those times.

“Nice of you to join us eventually Miss Winters,” he sneers as I drop into my spot beside him. Just for reference, the table head gets the only chair, everyone else occupies benches on both sides of the table.

“Brandon, no matter how much you call me a girl, I’m still not going out with you,” I reply deadpan. I just don’t have time for him today and my desire to fuck around has reached peak find out. The double bluff is an excellent strategy for the moron with a small brain and an even shorter temper. The only problem is, Alex isn’t driving right now. I’m tired and I’m frustrated and emotional. Holly is very much at the surface now and she’s not taking Brandon’s bullshit.

“What? I wouldn’t ever!” he splutters. “Are you admitting you’re gay finally?”

“I mean, you just called me a girl,” I point out with a shrug. I check my nails with disinterest before fixing him with an amused look. “So that would make me straight, wouldn’t it genius? Although faced with a guy like you, it would probably turn me into a lesbian.”

Darth Dipshit is now red in the face and getting angrier by the second. Here’s where the curveball in my plan enters the game and presents the home run hit. Little do I realize, I’m playing ball in a phone booth, and balls bounce.

“Brandon, That’s enough; knock it off now,” Rick interjects sternly. I think he realizes that I’m probably touching a nerve and about to set off Mount Dumbass. “You started this, now be a man and knock it off before we all end up in the shit when a teacher steps in.”

Brandon glares at him and then at every expectant face at the table. In his eyes, they’re watching their glorious leader for his next move. He realizes that he has to have the last word, his ego demands it. “I suppose I’ll have to be,” He sighs. “Seeing as this little faggot can’t seem to manage it.”

I really shouldn’t, it’s quite possibly the most incendiary thing I could possibly do at this point, but now the red rag has been presented in an already enjoyable game of prod the bear. The words leave my mouth before I realize just how bad it’s going to be.

“I’m pretty sure that’s what your ex-girlfriend said,” I snicker.

There is dead silence at the table and it’s as though time freezes outside of our little bubble. If you’re really sharp-sighted, I’m pretty sure you can watch a blood vessel blow in Brandon’s forehead. I don’t see the fist coming, but I catch it right in the side of my head. The world spins and I remember hitting the floor, but the rest of the next few minutes are a complete and utter blur.

As my senses swim back to me in a miasma of light and sound, I can hear raised voices as though filtered through cotton wool. I’m pretty sure there’s yelling and shouting happening but I couldn’t tell you what anyone was saying exactly. I blink and try to clear my vision but it’s still cloudy and indistinct. Shapes are moving rapidly and they seem to converge before separating once again. One shape goes flying, and the other lunges after it. Nothing really makes a lot of sense at the moment.

It takes a few minutes for my vision to clear sufficiently that I can see what’s happening. Something feels wet and I’ve got a splitting headache. Now I can see, that the scene before me is one of utter pandemonium. Rick is kneeling on the back of Brandon, as are several other football players. Teachers are trying to pull them off him and failing miserably at their quest. I sit up, or at least, I attempt to do so. My head spins and I hit the deck a second time and my vision fades to black.

The next time I open my eyes, I’m in the back of an Ambulance. They’re pretty impossible to mistake, what with the sirens, paramedics, and such.

“Where am I?” I mutter through dry lips, not sure who’s even nearby.

A uniformed paramedic appears above me. “It’s ok, miss, you’re safe, you’re in an Ambulance on the way to hospital. What do you remember?”

“School… punch, floor,” I mutter, wincing at the flash of pain that radiates through my head. “I don’t tell good jokes apparently.”

The medic smiles as he checks the monitor beside me. I can’t look around because my head is firmly held in place by a cervical collar. A tiny sob escapes my lips as the emotions finally catch up to me.

I feel a hand take mine and squeeze.

“Hey, relax Hol, you’re going to be ok.”

Rob, I recognize Rob’s voice right as his face appears above me. “They’ve got you strapped down, you got attacked.”

My head clears enough that I remember the punches and the fog that followed. I genuinely have no recollection of what happened. “What..?”

“Happened?” Rob raises an eyebrow. “That asshole Brandon knocked you clean out. Rick stepped in then several more of us did too. We managed to get him off you before he did too much… god I’m sorry.” he sighed.

“It’s ok,” I murmur. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Rob shakes his head but whatever he’s going to say is delayed as the medic leans over me and begins asking me a list of concussion-related questions. What is my name, do I know where am I, what date is it? They are all designed to check a patient’s mental faculties and work out just how scrambled they are, clinically speaking. It allows them to perform a check of basic function along with other factors like pupil response and blood pressure to assess for brain injury.

Concussions are essentially bruising of the grey matter. When the head is impacted, or impacts something it stops dead. The brain being somewhat more fluid keeps going like a fat man on a water slide. Bruised tissue is essentially internal bleeding at a smaller scale. Bruising causes swelling which leads to pressure and that can cause headaches and temporarily impact parts of the body like the optic nerve. Getting too technical? Sorry, force of habit.

We arrive at the Emergency Room and we’re taken inside pretty sharpish. I’m strapped to a damn gurney with my head in foam blocks and a cervical collar around my neck so I can’t see much besides the roof above me. I’m wheeled into a triage bay where Doctors and nurses descend on me like a plague of locus.

“Adolescent female presenting with blunt force trauma, fist, and floor. Lost consciousness on scene and regained in the bus. GCS initially five and climbing to fourteen in the truck.”

“Any meds?”

“None,”

There’s a flurry of sound and voices as people flitter around me, I briefly hear Rob’s voice then it’s gone. After a few minutes, the room clears out and It’s quiet, weirdly quiet.

“Miss, can you hear me?” a female voice asks. I can feel cool air on my chest, I’m not wearing a shirt, that’s not good.

“I can hear you,” I reply cautiously. “What’s going on?”

“You’re at Mercy General in the Emergency Room. You were brought in with a severe concussion, what do you remember?” The doctor appears above me and smiles. She has a short brunette pixie cut and big tortoiseshell glasses, she looks like a medical version of hipster Tinkerbell.

“Getting hit by a semi-truck full of stupid?”

“A sense of humor is good,” she smiles. “Anything else?”

“I was at school, we were having lunch. A fight started and I think I was hit in the head; it gets fuzzy after that.”

“What’s your name honey?”

“Alex,”

“Ok sweetheart, that’s fantastic. We’re going to be taking you up for a few scans to make sure nothing is too wrong. Your brother came in with you. He explained to me that you’re a little different from other girls. I’m taking some precautious for your dignity’s sake ok?”

Oh fuck, I didn’t imagine that outcome.

The doctor smiles again reassuringly. “It’s just me in here right now, but I need to warn you; I have to get you trauma naked so I can get you into a gown and up to imaging, alright? I promise I’ll be as respectful as possible.”

“Uh, ok.”

I can feel scissors next to my skin as my clothing is cut away. It’s not a particularly pleasant experience seeing as my arms, legs, and neck are all strapped down. You see, This isn’t some sort of kink, when one has suffered a cranial trauma, that is, bonking one’s noggin, it’s often advisable to make sure nothing else was broken in the process. The head after all is attached to the body by one very breakable thing called your neck. If you start acting like an inflatable at a car wash, your spine doesn’t tend to thank you.

The doctor covers my now cold bare flesh with a hospital gown. Feeling this powerless is an excruciating feeling and one I endeavor to abate as much as possible in years to come when I was on the other side of the stethoscope.

“There we go honey, all done,” she announces once my humiliation is complete. “Let's get you whisked up to imaging and hopefully get you out of all this mess, eh?”

I won’t bore you with my trip to imaging, it’s incredibly dull. Before you ask, yes, Mercy General is the hospital where my Mom works, so I’m already worried that I won’t get to swear Rob to silence before it’s too late. Currently, as far as I’m aware they haven’t put two and two together, for which I am rather glad. Rob knows; I’m not sure how I can use that to my advantage at the moment but I’m also concussed, leave me alone. All that I can think is that I’m about to be fully and parentally exposed and I am not ready. I’m not even mentally ready to explain myself.

The Imaging department at the hospital is where they take a look under the hood without having to actually get under the hood. You’ve all seen Medical dramas; I won’t explain an MRI or an X-ray to you dearest reader. Once I’ve been irradiated, magnetized, and sizzled at gas mark five for a good hour I’m transferred to a room on a general ward and finally freed from my restraints. I appreciate the concern for my body, but being in restraints is exhausting and frustrating. Thankfully the painkillers they have given me have reduced my suffering to a dull ache.

* * *

After the hospital porters deposit my padded chariot in a room, I’m left in peace and quiet. It’s quite intimidating because I’ve never been hurt like this before in my life and I’m feeling quite isolated. I’m glad Rob is nearby, but right now, it’s just me.

I seem to have been admitted as a female, which is, as much as I would love it, a problem. Parents tend to visit their injured children in hospitals, especially when they work there. I don’t see a lot of ways around Mom and the ‘oh hi I’m a girl’ issue. Honestly? My heart is pounding and running laps on how to explain my current situation.

There’s a knock at the door as I’m mid panic and the doctor from earlier pops her head in with a smile. “Hello Alex, how are we feeling?”

Well, I can’t say terrified that my Mom will find out I’m a girl and that my life is over, can I?

“My head’s still thumping and I feel a little stiff, but I’m not as woozy,” I admit.

“That’s good,” the doctor smiles as she arrives at my bedside and checks through the chart attached to the foot. When she’s done, she comes over and does the whole pen light in the eyes routine before stepping back. “I don’t think we were properly introduced earlier, I’m Harriet Jones, your Doctor. You gave us all quite a scare you know.”

“Wasn’t my first choice admittedly.” I offer. “I’d rather have stayed away too.”

“Do you remember much about what happened?”

I think back, it is a little foggy. “I was having lunch, I said something, and Brandon, one of the boys, hit me. After that, it was a little blurry until I was in the ambulance, but I remember fighting and shouting.”

Doctor Jones nods. “That’s normal for a concussion, things will clear up in a few days. I got your results back from imaging and we have no immediate concerns. There’s some minor swelling and you do have a moderate concussion. Honestly, honey, you’ve been incredibly lucky. A couple of stitches and some rest and you’ll be right as rain.”

Yeah, acid rain.

“Do you know where my brother is?” I ask uncertainly. I’d like at least one ally here, it might soften things with the parentals.

“Robert?” she asks with a smile. “He’s a really protective brother, isn’t he? You’re a lucky girl. He’s right outside honey, ok? I also called for your Mom. She’s in the middle of surgery at the moment, but she’s getting someone to step in for her and she’ll be right down to see you, ok?”

Welp, the connection has been made, The best I can do is try to deflect on my end. Maybe I can blame this all on assumption and a horrible mistake?

Doctor Jones misinterprets the look of panic on my face and squeezes my hand. “It’s ok sweetheart, you’re going to be ok, I promise. I know it’s tough not having your mom here but she knows you’re ok, I made sure of it. Get some rest and she’ll be here soon, I promise.”

“Uh, thanks,” I answered uncertainly. “I appreciate it, Doctor.”

“I’ll let your brother know that he can come see you, ok?” She gives me a last smile and makes her exit.

What the hell has today become? I’m trying to decide how to best explain my way out of my mess when there’s a knock at the door. “Come in?”

The door cracks open and Rob sticks his head inside cautiously. “Uh, are you good for a visitor Holly?”

“Uh, sure.”

Rob steps inside and closes the door. He doesn’t approach, he just stands by the door and looks at me. “I was so afraid…”

The look on his face is heartbreaking; my big tough badass older brother genuinely looks frightened. Rob shakes his head and steps forward slightly. “I only just got to… you only just told me… the real you. I was afraid you’d die and that would be it; over. I’d never get to know you properly.”

“What actually happened? I don’t remember much,” I ask, trying to distract from awkward mortality questions

Rob chuckles darkly. “Well, he hit you, although I didn’t see that first part. Why he did it, I’m not so sure. Knowing you it was probably your big mouth.” he opines with a pointed look in my direction. My sheepish grin confirms his theory.

“It was all real fast; you hit the ground like a ragdoll and he started on you again when Rick jumped him. Within seconds most of the team was on him. Once we got him subdued and I got to you… Alex,” breathes, his eyes full of sorrow. “I thought you were dead, you weren’t moving… there was blood everywhere. I was so scared.”

“Shit,” Now I feel quite bad for him, this clearly got to him and I’m more worried about me.

Rob shifts awkwardly, and I can tell he’s come to the real kicker. “Teachers cleared everyone out and the EMTs came. They checked you over and rushed you to the ambulance, they… made an assumption about you because of how you looked. That, and when they took off your shirt to put you on a monitor, you had… on your chest, you had…” he swallows and looks uncertainly at me, “breasts.”

Ah, that’s just plain sibling awkward. “Rob, you know I’ve been taking the medication right? The hormones? Well, it’s making me develop like I should. That means I have breasts.”

He looks a little uncertain for a moment, almost hesitant. “I knew you were serious Holly, that this was real, but… that just shocked me to my core. I’ve seen you looking like a girl, sure, but when they cut away your shirt and I saw… your chest in your bra it finally killed Alex in my head. Does that make sense?”

I nod. I guess it really does bring the reality of this home beyond the theoretical, so his hamfisted explanation makes some sense. Sorry for dumping the girls on you that way brother dearest!

I remember the important topic at hand…. Mom.

“Uh, Rob, I need a favor.”

“What? Anything?”

“Look, Mom and Dad; they can’t know about this, not yet. I need to try and keep this under wraps until I can get some place safe like college. I know it’s a lot but can you… You know, run interference?”

Rob looks super awkward all of a sudden. “Uh, that’s gonna be hard Holly, Mom… she knows already.”

* * *

Modern Day Holly here with your ‘ew it’s boring and real’ warning. The next chunk of the story is a little on the more introspective and sad side. It's not bad, but you try unpacking your reality and keeping it funny and light. We’ll be back to the usual antics soon enough, but for now, enjoy a fat dose of my reality as it was that fateful day.

I wake up from a nap I hadn’t realized I had taken. You know hospitals; you tend to sleep a ton because there are not a lot of other things to do. The room I’m in is dark, telling me that I’ve managed to miss a good portion of the afternoon and evening so far, I guess I needed it. Somewhere nearby I can hear the soft rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor reminding me that I’m trapped here in a hospital. My head is much more clear now and the headache is almost entirely gone. What isn’t gone, however, is the stinging ache I can feel somewhere behind my head. I reach behind and feel the dressing at the base of my skull.

My movement alerts the other person in the room, the one I hadn’t seen yet. They’re sitting quietly in the gloom, taking up one of the room’s nasty hospital visitor’s chairs: Doctor Veronica Winters, aka Mom. She’s sitting there in her scrubs looking like she’s not managed to get home yet. I suddenly feel very guilty for worrying her, probably more than I fear her reaction to my secret. She looks over at me when she senses my movement and smiles in the gloom.

“Alex,” she murmurs softly, moving over to my side in the way that mothers do. Reaching above my head, she switches on one of the bedside lamps and angles it away so it doesn’t blind us both. To my sensitive head, it’s still quite a sharp change. “I didn’t want to wake you, honey, you were sleeping. How are you feeling?”

I smile weakly and shrug. “You didn’t have to come down, I know you were busy.”

Mom rolls her eyes. “I only found out three hours into a bypass surgery. As soon as they told me you were bought in, I scrubbed out and let Marcie Johnson take over. There was no way was I missing my child’s time of need.”

Fuzzy heart moment goes brr.

Mom’s lip quirks. “You know, I was a little surprised to find you here.”

“What do you mean?”

She sits gently on the edge of the bed and takes my hand in hers. “They told me that my daughter had been brought in after a fight at her school. On my way down here, I was wondering how the hell Chrissie managed to get attacked at College in Chicago and then get admitted here, half a country away.”

“Really good AirMed?” I offer sheepishly, not really expecting it to actually work. You know, it’s one of those jokes you make when you know you’re screwed but hope they’ll spare you.

Mom’s lip quirks again even as she frowns at my comment. “Would you believe my surprise when I came in here and Harriet from the ER briefed me on my youngest daughter Alex’s injuries?”

Gulp! That didn’t last long at all, did it? I’ve no chance here but the truth, Mom doesn’t do bullshit.

“I can explain, Mom, I promise.”

Mom shakes her head and squeezes my hand. “You don’t need to sweetheart. I know, and I have known for quite a long time. It wasn’t quite how I expected you to tell me though.”

Excuse_me.com/what.html

“You know? How?”

She nods and intertwines our fingers like she did when I was a small child. “I’ve known for a while now baby.” she smiles kindly. “I didn’t know how to broach it with you so we decided to wait. Your father and I, we saw how sad you were and just how much you were hurting, we didn’t know what to do to help. We saw how you spent time with Chrissie growing up, how very different you were to Robert and we saw all the behaviors and the responses; we tried to pretend it wasn’t really happening.”

She sighs heavily and for the first time, she looks way older. “We sent you to that school to see if it might encourage you to play with the other boys, to adjust and become comfortable. Unfortunately, it only seemed to make things worse. I think we realized it was too late when you withdrew yourself from us last year. By that point, it was all we could do to try and communicate, somehow.”

She sighs and strokes my hair. “I saw the signs, I’m not an idiot darling. I know you started taking hormones; remember that you are the child of a doctor, after all. If anyone had the knowledge and resources to pursue this themselves, it was you.”

Mom leans forward and strokes my cheek, her smile is so warm and genuine that I cannot possibly feel afraid as I stare into her eyes. “I also recognized the signs from Chrissie and my own childhood honey; a young girl entering puberty isn’t so easy to miss to a mother’s gaze.”

I goldfish, everything I had known is falling apart. My expectations of rejection, my fear of coming out. Even how well I had hidden my feelings before, during, and after I started to try to save myself. “You kept asking me if I was ok? Why not just tell me that you knew? I thought…” I sigh and look away. “I thought you were oblivious.”

“I wanted you to open up in your own time,” she admits. “It was when I felt your bra strap the other week that I realized your father and I had to say something sooner rather than later. That I had missed so much that you were already in your first bra, it had gone on for long enough.”

“You don’t hate me?” I almost whisper, terrified to hear the answer but powerless to not ask it anyway. “You don’t want to send me to military school or conversion therapy to have me fixed?”

I can see the tears sliding down Mom’s cheeks now. “No darling, I’d never dream of doing that. I would never, could never hate you for who you are baby.”

“Oh, Mom!”

Let’s just say the next twenty minutes are a monumental blubfest sponsored by Estrogen. I’m hugging Mom, she is hugging me and tears are flowing freely. Noses are being blown and ugly crying is very much the order of the day, it’s not some Hollywood moment, but it feels amazing to just exist with her now that there are no more lies.

I’m not sure what to think about this whole mess if I’m honest. There are ways that I imagined my coming outgoing, some better than others. Honestly, I was more terrified of the potential and refused to let myself hope for a good outcome. Fear is a paralyzing drug, and one that isn’t easy to overcome. Honestly, even in my most positive thoughts about this, I never imagined coming out to my Mom in a hospital bed after nearly getting killed by one ton of idiot.

Am I bothered that they knew already? That they didn’t talk to me about it? Partly, I suppose. I might have done things differently if they had told me before the semester started. I can’t change the past, so I must accept the future. So far, it’s not looking awful.

When we settle down and I finish drying my now very red and puffy eyes. I’m just staring at my Mom and it feels like im looking at her for the very first time. I can see her as a woman and not a mother. Growing up, we see our parents as idealized figures; they’re Mom and Dad, and they exist outside of human constraints. Actually seeing my own mother as an adult human female with flaws and imperfections is new to me. A human who can be imperfect, but somehow it makes her more relatable.

When I look at her objectively, Veronica Winters is a beautiful woman, despite her long hours divided between the hospital and raising three kids. Like me, she’s slim and brunette. We’re both around five foot six, but her spirit towers above everyone she touches. Mom’s entire life has been dedicated to others; whether it’s us kids or the people whose lives she saves. How could I possibly believe she would actually have rejected me? I feel so insanely stupid now that I was so scared.

The truth is, it’s not that simple, is it? It might have seemed obvious or simple to an outside observer, but I cannot begin to explain just how scared and paranoid the mind of a young kid is who finds themselves outside the societal norm. To be a trans kid, generally is to hide. We hide because society tells us so many horrible things about our mere existence. Why would you want to admit to it? Surely everyone you know secretly harbors those negative thoughts right? That hatred? It makes you paranoid.

“So you’re really ok with this? With me?” I sniff.

Mom makes a weird face. “Yes and no.” She holds up her hands to let her finish as I’m about to interject. “I one hundred percent support you Alex, you are my child and I will always support you. This is your life and if this is right for… god who am I kidding? Of course, this is right for you. I look at you now and I cannot see anything but my youngest daughter.”

Blub.

“What I’m not ok with, is that you took such dangerous risks to get here. I’m angry that you didn’t feel you could trust us, and I’m angry that you got hurt by that horrible boy.”

“I was scared Mom,” I admit. “I felt so alone, so isolated. I was convinced you and Dad would reject me and push me off to be like Rob. I couldn’t face it and I was desperate.”

“I love all of you all the same, but you are nothing like your brother,” she admits with a sardonic chuckle. “That would have been an impossible task.”

“I didn’t think I had a choice, Mom,” I admit sheepishly. “I couldn’t stand the idea of turning into a boy; It terrified me. I reached a dark point where It was do anything, or…”

I want to tell her I considered death, but all of a sudden, I cannot verbalize the words. The look of horror on her face however tells me that she understands all the same.

“When I saw the signs this summer and realized what you were doing, your father and I spoke.” She admits. “We knew we couldn’t confront you directly, not yet. I came up with the best plan I could; give you someone else to talk to; a trustworthy person that could keep the secret and at least keep you safe. All I needed was a good excuse to pack you off to the doctor for a checkup. With who else but my old college friend could I confine in that my youngest child was transgender?”

Ah, Doctor Harris, you rat.

“Don’t blame him,” Mom adds, like she can read my mind. “I told Tony my suspicions and he told me that he wouldn’t push, but if you chose to confide in him he would do what he could to be a neutral party. You have to believe I just wanted to keep you safe.”

“Why not just talk to me?” I do feel slightly betrayed, but more because I was so expertly out maneuvered. Point to you Mater.

She looks sheepish now, “You needed to tell me in your own time darling. I didn’t want to force you.”

“But if you knew I was taking hormones, you had to know that I was serious?”

“Do I want you to see a specialist? Absolutely. Did I want you to tell me first? Absolutely. Did you need to reach the point of acceptance first by yourself? yes.”

Why does she always have to be right?

“How long has Robert known?” She asks nodding back towards the door.

“He found out a couple of days ago,” I admit. “It was really sudden. He didn’t do anything silly, did he?”

Mom smiles and brushes some stray hair from my face. “Your brother was your brother. He tried to run interference and he even tried to prepare me, in his own silly way.”

I cringe at that, but I also love him for it. “That sounds like him, trying to be the hero.”

“He’s like his dad,” Mom smiles.

I nod my agreement and then smile. “I love Dad, but I’m glad I’m not.”

Mom squeezes my hand. “No, you’re a younger version of me.”

I had always seen myself that way; I was proud to be like her. Whether it was my looks, my hair, or my voice. Heck, even my desire to follow in her footsteps in Medicine. I wanted with all my heart to be like my Mom. To hear her say it back to me, and to validate those feelings felt incredible.

This had to be the most topsy turvy day of my life. Am I allowed to have some hope now?

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Fake It Till You Make It - 12 - A New Girl’s First Steps.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Twelve - A New Girl’s First Steps.

It might be a common stereotype that hospital food is awful but the truth is, it’s a stereotype because it’s true. I think they secretly keep it that way to ensure patients want to get out of there as quickly as possible. What better to empty beds than soggy toast and jello cups that taste like Draino?

I woke up when the nurses came in around six am. There’s no such thing as a lie in, in a hospital, no matter how much that might be a great treatment. Despite the hour, I felt a great deal more normal, even with the stitches. After a disgusting breakfast of soggy cornflakes and limp toast, I was dispatched for another round of scans.

Once they had established that I still had a brain inside my head and that it was, in fact, the correct shape, I was returned to my room. Doctors seem to be quite insistent about that fact after cranial trauma. It turned out that when I had fallen I had struck my head and I was now the proud owner of six stitches just inside the rear of my hairline. From the way I had fallen and the injuries I had sustained, I was apparently lucky I hadn’t broken my neck; it’s rather scary in hindsight.

The doctor that had seen me on my admission the day before had declared me fit to depart after lunch and I was left to my own devices pretty much until then. Something something discharge policy, hospital bureaucracy never changes, trust me.

Being a teenager who has to pass a few hours without distraction is bad enough when you’ve nothing to worry about. When you just came out to your Mom and now face an uncertain future, three hours felt like ten years. I didn’t know where I stood at that moment. My entire survival mode had been designed around keeping this fact from my family; locking myself down and surviving until I could reach the freedom of college.

Now what? I hadn’t actually factored in them being ok with this. Nowhere in my plans had I even wargamed out the idea that this might have a happy ending. I know my neuroses are quite well understood at this point, but from my narrow teenage perspective, I’d been blinded by doom. As the curtains drew back on that fear, I was in a bright and uncertain world. I just hoped nobody at school had seen anything they didn’t need to; that would be problematic indeed.

Shortly after twelve, Mom arrived, and in civilian attire to boot. I’d always gotten used to seeing her in scrubs at the hospital, but instead, she is wearing jeans and a shirt like any normal mother. It sent a message that she was here for me and not them.

“What are you doing here?” I asked stupidly as she bustled into my room flicking through my chart.

“I came to take you home sweetheart, they can afford to miss me for a day.”

“What about my discharge paperwork?”

She grinned and nodded back out at the hallway. “There are some perks to your mother working here; it’s all handled already. You are being released into my care for further observation. I’m taking a few days off work.”

I shake my head, “You don’t need to do that Mom, I know how important your work is.”

I want this to be understood very clearly: My mother loves us very much and spends plenty of time with her children. The difference is, that I know how much good she does at the hospital, and how much she wants to help others. I don’t want to feel responsible for her absence.

“It is,” she concedes. “However, they have cover available and I’m owed leave. Right now my baby needs me. What kind of mother would I be if I sent you home and carried on caring for someone else’s family?”

“You might have a point,” I admit, sitting up on the bed and pulling the gown around myself shyly. “Did you bring me anything to wear? They kinda trashed what I came in with.”

Now yes, this is a transgender story but it isn’t some work of nutty fiction where Mommy brings me my first frilly dress to wear on this first official day as Mother and Daughter. No, she brought me something realistically practical for the job. That’s my Mom, and this is my story, so I do apologize for letting you down.

Mom shuffles for a moment as though she’s momentarily uncertain and then hands me a bag. “It’s not much, but if you wanted to… I didn’t know what you’d want to wear” she admits with a slight frown. I think, shock horror, my mother isn’t sure what the right thing to do is.

“If you don’t want me to, I don’t have to Mom,” I smile at the gesture. “I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

She shakes her head and sits down beside me on the bed. “This isn’t about me, it's about you, sweetheart. It isn’t about being ready, it’s about being truthful. Are you telling me the mirror doesn’t show you what I see? I’m almost positive the world sees the young woman you are, whatever you wear.”

She has a point, and it’s one I’m secretly delighted with, despite the trouble it causes at the moment.

“I’m pretty fragile, I don’t think I’m up for anything adventurous, please tell me you brought some pants?”

She smiles. “There’s some jeans that should fit in there too. I’ll give you some privacy to get dressed honey, call if you want any help, ok?”

I give her a nod and accept the bag and she leaves the room. With great curiosity, I dig through the bag she brought me. Her words are most cryptic and I am most curious to see what she decided to bring. Now our chat the night before was hardly a groundbreaking ‘you can transition’ declaration, but it also wasn’t a flat-out denial. The word ‘daughter’ was mentioned if I recall correctly, so I’m pretty sure I have permission?

I tip the bag out on the bed beside me and take a look. There is a skirt, bless my Mom for the thought. I think it’s one of Chrissie’s, I’m not sure if I want to go straight in at the deep end, but perhaps that’s just nerves? I reject it out of hand and instead set a pair of pale blue jeans to one side. I think the Jeans belong to Chrissie too. It might be interesting as she’s taller than me and has bigger hips. There’s a pack of plain cotton panties and a plain white sports bra that looks like it should fit. These I’m more than happy to wear; if nothing else, at least I can finally stop wearing boxers, yay!

There last items are one of my old cozy boy T-shirts, a plain black girl’s tank top, and a hoodie. I guess today marks the first day I don’t bother hiding at the very least. For once the hoodie can stay in the bag. I won’t lie, that’s a massive relief. I pick the tank top; it’s going to show who I am, I hope, without being too much.

I dress quickly and check my appearance in the mirror of the small attached bathroom. The girl looking back at me isn’t going to win any beauty contests, but she’s me. My god, she’s really me! The jeans are a tiny bit long, but nothing a roll of the cuff cannot solve. I’m more surprised to find that they fit me well in the hip department, when did I get this curvy? The tanktop fits me well and comes down almost to the top of the jeans. There’s no hiding the fact that I have boobs, wearing this. No hiding now; I hope this is a gentle enough departure from Alex. I don’t have any makeup and my hair, well, it’s attached to my head. Hey, nobody said this is a fashion contest.

When I step out of the bathroom, Mom is waiting with a wheelchair in hand and she’s checking her phone. When she hears the door she looks up and the expression on her face is priceless. Her surprise turns to sorrow and she looks utterly guilty.

“My gosh, darling. How could we have been so blind?”

Within seconds, I’m in her arms and there are admittedly, a lot more tears. It’s not quite a full-on blubfest, but It’s a happy little cry in my mother’s arms, and it feels fantastic. When she releases me, she brushes the hair out of my eyes affectionately and smiles at me. “You’re beautiful honey. You certainly look like you spent a night in hospital, but you’re my beautiful baby.”

I gulp back more tears, “I’ve been waiting a lifetime to hear that Mom.”

She smiles and starts finger-combing my hair into some semblance of order. Pausing, she shakes her head and pulls a tie off her wrist, and twists it up into a bun behind my head in one swift motion. “That will do for now,” she smiles. “Shall we get you home?”

I simply nod and take my seat in the chair. I could argue but I know hospital policy. Ride to the door and then I’m free. Liability insurance; you’ve got to love it. I have to say, being wheeled through the hospital by Mom is a surreal experience. I am presenting as a girl right now and nobody is looking at me strangely at all. Sure it’s not my first time, and yes, I know how I look. The thing is, it feels very different when my Mom is right there and she knows everything. Somehow in that moment, it feels so much more real.

Outside the Hospital doors, I step off the chair and follow Mom across the lot towards her car. I’ll admit, I’m nervous, but I don’t want to be the one to start talking. Inside the hospital it was all tears and ‘I love you no matter what,’ moments. Out here in the cold reality of the real world, there are consequences to doing what I’m doing. I know mom gave me these clothes and put my hair in the bun I’m now wearing, but I can’t help but feel a little gunshy. I’ve gotten so used to hiding that being out in the open is incredibly scary and unfamiliar territory.

“Feel weird?” Mom asks as if she’s reading my mind.

I nod, “kinda. I’m still trying to get used to being open about this with you.”

She smiles in that Mom way and nods, “I can understand that. It’s taking some adjustment to remember the pretty girl next to me is my youngest child.”

“Was I that forgettable?”

Mom unlocks the car before stopping and staring off into the distance. “Not forgettable exactly, but perhaps a little empty. Even now, just like this, there’s light in your eyes now, sweetheart.”

I can only nod in reply, she’s right of course, Mom is always right somehow.

The drive home is mostly made up of small talk and little conversational dead ends where we awkwardly try to carry on like nothing is different now. It’s hard to chat casually about my day when it’s been, quite so monumental.

When we arrive home, I’m relieved to see Dad’s car isn’t there yet. I think if I had to face them all in one go, I’d probably pull a damsel and faint on the spot.

“Rob’s expecting us,” she answers, not opening her door either. “He’s been worried sick. We spoke last night and he’s excited to see his sister come home.”

“What about you, Mom?”

She smiles reassuringly and rubs my arm. “Of course, I am, sweetheart. There might be an adjustment period for all things family-related, but we will get through that. Sure it feels weird to say it out loud at the moment, but you are my youngest daughter. I wouldn’t have brought you the clothes If I didn’t support you, honey.”

I get out of the car and follow her up to the house. I won’t lie, my heart is in my mouth as I walk those oh-so-familiar steps. I know it’s the same house with the same people and those there right now accept me… or so they say. It just feels alien, so very alien. I cross my arms under my breasts nervously as I follow Mom into the house. Even that feels strange to do; I’ve fought for so long to suppress my natural posture and behaviors that allowing myself to do it feels oddly uncomfortable.

As we walk inside, I spot Rob waiting for us. He’s sat on the bottom step of the stairs and he stands as he spots us coming inside. His eyes go wide when I step out from behind Mom. I know it’s not a massive difference in my appearance but it’s making a statement I’ve tried to suppress for so long; I am a girl.

“Hey Spike,” he waves awkwardly.”Uh. Should I still call you that?”

I smile, “I’ was just getting to like it.”

“I ah, I’m glad you’re home, but I’m gonna head out and give you guys some space for a bit.”

I step forward and touch his arm, fighting my desire to hold back and be a boy. “You don’t need to go for my sake, Rob. It’s ok really; this is weird for me too.”

“It is?”

I nod, “sure it is. It’s something I’ve had to hide so long that finally letting it out feels like I’m dreaming. I feel like almost at any moment I’m going to wake up and it will all be back to normal again.”

“Uh, Rick and some of the guys from school; they wanted to come see you,” he mentions, scratching his head sheepishly. “I told ‘em it wasn’t a good time, you know? Family stuff.”

“Uh, thanks,” Oh, god, Rick… that I cannot manage to even think about at the moment.

“Look, I’m gonna head out and meet some guys and hang out at the mall. Give you and Mom some space for stuff, I’ll be back for dinner ok?”

“Bye Rob, thanks for not being weird about me.”

He smirks and I see a bit of the old Rob again. “Oh the weird is on pause for diplomatic reasons, I’ll still treat you like crap regardless of whether you’re my brother or my sister.”

“Wouldn’t expect any less.” I reach up and hug him on impulse. It takes a second, but I feel his arms around me too. It’s a nice little moment and it feels right. Damn, when did he get this big?

I watch as he leaves and I feel a little better. My big brother’s approval means a lot to me. We don’t always get on, but what siblings do? I’ve always looked up to him, not because he’s an example of the man I wanted to be, but rather, a great example of a good man. I guess I might not have realized it at the time, but I hope I’m lucky enough to find one like him.

“Feel better?” Mom asks.

I nod. “I do, but he seems a little standoffish. I do worry he…”

Mom shakes her head. “It’s nothing to do with your being a girl honey, he told me that much last night. He’s not so comfortable with how much your little adventure scared him. He wants to dote on you and protect you but he’s afraid of smothering you. He blames himself for what happened.”

“He blames himself?”

“Of course, he’s like your father; honor and duty.”

“There was no way he could have stopped what happened, that was all my fault.”

Mom directs me up towards my bedroom and follows along behind. “You’ll need to learn that the men in your life will often feel a sense of responsibility to protect you. They mean well, even if it’s frustrating and misdirected.”

“Rob’s always protected me,” I admit. “I always loved that about him; no matter how much of an ass he was, he’d always have my back.”

“He’s a good boy,” she agrees, “a good man.”

We reach my room and I plop down on my bed and give Mom a good hard look. “I never was much of one, was I?”

She sits down beside me and puts an arm around my shoulder and shakes her head. “No darling, but I don’t think that’s much of a surprise, now is it?” She doesn’t wait for me to reply before she continues. “I know you’re feeling very awkward and everything is very new for you but remember; we love you. This is ok, Alex. You can relax and be yourself without fear. I have no idea how it must feel to have to hide so much but I can appreciate it must be exhausting.”

“You have no idea,” I sigh, allowing the tension to finally leave my body. “Keeping a mask on twenty-four hours a day, it’s driven me into the ground.”

“We’ll talk properly when your father gets home tomorrow afternoon, as a family. We will work out how to proceed, I promise; school things, life things. It may take some time to work out all the mechanics and jump through the hoops, but I promise, we will.”

She smiles at me and squeezes me. “Now as your physician, I am keeping you off for the rest of the week to properly recover; concussions are serious business and a school is a difficult place to avoid knocks and falls without recent developments adding to stress modifiers.”

“Having a Doctor for a Mom is so useful,” I chuckle. “I didn’t expect to be all girl from today onward. I’ve kept it inside this long, what’s a bit more if there’s actually light at the end of the tunnel?”

She squeezes me affectionately, “You were always the practical one, like me.”

I swallow my fear and ask the most important question so far. “Do you think that I could be a girl at home?”

Mom nods without stopping to think about it. “I don’t see why not. I’ll make time this week for us to go and get you some wardrobe basics. Until then, I’m sure Chrissie won’t mind if you borrow some of her things.”

“As long as she’s ok with it, I might,” I agree cautiously, watching her expression to see if it’s the right answer. She doesn’t seem to disapprove so I give her a small smile of gratitude.

I glance around the room while we sit there together in silence. My room has never really leaned towards boy or girl, it’s clean and tidy and almost sterile. I’m a neat kid but it’s not some sort of gender thing, I think I just get a bit neurotic about mess. I have some game posters up and that won’t be changing any time soon. I might be a chick but I’m not some vapid pink doll girl. Don’t you hate it in those trans stories where the gamer nerd protagonist transitions and utterly abandons their games and nerd stuff? Gaming is not just for boys!

“I’ll leave you in peace for a little while, ok?” Mom prompts, breaking my little internal moment. “I’ll check on you in a bit sweetheart, maybe try taking a shower and getting refreshed?”

After she departs, I pull myself up on the bed and close my eyes. It’s real; I came out, holy shit. How did I manage to do that in one piece? So far, Mom and Rob both know, and neither one hates me. These are both outcomes I never actually expected to be possible. I think I buried myself so deeply in my fear that I removed all possibilities of a good outcome as viable. Apparently, Dad already knows and is reportedly fine. Is there a chance I actually get to be happy? Holy shit, this is a real M. Night Shyamalan-level plot twist.

My first point of order now I’m back is to get that shower. Even one night in a hospital leaves you smelling like them and it’s distinctly unpleasant. Rather than using my own ensuite, somewhere I have always preferred because it gave me both privacy and safety, I decided to use the master bathroom. I don’t have anything to hide anymore and I really want to use some of Mom’s shampoo and conditioner. Look, you try maintaining fine hair the length of mine with boy's products, it's unpleasant.

Unlike my smaller shower, the main one is a ceiling-mounted deluge monster that drowns the user where they stand. God, if you’ve never experienced one I hope you get to, they’re fantastic. Within thirty minutes I’m squeaky clean. On a whim and because I’m feeling pretty good right now, I carefully shave both my armpits and my legs. I’ve never been particularly hairy, but now that everything is out in the open, I want what little I have gone. Now, I don’t have to fear anyone spotting bare smooth skin anymore. I’ll probably have to worry in two weeks when I have to hit the gym, but this is why they invented sweatpants, right?

I towel myself off and enjoy taking the opportunity to steal some of Mom’s body lotion. Am I enjoying this far too much? You bet I am. I’m barely back in my room when my phone chirps; it’s on my bedside where I left it before school on Friday morning. I don’t typically take it with me. A, I don’t have a lot of people that text me, and B, remember this is 2005, we’re in ancient times before smart phones.

Megan: “hru??? Pls cl us!, hrd bt skl, u hosp stl?”

Oh boy, that one translates to a 911-level text. They get first dibs on reply.

There’s a bunch of other texts in there too, it turns out that, to my shock, I’ve been missed. Andy, Gary, and Rick have all sent me texts checking up on me. What is even weirder is there are get-well-soon messages from unknown numbers signed by a few of Rob’s teammates. Huh, what the hell.

I make a mental note to reply to the messages when I get a chance, it’s only polite. Unable to resist the urge, I cycle back to Rick’s message and hesitate for a moment. Am I still meant to be avoiding him? I just can’t let the poor guy suffer, can I? I fire off a quick reply letting him know that I’m alive and well and that I’ll call him. Just so he isn’t worrying, no other reasons at all, honestly.

Calling Meg back is currently far more important. Having Mom is awesome, but I need my girls right now to process all of this… this.

“Hello?”

“It’s me, Holly.”

“I know, I can see my phone dumbass. How are you? We heard what happened and we’re losing our minds! We just got back from school, what’s happening?” Meg jabbers without taking a single breath.

“I’m alive, it wasn’t super bad in the end but I had to spend the night in hospital. Are you and Kara busy right now?”

“No, we’re just at home chilling. You’re home now, right? Is it ok to come over and see you? We were so worried!”

See, sensible me would explain to them that I’d come out and to expect Holly, but I forget because I’m overwhelmed and my spirit animal is the squirrel. “Yeah, sure, whenever you want, I’m not up for going out right now.”

“We’ll be around in ten, cya!”

I stare at my phone but the call is already cut as I’m pretty sure Megan is doing a fair impression of a tornado at this very moment.

I towel dry my hair and leave it loose while I redress in my underwear from earlier. Hey, leave me alone, I’ve only worn it for like three hours so I think it’s perfectly fine. I’m excited to try new stuff but I also don’t want to push things too far in these early moments. My wardrobe is also pretty non-existent at the moment, so it’s hard to be picky.

I’m about to head down to warn Mom that Meg and Kara are coming over. I should have probably told her that they knew all about me when I spotted the bag from the hospital. I mean, I had permission to wear that stuff and I did just shave my legs. It would be a shame not to wear a skirt now I have a chance, right?

I grab the skirt from the bag and examine it more closely now I’m not dismissing it out of hand. It does appear to be one of Chrissie’s but it does have potential; it has a drawstring waist. It’s an ankle-length cream linen material and it feels kinda light and floaty. I slide it up my legs and settle it above my hips. Here I am wearing a real honest-to-good skirt for the first time… in my own house, and it’s ok, wild huh?

The skirt and the tanktop don’t quite meet, so there’s a thin little strip of skin there between the two. Looking in the mirror, I give myself a little spin and smile happily. It’s really a simple thing to be happy about but leave me alone, there’s a lot of cringey firsts coming in young Holly’s life. Her first skirt is one of them. I’m admiring myself when I hear the doorbell ring.

I’m halfway down the stairs when I hear Mom answer the door first.

“Hi girls, oh, Alex? Uh, I don’t know if this is a good…”

“It’s ok Mom,” I call as I walk up beside her, “they already know.”

Megan and Kara do this anime girl impression where their eyes suddenly fill most of their faces and I swear those little excitement marks start appearing around their heads.

“Whatthehellwhenwereyougoingtotellusohmygodhollywhatthefuck!”

I can’t quite translate most of what was said because I’m enveloped in what is scientifically described as a ‘glomp’ by the two sisters. Mom is just watching on with this look of amusement on her face.

“When were you going to tell us?” Kara asks as we separate. “This is kinda huge, Hol.”

“Hol?” Mom asks.

Oh, yeah, haven’t brought the whole name topic up with the maternal unit yet. “Uh, Holly,” I admit sheepishly. “We hadn’t gotten a chance to talk about… you know, names and I guess It’s what you told me once we might have been called and IwaskindalikehopingIcould…”

“I like it,” she smiles. “I didn’t want to push you, as Alex does work for both, but I’m pretty sure you’re not an Alexander anymore darling.”

“You’re ok with this Mrs Winters?” Megan asks bluntly. “Holly was so worried about how you guys would respond to the news.”

“We’ve had some long talks, and I am okay with it,” she affirms. “Her father and I have, well. We suspected for a long time. It’s quite a recent development in practicality, but it was not remotely unexpected.”

Mom looks at both sisters in turn and sends some invisible message I can’t translate yet. “Thank you for being here for my daughter. I’m glad she at least has friends she could talk to.”

God my heart can’t take any more of this adorableness.

“It’s nothing Mrs Winters,” Kara shrugs. “Meg worked it out and I kinda stumbled upon things. Since then… well, she’s just one of us.”

All the she, her, and daughter references are really tugging at my heartstrings. It feels weird, unusual, scary? Above all, it feels so right to hear and I struggle with how to properly explain this.

Mom sends us off to my room with a promise to bring us up something to drink in a while. I'm sure she knows I’ve got so much to unpack with the girls and recognizes I need a bit of peer time away from the olds. Yeah, me, having friends I need to share things with, who the hell even am I?

About thirty minutes later, I’m sat on my bed with the sisters. I’ve regaled them with every sordid detail from Friday morning through to the present day. You don’t want to hear all that again, you only just survived the big espresso depresso chapter. We’re chatting about little nothings when Mom knocks and opens the door. Picture this; I’m sitting there cross-legged with Kara braiding my hair while Meg is sitting across from me jabbering away while painting my nails lurid pink.

Naturally, I feel immediately embarrassed that Mom has walked in on this extremely feminine scene and start trying to boy up in response.

“How are you girls getting on?” It’s a simple phrase as she sets our drinks down but it puts me at ease. I’m not doing anything wrong, it’s ok Holly…

“Great Mrs W,” Meg enthuses. “Holly was telling us about everything and we’re fixing her.”

“I can see that,” Mom smirks at my obvious discomfort. “Just leave her in one piece when you’re done, she is going to still have to go back to being Alex in the short term for school.”

“How can anyone expect this…” Kara gestures at me. “To be a boy?”

Mom sits down on my desk chair and nods. “I suppose when the cat is out of the bag it’s rather hard to unsee it, but I know what you mean.”

“People at school don’t seem to treat me any different,” I admit. “New people think I’m a girl for sure.”

“You are, dumbass,” Megan rolls her eyes.

“No permanent changes till we work out a plan for the future, ok?” Mom insists. “Hair, eyebrows, anything she can’t hide has to stay the same.”

“Spoilsport,” Meg grins. “Nah, we’ll behave.”

“Does she get to be a girl at home now all the time?” Kara asks, finishing up my first-ever braid. (It feels weird)

Mom nods but holds up a finger. “She can indeed, but we’ll need to be careful to ensure things don’t get back to school in the short term. We’re having a family meeting tomorrow to go over things. I don’t see it being an issue, however.”

“Cool!” Kara enthuses. “You have to come over tomorrow, we can go through our wardrobes and find you some basics to start you off. You’re a bit skinnier than both of us, so there’s plenty we don’t quite fit that’s still amazing.”

“I’m probably going shopping with Mom this week,” I point out, glancing over at Mom. I totally would want to accept her offer but I don’t want to seem ungrateful.

Mom smiles and nods, “Don’t go crazy, ok?”

“Uh, what about Gary?”

“Rats,” Meg remembers her male sibling, the one who doesn’t know I’m really a girl.

“Who all does know?” Mom asks, realizing that’s probably quite an important question.

I count off on my fingers, yeah, it’s that few. “So far, you, Rob, I assume Dad. Not sure about Chrissie unless you told her. Megan, Kara, Rick’s parents, Doctor Harris uh, That doctor at the hospital… that’s it.”

“Wait, Rick’s parents know?” Megan interjects like a freight train hitting a family sedan.

“I mean, well…” I blush. “I’m pretty convinced they think I either am or am about to be his girlfriend.”

“Awwww,” Kara croons making a stupid face. “That’s adorable.”

“Are you?” Mom asks, and I can see the cheeky smirk on her face and I absolutely know one hundred percent that she’s teasing me. This does not stop me from turning the same color as a firetruck, however.

“Uh, no, I’m not. We’re friends, but… it’s complicated.”

“How so?”

“I mean, I think he likes me, like that. The problem is I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know why. Me, uh; I think maybe…there’s a possibility that he’s not the worst human on the planet… I guess.”

You know there is a step above Fire Truck Red, right? Yes, me, steam coming out of my ears.

“Even her ears are pink now.” Kara cackles. “Oh boy, sore subject.”

“Literally,” I mutter.

“I wasn’t going to broach that topic yet.” Mom offers kindly. “I mean, you didn’t exactly show any interest in girls, darling.”

Do I open up about this? I’m feeling this super powerful urge to share and actually confront this. Why not take advantage of those who want to listen? The boy learning tells me to shut up and keep it inside, it’s embarrassing. To Boybrain, liking boys is gay, and admitting it makes it real. The freedom I’ve started to feel with Megan and Kara makes me realize that girls don’t work that way and it feels far better.

“No, I never did,” I admit quietly. “Honestly, before I started on hormones, I didn’t have any interest in anyone at all. It wasn’t until that vacation this summer… and well. I saw some boys at the beach and it… clicked.”

“Ah, I remember the first time I noticed a boy,” Mom smiles. She has a faraway look, almost like she’s remembering her childhood. She’s pretty old, so it was probably in black and white.

“John Atherton; he was in my class and he was proving to the other boys how strong he was by moving some of the scenery in the theatre by himself. I was totally lost when I realized I was staring at his muscles.”

“It was swim class for me,” Meg agrees. “Swim shorts and abs.”

“So it’s normal?” I query hesitantly. “You don’t care then suddenly… ‘wham’.”

Mom nods. “Sure it is, sounds about right too; puberty starts out and your head gets full of all those signals, and suddenly, boys… completely normal.”

I frown, “This doesn’t seem weird to you Mom?”

She leans over and sweeps me into a hug. “A…Holly, you may have only just told me that you’re my daughter, but I’ve known for a few months and suspected for even longer. I’m more than mentally prepared for my daughter to be attracted to boys. Your father and brother, I cannot speak for.”

Do you think it’s weird that I’m talking about being attracted to boys with my mother in the room? Absolutely, me too but for some inexplicable reason I really want her opinion. Somehow it doesn’t feel wrong at all. I can’t describe how nice it is to be sat here like this; being myself with Mom and my friends and it’s just… normal.

* * *

I’m helping Mom finish up preparing dinner when Rob finally gets home later that evening. Before you ask, no, this isn’t some ‘Mommy-Daughter’ thing that’s cropped up since I came out. Mom taught us all to cook and expected us all to help. Just the same way dad taught all of us to change a tire, change oil, and fix stuff around the house. Our parents didn’t care if we were boys or girls; we all got an education in being useful adults.

“Smells good,” Rob offers from the doorway. We weren’t being loud but he’s kinda caught me off guard a little.

I steel myself and turn around to face him and smile awkwardly. By the time the girls had done with me earlier, I had acquired a full set of painted nails to go with my braid so I’m looking really girly. No, they didn’t dress me up or do my makeup, I wouldn’t stiff you out of that narrative titbit, would I?

Rob looks at me for a minute just taking me in silently. He shakes his head slowly and quietly murmurs, “Amazing…” I’m in the process of turning red, not quite sure what to say when he walks right past me and sticks his finger in the sauce I’m cooking.

“Hey, asshole! What the hell?”

“Mmm, this is good,” he grins. “You’ll make someone a great wife one day.”

“Robert, wash your hands,” Mom chides, slapping him away.

“Gotcha,” he laughs as he walks away, shooting me a pair of finger guns as he goes.

As he leaves the room and I hear him thumping up the stairs I silently fume while I return to the stove. I did not expect him to start picking on me this quickly.

“That’s boys for you, darling.” Mom observes, noting my annoyance.

“Huh?”

“He’s teasing you because he’s trying to make things more normal for you,” she explains rubbing my shoulder. “Boys don’t really like talking about their feelings, confronting emotional subjects is hard for a lot of them. They tend to make jokes to cover it up and gloss over things. What he said there? That was his way of telling you he still loves you and you’re his sister.”

“That makes no sense,“

“No darling, it doesn’t.” she agrees with a sigh then catches herself. “God, how did you manage to survive in that school?”

“Badly?” I offer, making a face. “Pretty badly, and mostly with Rob’s help.”

“He’s a good boy.”

“I wasn’t.” I chuckle while I start serving dinner.

What are we having? God, I forget the most important things sometimes while focusing on pesky emotions. My first meal with my family as myself is Spaghetti Bolognese. It’s a bit of a staple for us at home. We’re not Italian, but we love Italian cooking and it’s also one of the first meals I learned how to cook; somehow it just felt appropriate for that evening.

Dinner is pretty quiet, and I won’t lie, it’s still a little awkward. Mom is wonderful and that doesn’t bother me but Rob is generally a bit quiet during the meal. We make conversation but it’s almost as if nothing has changed. He’s trying to be light and normal about things. I’m not sure if he’s trying to make things better, or just feels weird.

After dinner, I go up to his room and knock.

“Come in?”

I push the door open and poke my head inside. “You got a minute to talk?”

Rob’s sat on his bed reading and looks a little surprised, but waves me inside regardless. “Sure Holly, what’s up?”

I stand awkwardly in front of him, I don’t quite know what to do with my hands or where to look. “I… wanted to say sorry for school stuff and the… ambulance and everything.” I slump a little and look at him, “I’m sorry for everything.”

“Why are you sorry?” he asks, looking confused.

“I put all this on you, I scared you and I forced all of, this,” I gesture plucking at my skirt, “on you too.”

I can’t look at him right now, I just feel warm and I’m fighting the urge to cry. I hear him shift on the bed and before I realize, he’s stood right in front of me. “I don’t know where you get the idea that you weirded me out or upset me, because I’m more worried about you, Holly.”

*sniff*

“Why?”

I mean, talk about stupid things to say, but I’m not yet in my rational era. (Lil Holly doesn’t know this reference yet, but she’s going to end up a Swiftie one day)

Rob guides me over to his bed and sits me down before plopping down beside me. “You never really seemed like my brother Holly, that’s why. I’ve done a lot of thinking since we talked Friday. I realized you always had a lot more in common with Chrissie than me, you played with her, and you behaved like her. I know we’re related, Holly, but you were never my brother, not really.“

He looks a little sheepish for a moment and grins. “When the EMTs were treating you and they called you she and stuff, It seemed like the most normal thing in the world, hell people have mistaken you for a girl plenty of times and I was used to it. When they cut your shirt off and you had a bra on and… well, you know.” he gestures at my chest with that grabby-hand boy miming boobs thing they do. “I guess… it just seemed like you oughta.”

“I oughta?”

He nods. “This probably won’t offend you now, but you were never exactly macho, Holly. You’ve always been a little girly. Over time that got, moreso. I guess I just always saw Alex as Alex. I’d catch sight of you sometimes and just see a chick, then I would realize it was you. By the time you were in that ambulance seeing Chick didn’t even seem that surprising anymore.”

“That’s… eloquent,” I opine. “So we’re good?”

“Yeah Sis, we’re good.”

“Thank you, I really mean it.”

“I got you.” he grins giving me a brotherly side hug. “So no more bro trips, right?”

My expression darkens as I realize the truth. “You probably won’t want to be seen with me once this comes out. Eventually, it will get out that I’m trans and then… social pariah.”

“Like I give a flying fuck,” Rob growls. “Let them say whatever they want.”

I keep my mouth shut. I know a point might arrive when I need to keep my distance from him for his own good. What and when I have no idea.

“So what’s happening anyway? You going to the girls' school now?”

I shrug, “Mom’s keeping me off for the week because of the concussion. After that, probably back as normal till they work something out.”

“I mean I know not much as changed since Friday but… uh, I’m going to really struggle to see a boy,” he admits sheepishly.

I catch sight of myself in the mirror sitting next to Rob. He was right; you can tell we’re related but we look nothing alike. I’m short and skinny and soft, he’s tall and broad and hairy. Would I have become that If I hadn’t…

Thank god.

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Fake It Till You Make It - 13 - Daddy's New Daughter.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Thirteen - Daddy's New Daughter.

I woke up the next morning feeling an unexplainable flood of calmness. Perhaps that’s the wrong word to use, I know exactly why I’m happy, but for some reason, the world seems more full of color and light today. Is this what living without depression feels like? Shit, you should really try it.

Again, I’m still not curled up in a pretty nightie with my hair in rollers, this isn’t that sort of book. I’m not hiding though, and It’s the greatest thing I’ve ever felt. At the time, I couldn’t explain it in words that made sense. Modern-day Holly would tell you that it feels like a bra that is too tight but makes your boobs look amazing. You wear the damn thing all day because you just have to look perfect and at the end of the day, you take that monster off and just feel free.

I roll out of bed and take care of my morning routine before wandering downstairs to grab breakfast. Unlike in the past, I’m just wearing the oversized T-shirt and shorts that I had slept in, my hair is loose and my chest is visible; I’m not hiding who I am anymore. Would I like to be wearing girly girl shit from now on? Absolutely, but one doesn’t transition overnight and I am nothing if not patient. I’m just glad that I don’t have to hunch all the time. Hiding who you are twenty-four hours a day is truly exhausting.

I stroll into the kitchen and scruff Rob’s hair as I pass, making a beeline for the coffee pot. I might not be hiding my true sex anymore, but I’m still a slave to the caffeine gods.

“Morning squirt.”

“I thought I was Spike now?”

“Nah,” Rob shrugs. “Squirt still applies at home; Little bro or little sis, it’s a privilege of age.”

“Great,” I sigh shoving a pop-tart in the toaster. “What are you doing today?”

“Going to school, then gonna go hang with some of the guys later, probably,” he replies around a mouth of toast.

“I don’t think I’ll get any more invites to bro time at the mall, total tragedy that.”

“Probably not,” he admits with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t want them scamming on my sister. Although, that one time you did, it helped you get some cool points at school; Ironic that.”

“How so?”

“You finally climbed the social ladder only for it to turn out you never wanted to be on it to start with.”

I bite into my piping hot pop tart and chew thoughtfully. “That’s pretty accurate. They’re nice guys and I certainly see a different side of them now, but I never ever wanted to be one of them.”

Rob shakes his head. “This is going to be so weird if you come back to our school.”

“I probably am for now. Most likely until Christmas, at least.”

He looks me up and down and simply smirks. “Not sure how you’ll manage that.”

“Same way I’ve been doing it this entire time,” I shrug with resignation. “Layers, slouching and scowling. Works a charm.”

His face changes and he just looks sad. “God, now I get it. That sounds truly awful, Holly.”

He didn’t even pause when he used my name, I don’t think he realized how much that meant to me at the time.

* * *

I knocked on the front door of the Byrne house later that afternoon. Turns out a day of rest, reading, and letting myself heal was more important than doing girly things instantly. Just being Holly while openly and authentically made it all worthwhile.

I’m dressed down in baggy jeans and a sweatshirt, playing the role of grungy Alex the weedy nerd. Despite my entire reason for coming here being makeup and fashion, I still have to run the gauntlet of Gary and the Byrne parental units who are not yet in the loop. The strange part is that while this mode of dress has been my norm for so very long, it now feels so utterly false.

I suspect the truth is that I finally opened the box and realized the cat was alive and well. The poison didn’t do anything and she’s sitting there licking her paw like nothing is wrong, annoyed that it took me this long to open it. Schrodinger never took cats into the equation in his calculations.

Mom and Rob accept me, and Dad does too, by all reports. It’s early days, but I might actually get to live my life as Holly Winters. I never thought I’d see the day that happened if I’m being honest. I know that sounds ridiculous given what I’ve done so far, but in truth, it all felt very theoretical.

I’m in uncharted territory and my plan is shot to crap. I’m making this up as I go along now, but the overriding truth is that my future is female. That knowledge has banished my identity as Alex to nothing more than a suit of armor, a disguise. Is that weird? Yes, absolutely. It feels like I’m an alien in a people suit, or is that a people in an Alien suit?

Gary opens the door and raises an eyebrow. “Oh, it’s you. How are you feeling?”

“Uh, yeah, could be worse I guess. The Doctors released me without any permanent damage; just some stitches.” I smile like it’s no big deal. “Is Meg in?”

“Not in school today so it can’t be homework? What’s really going on?”

“It might be schoolwork,” I offer.

“Don’t be daft, you spend more time with my sisters than you do with me. Next, you’ll be telling me that you’re gay and swapping fashion tips with them.”

“He’s not gay,” Megan announces swanning past her brother and wrapping me in her arms. “We’re in love Gary, I’m sorry, I can’t hold it back any longer, Alex.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” he gags.

Megan and I are holding each other, bodies pressed together and she looks at me, her face mere inches from my own, and raises an eyebrow. I totally mistranslate this question and grin back at her. Meg, reading entirely the wrong signals and permission before diving in and planting a big wet one, right on my lips in full view of her brother.

“Oh god, that looks so wrong.” Gary gags and flees the scene with great haste.

Meg detangles herself from me and smirks. “Well, that got rid of him.”

I’m not quite sure what just happened, but it was very weird. I must have looked like I had just swallowed a lemon because Megan started laughing when she saw the expression on my face. “Yeah, that didn’t do a thing for me either.”

“What was that for?”

“He’ll never bother us again if he thinks there’s any boy/girl shit going on. This also protects your rep ‘stud’,” she chuckles.

I roll my eyes and follow her into the house. “Like I ever had any reputation to protect.”

Yeah, if you’re keeping track that was technically my first kiss. Coincidentally, it rather succinctly confirmed that I have zero interest in girls; no sapphic shenanigans in this story, I do apologize. In years to come I will have many female friends with Guitar Center membership cards, but I will sadly never shop there myself.

Once we’re safely locked in her room, I toss my sweater over the back of her chair leaving me in just a tank top and jeans, before I plop down on the bed next to Kara. Right now, she’s wondering what we’re both cackling about.

“She just kissed me in front of Gary, and on the lips too,” I accuse, jabbing a finger toward Megan.

Kara makes a face, “Ew, why?”

Meg shrugs, “To get him to butt out and absolutely guarantee he spreads that story.”

“I’m pretty sure Meg is attempting to use camouflage to hide me, but I seriously question its effectiveness.”

“It’s not the… worst idea,” Kara concedes. “The fake girlfriend thing could totally throw them off.”

“I have no idea how long that would even be necessary,” I point out. “I know I’m going back to school in the short term, and it’s not awful there. I’ll probably be ok till we have some sort of plan. Honestly, It would likely just confuse things more. Perhaps something to keep in the bag in case we need it?”

Meg shrugs and agrees.

“I cannot tell you how good it was to see you and your mom together yesterday.” Kara smiles, changing the subject to far more pressing matters. “I’m so freaking happy for you, Holly.”

“Now is when I gotta be extra careful,” I sigh. “Rather than one big lie, I get to live one foot in the open and one in the shadows. It’s going to be a lot easier to make mistakes now; to forget who I’m meant to be at a given time.”

“Don’t try and be Alex and Holly,” Kara suggests. “Be Holly all the time, but wear a mask that looks like Alex. If you’re always Holly, you’ll never slip up.”

I ponder the suggestion and it does actually have some merit to it. With everything unraveling so quickly in my life, I’ve not really had the time to process the actual mechanics of how I’m going to cope. I absolutely want to live my life out of school as the real me if I’m able to.

Switching back and forth between ‘Alex’ and ‘Holly’ will become complicated. Being one hundred percent Holly, and using an ‘Alex’ mask would allow me to remain centered in one personality but keep control. Will it be weirder? Oh god, absolutely; this is about to be as weird as hell.

“I think that would work,” I admit. “I’m always the girl, but at school, I just put up an Alex mask, but behind it, still Holly.”

“Yeah, it will help you remember better; that way you don’t make mistakes.”

“Can we skip to the fun part now?” Meg asks, almost bouncing with energy, “I wanna start going through stuff!”

I hold my hands up and laugh, “Ok, ok, relax! I submit myself to your will, Megan. Do your worst. Just remember what Mom said; nothing permanent ok?”

“Right missy, down to your underwear! The time for modesty is long over.” Kara announces, gesturing at my jeans and top. I consider resisting, but I reject the idea. That’s what Alex would do and Alex is long gone. I pull my tank over my head and unbutton the jeans and let them drop to the floor. Standing there in just my sports bra and panties, I rest my hands on my hips and smile sheepishly.

“You’re enjoying this, huh?” Megan asks, handing me a real bra.

“I thought you were too big?”

“I am,” she agrees, “but I got this the other day after we went shopping for more sports bras. same band but an A cup instead, so it should fit you just right.”

I give her this look that is half smile, half hug with my eyes and shamelessly pull the sports bra over my head. I don’t cover myself; for once in my life I have nothing to be ashamed of about my body.

Megan shakes her head and grins. “You’ve sure have changed your tune girl. I remember not so long ago there was this shy little creature who was beat red at the vague idea of nudity.”

I shrug, which is such a strange gesture topless because I feel my boobs bouncing. “I am still, but I have nothing to hide from you two. I trust you and I’m not ashamed of looking like me.”

“And you have nothing to be ashamed of, sweetie,” Kara adds. “You’re gorgeous and brave and absolutely no different to either of us.”

My expression darkens. “A bit different sadly, but I can’t do anything about that yet.”

Meg squeezes my shoulder as she hands me the bra, “no different.”

She helps me fasten and adjust the bra and I follow her instructions to reach into the cups and settle my boobs properly. Looking down, I see my small but very much real boobs lifted up and presented front and center on my…well, front and center.

The mirror on Megan’s wall shows a teenage girl. She’s a little on the plain side, but still, without a doubt, one hundred percent female. I can’t tell you how long I’ve dreamed of seeing her looking back at me. I smile and turn to face my teachers, “what’s next?”

“The teen girl staple, the denim mini,” Kara offers, handing me the garment. “This one is a bit small for me, and your hips are slightly narrower so it should fit great. I’m far too fat for it.”

She’s absolutely not fat at all and I make sure that I tell her so while I slip the garment up my legs and around my hip. It's a pretty normal shade of blue denim and it comes to just above mid-thigh. Modesty is not the intent of this garment, but my very first mini looks like it belongs on me. The feeling is unusual. If you’ve never worn a short skirt, trust me, they’re strange at first. You feel incredibly exposed, but you do get used to it pretty quickly. They’re certainly great for ventilation, that’s for sure.

Next, Meg hands me a camisole which is pretty self-explanatory. It’s pale blue and has thin spaghetti straps with a little trim of lace around the top edge. Pulling it down like a tank, I settle it around my chest and turn to face the mirror.

Looking back at me is a casually dressed teenage girl and it takes me a second for my brain to process that she is, in fact, me. The skirt and cami are really simple staples but they feel amazing after shapeless boys' clothes. The skirt sits at the widest point of my hips which somehow looks even wider now with these clothes. The cami comes down to just above the waist of the skirt leaving just a thin sliver of skin around my middle where they don’t quite meet. The top exposes the rounded tops of my breasts and the smallest hint of depth between them.

No, it’s not cleavage. No A-cup titties in the world are going to give you cleavage without tape, padding, and serious mechanical interventions. What I have is noticeable boobs that look like they belong on someone of my frame. Everything looks like it belongs and I am absolutely living for it.

I twirl around and beam at the two sisters. Both are standing there like proud mothers regarding their creation. Sure, it’s just some clothes, but I feel so powerful right now, it’s almost indescribable. Trust me, I’ve tried, I’m writing this book and I can’t think of a better way of phrasing it.

“Thank you.” I grin. “This… this feels so right.”

“From where I’m looking, I’m jealous,” Kara grins. “Now if you’re quite done preening, it’s time for the serious work.

“Lets do this.”

Opening my mouth here was a huge mistake on my part. Giving these two animals permission to use me as their fashion doll was undeniably fun, but dear god, they never stopped. During that morning, I think I tried on more clothes than I thought two girls could possibly own. Tops, skirts, pants, bras, nightwear and dresses. It’s quite literally a transgender girl’s dream come true. I would spend an entire chapter describing the feeling of the fabric in explicit detail or how the cut of the hem brushing against my thighs felt. What is it these stories always mention? Oh yes, how the gentle swell of my breasts in the cups of the bras heaved with each breath. Doesn’t quite work that way, but hell, you’ve read that frilliness in every other story. In this one, we have far bigger fish to fry.

After roughly two hours of changing in and out of various clothes, I had a nice pile of stuff that was being donated to the Holly collection. Yes, I know it sounds like I’m a famine in Africa, but hey, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. I’m modeling my favorite outfit of the bunch, just staring at myself in the mirror. It’s not even anything particularly amazing, but I feel like a billion dollars.

I’m wearing this stretchy navy blue long-sleeve top that has a wide sweeping scoop neck that shows off my collarbones and the top of my breasts without showing too much. It’s cropped and comes up to just an inch or two above my belly button. Below, I’m wearing this cream skater skirt with this chunky brown belt. Sure, it’s not some tiny miniskirt, but it swishes, and I really feel so pretty when I’m wearing it.

I have a bunch of bangles and rings on that the girls have donated to the cause and I’m just moving slightly in front of the mirror, enjoying the feeling of the skirt as it moves against my legs. The bangles are shifting on my wrists, clinking softly and my hair is loose and flowing around my shoulders. I feel like a princess and I am truly joyful for the first time in my life.

“You’re happy aren’t you?” Meg asks sliding up beside me.

I nod, still watching my hair move in the mirror. “Yeah, think I am.”

“There is no way you were meant to be a boy,” she murmurs, nudging me with her shoulder. “You, me and Kar, we’re no different. Sure you started out on a different path, but anyone would be a fool to see you differently.”

“Tell the world that,” I sigh, losing a little bit of the happiness I’d been savoring. “They might disagree with you.”

“I do hope they let you come to our school.” she continues, pointedly ignoring my bout of pessimism. “Kar and I will take care of you. Nobody fucks with our girl.”

I smile and hug her. “That’s everything to me, Megan.”

* * *

Walking home in girls' clothes, no, my new clothes, feels both liberating and terrifying. In time, I expect it will simply feel like walking home. Once, that idea seemed so very distant, but now, it feels like it’s just around the corner.

After we were done for the afternoon, Meg distracted Gary and her parents while Kara and I snuck out with the two bags of clothes they were donating to the New Girl charity. The CIA should really recruit us, we’re fantastic at keeping things secret.

Kara and Meg are walking with me and I’m so excited to see Mom and Rob when I get home. Just being here with my best friends feels like the most correct thing in the world. What really worries me is how I’m going to pack this away when I have to get back to school. They never include this in the trans stories, do they?

Caught up in the excitement of how I was feeling, I had almost forgotten that to the rest of the world, I was technically a boy. When the first car passed us, I sudden and crippling bout of panic. Irrationally, I was convinced against all odds that the driver would screach to a halt and proclaim me ‘boy’ at the top of his lungs. Picture the whole village assembling with pitchforks and flaming torches coming out to banish the freak, and you’ll have a reasonable idea of how my idiot mind was doing loops.

After a few cars passed and even some dog walkers I began to slowly relax. I didn’t ever mention this terror to the girls, because I didn’t want to appear silly. In my head, I knew how I looked, but a little part of me still told me that I was wrong. Call it internalized transphobia or just plain nerves, but It was scary.

Modern Day Holly here; Even twenty years later, and utterly convinced by all facts that nobody has a damn clue, I still occasionally feel this way. It makes no sense, but then, brain worms never do.

“You’re fine Hol, nobody could possibly tell,” Kara assures me, knowing exactly why I’m tense. “They see a girl when you dress as a boy, how could they even begin to see through your panties and work out you’re only a little different?”

“Ew see-through panties,” Megan giggles.

“Don’t be gross,” I join in, snickering at the idea. “Who would wear see-through panties?” wouldn’t the plastic be all sweaty anyway?”

By the time we turn the corner onto my street, we’ve become a gleefully galavanting giggling gaggle of gals. Yes, that alliteration does go hard, I do agree.

The walk is largely uneventful and we cover the distance in the usual few minutes, even walking slower and chatting. As we reach my house, however, I stop dead in my tracks. In the driveway ahead of me is Dad’s car; he’s home.

“Oh shit,”

“Your Dad?” Megan asks stopping beside me on the sidewalk. “He’s cool, right?”

“Apparently he is, but I’ve not exactly had a chance to find out for real.” I mutter. “I didn’t really want to dive in at the deep end in case he’s weird about this.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine. Your mom said they’ve both known for ages right?”

I shrug and frown. “That doesn’t stop it being scary.”

Kara grabs my hand and squeezes. “We’ll come with you to meet him then get out of your way, ok?” We’ll be there.”

I take a deep breath and we make our way up to the front door. My heart is thumping and I feel quite nauseous. Seem like an overreaction? Sure, it likely is, but when you’re in my shoes you see things very differently. To me, Mom and Rob’s acceptance and my happiness now could be totally undone by Dad saying no. If he rejects me, it might as well all be for naught. It’s irritating to be this negatively minded, but it’s how I learned to survive.

I unlock the door and tentatively make my way inside. We ditch my booty by the door and head through towards the kitchen where we can hear voices.

“Mom?”

“Honey, is that you?”

No time like the present, I guess. I steel my nerves and walk through the doorway into the kitchen to face the music.

“Hey, uh, I’m home.”

Dad is right there beside her at the counter with a glass of wine in his hand. I suppose I’d want a drink too if I was about to deal with my errant child’s gender fuckery.

I smile nervously and can feel sweat beading along my hairline, “uh, hey Dad.”

He just looks at me, there’s no judgment, theres no anger or pride or sadness. He just looks at me. It’s almost like he’s trying to take in every detail of my appearance like we’ve never met. To this day, I’ve yet to find the courage to ask what he saw that first day. When his child came home dressed like a teenage girl. A girl that looked indistinguishable from her friends. Was it the death of his son, or the birth of his daughter?

“Alex? Is that you?”

“Michael, it’s Holly, we discussed this.”

Dad shakes his head like’s clearing a fog. “Are you ok? How are you feeling?”

Well, it’s a good thing he remembers that I got the crap knocked out of me at least. That it’s top of his list of questions over ‘why are you wearing a skirt’ means a lot, I suppose.

“I feel fine Dad, honest. The back of my head’s a little sore still, I have a few stitches, but I’ll live.”

“I swear, if that school doesn’t…” he trails off, and I can see him clenching his fists. I’ve seen my Dad angry before, but never clenched his fists and wanted to hit something angry.

He looks up and seems to spot Meg and Kara standing awkwardly beside me. “You’re…Holly’s friends, right?” he asks uncertainly. “Thank you for, ah, being there for…her.”

“No problem Mister Winters” Kara offers. She turns to me and squeezes my arm. “We’ll get out of here, good luck girl, you got this.”

I give her a quick hug and watch my backup leave. They did the hard bit and got me in the door. Now, the rest is on me.

Rob joins us in the kitchen, sensing it’s time for the family pow wow and I turn to face the music.

“So…”

“Yes!” Mom agrees. “Now seems as good a time as any, so off to the living room you lot, I’m not doing this standing up.”

“Can I have a beer?” Rob asks, “I feel like I’m going to need a drink.”

“Nice try Robert,” Mom chides, “you’ll manage, I’m sure.”

Rob’s dejected theatrics make me giggle a little and I know he’s playing up to lighten the mood, I appreciate that.

In the living room, we all find a spot to sit. We have a couple of sofas so I end up sitting beside Mom, while Rob and Dad sit across from us. I feel like we already made a pretty big statement by doing that, and I’m positive that it’s Mom’s express intention.

“So, I’ll start, shall I?” she begins, looking around at everyone. “Obviously Chrissie isn’t here, talking to her will be your job, darling.”

I nod, I was going to do that later, depending on how this afternoon went. “Dad,” I start, looking across at my father. “I’m really sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” he frowns.

I sigh, “I was never the son you wanted me to be, I’m not like Rob. I couldn’t… I guess now you know why.”

Dad shakes his head. “I should be the one apologizing to you, kiddo; I kept pushing you towards sports and trying to get you to do more manly things. Taking you hunting, fishing, those father-son weekends. I was trying to relate to you the way I did with Rob and I can see that wasn’t what you needed.”

“I appreciated it though,” I smile gently. “I do like spending time with you even if I was always just sitting in the boat reading while you fished.”

He smiles back and I feel safe knowing that he truly loves me. He might not know how to relate to me for the moment, but I can sense his love. I suddenly feel rather foolish that I ever doubted them.

“I didn’t expect things to come out this way,” I admit, going for the main topic. “I suppose I was afraid of what you would all think of me. I had planned to wait until college and then…well, my plans sucked.”

“We were more worried that you were hurt darling,” Mom admits. “After that, this all didn’t seem quite so important.”

“But it is,” I reassert, looking at them all in turn, “it is important.”

I stand up and I stand before all three of them and hold out my hands beside me. “This is who I am, I won’t demand anything, but I really need to be myself. If I have to wait until college, then so be it. I’ll go upstairs now and change clothes and pretend to be Alex until I graduate if I have to. The truth is, it would be pretending; I’m not Alex, not him.”

“I’d really like to be allowed to live as myself, as Holly, if you would allow me to. I know it’s a lot to ask, and I know it’s not what you had planned for me, but it’s what I have to do. This isn’t new or a change; this is who I’ve always been. I’m the same person and I think and feel and react exactly how I always have.”

Mom stands up and hugs me as the tears start falling down my cheeks. I pretty much stress vented my entire opening argument and I’m not sure what I have left in the tank. I know it must be frustrating to you the reader to see me being so wildly bipolar, but from my perspective at the time, it was still very much all to play for. My life was up in the air and I didn’t know what the next day would bring. The last few days had drained me dry and I was operating largely on hope and caffeine.

“We wouldn’t dream of making you wait until college, Holly.” Mom answers softly. “Everyone here, we are a family. We love you and we want you to be happy. It’s going to be a difficult road but it’s one we’ll take together… once you’ve told Chrissie, that is.”

Oh yes, sister at college in Chicago, that’s going to be a fun phone call.

She continues. “Your father and I have suspected this for a long time and we’ve known for long enough to know we both just want our child, our daughter,” she continues looking over at Dad, “to be happy.”

“It’s going to be a difficult road, Holly.” Dad agrees. “I love you unconditionally; never question that. Is it a surprise to see my youngest child before me looking like the spitting image of her mother? Yes, it’s quite a surprise. Does it suit you? Absolutely.”

I think that’s the sweetest thing he’s ever said to me.

I walk over and I reach out towards him, taking his hands as he offers them. “I love you, Dad. I’m sorry I couldn’t be Alex, that I couldn’t be a boy..”

“Just don’t cost me as much as Chrissie.” he chuckles softly, a silly smile on his face.

“Actually, given the medical treatments required, she’s going to cost you more.” Mom offers unhelpfully.

Dad’s face does a weird series of contortions as he calculates what I’m going to cost him. I think now might be a bad time to ask about a prom dress, maybe when I’m thirty.

Mom guides me back over to the sofa and sits me down. “I’m glad we have that sorted; it allows us to move on to far more important issues, like how we move forward from here.”

“Do you mean like school?” I ask tentatively.

She nods. “School specifically, but life in general. I think it goes without saying that we’re all in agreement that she can live as herself going forward. What’s going to matter most is how we approach school and proper medical care.”

“Like a psychiatrist?”

She nods, “A Gender specialist specifically. I’m going to make some calls and see what we can set up.”

“Are you seriously expecting her to go back to school as a boy?” Rob asks, speaking for the first time. “I know she’s not really changed that much since last week, but I don’t think I can see her that way anymore.”

Mom shrugs, “She may have to initially, Robert, but that will depend on the school. We’ll arrange a meeting and we’ll talk to them about what they would want to do and make a plan. She might need to go to an entirely new school.”

“Like public highschool?” I ask uncertainly. It would be scary being alone without any friends at all.

Mom makes a face. “I’d rather not, but we will see. I assume if we can, you’d want to join Megan and Kara?”

I nod, “I really do. I know my status would be known, but I can almost live with the idea, knowing I have friends. Enough in my life is changing already without an entirely new school to handle.”

“I’ll look after you, sis.” Rob offers. “If you have to come back to our school, I’ve got you.”

“I’ve managed so far,” I opine. “They see what they want to see and it’s not been too bad.”

“I don’t think we’ll have any Brandon-shaped problems.” Rob scowls. “The team’s on your side there.”

“They probably wouldn’t be if they knew that I was sat here like this.”

Rob chuckles. “I don’t know, I think more than most would be ok with you, somehow.”

“So the plan,” Mother interjects, “is for you to take the week off to ensure there are no lasting effects of the concussion. We will make an appointment to see the principal.”

“Now would be ideal,” Dad offers. “With the attack, they’ll be bending over backward to accommodate us, so bringing up our second issue at the same time would be beneficial.”

“You think that they will be more likely to work with us?” Mom asks.

He nods. “They’re partially liable and whenever ambulances end up rushing students off campus, there’s PR to manage and parents to appease. Keeping us happy would be in their best interest, especially if we frame it as for her safety.”

I feel like an asset in a merger, but I know that Dad knows his stuff when it comes to lawyers, deals, and leaning on companies. If he thinks he has a way of making the school do what we want, I’m down for it.

Sitting here with my family while we discuss my future is a surreal experience. I’m dressed like any other teenage girl and my family knows. They’re calling me she and her and using my real name. I know it’s partly the estrogen, but I keep wanting to burst into happy tears. Who would have guessed that getting my ass beat would have ended up being this good for me?

I’m ok with the idea of going back to school as Alex in the short term. I know that it’s only temporary and I won’t have to hide myself at home. Would I like to go straight to the Girl's School after my week off is up? Sure, but that’s just not realistic, unfortunately.

What does the future hold? This week at least, it’s going to be meetings and doctors and Principals. I’ll have my family behind me, so let’s see what happens. For the first time in my life, I’m cautiously optimistic about the future. Holly Winters will have a life, but it’s going to require some careful steps first.

Oh, I do enjoy living in a minefield.

* * *

I was getting ready for bed later that evening while I pondered one of the most consequential days in my life so far. Anyone who tells you emotional exhaustion is any less wearing than physical has clearly never experienced it.

I was brushing my teeth in the master bathroom of the Winters family home wearing a pair of silk shortie pajamas that Meg had donated to the cause. I wasn’t hiding who I was, nor was I afraid of the future anymore. My parents loved me, my brother loved me and we had a plan for the future where I might actually get to live my life as the girl I knew that I was truly meant to be.

Is this the end of the espresso depresso segment of the novel? Yes, yes it is. I cannot begin to describe the relief I felt that evening. I felt lighter, I felt freer than I ever have in my young life. I felt safe and I felt seen; that is a far better drug than caffeine.

“Are you heading to bed, honey?” Mom calls, sticking her head around the door.

I nod, rinsing out my mouth. “Mhm, I’m early done.”

She smiles and stands there leaning against the door jam while I finish up. “You’re very pretty darling, I don’t think I’ve had a chance to say that yet.”

I blush bright red. I mean, this is new territory for me; being complimented on my feminine features. “Thanks, Mom.”

She gestures at my loose hair. “Do you want me to braid that for you before you go to bed?”

I nod and smile, “Yeah, that would be nice.”

Mom steps in behind me, and I watch in the mirror as she takes my hair and begins weaving it into a braid behind my head.

“Is this weird for you still?” I ask quietly.

She shakes her head. “No, I suppose it’s actually something I’ve been looking forward to. Once I came to terms with who you really were, I think I started to dream of being able to do the things I did with Chrissie, with you too. Although, that did depend on you letting us know who you were. I had started to worry that you wouldn’t come to me.”

“I was so scared Mom,” I murmur sadly. “I hoped you’d be ok with me, but I just… I was so afraid of the worst case that it became my obsession. I suffered for so long with the world telling me how wrong these feelings were, how it was sinful and disgusting it was to feel this way.”

Mom smiles sadly over my shoulder as she braids my hair. “I cannot begin to imagine how that felt for you, baby. The truth is that you have me now, and you always will. I will always love you and I won’t let anyone hurt you.” she smiles.

As she finishes my hair, she turns me around and kisses me on the forehead. “I love you Holly Juliette Winters. Now no more dallying; boy or girl, you’ve still got a bedtime.”

Parents; you love them, but they still have to go and slap down the law like that. Being a teenager has its drawbacks, I guess. Just this once, I skip out on the angsty response and comply dutifully. She’s earned a fair few parental air miles over the last few days, so I think I can give her this one… but just this one, mind; I’m still a teenager after all.

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Fake It Till You Make It - 14 - Daughter By The Numbers.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Fourteen - Daughter By The Numbers.

Taking time off school when you aren’t technically sick is fantastic, especially when you have parental consent. As a child you don’t think about the ramifications like, homework or catching up, you merely enjoy the delicious freedom and deal with the consequences later.

Mom, true to her word had taken the week off so we could spend the time together. On the surface, I’m still feeling a little guilty at taking her away from the hospital, but deep down I’m overjoyed to have my Mom here with me.

Waking up that morning felt like I was waiting up on the first day of the rest of my life. Here I was, lying in my bed in silky girls’ pajamas with hair that was braided by my mother and it was entirely normal. It’s hard to put a definition on feeling so utterly free.

If you expected me to awaken like a delicate Princess in a cartoon movie then you are, in fact, quite wrong. I woke up face first in my pillow, one boob having made a bid for freedom from the pajama’s cami top and the shorts stuck halfway up my asscrack. Delicate Snow White, I am not.

Finally kicking myself out of bed, I pulled a robe over my pajamas and stumbled downstairs to grab myself a coffee and perform the necromantic arts of raising the dead. I might be starting an entirely new and joyous chapter of my life, but I’m a teenager, so that doesn’t make waking up any easier.

By the time I get downstairs, Mom is already reading at the kitchen island. Somehow she’s already dressed and perfect despite the ungodly hour of nine, I have no idea how adults do it. Spotting me, she smiles. “Hey sweetie, did you sleep ok?”

“Smdfmfj” I mumble as I pass her. “Coffee.”

She chuckles and waits for me to get a cup before joining her at the island.

“I figured we could hit the mall today and perhaps a couple of outlets. That way we can grab some basics and get started on some day-to-day wear for you. Makeup, shoes,” she shrugs, “that sort of thing. Does that sound ok?”

Greedily slurping the dark elixir, I feel a pang of guilt. “I do feel bad about you guys spending more money on me, Mom. I got a bunch of good stuff from Kara and Megan, we don’t have to go crazy. Especially after you told Dad how much my doctors are going to cost us.”

Mom rolls her eyes, “Never mind what I tell your father, and don't worry about the money. We can afford it, and you deserve it, ok?”

I don’t really feel like arguing, but I do feel somewhat responsible. I’ll just have to be more reserved later and she can just lump her new frugal daughter.

“I can see that look,” Mommy dearest indicates. “No refusals today, I’m spoiling you and you have no say in the matter.”

I sigh, “Yes, Mother”

“God, you and Chrissie are the exact same.” she moans theatrically. “Just promise you won’t be such a primadonna?”

“That might be difficult,” I admit, trying to conceal a grin, “but I promise to try.”

Think this all sounds far too quick and efficient? Try having a doctor at a major metropolitan hospital for a parent. Efficiency, planning and results are a fact of life. Honestly, at this stage of events, I was largely along for the ride. Once my Mom got the idea into her head, it was full steam ahead solving the issue.

After breakfast, I head back upstairs to dress for the day ahead. I barely have a fashion sense, but I am aware that if we’re going shopping, that will mean plenty of changing. Keeping it simple in the wardrobe department is likely to be a good start.

This rules out dresses and anything too tight. In the end after trying on far too many things, I settled on a denim mini, a white tank, and a pair of Rans sneakers that look neutral enough to wear still. With a couple of bracelets and a ring I like, I grab my zipfront hoodie and head back downstairs to find my Mom.

The one thing I didn’t get much of from the girls was footwear. Fun fact? Turns out my feet are smaller than both Kara and Megan. That meant that beyond a pair of sandals that are kinda decent, I’m stuck with my existing shoes until we change that. What? Did you expect me in skyscraper heels on my first day out? Get a grip.

Mom is in the kitchen waiting for me when I get back downstairs and she tuts the second I arrive. Apparently, I’m not presentable enough for her lofty standards. Given that this is my like, second full day as a girl, I think I have a fair excuse.

Why is it in so many trans stories, the protagonist is a perfect little lady the second she’s allowed to express herself? Makeup and hair talents suitable for salon stylists right off the bat, who can even do that? I do wish to remind the court that most teenage girls look like they wet their faces and headbutted Sephora when they go out… experts we are not.

Mom pulls my hair back into a ponytail and gives me a lecture on why I shouldn’t be using the hair ties I’ve been using my entire childhood and should in fact, stick to scrunchies instead; less damage apparently.

“Now I really shouldn’t,” she mutters digging through her bag. “I’m sure we’re both fine this one time but girl rule two; don’t share makeup. It can transfer infections and it’s just not hygienic. We’ll get you your own later, but for now, we’ll just bend the rules a tiny bit, hmm?”

I will admit that the idea of wearing makeup is exciting. I did a little experimenting with Meg and Kara, but it was kinda limited during our massive fashion party. Mom, being an adult has a lot more experience and it really shows. Within a minute or two, I’ve been slapped with some mascara, liner, and a little gloss. It’s not much, but a quick look in the hallway mirror shows me a pretty average-looking teen girl and her mom. I won’t lie, it still feels like I’m dreaming whenever I see myself now.

* * *

Rather than going to our local mall where the chance of running into people we might know exists, we’ve driven forty-five minutes across town to a different one. In the grand scheme of things, a mall is a mall; they’re all basically the same, so it doesn’t really matter. This also saves me from describing it to you in excruciating detail. If you don’t know what a mall looks like, put down the trans fiction and go touch some grass, don’t worry, I’ll wait.

As I get out of the car, my phone starts ringing. By muscle memory, I reach for the pocket of my jeans and find both my phone and jeans missing. After a second, my brain catches up with reality and I dive into my handbag to try to locate the darn thing before whoever it is hangs up.

Ah yes, I forgot to mention that part; I have a handbag now. It’s this small brown leather bag on a long strap that Mom gave me after we went to leave the house and she realized I had nowhere to put anything. I swear, if I wasn’t positive that I was female, I’d point out that I kinda suck at being a girl so far.

Rick’s name is on the screen, so I accept the call and put it to my ear.

“Hi?”

“Alex? Hey, you never got back to me the other day. I was hoping you were ok after what happened...”

Rats, I forgot to call him back with everything that happened. “Oh, god, I’m sorry. A lot’s been happening (Understatement) and I got distracted, what with hospital and stuff.”

“I was worried,” he admits over the line. I can hear people yelling in the background so I figure based on it being mid-morning he’s likely outside during a break.

“Yeah, they were worried about concussions and stuff. Look, thank you.” I offer as we walk towards the front entrance of the mall. “Rob said you dove in to help and I really appreciate it. From what the doctors, said you might have saved my life.”

“Jesus, Alex, I’m sorry,” Rick sighs. “They suspended him for what happened, and Coach booted his ass off the team too; this was a major last straw.”

“Good riddance,” I growl. “The guy was a pig.”

“Rob said your mom was keeping you off school this week. If you wanted, well, if you felt up to it that is; I thought maybe you might wanna hang out sometime?”

Do I? Yes, I really do, but I’m also nervous about spending time with him, and now I have the added concern about letting my life outside of school accidentally blend with the one in.

“Uh, yeah, maybe. I’ll have to check with my Mom,” I defer. “I’ll let you know. Hey look, I gotta run ok? Talk soon bye!”

I hang up before he can answer and I feel a little guilty but I needed out of that conversation fast.

“Was that the boy that you like?” Mom freaking mindreads.

“How did you?”

“Know?” she chuckles as we head into the cavernous interior of the mall. “Your voice went up half an octave when you answered the phone and you were smiling during the entire conversation sweetheart. You think I don’t know the signs?”

“I mean, I don’t want to…” I grumble. “We’re just friends, we have to just be friends.”

Mom squeezes my arm lovingly, “I know darling, but that doesn’t prevent you from liking someone. Believe me, sometimes trying harder to not like them is worse.”

“Don’t you find this a little weird?” I ask uncertainly. “We’ve spoken more about my feelings since…well since I came out than I have in my entire life.”

Mom shakes her head. “Darling, mothers and daughters talk about these things, so it’s totally normal. Are you asking if it’s weird that we’re talking about a boy that you like?” No, if it’s so easy for me to see you as my daughter, then the idea of her liking a boy isn’t that unusual at all.”

“It is for me,” I admit sheepishly. “I don’t know how to feel about it.”

“What do Megan and Kara say?”

I shrug and stuff my hands in my sweater pockets. “That its completely normal and expected because my brain is full of hormones and I’m meant to be boy-crazy.”

Mom chuckles to herself, “I wouldn’t say crazy but yes, that’s the gist of it. I was too at that age if I’m honest with myself.”

“You were?”

She nods, “I had my fair share of crushes, although I admit you’re in a somewhat different position than I was, sweetheart.”

I stopped walking suddenly as the words hit me. “It’s different for me because I’m not a real girl?”

Mom stops and quickly wraps me in a hug before kissing my forehead. “No, baby, I would never ever say that. Never let anyone tell you that you’re not real or valid; you’re my daughter and I love you. What I meant is that I wasn’t locked in a school full of boys as the only girl.”

“Sorry,” I snuffle. “I guess I’m a little sensitive at the moment.”

“You have every reason to be,” Mom smiles, stroking my hair. “Come on, let’s go get you sorted eh?”

Walking through the mall, I take the opportunity to stare openly at dresses and clothes for the first time. Displays that I’ve cast furtive glances at in the past are now entirely open to my attention without feeling like an alarm will suddenly sound. I feel truly liberated for the first time in my life and it’s almost a sensory overload.

As we’re passing one shop, a dress catches my eye and I stop walking to get a better look at it; I can do that now, it’s allowed. Mom glances at it too. “You’d look beautiful in that, do you want to try it on?”

“I don’t need to buy it.” I reply, “But I’d love to.”

“Benefits of womanhood,” Mom grins. “We never need to, but we want to.”

We head inside the store and I find the rack of dresses that match the model in the window. The dress is gorgeous: It’s a beautiful black with an almost white speckled pattern that looks like stars on an inky black sky. It’s got a peasant bodice with a tight-fitted waist with some boning like a corset. The skirt is poofy and flirty and comes to about mid-thigh, judging by the mannequin. It’s giving goth lolita vibes and it looks so damn adorable. Truthfully, it’s the sort of dress I’ve looked at secretly for so very long.

Mom eyeballs me for size and hands me three. “This should fit, but here’s either side of the size. You’ll never really be sure what will fit. Rule fifty-nine of womanhood; sizes don’t mean crap.”

“What? Like, two, four, six, why have them?”

Mom rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well, they’re a good guide, a rough indicator, but you have to try everything on. Sizes are all over the place in womens fashion. Some are bigger so you feel skinnier and buy more stuff, some go down, and some just plain don’t make sense. Being a woman is complicated.”

“Sounds it,” I grin as we arrive at the changing rooms. “I. uh…”

Mom spots my hesitation and smiles before guiding me gently to one side. Giving me a quick hug she lowers her voice so the attendant doesn’t overhear us. “You’ll be doing this a lot today darling, trust me, you have nothing to fear. Cubicles are generally single person and nobody will even begin to worry that you’re not what you seem. It’s ok.”

I know she’s right, academically, but it doesn’t stop me feeling like I’m suddenly invading as I present the dresses to the attendant and she hands me a tag with a three on it. When she lets me pass, I feel suddenly hyper-aware that I’m in a specifically female-only space and endeavor to see nothing that I’m not supposed to.

Fun fact about women's changing rooms; there’s nothing really to see inside them that you can’t see outside on the shop floor. The interior is plain and functional with rows of cubicles along either side. As I walk cautiously into this sacred space, no alarms sound and nobody screams. There’s one or two women coming and going and not a single one of them pays me any sort of attention. It’s rather anticlimactic actually.

I slip into an empty cubicle and hang up the dresses before slipping out of my clothes. Mom handed me a two, a four, and a six in Juniors' sizes. This means very little to me at the moment but with misses, juniors, petite, womens', and tall, it’s all bloody stupid if you ask me.

The first dress is way too big and I return it to its hangar before trying the four instead. This time, it’s a far better fit. I manage to eventually zip it closed after much contortion and twisting and turning to regard myself in the mirror.

“Woah.”

The girl in the mirror is super cute and I’m struggling to comprehend that I am she. The boning in the dress accentuates my waist and the full skirt pops out giving me a way more shape than I thought I actually had. Sure, I’m not wearing much makeup, but I can imagine how I’d look with more on.

“You ok in there darling?”

I slide the latch and open the door to find Mom hovering outside expectantly. The look on her face when she sees me is everything I could have hoped for. She gasps quietly and her eyes look suddenly dewy. Her hands fly to her mouth, “darling, my gosh, you look gorgeous.”

“Is it ok?” I tug nervously at the hem, hoping suddenly that it was longer.

Mom slips inside the changing cubicle and closes the door behind her. Without even waiting she starts checking the fit and adjusting the dress. “This really does look lovely on you, we have to buy this.”

“What happened to just essentials?”

Mom rolls her eyes. “Holly, this is perfect; you’ve got a little room to grow in this and it looks beautiful on you, sometimes you will learn you just have to buy something and this is one of those occasions.”

“Does it really look nice? It’s not too short, is it?”

Mom gives me a look and shakes her head. “Sure, it’s a little much for church, but we don’t go and you’re sixteen years old; I think it’s lovely. Now get changed so we can go buy it.”

I pondered what she meant for a moment and realized she wasn’t planning on leaving. Welp, there’s a first for everything I suppose. If I’m girl enough for Megan and Kara, I’m girl enough for my Mom I guess. Before I could chicken out, I unzipped the dress and slipped it off.

Mom gasped, but it wasn’t a ‘oh god, I just saw a man go through a band saw’ type of gasp. Rather, her eyes were suddenly wide with surprise as she took in my body. Her face changed from shock to love to sadness as she regarded me. Reaching out, she stroked my cheek softly.

“Oh baby, you’re so beautiful. I knew, but I had no idea darling. I simply had no idea how very much you were hiding.” she murmurs, “how the heck didn’t I see this?”

“I was working hard to hide it,” I admit with a shrug, standing there awkwardly in my underwear.

Mom smirks and adjusts my bra strap. “Not so well, if I’m honest, but I struggled to admit it to myself too.”

Bashful at my state of undress, I pull my skirt up and button it closed. “Yeah, I’m only just starting to learn how sucky I was.” I pause and remember something. “You know, that time we were grocery shopping and you told me the lady said that I had such beautiful hair?”

Mom thinks for a moment and then nods. “Yes, the deli counter right?”

I smile as I pull my top back on. “You told me she said my hair was beautiful, but I actually heard her say ‘Your daughter’s hair is so beautiful, it’s a shame she dresses like such a tomboy.”

Mom froze for a second and looked at me. “You actually heard that?”

“Yeah, and I cherished every time someone called me your daughter.”

Mom doesn’t say anything, but simply wraps me in her arms and holds me tight. “You are my daughter, Holly, for now and forever.”

And thus began my first-ever shopping adventure with my mother. I have to say, I was absolutely overwhelmed by the experience. There was so very much that I simply didn’t know. What clothes suited my body, what colors were flattering, or how to style certain clothes. What worked best to mix and match together and what could be a staple item across multiple outfits.

Given that my mother is a cardiologist who spends most of her career in scrubs, she has an amazing eye for fashion and an encyclopedic knowledge of how it all works. Honestly, I’m a teenager, and we’re not easily impressed. Is it likely to replace my best friend's lofty opinions? No, but it certainly gets me started in ways I never imagined that I might.

I would describe trying on bras, jeans, skirts, and tops in vivid and nauseating detail if it wasn’t something you hadn’t already read a billion times before, so why beat a dead horse? I can safely tell you that by lunchtime, we had already made one trip out to the car after viciously assaulting the department stores. Somehow I had managed to have energy for that marathon and I was actually still enthusiastic by the time we collapsed into a booth in the food court a little after twelve.

“It won’t always be like this,” Mom sighed gratefully as she managed to take the load off her feet for the first time that morning. “Be glad we only need to build a life for you once.”

“I don’t think I could handle your ram raid approach,” I giggled, sipping the huge coke I needed to rebuild my strength. “I’m pretty sure you just made that sales girl’s Christmas bonus back in Northgroms.”

Mom grins and I see a glimpse of the woman behind the mother for a moment. It’s funny how I didn’t really see Veronica Winters as a living breathing woman until we started interacting as mother and daughter. I think it actually makes me love her even more. Is that how sons are with fathers?

“I think we got a lot of the basics you’ll need to get you started, honey. Next, it’s shoes and makeup then we can probably call today quits.”

“I’m glad I won’t have to do this again,” I sigh. “It’s exhausting.”

Mom smiles, “When you’re just looking or hanging out with friends you’ll have a lot more fun. Heck, maybe your dear old mother might share a trip every now and then.”

“I’d like that, Mom, I really would. I can’t explain it, but ever since this all came to a head, I’ve felt so much closer to you.”

She smiles and nods. She doesn’t need to reply. It’s been a handful of days but my world has shifted more totally than transition alone could possibly manage. I think the best way for me to describe it, is a freedom derived almost entirely from living the truth. Secrets hold us back, they disconnect us from people we care about. We lock ourselves down so that we don’t slip and get caught or uncovered. By living honestly, by experiencing that simple truth, I received a clarity unlike any other.

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, baby.”

We chat about inconsequential nothings over lunch. It’s honestly wonderful to just relax and talk with my mother without any pressure piling down on top of us. As we’re real women and not fictional cute lil balls of femininity, we had sandwiches; we ain’t afraid of no carbs! Well, I wasn’t until I turned thirty, but that’s another story.

Once we’re done, Mom sets off on a mission to find me shoes. From her perspective, my slightly worn Rans are only suitable for casual attire and mooching around. As such, according to Mater, I must possess four staples to start my journey to shoeageddon. Firstly, the humble sandal; it's comfortable and practical and works with most things. Second, the ballet flat; whether I dance or not, is up to me but these are apparently ‘timeless’ and comfortable whilst maintaining style. Third, the ankle boot; this pair has a small but fairly chunky heel giving me a little height and some winter warmth while remaining practical and grippy. The fourth and final shoe for Cinderella is currently on my foot, and I’m more than a little nervous; the high heel.

The shoes in question are a pair of pretty black slingback pumps. They’ve got a patent finish and look rather snazzy. The heel is a three-inch spike waiting to dump me on my butt the second I let my guard down.

“Black will be a great choice for a first pair because it will work with most outfits,” Mom continues as she attaches the other torture device to my foot. “Comfy?”

“I suppose,” I admit, wiggling my foot. “Sitting down.”

“Get up then and walk to the far wall and back.” she indicates, crossing her arms.

I’m pretty sure that this is a trap, but I’m determined to walk away without injury. I hold my head up high, straighten my back and I put one foot in front of the other like I’ve seen models do on TV. I take my first tentative footsteps in a pair of high heels with my mother proudly watching on; it’s the dream of every transgender girl in history… right up until I prompt faceplant into a display of Birkencrocs.

“Oh god, are you ok?”

“I can taste practical sandal,” I complain. “That shoe went one way and I went the other.”

Mom chuckles to herself. “They are a little tricky, although I did enjoy the newborn gazelle act though before you hit the floor.”

I look up at her with a less-than-amused look on my face. “Yeah, I practiced in the mirror before we came out here.”

Mom offers me her hand and I haul myself upright again. “Weight on the balls of your feet, ok?”
I nod and attempt to balance again, this time, my fawnish wobble is kept to a minimum and I manage to stand freely atop the torture devices.

“Butt out, chest forward, head upright, and feet forward with a slight outward angle.” Mother instructs, still with a shit-eating grin on her face; she’s enjoying every moment of this, I can tell.

Slowly but surely I take my first and then second steps in high heels. It’s not pretty, I won’t win any runway contests, but the advice is solid. Slowly but surely I reach the other side of the room and turn to face her.

“Rubbing?”

I shake my head, “They feel ok, I’m mostly afraid of my ankles snapping.”

She smirks and nods. “You get used to that.”

I walk tentatively back towards her and stop. “Not bad, I can feel a pull in my arch.”

She nods. “Yup, you get used to that too. You can wear them at home and get used to them. Before long you’ll be running in them!”

“Run? In these? I don’t want to spend more time in hospital.”

Mom smiles as I sit and start taking the shoes off. “When I was a girl, my friends and I were quite adept at running in heels. Soon, you won’t even think about it, sweetheart.”

I slip my Rans back on and make a face. “I have so much to catch up on.”

“It’s not beyond the realm of possibility that I didn't let you wear heels till sixteen. Odd, but not outside plausibility.”

Mom and I carry the boxes across to the cashier’s desk and pay for our bounty. I cringe at the price but keep my word and say nothing. Mom wants to treat me, so I’ll let her, but I refuse to expect these sorts of things.

“I’d love to get your ears pierced darling, but until we know what’s happening with school I think it would be ill-advised.”

“Too many dominoes,” I agree.

Mom raises an eyebrow so I proceed to explain. “The way I keep myself under the radar; dominoes. Any one thing isn’t enough for people to spot me, but if I go over a threshold of girlish features or behaviors then they see it. The goal is to push down enough feminine behaviors or features until the sum total falls under that line; too many dominoes and they all fall over.”

Mom shakes her head. “The fact you’ve had to live this secret life hiding who you are breaks my heart, Holly. I should have come to you about this sooner, I should have told you it was ok.”

“No, you were right; I had to reach that point myself,” I admit with a frown. “The problem was that I had come to terms with myself a long time ago. There was no doubt, Mom, none.”

Her look is almost pained as I explain how my life until this point was.

“That knowledge, it burned; society told me I was wrong and that I shouldn’t exist, it told me you’d hate me. Because of that, I hid.”

“I am so sorry,” Mom offers quietly. “I’m sorry you had to hold this all in. It shouldn’t be this way.”

“Alas, it is.” I sigh.

“You sound old beyond your years baby.”

I squeeze her hand as we walk back towards the car. “I think maybe I am. I had to grow up fast, or I would never have survived long enough for the world to see me properly.”

* * *

The Friday afternoon that week, my parents had a meeting scheduled with my Principal, Mister Gardener. Ostensibly, it was to discuss the attack that landed my ass in the hospital and go over the school’s response and my return. What Veggie Garden (Our nickname for our ignoble leader) didn’t know, was that my parents planned to drop the ‘surprise, you have a mixed gender school after all’ topic in there too. It was all part of Dad’s strategy to strike while the iron was hot and in this case, feeling rather guilty. When a paying customer lands in the hospital on their watch, they tend to panic.

They had both left a little after two and I’d mostly spent the morning listening to music and organizing my wardrobe. You try sorting out an entire new wardrobe quickly; it doesn’t happen.

Now I can imagine you think Mom and I spent thousands of dollars and bought me an entirely new wardrobe so that I could confidently start my life as a teenage girl with something for every occasion. A lovely thought, but you would be entirely wrong. We bought a good broad selection, but it was just a start. Coupled with what I’d gotten from Kara and Meg, I had a decent base to work from, but not much more. I would certainly need to shop more often, but that was something I looked forward to doing in my own time.

I was lying on my bed reading a textbook when a little after three my phone started to ring. Rolling over, I pick the device up and answer, fully expecting it to be Meg or Kara coming home from school.

“Heeey, sup?”

“Alex, is that you?” a male voice asks uncertainly.

Gerk.

“Uh, um, yes, it’s me, what’s up dude?” I butch myself up immediately as I recognize Rick’s voice.

“Are you ok?” he asks uncertainly.

I hurriedly jab the CD player’s stop button (Yes, CD players were our main source of music back then and yes I have been raiding Chrissie’s music collection now I’m allowed to listen to girly pop; sue me.)

“Oh me? No, I’m great, just chilling out you know? I’m basically fine now, Mom is being over cautious but that’s parents am I right? I’m just at home relaxing, not much to do, you know?”

“Cool, I’m just leaving school now so I’ll swing by then if that’s ok? I want to catch up and this week, well, it started out weird… look I’ll explain when I get there ok, Alex? Good, I’ll see you then.”

He hangs up without waiting for my response. This is partly my fault as I did dodge him at the start of the week and other than a phone call, I’ve been avoiding him even after he was one of the guys that saved me from the idiotsaurus. It’s not very grateful of me and I think he might have noticed.

I hate behaving like this because I really like the guy. This isn’t just the teen hormones talking, I like him as a person and I feel horrible for hiding. The truth is, that after our day out went a bit weird,I didn’t want to confuse him further. Why is my life so darn difficult?

I glance around my room and spot the sea of girl stuff and panic. I look down at my bare legs and my painted toenails and panic even more. Oh shit, emergency!

By the time Rick arrives, a whirling dervish has flown around the room stuffing things into wardrobes and cupboards and hiding as much of the girly stuff as I possibly can. Mom might kill me for not hanging some tops up, but I can always iron them later.

I unbraided my hair and retied it in my regular low guys' ponytail. I cleaned my fingernails of polish and changed into jeans, a tight sports bra and a sweater in time for the bell to ring downstairs.

Skidding to a halt, I take a second to breathe before opening the door. Rick is waiting and he’s still gorgeous, damnit.

“Hey,” he smiles. “ How are you doing? I’m sorry I didn’t stick around on the phone earlier, but I figured we could just hang out and relax. There’s no need to do anything too crazy with you being walking wounded.”

I deflate, beaten by thoughtfulness. I felt horrible icing him out earlier in the week and I got so caught up in my girl drama since the attack that I really didn’t think about the guy that helped to save me.

“I’m sorry,” I offer quietly, looking at the floor.

“I can’t come in?” he asks uncertainly.

I shake my head. “No not that, sure, come on in. What I mean is, I’m sorry for being a bi…astard this week. I iced you out at the start of the week because I thought that I did something wrong Friday and didn’t want to make things worse.”

“You did nothing wrong,” he replies firmly. “I get it, but you don’t need to say sorry, Alex.”

I don’t know how to feel right now, my brain isn’t working properly. We’re standing here in the entrance hall of my home awkwardly not getting any closer to each other. I saw his hands twitch like he was going to initiate a hug but seemed to think better of it. God this is an awful idea.

“Do you want a drink or something?” I offer weakly to break the deadlock.

He nods and follows me through to the kitchen. Right now I’ll take anything to distract me from the awkwardness of the moment.

“How are you feeling? I was really worried when… you know,” he prompts.

I look across at him and shrug neutrally, “Yeah, I don’t remember a lot of what happened, but I’m ok, I think; No lasting damage at least.”

I hand Rick a soda and stay where I am with the kitchen island between us. “Thank you for stopping him.”

Rick’s expression darkens and I see his fists clench. “Yeah, the teachers had to pull me off that asshole. I nearly killed him, but I wasn’t alone there.”

“I don’t know when to quit,” I chuckle darkly.

Rick cracks half a smile. “Yeah, something like that. He deserved it really, that guy’s a douche.”

“I’ll be back in school Monday, I think. Mom is being overly cautious about concussions.”

“That sounds fair, she is a doctor,” he points out. “I’m glad though, I really missed you this week, Alex.”

Fuck this, I’ma put us back on even ground.

“Thank you for being my friend Rick, I’m sorry I’ve been weird about things. I’m still trying to get over this paranoia that people always want something from me. I made the weekend a bit odd then I took it out on you by avoiding you afterwards. Look, I appreciate you, ok?”

He seems to relax when I take charge of defusing the tension between us. I think he was looking for a valid reason to blame for the tension that wasn’t the obvious one. I think it’s clear at this point that his brain tells him I’m a girl, even if his eyes have yet to catch up. Is that likely to change? I don’t know. All I can do is be his friend, god knows I need one right now.

“Look, let’s put the past in the past.” he offers. “Come over next weekend and teach me how to not suck so hard at Plumberkart?”

I give him a lazy half-smile and buff my nails confidently. “Do you really think you have a chance of taking me, huh?”

He shakes his head and holds his hands up. “No, against you I would never have a hope; I bow to your mastery of the game. Perhaps I can beat some mere mortals with a little help though?”

“What’s in it for me?” I grin.

“My parents are going out so we can order pizza, watch movies, and chill. Anything you want.”

No Holly, bad idea, really bad fucking idea, girl.

I step forward and lean on the kitchen island separating us and bounce my index finger on my lips looking thoughtful. “I teach you to kick ass at PlumberKart and all I get is pizza and movies?”

“You’re into your Anime right?”

Uh oh, trap detected, defenses insufficient.

“Yeeeeeees?”

Rick looks pretty confident now and I feel a sinking sensation in my stomach.

“Anna was in Japan last week for a conference,” he grins. “I knew you were super into anime so I asked her to get a couple of new releases on DVD. How does Howard’s Mobile House on a big screen sound?”

My eyes go full-on cartoon mode. “What? You have that? No way!”

This is entirely unfair, I am a huge fan of the Studio Genji movies, and I cannot resist this bait.

“Yes way, you in?”

I sigh and bow, “Congratulations, you won this round Rick-Kun.”

We share this look and I swear he’s about to say something when I hear the front door open and close. “Hey, I’m home!” Rob calls followed by the thump of his bag hitting the floor.

Crap, must avoid accidental Hollyings.

“Hey Rob, Kitchen! Rick’s here!” I yell. Hopefully the lumox gets the message.

He shuffles through the door and tosses his keys at the bowl. “Hey… spike, how’s it goin'?” He looks a little surprised to see me boying it up again but he keeps his mouth shut. He bro-nods at Rick, “Sup Dude.”

“Hey, just figured I’d stop in and check up on sleeping beauty over here after what went down on Tuesday,” Rick shrugs. I wince and I notice even Rob twinges at the remark. Funny in hindsight, super close to the bone in the moment.

“Ah, cool yeah, sadly he’s still fine,” Rob laughs as he moves past us to grab himself a soda. “You head over straight from school?”

“Yeah, not had a chance to catch up since, you know?” Rick replies before pausing. “Wait, Spike? Is that a new one?”

Uh oh.

“Yeah,” Rob acts really casual about it. “He spiked our parents' blood pressure ending up in hospital. I won’t let him forget it.”

Robert, you smooth, smooth boy. Cudos.

“Hah, that’s a good one,” Rick smirks. “You had us all worried though, for real.”

Rob looks at me and smiles. “Yeah, it really was rough.”

Rick shifts awkwardly and downs the rest of his soda. “Look, I don’t want to impose, I just popped in on the way home you know? I’ll get out of your hair and leave you to rest.”

He turns to look at me and I catch this look in his eyes that I can’t explain and he smiles. “See you Monday Alex. Remember next Saturday, ok?.”

“Yeah, deal.” I smile. “See you Monday, Rick.”

I follow him to the door and watch as he hops in his truck and pulls out of the driveway. While I’m stood at the door, Rob slides up alongside me and nudges me in the ribs.

“What was all that you said about not being into my teammate?”

“Shut up.”

Rob chuckles and ruffles my hair. “What was the visit for?”

I watch Rick’s truck drive out of sight and shrug. “He just wanted to check I’m doing ok after everything that happened. We’ve been in a bit of a weird patch.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was sweet on my baby sister.”

“You do know better,” I counter. “He knows me as Alex, a boy. He’s just being a good friend.”

“Really? Coulda fooled me.” Rob snickers. “Not many guys blush that much around their male friends.”

I give my brother a scornful look as we head back inside the house. Finally, out of sight, I release my hair from the low ponytail that kept it restrained and finger-comb it back to fullness.

“Looks weird seeing you like that.” Rob offers as he heads towards the stairs. “Though the mascara kinda ruins the whole grungy teenage boy look, sis.”

My head snaps to the hallway mirror and I stare in horror at the thick beautiful lashes surrounding my eyes.

Oh, Fucksicles.

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Fake It Till You Make It - 15 - The Blonde Daemon.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Fifteen - The Blonde Daemon.

I’m almost done making dinner by the time Mom and Dad get back from my school meeting. I figured after what is likely to have been an arduous session, that they would like some peace to sit and eat; I’m such a wonderful and thoughtful daughter! At least I can manage a consistent gender presentation this time. I’m still kicking myself from earlier.

I’m dressed pretty casually in a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, but they’re decidedly girlier options than Alex would have worn. Before you ask, no they’re not pink, gag. It feels really good to be a slouch and yet, still be myself. What? Did you think I’d wear pretty skirts and tops all the time? Yawn. Honestly, I wasn’t in the mood to get all dressed up just to make food and relax.

I will admit that I’m a little nervous to find out what the school has said. Honestly, I’m not even sure if they’ll let me switch over to the Girls Division. A whole new school would be jarring academically, but I’d get a totally clean break which might be neat.

As if to answer my question, I hear Mom and Dad come home right as I’m taking the Enchiladas out of the oven. Remember, I can cook, I’m not just a pretty face.

“Hey baby, that smells lovely.” Mom offers by way of greeting as they enter the kitchen.

Truth be told, I’m a little nervous to discover the outcome of the meeting. When I finally turn to face her she doesn’t look all that upset. I think she spots my unspoken question and smiles reassuringly “No bad news honey, we can talk over dinner ok?”

I give her a nod and return to serving dinner. Tonight that is Enchiladas as I mentioned, accompanied by salad and a little rice. It’s about as authentically Mexican as my very white ass can manage, but it does taste pretty good. We all sit down for dinner and talk about general family nothings until we finish the main course. Once that’s done, Mom takes charge.

“So, we spoke with your school about the incident this week and also your particular situation.”

Dad chimes in. “As expected, the Principal was most accommodating given their liability, as we assumed. That boy is suspended for two weeks and will be on probation until the end of the academic year. He’s also being moved off your table and to a different lunch sitting.”

Mom nods, do all families do this back-and-forth tag team routine or is it just mine?

“He’s already off the team too,” Rob points out, squeezing my leg under the table. “Nobody will talk to him anymore. They like you Hol, they never liked him.”

“They might not like me for long,” I sigh.

“That part, I do have some news regarding,” Mom offers. “We brought up your… unique situation and the fact that you are not yet ‘out’ to anyone at school. With the prospect of you returning, we wanted to discuss their position and policies. Your principal mentioned that a number of teachers had raised concerns about you.”

“I’m a good student though?” I ask uncertainly. “I don’t get in trouble, Mom.”

“Not academic or social, darling, more that they had worries about your health and uh, development.”

Dad tags in. “He said several had come to him with concerns about your isolation and depression. Also that a couple had perhaps, noticed some changes in you recently too.”

Ah, yes, national hide-and-seek squad member candidate, that’s me.

“What did they say about my being Holly at school?”

“Well, these are important years for you academically, but they’re keen to exercise their diversity policies. With them not beholden to the same laws and policies as the local authorities, they can make some allowances, depending on various factors.”

“So I’d continue going to the boys' school but as a girl?”

“We’d need to see the Principal of the girls' school, according to Principal Gardener it would be entirely her choice. He doesn’t think there would be an issue as the school board policies do have some protections in place.”

“I’m kinda surprised that a stuffy school like that even thinks anyone LGBT even exists.”

“You’d be surprised,” Dad answers with a chuckle. “A lot of Alumni hold a great deal of influence at places like this. It seems that in this case, enough of them have an interest in equality.”

“So when do we go to see her? And what other factors?”

Mom makes a face, “They made comment about some matters I know would never be an issue for you but they did raise questions over changing facilities and bathrooms.”

“What? What do they expect? That I’m doing this to perv on other girls?”

Mom chuckles. “The fact you said other girls says it all darling; you are just another girl. I have no doubt Mrs Carlos will see that when you meet her next Friday.”

Gulp.

“Me?”

Mom nods. “Yup, we’re all going to see her at five, so you can come home and change before we see her. Hopefully, we’ll have had a chance to see Carol before then too.”

Rattus smellus.

“Carol?”

“Mom nods, “Doctor Ward; she has a psychiatric practice locally that specializes in gender and sexuality issues. Your father and I think seeing her and getting a formal diagnosis would help ease your path.”

“So you want me to see a psychiatrist? To work out if I’m mentally ill or confused?”

Mom shakes her head and takes my hand across the table, “No, sweetheart, to get you a formal diagnosis so we can start moving forward for you. I think it’s very clear to every single person around this table that you are Holly Winters, our daughter, and Robert’s sister. Sometimes the world just needs a little paperwork, and you might want someone to talk to who understands all of this better than we do.”

It makes some sense I guess but what teenager wants to admit that she needs help? Honestly? The idea of psychiatrists scares me. As convinced as I am that I am as female as anyone else, a little brain worm at the back of my brain is terrified that a psychiatrist will declare me crazy and tell me I’m imagining all of this. I know it’s not likely, but it does scare me, as much as I know this is a necessary step.

“Ok, I’ll go. When?”

“Wednesday evening after school, I’ll pick you up, ok?” Dad offers. “Your mother has surgery.”

Dad’s going to take me to the gender shrink? I suppose that’s an endorsement if ever there was one. He and I have never had a super close relationship, but I can tell he means well. He’s just one of those guys who struggles to share things like feelings and emotions.

Well, we have a game plan at least; psychiatrists, schools, and my future. If everything plays out, I might even get a chance to graduate as myself. Wild thought, huh?

If you asked me what might have happened seven months ago when I first started hormones, I would have told you I was looking forward to graduating, getting to college, and coming out. Now? I have absolutely no idea.

* * *

My weekend was honestly unremarkable in its awesomeness; I was simply Holly Juliette Winters (I love saying my name). I could write a billion chapters about getting up, brushing my hair, spending time trying on clothes, and learning how to apply makeup, but you’ve read so many of those. Frankly, in reality, it’s not quite as exciting as the fiction makes it out to be. How many times can you try to do winged liner with hooded eyes? Many is the answer, far too many.

What does really suck, however, is getting up Monday morning. See, for a school kid this automatically sucks. However, in my situation, it also meant that I woke up as a girl and I got dressed as a boy; which sucked. Coming off almost an entire week as my real self, it was a jarring experience to have to force Holly back into a box and to revive Alex. I know it’s temporary now and that does give me hope, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.

I have taken to wearing a T-shirt under my dress shirt and over my sports bra to help generally flatten my shape. It was a bit less conspicuous than a hoodie, and it helped keep me a bit warmer as the fall really gripped our part of the world. Did I still see Holly looking back at me in the mirror? Sure I did, but I don’t think I can unsee her now. Let’s hope everyone else doesn’t, eh?

When I made it downstairs, Rob was eating breakfast at the kitchen island. I made my typical beeline straight for the coffee pot and stuck a pop-tart in the toaster while I made a cup of my Elixyr. When I turned around, he was just watching me with a sad look on his face.

“What’d I do?”

“I can’t see him anymore,” he smiles sadly, “not even a hint.”

I slouch and scowl, “how about now?”

Rob chuckles, “It’s a little better but it’s not that convincing, sis.”

“It will have to be,” I sigh, juggling the scalding pastry in my fingers. “I’ve got to hold out as long as they need me to.”

“I told Dad to head on to work,” Rob continues. “I wanted to give you a ride in myself today.”

“Why so generous all of a sudden?” I raise an eyebrow.

Rob shrugs, “I want to look out for my baby sister, and figured you’ could do with a break from the olds.”

I give him a thank-you elbow nudge as I stuff the pop-tart into my face. I might be a girl now, but behind closed doors, delicate I am not. Does that make me a bad girl? No, not even close. I grew up with a big sister; you should have seen that woman eat sometimes, it was like watching a tornado hit a grocery store.

The drive to school was pretty normal, or rather, whatever I can manage to call normal these days. Going with Rob was unusual, but it wasn’t the first time either. This time felt different however; our relationship had changed. My brother is a good man, and he has always had my back. I think I appreciate him now more than ever.

We pulled into the parking lot at school a little before eight-thirty and Rob shut the engine off. We sat in silence for a few minutes, neither of us making any effort to get out of the car yet. I won’t lie, I’m a little nervous now the cat is out of the proverbial.

“Are you going to be ok?” he asked finally, breaking the silence.

“It’s just any other day Rob,” I sigh. “I managed to get this far, right?”

“I won’t be far away Holly, Ok?”

“Remember, I’m Alex when I’m like this,” I correct him, gesturing at myself. “Let's try and stick to Alex or you’ll fuck it all up.”

“Like an undercover spy?”

I look over at Rob and smile, “Exactly. now don’t blow my cover, bozo.”

There’s a sharp rap on the window that makes me jump as Rob’s teammate RJ sticks his face against the glass like a goon. I roll my eyes, once my heart settles down, but Rob just laughs at his idiot friend’s antics. Apparently, this is normal for them and just further serves to remind me that boys are another species altogether.

As we get out of the car to join them and head into school, defensive man mountain, Face, lumbers over and throws his tree trunk arm around my shoulders, nearly flattening me in the process. “Hey little dude, you all better now?”

I attempt to dislodge the Winnebago that’s landed on top of me. “Yeah, ow, I was! Get off me you oaf!”

“Leave h…im Face,” Rob calls over, blatantly stumbling on my pronouns; good work Bro, you had one job. “We don’t need Alex broken again!”

“We were worried, you know?” RJ offers, grinning at me. “We kicked Brandon’s fuckin ass after what he did to you.”

“Yeah, you’re like a lucky charm for us now. We haven’t lost a game yet this season.”

“I’m not joining the cheer squad guys, no matter how many times you ask,” I deadpan as we walk towards the school building. “I really don’t look good in red and white.”

Rob nearly chokes at my comment but his friends just laugh. Maybe I can get some fun out of teasing him now he knows the truth? I know it’s evil, but sometimes the best defense is actually a good offense. Joking about girly things might actually throw people off more than avoiding it entirely.

I smile to myself as I let the others talk and joke as we make our way into school. The real secret here is that I’m still Holly right now, not Alex. I know Kara suggested it, but the reality is that after the hospital and my big reveal, I don’t actually feel like him anymore. No, I’ve not got some crazy split personality developing, I think that finally allowing him to drop away has been a one-way journey for me mentally. Now he’s gone I feel… free. It’s hard to describe, but I think it might be, happiness. Even dressing like this can’t take it away from me, not entirely.

Homeroom is basically a non-event. Sure, some people welcome me back and my receiving a monumental beating and still being alive is apparently noteworthy, but nobody seems to notice anything else beyond that. To them, I’m still the runty effeminate nerd Alex, so no news there.

Anyone who’s ever taken any time off school for medical reasons will know that coming back is a blur of catching up and missed homework. A week off school isn’t as fun once it’s over! Thankfully nothing has gotten too far ahead that I can’t catch up once I get back into my groove. I might have ditched Alex, but ya girl still intends to make it to medical school in one piece, and that requires academic exercise!

By the time we get to lunch, I’m pleasantly surprised to find out that Darth Dipshit’s replacement is Carson Orlinski, the team’s quarterback. While we’re not exactly buddies, but he’s a nice enough guy and since Rob got me involved with his band of brain-damaged amigos, we’re on amicable nodding terms. (For guys, this is like, totally friends I think.)

“The wounded warrior returns,” Carson greets me as I arrive at my spot next to the head. A quick glance down the table shows me most of them aren’t quite sure what to say yet.

“Sadly, the hospital decided I was already this brain-damaged before I hit the floor, sorry to disappoint you guys.”

“I think they’re more in awe that you stood up to that assclown,” Carson chuckles. “Plus the blood kinda made it more graphic than that one Taco Day incident with the guacamole.”

I shudder as I sit, remembering said incident well. “How much blood was there?” I genuinely don’t remember any blood.

“Eh, enough for Mister Walker to end up on his butt when he was pulling us off Brandon.”

“Do I get double points for taking down a teacher too?”

“Tripple, seeing as you managed to get the entire football team to agree on something,” Rick adds as he arrives and drops into his seat across from me. The little smile he gives me makes my heart flutter. God, being around him is so difficult.

“We’re glad you’re alright.” he offers, “I think I can speak for everyone here when we say the table has improved since last Tuesday.”

There’s a general murmur of agreement and not a few chuckles from around the table. It finally breaks the tension and lets us get back to more important matters, like food. Before long, we’re chatting and eating like regular people. I have to say, it makes a difference from the tension that’s plagued lunchtime all semester so far.

My afternoon is largely without incident and before long I’m boarding the bus for my ride home. Rob offered to give me a ride, but I didn’t want to be smothered either. This girl has to stand up for herself and show that she’s not incapable of functioning. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not afraid to ask for help, but I also don’t need to be treated like I’m fragile or broken.

“So did everything… go?” Kara asks casually avoiding specifics.

“Pretty good,” I admit, “Nothing weird today, considering everything.”

Gary looks rather suspicious, “why would anything be weird?”

“So many reasons,” Meg giggles.

“Are you two still pretending to date him? It’s so weird.”

Megan drapes herself across me and leers suggestively, “Wanna make out baby?”

I shake my head and sigh dramatically, “No, it will make Gary jealous darling. We should refrain in public, they just wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m going to be sick,” he grumbles.

I smile, it’s a happy genuine smile. This almost feels normal, even if I can’t really be me at school yet. For the first time in my life, there is light at the end of the tunnel and it’s uplifting in a way I had never possibly imagined.

* * *

For most kids in school, getting home feels pretty awesome each afternoon. No matter how good your experience is, I can guarantee that for me, it was a billion times better than Monday afternoon. No sooner was I through the door than I performed a metaphorical Jim Carrey from that movie where he becomes God? You know the one, the arms out and back, and the clothes come flying off? Yup, that was me, only in my room and a lot more messy.

Within fifteen minutes of getting home, I was out of my school drab and into a denim skirt and a cute little blue top with capped sleeves. I brushed out my hair and applied a little mascara and gloss before pronouncing myself ready for the world at long last. Bouncing back downstairs, I was grabbing myself a soda when Mom arrived home.

“You’re home early?” I smile, kissing her on the cheek in greeting.

Mom smiled as she dropped her bag on the island. “Yup, My early surgery went well so I decided to beat it before they found me anything else to do; privileges of the position. What are you up to? catching up on your homework?”

Nothing slips past Mother dearest.

“I was just heading up to get started on that mountain,” I admit. “I wanted to get changed out of Alex first.”

Mom chuckles. “That sounds a little schizophrenic, darling.”

“Alex is a camouflage,” I shrug dismissively. “I was barely hanging onto him for some time, now? He’s a shirt I wear so that I can look like a boy.”

Mom’s face goes through some contortions and I suddenly feel very horrible indeed. My soda ignored, I rushed over and wrapped her in my arms, “I’m sorry Mom, I didn’t mean it like that.”

My Mom’s voice is a little husky when she finally answers me after a long moment in each other’s arms. “It’s ok sweetheart, I know how you meant it and it’s fine, really. Just understand that it’s still taking some time for me to let go of the little boy that I raised.”

“I’m the same person,” I mumble dejectedly. “I was always Holly, on the inside.”

Mom strokes my hair and holds me close, “I know darling, but for the longest time, I thought I had a little boy. I was wrong, and I’m so glad that I have a little girl, especially a happy one. It will just take me a little time to get used to dismissing Alex quite as easily, baby.”

I pull back and give Mom a sad smile and a nod. I understand where she’s coming from and I can sympathize. For her, Alex not existing, is a much more recent development, even if she knew before I told her. In a way, it’s a transition for her too and I need to give her time.

Mom kisses my forehead and steps back. “Right, I’ll make dinner, you get yourself upstairs and work on that pile of homework. You might well be my little girl now, but you still need to get a 4.0.”

I sigh, with dramatic daughterly energy, “Yes Mother.”

* * *

The first Wednesday since the debut of the new hit Broadway musical; Holly Winters - Schoolboy arrived, and with it, my first time using the gym since my feminine debut.

Andy wasn’t in school today, so rather than walk alone, I hung around to wait for Meg and Kara so I could go with them. I have to say, it was nice to just let the mask down and be myself the second we were away from the school campus. Sure, I’m still technically dressed as a boy, but I’ve ditched my jacket and tie and look rather more androgynous in just the shirt and trousers. My level of fucks given is reaching a critical low these days.

“So you’re going to see a therapist later tonight?” Kara asked. “What do you think It’s gonna be like?”

I actually haven’t given it a lot of thought because the idea scares me more than I want to admit. “Maybe good, maybe bad,” I shrug. “I don’t really know what to expect. It’s not like I need help working out who I am; that’s pretty settled. I’m more worried that they’ll tell me that I can’t be me.”

“Nah, everyone else needs help working out what you are,” Megan giggles. “How’s the double life going since the big reveal?”

“Better than I hoped, but harder than I’d like,” I admit. “Rob’s been good so far; no slip-ups that I’ve heard. Plus, keeping the Alex mask at school is a lot easier than I had expected. Now I know I’m deliberately playing a role, it’s much more simple to pretend.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” Kara offers, giving me a sad smile. “Now, more than ever.”

“Because I know that it will end soon enough,” I reply quietly.

Our conversation pauses while we walk through the front doors and into Skyline’s front lobby. Once we’re through, Megan starts up about some drama between a few of the girls at school. I’m paying rapt attention to this because this is soon going to be my world, either here or in some new place. I’ll need every opportunity to get a leg up on the jungle that is girl world. What? You thought it was all flowers and sisterhood? Hah, you poor fools.

It turns out that I’m paying far too little attention to anything BUT this conversation because I stop dead in my tracks when I see a topless girl changing into a sports bra right in front of me.

“Gak!” I gulp, slapping my hand over my mouth. “Shit, uh, wrong uh…”

Yeah, you can tell what I did right? I walked right into the women's locker room alongside the sisters, didn’t I? Right now I’m gawping at the doorway and about to cause a massive scene if I don’t think fast, and I don’t.

Kara’s brain is thankfully working and she shoves me around the corner and into the bathroom area near the front door. Not as I had hoped, back out into the corridor.

“Shut up, just get in one of the stalls and change already.” she hisses quietly. “It’s too late to back out now.”

“I can’t change in here,” I whisper back sharply, “You need to go outside and check if the coast is clear.”

“I could, but how are your pretty shaved legs going to look in with the boys, huh?”

Oh yeah, she might have a point there. I slap myself on the forehead and just nod as I retreat into the toilet stall. It’s pretty cramped for changing but it’s not particularly awful either. On the bright side, it’s not a huge stinking fit about a ‘boy’ in the girls changing rooms. That would bring way too much attention down on me, for sure. What I’m going to do with anyone that does see me I don’t know… that however is a battle for another time. I guess I’m just glad that I have an ace up my sleeve for later.

I slip out of my clothes and into my shorts and T-shirt. I really had been so busy that I hadn’t thought about my damn legs at all. I could have brought sweatpants like a normal non-stupid person but apparently, that was too complicated for my fish brain. Remember my dominoes theory? Yeah, that would tip me well and truly over the scale, not that I was particularly hairy before.

One thing that I have noticed, all my panic and fear aside, is that it smells so utterly different in here compared to the boys' locker room. There’s an overall pervasive smell of deodorant and perfume but generally, the guttural tang of the boys' spaces is entirely absent. You know, a girl could get used to this.

I pack away my clothes and grab my stuff before venturing cautiously back out into the bathroom proper. I nearly jump out of my skin when some random woman leaves a stall and walks casually past me and back to the lockers. She doesn’t scream or point a finger at the freak. Instead, she just glances at me before keeping on rolling without a care in the world.

The layout in here is identical to the guys, which, in hindsight, makes literally total sense seeing as its the same company. It’s pretty busy when I get back into the main room, Meg and Kara are just finishing getting changed at a bench on the far side.

I weave nervously past a few semi-naked female bodies and slide up alongside the girls. As subtly as possible while entirely red in the face.

“Oh, you’re ready? See? No fuss.” Kara smiles reassuringly. “Gotta fix that hair tho, Meg?”

“On it!” Before I can protest, my hair is out of my low ponytail and is retied higher up on my head where it bounces against my neck. When the girls are finished dressing, we lock up our bags, grab our rackets, and head for the courts.

I’d arranged to play badminton with the sisters today, so thankfully there was far less risk of us running across anyone that might recognize me had we been using the more trafficked spaces of the complex. When we arrive at our pre-booked court, there’s a short blonde girl with a pixie cut already waiting. She hasn’t noticed us yet, and is instead texting furiously on her phone.

“Hey, Tina!” Meg calls out, waving at the unknown.

The blonde looks up and waves before noticing me walking along beside the others. “Who’s your friend?”

Kara sets her water bottle down and unsheathes her racket. “Tina; Holly, Holly; Tina.”

“Hey,” The girl offers, giving me a half smile before furrowing her brow. “You don’t go to our school, do you?”

“I uh… I might be soon,” I admit. “I live near the sisters.”

“You just move here?” she asks, giving her racket a few test swipes.

“No, uh, just changing school.”

I really should have had some sort of story together but I am not particularly smart today.

She gives me a bit of an odd look but seems to dismiss it.

“Normies Vs Gingers?” Meg asks with a cheeky grin.

Tina rolls her eyes and looks at me questioningly. “Wanna?”

“Sure.”

Suddenly the tiny blonde gets this demonically evil look on her face. She grins at me before turning back to face Meg, looking awfully innocent all of a sudden. “Hey, does this make it like, shirts and skins, but for souls?”

Forget cute little giggles, the four of us burst out in deep raucous belly laughter. I can already tell I’m going to like this girl a great deal.

“So new girl, what’s your story?” Blondie asks as we make our way over to our side of the court.

“We’re childhood friends; my parents want me to change schools so I have a better shot at a good education without too many distractions.”

See, I made a decision early on that I don’t want to actively lie about my transition. I’ll never pretend to claim a period or say that I was a little girl, but I will allow people to believe what they want; implication isn’t actually lying. For example, I, a girl, can say I currently go to a single-sex school; it’s not my fault if you assume it’s an all-girls institution. In this instance, it's entirely true. Mom and Dad do want me to change schools, the distraction? Being the only girl in an all-boys school. Simple but honest, with a twist.

Tina takes up her position and stretches before we start. “You ready to bring it? These two won’t play fair.”

I glance between the sisters and my new teammate. Yeah, not a chance they’re going to be kind to us, this is war.

“Let's do this.”

The games are hard; girls might act cutesy and weak around boys but we really go really hard when it throws down. Why is it that all of a sudden, I suddenly really enjoy sports? I’m sure there’s a connection somewhere I’m missing.

The four games we play leave us sweating and exhausted by the time we’re finished. Tina and I turn out to be pretty good doubles partners, our personalities gelling rather well. Where I’ve got a bit more reach, she’s incredibly fast, darting around the court like a tiny blonde bullet. Tina is as funny and as dark as I first believed. This girl is sharp and I’m quickly starting to like her a lot, I almost feel bad that I’ve only just met her.

Tina, it seems, shares most of her classes with Megan but has homeroom with Kara. When we’re not hanging out, they’re reportedly pretty tight. I feel a little bad taking up their time recently, but they seem willing to give it.

When we’re done, we make our way back towards the lockers chatting happily amongst ourselves. Honestly, the afternoon has been pretty awesome after I got over the shock of the locker room. I fit in like this, and not just with my best friends. Sure, it’s not girls in general yet, but it’s a damn good start. Even out here sweating my tits off I’m just one of them; it feels right.

I follow the girls back into the locker room, still nervous but not entirely quite as frightened as that first accidental time. I think a few hours out here just being one of the girls has desensitized me somewhat.

Once we’re back inside I realize I’m going to need a shower if I have any hope of getting out of here and not stinking up a doctor’s office.

I slip in beside Megan and whisper in her ear, “What are the showers like in here?”

“Probably like the bo…. Oh yeah,” she chuckles quietly. “You probably wouldn’t know that either.”

She gets an eye roll in response.

“Individual cubicles with curtains, you got spare underwear? You could probably just keep your panties on and be safe enough.”

I give her a nod and a thank you squeeze before heading to my locker to get my things. Apparently, Tina has absolutely no body issues at all because blondie strips buck freaking naked before grabbing a towel, and heading straight to the stalls. With her gone, I open my locker and grab my bag. Changing in the shower cubicle? You bet I am, I’m a total chicken.

The shower area is pretty steamy and warm when I make my way inside. My heart is hammering a little as I try to quash the feeling that I don’t really belong here. I see women wearing only a towel but I also see a fair few that are going in clothed so I don’t feel too out of place.

I grab an empty cubicle and leave my bag by the small dry area with clothing hooks. The space isn’t huge but it’s clearly intended for people to change and shower. I strip down to my panties and step in to rinse off the sweat from my body. No, I’m not describing my shower, sod off. What kind of book do you think this is?

Once I’m done, I quickly change out of my soggy panties and into the spares I had in my bag. Here’s where the fun begins, the fun I wasn’t actually expecting to be able to pull off here at the gym.

The thing is, with my shrink appointment directly after I finish here, Dad is picking me up directly. I’d rather not go in boy clothes if I don’t have to, so I had planned to persuade him to let me change in a gas station bathroom or something once we left here. Not an enticing thought, and now not one I have to entertain now; thank god.

I slip into fresh underwear including a real bra and get dressed as quickly as I can. I brought a pair of black jeans, a white baby tee, and a slouchy oversized cable-knit cardigan in, even a little stylish. Better yet, it’s not an outfit the girls have seen me in, so they should be quite surprised!

The final step of my magical phonebooth transformation I had planned, was to deal with my hair. It was still a little sweaty from the gym and I had no real chance to wash it. What have I done since growing my hair out and not wanting to use communal showers? Ladies, Gentlemen and anyone in between; dry shampoo, it’s a heaven-sent miracle.

Spraying the magic through my hair, I finger-brush it into some semblance of non-sweat-crusted normality. Side benefit; this stuff gives me rather nice volume now I’m not tying it up in a ponytail. You might think this is a literary shortcut for a girl as new as me, but I’ve had long hair for years, so I’m no stranger to taking care of this mop. Mom always insisted that if I had it, iI should take care of it (Thanks Mom!)

Satisfied that my hair is reasonably clean and facing in the same direction, I pack my belongings back up and grab the purse I’d stuffed in my gym bag. With that, I exit back out into the shower room proper. The showers and the bathrooms are opposite each other by the entry to the locker room so I cross over without having to see the girls.

Feeling far more confident in my appearance now that I look like a normal girl, I set up in front of a spare sink and brush my hair. Once I’m done, I apply a little mascara, liner, and lipgloss. It’s not a lot, but It’s enough to make me feel fresh and put together. Plus I’m super slow at applying anything more at this point. I didn’t become a makeup artist overnight like all those other Trans protagonists!

The girl in the mirror is me; Holly Winters. I’m not going to win any beauty contests, but I feel like ten tons of lead have been lifted from my shoulders, and not Face this time! I grab my things and head back through to surprise the sisters. I will say, this is far more comfortable and pleasant than dodging rodents in a gas station bathroom!

With a final primp, I gather my courage and head back to the main locker rooms to find the others. I won’t lie, I’m still nervous about the women changing around me but I feel a bit more comfortable now that I know they will see another girl.

Kara, Meg, and Tina are finishing dressing when I arrive and drop my gym bag on the bench. “You guys ready?”

“Almost, we were waiting on you,” Tina shrugs. Meg and Kara? Both of them look like they just saw Jesus riding a unicycle and playing the bagpipes.

“What are you staring at?” I ask as casually as I can without smirking. “Something on my face?”

Poor Tina who isn’t in on the joke just shakes her head. “No, although your Gym kit sucks, I thought you were an incurable tomboy.”

“You should see her at school.” Kara chuckles, recovering her witts. “I swear some people think she’s a boy.”

If I was a lesser girl, I’d protest a joke like that but the little smile on her face when she says it affirms that it's a private joke said with love.

The girls finish collecting their belongings and we head out to the foyer. Not a single person screams or points at me walking with my friends. I realize just how potentially dangerous this whole thing is, but I don’t really know most of the other kids who chose to take this option this year, so I don’t care that much.

As we exit the lobby, I hear my cell phone ring.

“Yellow,”

“Holly? Where are you? I’m in the parking lot now,” Dad offers by way of answer.

I scan around and spot his car. “Oh yeah, I see you, coming now!” I hang up and point the car out to the girls. The look on his face when he spots us walking over is priceless.

“Dad Taxi all the time. huh?” Tina asks raising an eyebrow.

“Got an appointment or I’d be on the bus like a normie,” I sigh. “Hey Dad!” I call seeing him step out of the car.

“Hello…girls,” I see his face go through several expressions as his mind processes what he’s seeing. I’m pretty sure he expected to pick up me in boy drag, so I’m going to have some questions to answer.

“Hey Mister W,” Meg waves. “How’s it going?”

“Good, thank you, Megan, tell your dad hello from me. I would offer you a lift, but I’m taking this one to get her checked for a brain after the concussion last week. They’re still not sure she has one.”

“Daaaad,” I complain, suddenly pausing as I remember Christine doing exactly the same shit when she was younger. That makes me smile.

“Get in, child of mine, I’d rather not be late.”

“Yessir!” I mock salute.

I turn to the sisters and hug them both, “Cya later, I’ll call ok?”

“Sure thing,” Meg answers, “Love ya Hol.”

God, it’s so simple but it warms my heart.

I turn to Tina and offer her a little finger wave. I don’t quite know the etiquette for hugging new potential friends, she solves it by giving me a hug. “Nice to meet you, Holly. Hope you do end up transferring in, you seem cool.”

I give the girls a final wave before hopping in the car and tossing my bag in the back. Dad doesn’t say anything at first, not until we’re out on the main road. Once we’re heading back into the city, he gives me a good once over and raises an eyebrow. “I was under the impression you were attending school as a boy, darling.”

“I am,” I point out. “I brought this stuff with me to change when we were heading over here, I didn’t want to meet this shrink as Alex. In the end, I changed in the Gym before we left.”

Dad smells a rat and his eyes narrow. “Why and where did you change? Don’t think I didn’t notice that little blonde calling you Holly too.”

“Ah,” I admit, looking anywhere but at my father.

“Holly…”

“Look it wasn’t my fault ok?”

Dad grins in that parental exasperation way that all parents seem to acquire over time. “You tripped and fell and ended up in the girls' locker room?”

“Uh, actually yes, kinda.”

“Do tell.”

I proceed to explain my stupid moment and how my dumb ass ended up having to fit in with the other girls real fast.

“And you had no problems?” He asks, more concerned now than amused. “Nobody gave you any trouble?”

I shrug. “I mean, I’ve had more weird looks in the boys' locker rooms.”

Dad’s face does that weird thing again where he seems conflicted. “I’m sorry sweetheart. I didn’t mean that… It must be very difficult for you, all of this.”

“You could say that,” I chuckle. “Each moment I spend as Holly, it all gets so much easier though.”

“Was it really that bad?” he asks. There’s a tone to his voice I didn’t quite understand at the time. I later realized it was his own uncertainty as a father. He was afraid that he had done a bad job of raising me, that this was all his fault.

I shake my head, “No Dad, it wasn’t that bad. Well no, it was, but it wasn’t anything that you or Mom did. I had a happy childhood, if I’m honest, and it wasn’t bad at all. There were days I could forget how I felt and I almost felt happy. The truth is, this was inside me all along, gnawing at my soul from the very start.”

Dad looks relieved, “I’m sorry honey, I am.”

I squeeze my Dad’s arm and give him a smile of thanks. “You don’t need to be, I love you, Dad.”

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Fake It Till You Make It - 16 - Shrunken Treasure.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Sixteen - Shrunken Treasure.

We arrived at the psychiatrist’s office after about thirty minutes of Dad’s lead-footed driving. That man would have been a stock car driver in another life, I swear. The office was located on the far side of the city from our house and was in a fairly upmarket part of town. Clearly, head shrinking paid well enough for the nice digs, but did that make it any good for me?

Dad pulled the car into a parking spot and shut off the engine before turning to face me, “are you ready for this kiddo?”

“I am a little scared. I mean she’s not going to stop me being me, right?”

Dad shakes his head. “No, she isn’t. I… ah, look.” he shifts awkwardly. “You should know before we go in, well… your mother and I, we’ve already met with her a few times.”

“When?”

“Uh, July.”

“JULY?!”

Dad holds his hands up in surrender, “Holly, look… This was back when we first really realized you were probably struggling with a gender issue and we needed to work out what to do to help. Doctor Ward is a great Psychiatrist and she knows quite a bit about you already. She helped us realize that you had to come to us about this and that it was something real and likely permanent that wouldn’t go away.”

“I feel a tiny bit betrayed,” I admit with a huff, “but I suppose I do get it.”

Dad squeezes my hand and gives me a little smile. “She helped us to mourn our son and helped prepare us to welcome our daughter.”

“Mourn?”

He nods, “We were quite fond of him, our little boy. The truth she helped us to realize is that he never really existed did he? We loved what we thought he was. She helped us to understand that and know that you were still you, but we just hadn’t known it.”

“Profound,” I admit.

“Come on kid, let's get in there eh?”

Summoning my courage, I follow Dad into the lobby up to the front desk. To my relief, there’s nobody else waiting when we arrive, but I still feel like I’m being invisibly judged for my mere presence. The receptionist looks up as we approach and smiles like they all do. It says ‘I’m being paid to like you.’

“Hello there! Do you have an appointment?” she beams in corporate.

“Michael Winters and Holly to see Doctor Ward?”

The woman looks down and types something on her computer before smiling at us again. “Ah, yes, here we are! Take a seat and I’ll let her know you’re here! She wants you to fill this out for Holly please.” She adds handing Dad a clipboard and pen.

We find seats and Dad starts filling out the aforementioned forms.

“What is it?” I ask, glancing over at the official-looking paperwork.

“Nothing interesting,” he mumbles, focused on the form. “Medical history and school details, probably favorite food. Most importantly insurance details.”

I rapidly lose interest like any teenager and start looking around the room. I’ve never been to a psychiatrist before so it’s quite interesting in a morbid way. I suppose in reality it’s like a lot of private medical practices; comforting and neutral. Magazines are lined up on a coffee table but I’m not quite in the mood to read this first time. Behind it all, there’s classical music playing softly in the background to sooth our troubled noggins.

“Holly Winters?” A woman’s voice asks, dragging me from my distracted visual exploration.

I glance over and spot an older woman, perhaps Mom’s age, looking at me expectantly. She’s got her brunette hair up in a neat bun and a pair of tortoiseshell glasses perched on the end of her nose. She’s pretty slim and dressed smartly in a cream blouse and slacks.

“That’s me,” I admit, standing up and smoothing my clothes. “Um, hello.”

She smiles at me and turns to the paternal unit. “I’d like to speak to Holly on her own first, Mister Winters, is that ok?”

“Sure thing. I’ll be out here Holly, ok?” Dad offers, squeezing my hand. “You got this, Honey.”

“I hope so,” I grimace a little more nervously than I expect.

Standing up, I follow the good Doctor through into her office. It’s tastefully decorated in a reserved beige pallet that won’t offend any senses. It feels a little like my school counselor’s office with a far bigger budget. There’s the obligatory sofas and chairs and a large desk over by one wall. Doctor Ward walks over to an armchair and directs me to the sofa at an angle to it. “If you’d like to take a seat, Holly, I promise not to bite, ok dear?”

“I’m a little stringy and lack flavor,” I admit, taking my spot on the sofa as demurely as possible.

The Psychiatrist smirks slightly at my remark but remains professional. “I’m Doctor Carol Ward, I think your parents told you that I specialize in Gender issues, correct?”

I give her a nod, not really sure if she expects an answer.

She smiles. “So, you can call me Carol, or Doctor Ward, whichever is more comfortable for you. I assume you’re ok with me using Holly?”

“Well, it is my name,” I shrug.”

Ward Smiles. “did you choose it yourself or was it one your parents selected?”

“I remember Mom saying years ago that it might have been my name if I’d been born a girl. I kinda latched onto it and it became my real name.”

Doctor Ward nods and writes something on her pad. “I must say, Holly, you’re quite an unusual and interesting case for me. I normally meet people in your situation a little later in life and often a lot earlier in their transition.”

“Ah… yeah, I kinda cheated,” I admit with a sheepish smile.

Doctor Ward nods and smiles. “Certainly not a safe or ideal path, but I believe I understand why you did it. I must admit, few are in your position to have both the knowledge and resourcefulness to go about this as you have. Honestly, I’m rather impressed at your accomplishments so far. Based on what your Mother passed on regarding dosages, you were actually pretty much spot on.”

“Daughter of a doctor, I guess it’s genetic,” I admit a little less nervous now I know I’m not going to get yelled at or punished for self-medicating.

“I want you to know that I know how dangerous doing this was, I really do. I had no choice; I was desperate and at my wit’s end. All I had left was to do this and prevent puberty or… face worse options.”

“Did you consider talking to your parents?” Ward queries.

I shook my head, “I was terrified that they’d send me to military school or conversion therapy.”

Doctor Ward nods and smiles sympathetically. “Did they give you the impression that they would?”

I truly feel a wave of deep regret at that moment and sigh. “No, never. Honestly, I read about so many horror stories for kids coming out. There are so many stories about people’s lives falling apart and rejection; I truly believed it was going to happen to me. My plan was to stop puberty and make it to college where I could have somewhere safe to live then come out and hope it went ok.”

I smirk at the comedy of the situation. “Turns out that a bunch of older trans folk telling me how long it would take to change me were completely wrong. I got the impression that I could hide the changes well enough for a few years,” I chuckle.

Doctor Ward genuinely smiles at this. “Yes, for our average patient in their forties, that would be true. For you dear, the changes are far more rapid and extensive.”

“So I discovered,” I smile. “I’m not exactly sad.”

“From what your mother said, you came out to her about a week ago, after an incident at school I believe?”

I proceed to fill Doctor Ward in on the adventures of the prior week. You don’t need me to recount the dialogue covering my grand bonkening and the subsequent hospital theatrics, do you? Of course not. She listens in silence while I recount most of last week in great detail. There is but one thing I omit, and I think you can guess which wide receiver that is.

“So… yeah that’s up until now,” I offer awkwardly.

Ward nods and scribbles something on her pad. I’m pretty convinced they do that for effect, even more now that I know most record their sessions to dictate later. Once she’s done, she looks up at me and smiles. “Quite an adventure so far Holly.”

“Uh, yeah, I suppose.” I shrug. “It’s not how I would have done it.”

Doctor Ward smiles and puts down her notepad. “Tell me, Holly, Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you feel the need to take these steps?”

I pause for a moment, allowing myself a second to compose my thoughts. I don’t particularly want to mention self-forever sleep… that usually upsets Psychiatrists.

“The idea of becoming like my brother was terrifying to me,” I begin, making direct eye contact with the woman across from me. “The idea of getting bigger and growing muscles and hair and a deep voice felt utterly alien and terrifying.”

“And why is that? Are you sure that isn’t a normal response to puberty? That it might be a fear of the unknown?”

I shook my head and took a second to collect my thoughts before answering her. I’m no shrink, and even I know this is one of those ‘define yourself’ moments. “Doctor Ward, what do you see before you?”

Ward raises an eyebrow, “From my perspective, I can see what appears to be a quite pretty young woman.”

I nod, “That is what I am and that is what I’ve always been. For as long as I can remember, it’s the central truth of my existence. I’m not a boy like Rob. Don’t get me wrong; I love my brother, he’s a wonderful person but we are not the same. My sister Christine, my mother; I am like them.”

“What are they like?” Ward asks finding a thread to pull at.

I consider the question, “female.”

“What is female?” Ward asks, the slightest hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Is it the clothes? The makeup? Liking boys?”

I shake my head. “A woman or a girl isn’t defined by what she wears or how she acts. I know girls that are tomboys and others that are fashion princesses. They’re wildly different but they’re all girls. There’s something intrinsically different about us at a core level that separates us from boys and men. Maybe a lot of it is how girls are raised, but I know that I share far more in common with my sister, my Mom or my female friends. I share far more than I do with any guy, even Rob and my Dad. I can’t exactly explain why, but at my core, I know that I’m meant to have breasts and a vagina, to grow up to fall in love and be a wife, to be… hopefully one day, a Mom.”

“You do know that you’ll never be able to be a mother, biologically, right?” Ward asks gently.

“I know,” I nod sadly. “That thought saddens me, but it doesn’t cheapen my value as a woman or a mom. I want it all the same. To me, womanhood is something intangible; I have no idea what it means yet, but I want to learn. My friends at school, they’re not women yet either, we’re just girls. I just know above all else that I am so much more like them than any boy. Being this way feels correct.”

Ward smiled politely and began scribbling in her notebook. A few moments later, she looked up and fixed me with a pleasant gaze. “You’d be surprised how many transgender patients have come before me and told me that womanhood is x, or womanhood is y, young and old, we all have our ideas. If we’re to believe the religions sort, a woman is no more than a uterus on legs.” she chuckled briefly seeing the look of revulsion on my face.

“The truth is, Holly, that even I, born a girl, can’t tell you what a woman is. However, like you, at my core, I know that it is exactly what I am. My questions are not a test and there is no way to pass or fail this, short of comorbid psychiatric issues. I simply wanted to understand your mentality and approach to understanding your identity, do you understand?”

“You need to know if I’m thinking clearly or if it’s just a temporary fad or interest, perhaps an escape.”

Doctor Ward nodded slightly, “I do not believe that is the case here. Naturally, I cannot make a full diagnosis from only one appointment, but I don’t believe that there is anything wrong with you. From what I can see, you are a textbook case of Gender Identity Disorder presenting with… well, having experienced gender dysphoria. Do you know what those mean?”

“That I felt my body was incongruous with my internal identity or sense of self and that I wanted to correct it through endocrinological and surgical means.”

Ward smiles, “You really are a doctor’s daughter. That honestly makes my life a lot easier, you clearly have done your research. How did you go about that?”

“School textbooks on psychology, the internet, a lot of confusion and missteps,” I admit. “I have always known how I felt but I didn’t know what to call it.”

“That’s a common sentiment,” she agrees, “and when you knew what it meant?”

I consider the question for a moment, “For a long time, I was under the impression that I would wait, that I would have to wait. I read so many stories about how badly coming out went for young people; and the terrible outcomes. I knew I’d have to hide it until I got to college so that I had somewhere safe to stay. It turns out that my stupid paranoid brain convinced me that it wouldn’t ever turn out like… well, this.”

“What do you foresee happening now?”

“I’d like to start living as Holly if I can,” I reply hopefully. “That would be nice, I know I’ll have to stay as Alex for some time, but I’d prefer not to.”

“What about school? Your parents said you’re meeting the principal at your school’s Girl’s Division, would you want to go there?”

“I have friends there so, I’d like to, I think.”

Doctor Ward nods, “Your mother mentioned two sisters that you are friendly with, correct?”

“Kara and Megan Byrne, yes. We’ve been friends since, uh, fifth grade? I was in School with Gary their brother and we all kinda got closer.”

“They know about Holly?”

“Megan and Kara yes, their brother no.”

“If you went to this school, your past would be known, is that something you’d be willing to experience?”

“I guess, as long as nobody is bad about it,” I admit. “I’m not ashamed of myself, but I’d prefer to be treated like a normal girl.”

“What about a different school where your past isn’t known?”

I consider the idea for a minute. “Sure, but I don’t know enough about being a girl yet. I would be too scared of being found out. At least this way I have my friends.”

Ward nods and makes a note. “A pragmatic approach and while I cannot speak beyond this session, I cannot see anything but a lovely young woman in front of me. Trust me, Holly, none of us know enough about being a girl at age sixteen; some of us just think we do.”

I nod, “I’ve learned so much from them already, but I know it’s only a tiny slice of the knowledge that Christine or my Mom have,. Life skills, experiences, and knowledge that I will need to make my way in the world.”

Ward frowned a little at my comment and looked almost sympathetic. “How did you become so pragmatic for one so young?”

“I didn’t exactly get a choice,” I smile. “I had to fix myself, nobody else would do it for me. I live in a world where people think I’m insane or a deviant for being born this way. Where people want to kick my ass for finding me attractive or if I express interest in aaaa….”

“In a… what?” Ward asked, perking up.

“Nothing.”

“That wasn’t nothing, Holly.”

Shit, she has me here.

“Fine,” I concede. “Interest in a boy.”

“Do you find boys attractive?”

Eh, in for a cent, in for a dollar, “I wasn’t into anyone at first. I was quite happily moving through the world really only thinking about myself. Once I began hormones, I, uh, well. I discovered that I found boys not entirely awful.”

The image of those two boys on that family vacation flashes through my head and I’m convinced that I turn fire truck red. The image slowly changes to Rick in board shorts dripping water and I’m pretty positive I start steaming like a kettle.

“I have a teenage daughter,” Ward points out, putting down her notepad and smiling like a shark. “It takes a mother, not a psychiatrist to know that your blushing means there is one particular boy, right?”

Fuck this woman, she’s far too good.

“Maybe,” I concede. Do I really need to tell her about Rick? This is a stinking huge issue that I have no idea how to resolve. What do I even do?

“I suppose there is one boy in particular that I kind of like,” I admit sheepishly. “He doesn’t know about me, technically.”

“Why do you say technically?” Ward asks, ceasing on the bone presented to her. “Do you think he suspects?”

“I don’t think he’s directly aware, but yes.” I begin. “At first, a friend told me that he was treating me like a girl rather than a boy. Over time I had come to see it too; I noticed the behaviors and his responses to me. We don’t think that he was aware that he was doing that.”

“We?”

“Meg, Kara, and Me.”

“Friends are very important to helping to give us emotional clarity,” the doctor nods. “Do you share things like this with your girlfriends often?”

“All the time,” I admit. “We share everything.”

“What do they think of this boy?”

“That my feelings are natural and normal. While I can’t exactly do anything about it, I should allow myself to be friends with him and just not worry about anything else.”

Ward nods, “That’s a mature approach. Do you think he suspects?”

I consider it. “I don’t think he does, but I think he’s confused by his attraction and behavior towards me. I think he genuinely wants to be my friend, but he’s not sure why he feels a certain way around me. I’m afraid that I’m confusing him.”

Carol Ward smiles sympathetically, “That’s probably true Holly, but it’s not your fault either. You do need to be careful though. More than one girl in your shoes has gotten herself hurt.”

“I’m more than aware,” I sigh. “More than aware.”

Doctor Ward glances at the clock and smiles. “We’ve made some good progress today. I’d like to bring Dad in before we wrap up, is that ok?”

“Sure,” I shrug. “Can we keep the boy stuff between us for now? I’d rather my parents got used to having a daughter without worrying about… you know, boy stuff yet.”

“Everything we discuss is between us, fear not,” Ward smiles.

A few moments later, she returns with Dad in tow and he takes a seat beside me on the sofa. “How did it go?” He asked casually. “Head feeling shrunk yet?”

“Like a South American cannibal totem,” I snarked back, almost causing Doctor Ward to spit out the water she was sipping at the time.

“Well Mister Winters, as you can see, Holly is in fine wit, undiminished by our time together.”

Dad eyed me and grinned, “that has never been a problem for my daughter.”

Damnit Daddy, I never tire of hearing that.

Ward closed her notebook and placed it on her lap as she faced us. “ As I mentioned previously, I am not fully prepared to give a formal diagnosis yet, not after only one session. When it comes to diagnosis of this type, especially for one at such a formative young age, it is imperative that we get it right.” she smiled and paused, holding her hands up towards me as she sensed my desire to comment.

“That is how we must proceed formally,” she admits. “It is the pathway to satisfy the system as it currently stands. Off the record, it’s more than plainly obvious to me that I’m sitting here talking to a delightful young lady who fully knows her mind and herself. Mister Winters, you and your wife have certainly set realistic and strong standards of modern womanhood for her to learn from, even if you didn’t know she was learning it from you.”

Dad glanced over and I sensed a pride within him in that moment that I’d never actually felt before. “Veronica, my wife, is my equal partner and in many ways, my intellectual superior. She and Christine are beautiful amazing smart women that I am incredibly proud to know. Holly takes after them and she couldn’t have finer role models.”

“That I can see,” Doctor Ward smiles. “I know you wanted to have something formal to present to your school this weekend. While I cannot formally diagnose her as Gender Dysphoric, I can provide a letter explaining that it’s extremely likely this will be my diagnosis and that she is under my treatment. Especially considering her… circumstances.”

She glanced over at me and smiled as she shook her head. “Holly here has put the cart before the horse in many ways. With starting hormone therapy before a diagnosis we miss a lot of the paperwork that would precede changing schools. I would like to send a letter to your family doctor to get bloodwork done and refer her on to an endocrinologist. Typically this is after a diagnosis, but I want her to be on safe and controlled hormone therapy.”

“We can make sure she gets that done Doctor,” Dad agrees. “And I would love to have something to give to the school, even if it’s preliminary.”

Ward nods, “I think that would be best. I do believe in this case her remaining with boys may well be harmful to her safety given her physical development. It’s exceedingly obvious that she would be far better served in an environment with other girls.”

“Does that mean I can transfer to the Girls Division?” I ask hopefully.

Dad pats my knee and shakes his head. “I don’t know Holly, but we’ll find out when we see the Principal on Friday. Regardless of that, you won’t be remaining with the boys for much longer.”

“Thank god, boys stink.” I grimace theatrically.

Dad rolls his eyes. “Definitely her mother’s daughter.”

* * *

We got home from the shrink a little after six that evening. In her infinite wisdom, Mother Dearest had ordered pizza from Al Dente’s, which was my ultimate comfort food. Nothing quite gets you over the emotional trauma of sharing your innermost feelings with a total stranger like double cheese and double pepperoni.

Doctor Ward had been an interesting experience. I had always known therapy would be a part of my transition, but it wasn’t one I was prepared to face. A little part of me had always feared being told I was crazy, and that this was all in my head, but I think the rather, unexpected, nature of my coming out had somewhat overrun me. I hadn’t had time to build up the panic and fear I might ordinarily have manifested when faced with someone holding my future in her hands.

Ward had been a kind woman, and one clearly very knowledgeable in the subject at hand. Was I a little salty that my parents had been seeing her since July? Hell, what if I had come out sooner? I might not have even had to go to school with the boys at all.

I was glad that they had someone to talk to, and in a way, I couldn’t fault them for it. This was a lot for me to process, and I had years to come to terms with my nature. For them, this was sudden and terrifying, I couldn’t begrudge them the help, but I was miffed we had all known but kept it from each other for so very long.

As I sat crosslegged on the sofa, munching a slice of gooey cheesy goodness, I felt contentment for the very first time in my life. Here I was, home with my family as Holly, their daughter, and sister. I was free of secrets, free of pain, and I could simply exist. Sure, I wasn’t finished, and I was still to face so many challenges in my life, but for the first time, I was pretty sure I could do it.

I'm not sure if Pizza or therapy helped more with that realization, but they both played their part. I highly encourage anyone with similar troubles to consult both liberally; you can’t be too careful.

Modern-day Holly again, I know I joke a lot and make fun of my situation, but I want you to understand that this is in hindsight. At the time, teenage Holly was fearful and uncertain and just barely coping with her situation. Honestly, for many years it wasn’t remotely funny. Looking back now at the past, I can see all of the perverse and twisted comedy of my experiences.

They made me the woman I am today. If you asked me then if I could flip a switch and be born female like my sister, I would have said yes. If you asked that same question now, I would say no. Not because I want to be transgender, but rather, because of what happened and how made me the woman I am today. That lost and confused kid became a far happier person. She found love and she found her calling in life. She still loves Double pepperoni and Double cheese Pizza, and she still relies on coffee to function. She is not perfect, but she’s living her life.

The most important part is she can now look back on this dumpster fire of her teenage years without it hurting. I challenge you to look at gender transition objectively, and not see the potential for comedy it holds. Awkward gender-related faux pas, moments of confusion, and the potential for silliness it holds are unlimited.

You’ve all read the stories and enjoyed the sweet and silly moments, but nothing is quite like living it. Especially when you make such a royal mess of it like I did. Yeah, at the time it’s mortifying, but afterward? That sitcom laugh track feels awkwardly appropriate.

* * *

A little later that evening, I was sitting in my room finishing my homework. With today being a day of introspection and reflection, I can’t really put off calling Chrissie now, can I? Mom and Dad told me that this had to come from me and I won’t lie, I’m a little apprehensive. Not a great deal admittedly, I’ve got a big fight over with; my parents. Christina was the one who I always hoped and expected would take this the best; here goes nothing I suppose.

I pull out my cell phone and search through the phonebook for her number and hit dial before I can back out of it. The phone rings for what feels like an eternity before I hear it answered.

“Hey Alex, sup?” Chrissie seems like she’s in a good mood and there’s music playing in the background.

“Hey uh, sis. How are you?”

“I’m good, but you don’t usually call out of the blue, what’s up?”

“Got time to talk?”

“Uh, sure, what’s going on?” I hear the music shut off and her tone becomes a little more serious. I guess I can’t chicken out now, it’s been a week since the folks found out, she’s the last to know… and she deserves to know.

“Um, Chrissie, I really need to tell you something important, but I need you to hear me out ok? I’d love to tell you this in person, but with stuff happening recently, I really can’t wait for that to happen. You.. uh, you deserve to know now.”

“Is this about the thing at school?” she asks. “It’s not something affecting you medically is it?”

“No, no it’s not,” I admit. I swallow the biggest lump in my throat ever and continue. “It’s connected, I guess. What happened last week brought something out into the open, something about who I am. It’s made me confront things that I was trying to keep hidden.”

There’s a pause, and then she speaks. ”Like what?”

“Do you know what transgender means?”

There’s an even longer pause and it feels like torture, “Chrissie?”

“I know what it means, Alex,” she replies evenly. “Why?”

Gulp.

“I’m trans, Chrissie; I’m a girl…I should be… I mean I’m… yeah.”

Eloquent as always Holly dearest, eloquent as always.

There’s a pause on the line for a moment and I can hear the sound of Chrissie breathing, “I understand, thank you for telling me, Alex.”

“You do?”

There’s a soft chuckle on the other end of the line, “I think I’ve been expecting this conversation for a while.”

“Am I that obvious?”

“I was talking to Mom this summer;” she admits. “You had changed a lot and you had started to look really girly. I guess it kinda hit me in the face that you were never really much of a boyish boy. Somehow you didn’t look effeminate, just…feminine.”

“It turns out that I was the only one I was fooling,” I sigh.

“So, you want to be a girl? I was doing some research once I got to school, learning what it all means.”

“Inside Chrissie, I’ve always been one; just like you and Mom. I never felt like Rob or Dad. Those changes you saw this summer were female hormones. This is who I want to be forever, the real me.”

Chrissie whistles, “That’s deep Alex, like forever deep. From what I read, this path is a one-way trip, realistically.”

“I know, and It’s the only direction I have to go, my heart is set, sis. Mom, Dad, and Rob all know. They found out in the wake of my attack. I don’t know how much Mom told you.”

“That you got your bell rung pretty bad. Admitted to hospital, concussion?”

“Yeah, well, I don’t look much like a boy anymore. The doctors, they assumed I was a girl and… things got complicated.”

“Sounds like you Alex, making a real mess of things.”

“You’re not mad with me?”

“No, I’m not mad,” Chrissie chuckles softly. “Like I said, I’ve been kinda expecting this, but you sure as shit made a hash of things…sister?”

I’m pretty sure my life was complete at that moment. My whole family accepts me as Holly. My big sister called me her sister; boom done.

“I love you, Chrissie.”

“I love you too, A…I don’t suppose you’re going to keep Alex are you?”

“Holly Juliette, it’s what Mom and Dad were going to call me if I’d been born right.”

“That’s nice,” she answers quietly. I can tell she’s smiling, as strange as it sounds. “My sister Holly; hmm; that has a nice ring to it.”

“That feels so good to hear you say,” I murmur softly. “Thank you Chissie.”

“What are you going to do about school? I assume you’re not staying with the boys, right?”

“No, we’re seeing the Girls' Principal on Friday, I hope I can transfer to finish up my time.”

“Ol’ Carlos isn’t too bad.” Chrissie opines. “She’s got a bit of a grumpy stuffy veneer but she’s a good woman deep down.”

“I hope so, I’m rather scared.”

“Be yourself, kid, be yourself. If you’re anything like me or Mom, you’ll kick butt, I know it.”

“I’ve been accused of being a lot like Mom.”

“Crap at keeping secrets, puts everyone else before herself, and irritatingly perky? God, please don’t become a cheerleader.”

“Trust me Chrissie, there’s zero risk of that. I consider the whole enterprise demeaning.”

“Good,” My sister chuckled, “test passed little sister.”

“I can’t wait to see you again,” I sniffle, feeling more than a little emotional by this point. “When are you home?”

“Hopefully Thanksgiving. I guess I know why Mom rang to tell me she and Dad had stumped up for plane tickets this week huh?”

“I can’t wait, I’ve really missed you, Chrissie.”

“You too A… Holly, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I admit. “It’s still new; I don’t expect anyone to be perfect. Plus I still gotta use that name for like… however long I have to pretend to be a boy.”

“Is that how it feels?” she asks, “like you’re pretending?”

“School is the only place Alex exists anymore,” I admit with a sigh of relief. “After it all came out, well… so did I. Outside of there, I’m just me, I’m just Holly now. Being Alex is pretending for me, it always has been. Now it’s just a bit more literal. I get up, I bind my boobs, hide my hair and slouch then go to school.”

“You poor thing,” Christine sighs. “I can’t wait to meet you properly soon.”

“I hate to do this kiddo, but I’ve got to get back to work on this project or my professor will have my ass, I’ll call home soon ok? Tell me how Friday goes, alright?”

“I will, and thanks Chrissie. Thanks for listening.”

“I got you, Holly, ok? I love you, sis.”

She hangs up and the tears start almost immediately. It’s not sadness, rather, it’s happiness mixed with relief. That, and a healthy dose of Estrogen thrown in for good measure. Now, other than school, I am now out to my entire family and they accept me for who I really am.

My greatest fear is dead; I won’t be shipped off to be cured and I get to be the real me. Sure the details are still a little fuzzy, but it’s going to happen. Being free is an emotionally violent feeling.

My sister called me Sis, my mother has called me her daughter, Rob, and Dad both love me… Maybe there is light at the end of this tunnel?

I think I might buy a lotto ticket.

Shit, I’m not Eighteen yet... Why me?

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Fake It Till You Make It - 17 - The Politics Of Me.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Seventeen - The Politics Of Me.

Thursday started out totally and utterly normal if that’s even possibly a thing I can manage. I really can’t think of much to write about waking up, dressing for school, or going through the business of my ever-so-enthralling education. Let’s just assume that it went like previously described mornings. I faked Alex, and most people believed it to varying extents.

My trip to see the good doctor the night before was still at the forefront of my mind. While I knew who I was and always had, it was highly validating to be told ‘you’re not insane.’ by a medical professional. To have Mom and Dad know that their child had something she was dealing with and that it could be cured; by transitioning. It made my traumatic journey finally feel like it had a direction.

Some people feel as though being trans is enough, and that’s ok. I will admit, for myself at this time in the world, it really wasn’t. In the early 2000s, it was still super unknown and really misunderstood. Having a doctor tell me that it was real and that my entire childhood’s worth of frustration and pain was real and valid felt like breaking through thick clouds into the sunlight.

Was I expecting to get thrown on an operating table tomorrow and be in the girls’ school by Monday? No, that would be highly unrealistic, even for trans-fiction. I was already well aware that I’d have to wait till I was eighteen for any form of surgery and scholastically, the chances of them transferring me mid-term was quite low. Would I make Christmas? I didn’t like the idea, but it was most practical if I was honest. With my life at home my own, I was pretty positive that I’d make it in one piece, at least psychologically.

“Hey, Alex,” Rick called cheerfully as we made our way into the dining hall for lunch. “How’s it going?”

His hair looks so good today; I want to run my hands through it and… bad Holly, no. “I’m good,” I smile neutrally. “you?”

The big puppy dog grins like an idiot as he falls in alongside me. “Yeah, awesome. Still down for this weekend?”

It takes me a second to remember, it’s been a busy few days for me. “Oh, The movie? Yeah, I’m down; I can’t wait! Remember though, no horses, okay?”

“Oh yeah,” he grins, remembering our misadventure. “No horses this time, I promise.”

“No horses where?” Carson chips in as we take our places at the table.

“Oh, I was promising Alex that there would be no riding this weekend. Last time he was over he ended up in a creek.”

“I keep forgetting you’re a damn cowboy, Taylor,” the quarterback smirked. “What you guys doin’?”

“My sis got me this new movie release from Japan, we were gonna chill and watch it and play video games.”

“Bro, you still watching that Anime stuff?” Carson chuckled. “You’re such a nerd.”

“I like it, ok?” Rick replies not taking his friend’s words as insulting. “Your dumbass watches ancient reruns of fifties sitcoms, I don’t wanna hear it.”

Is this what it’s like when the cool kids defend watching Anime? Holy crap, perhaps it’s not fatal nardism after all.

The conversation continues while we serve out today’s offering to the baying hoard of Sophomores and Freshies. It’s so strange to feel genuinely included now, here at lunch. No longer is it something I suffer for the sake of fuel, but a genuinely enjoyable relaxing time of day. Carson and Rick include me in their conversations and others talk freely. Even the Sophomores who are capable of stringing a few words together around their food don’t feel the need to play up to Count Von Dickstain anymore. I don’t blame them; boys are impressionable.

It’s honestly a shame that I’ll leave this school soon. I know this is not where I belong, but it hasn’t been entirely awful. Ironically, it’s this semester that has made it the most pleasant and tolerable. I suspect a large portion of it is perception and perspective. Now that most people, hell, even the school know about me, I don’t feel anywhere near as afraid.

“You coming to the game tomorrow?” Rick asks as we’re walking back to the common room.

“I shou…. Oh, no I can’t, I’ve got a doctor’s appointment,” I fib professionally. Tomorrow about an hour before the game, I have my meeting with the Girl’s Division principal. The chances of me making it home, becoming Alex, and returning to the game? Impossible, as much as I love seeing Rob play.

“You got a Doctor’s appointment that late on a Friday? Damn, that sucks. You’re are alright aren’t you?”

“They just want to make sure I’m good after the concussion. Checkup stuff, and hospitals don’t live on normal hours I guess.” I shrug dismissively. I do detest lying, but it’s necessary here.

Rick nods his understanding as we enter the common room. “Still, it would have been cool to see you there. It’s inspiring to go out there knowing you got someone cheering for you.”

“Excuse me? I cheer for Rob, Buster.”

Rick shrugs, “Hey, it’s in the friendship contract that you gotta cheer for me too at games, you signed it.”

“Nah dude, you got this backwards.” Rob appears beside us throwing his arm around Rick’s shoulder. “Spike only cheers for the D line, not you glory boys."

Their fighting for my affection is… really surreal. “I’m going to start cheering on the opposition if you both don’t quit it already.”

“It’s gonna be weird is all, you not being there,” Rick shrugs.

“Oh, the dentist thing?” Rob asks, throwing his considerable size onto one of the poor tortured sofas.

Rick turns to me and frowns. “I thought you said, Doctor Alex?”

Panic, think fast… “Uh yeah, tooth doctor.”

“Tooth Doctor?”

“I mean… I guess. They are doctors after all?”

Rick looks at me like I’m crazy. “Are you feeling ok?”

I make a face, “I don’t think I am.”

* * *

I got back home on Friday afternoon after a generally worry-free day. I had survived all the pep rally nonsense and not a single gender-related shenanigan had occurred; magical, I know. Now, I found myself sitting on my bed trying to work out what to wear to one of the most important meetings of my young life.

“Nah, not the jeans, it has to be a skirt.”

Kara shook her head emphatically. “Pants, we need to show she’s a normal girl, not a stereotype.”

“She is here.” I sighed, rolling my eyes as my two best friends fought over my outfit.

Honestly, I’m still working out what I like to wear and I did the only sensible thing I could do; I called my BFFs. I’ve no shame in admitting I don’t really know how to girl what well yet. I might be female, but this kinda stuff is learned and not some innate built-in ability.

Meg rummages in my wardrobe and pulls out a white blouse, black vest, and a matching pleated skirt. “This; it’s simple, clean, and stylish. It shows who she is while being reserved. We couple it with some light makeup and leave her hair down and straight but pulled back from her face. It’s going to give ‘young, feminine with a side of virginal innocence.’ Hard to really call her a boy.”

“They’ll still think it,” I admit sadly.

“Not a chance,” Kara refutes adamantly. “Not a single person that actually meets you will think you’re a boy. Anyway, we’re coming with.”

“You are?”

“Yup,” Meg agrees. “We spoke to your Mom last night; we’re both coming along for moral support and to speak on your behalf.”

My heart melts at their support. “You didn’t have to do that, but I love you guys.”

Que the photo moment as we all have a good soppy cuddle. I’m not kidding, I love these girls. They have become the most important people to me in the world besides my family. Ever since they found out about me, they’ve treated me as an equal and a friend; for a depressed loner, it’s a wonderful feeling.

I change into the clothes that Megan had picked out. She’s always been the fashion-conscious sister and I trust her advice without question. I will admit, it feels a tiny bit preppy, but the girl looking back at me in the mirror looks like she would belong at our school. It’s almost a cross between our uniform and a country club day out.

Once I’m dressed, Meg brushes out my hair and clips it back behind my ears while Kara goes to start working on my face. We’re not going nuts; a little gloss, a little mascara, a tiny bit of powder to just take the shine off my skin and we’re done. Our goal is to hit school appropriately; show I fit with the other girls and that I can meet the uniform standards and not cause any trouble. Me? Cause trouble? I would never do anything of the sort.

When we’re done, the girl staring back at me in the mirror is undeniably that; a teenage girl. She looks ready to kick preppy butt, but she is, in fact, me. It’s not what most girls would wear to class day to day, but it might be what a conservative fuddy Principal will prefer.

The girls take off home to get changed into something schoolworthy themselves; shorts and camisoles aren’t likely to be suitable for the trip, out of school hours or not.

I’m in the kitchen getting myself a soda when Dad comes in the front door.

“Hey Dad, drink?”

The paternal unit stops in the doorway and just stares at me, a strange look on his face, “You look beautiful Holly.”

I walk over and hug him, “Thanks Dad, that means more than you can possibly imagine.”

He strokes my hair and lifts my face towards his. “You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

I consider the question before nodding slowly, “Yes, I suppose. I think a part of me would love to make it simple and go someplace where nobody knows me, but I think I have to face this head-on. I’ll be able to learn and make mistakes here, I can be myself and not have to hide all over again. I have Meg and Kara and I have Rob. I don’t want to throw that away.”

“That’s very mature of you Honey,” Dad admits, leaning back against the counter. “Both your Mom and I agree this would be the best situation for you. Tough? Sure, but it will be the best in the long run. It will set you up for college.”

“I’ll need to get past this meeting first.”

Dad winks. “You go this darling. I have absolutely no doubt that you’re going to knock ‘em dead.”

* * *

Arriving at school after hours is always a slightly surreal experience for any kid. Now try arriving at the girls' school, presenting to all the world as a girl, and accompanied by your parents; yeah, it’s some real twilight zone shit for a transgender person, I can tell you.

The distance from the visitor’s parking lot in the central quad was thankfully rather short. I’m not lazy, but with there being a home game tonight, I was quite nervous about running into someone I knew. The last thing I needed was all of this blowing up and out of my control.

With Meg and Kara in tow, we signed in at the front office and were permitted entry into the building. Being essentially a mirror of the Boys’ Division, I wasn’t entirely surprised to find the Principal’s office up the main staircase and on the south wing. Once the receptionist had deposited us in her waiting room, we were left to our devices.

“Feels weird being back after school,” Meg muttered. “I usually try to avoid the Principal’s attention.”

“Usually being the operative word,” Kara snickered. “It wouldn’t be your first time.”

The outer door opened and a tall Hispanic woman entered, wearing a beautiful charcoal skirt suit. She was in her early fifties by all reports, although her caramel skin appeared far more youthful than her age. Her dark, wavy hair was pulled back into an elegant Chignon behind her head. Spotting our group, she smiled warmly, although her lip quirked as she spotted Megan.

“I don’t believe we have a scheduled disciplinary for you today, Miss Byrne.”

“No Ma’am, not this time. We’re here for Holly.”

The woman’s eyebrows rose as she turned in my direction. Ah, Miss Winters.”

Gulp.

My Mother stood and offered her hand to the Principal, “Veronica Winters, Principal Carlos. My husband and I greatly appreciate you taking the time to see us this evening.”

The Principal took her hand and smiled. “These are most unusual circumstances, Mrs Winters, but I’m looking forward to speaking with you this evening. My colleague across the way has filled me in on a great many of the pertinent details.”

“Given the circumstances around that conversation, you can understand our desire to ensure our daughter’s safety.”

The Principal nodded and glanced across at me briefly. “Certainly, although I would love to speak with you both first on your own. Once we have covered some groundwork, perhaps Holly can join us?”

Ah, excluded from the adult table, deep joy.

Without further pleasantries, Mom, Dad, and the Principal retreated through the door and into her inner office leaving me and the sisters to our own entertainment.

“Well,” I sighed, glancing around the waiting room. “She seemed pleased to see me.”

“Eh, she’s always like that, don’t worry,” Meg waved dismissively.

Kara was about to make a cutting remark about her sister’s more colorful scholastic record when the outer door to the office opened and a rather familiar senior breezed in.

“Monica? What are you doing here?”

“Duh, It’s my Mom’s office.”

Sigh, why me? Wait, her Mom’s office… Oh fuck.

“Oh, yeah duh, silly me, of course it is!” I grin sheepishly. “You not going home before the game?”

“Nah, no point,” she shrugs, dropping into the Secretary’s chair and propping her high-heeled boots up on the table. “Kinda a waste of time with my pregame commitments. Plus, Mom wanted me to help her with something.” She glances at Meg and smiles like a shark, “you in the shit again, Megan?”

“Why does everyone always assume that I did something wrong?” Megan groans.

“Because you usually did,” her sister snerks, dodging an elbow in the process.

Monica turns her attention back to me and raises an eyebrow. “I’ve not seen you around since the game the other week, you really are a quiet mouse.”

Shit, shit, shit.

“Yeah, I guess I keep to myself a lot; I like the library.”

Monica raises an eyebrow and returns to digging through her handbag before pulling out a bottle of nail polish. “Fair enough I guess, each to their own. There is no reason to though, you seem pretty tight with these two.”

I glance at the two sisters beside me and smile, “Yeah, I am; they’re my best friends.”

“So why are you never in the common room?” She asks, idling touching up a chipped nail.

“She just really doesn’t like to mix with a lot of people,” Kara offered. Her expression told me she was as nervous as I was about this little complication.

“So what’s your Mom dragging you in here for after school that she can’t do at home?” Meg asks.

“Mom wanted me to meet with some new student who’s transferring in,” she shrugged dismissively. “Waste of my time honestly, but she wants to see what I think of them.”

I glance at Kara and grimace, “she’s going to find out in a minute.”

“Yeah, lay the groundwork?”

“What are you two on about?” Monica asks, furrowing her brow. “What am I missing here?”

“Uh, you know how you think I go to school here?”

Monica looks between the three of us and nods slowly, “yeah?”

“I do, but you’ve never seen me around… because I go to the boys’ division normally. I’m the one transferring… to here.”

Monica looks at me, I look at Monica. Somewhere, far away a penny drops.

Monica gawps at me and looks confused. “ but how? You’re a girl.”

I shake my head sadly, “not according to some.”

“Huh?”

Megan steps forward and takes my other hand. “She’s transgender, Monica, she was born a boy but she’s really a girl like us; it doesn’t matter where she started. Even you yourself thought she was a girl when you first met her and she was trying to be a boy back then.”

“But you were calling her Holly?”

“Well duh, we knew her real name, and… nobody was meant to overhear that.”

“I was supposed to be a boy then,” I admit with a sheepish grin. “As you can tell, I kinda sucked at that.”

“No shit,” Monica breathes. “So how the hell do you look like a girl?”

“Hormones,” I answer. “Long story short, I’m on medication to block the boy stuff and others to give me a girl’s puberty.”

“Dude, that’s wild.” the senior breathes. “I swear I thought you were just a regular girl this entire time. No wonder I never saw you around school.”

“You did kinda assume,” Kara points out. “Holly never lied though; she does go to our school and she is a junior… just over there.”

“How the heck do they think she’s a boy?”

Megan snickered, “Welcome to the dilemma.”

“You know, it’s nuts,” she admits. “Even now that I know about you, I can’t sense anything boyish. You’re like, super pretty, for real.”

“People are quite stupid,” Megan offers, “even her brother had no idea.”

“Oh god,” Monica gasps, slapping her hand over her mouth. “At that game where we met; afterward I called you Holly and Rob’s sister in front of him!”

I grin nervously. “Yeah… that kinda outed me.”

“He didn’t know already?”

I sigh. “I’ve been keeping it to myself until fairly recently. I was hiding because I was convinced everyone would hate me. Stupid, I know, but I was dumb and paranoid.”

“You poor thing,” she replies softly. “That’s rough.”

The door to the office opens and Principal Carlos looks in. “How are we doing in here?”

“We’re good Mom,” Monica offers. “I was just saying sorry to Holly.”

“What did you do?” She asks suspiciously, an eyebrow going up in that way all parents seem to be able to manage.

Monica gives me a sheepish grin before returning her attention to her mother. “A few weeks back I was chatting to the girls here after the game and I flubbed and called her Rob Winter’s sister in front of him because I thought she was at the time.”

“I don’t follow.” Principal Carlos replies, looking lost.

I step forward and smile nervously. “Ma’am, if I may? I was still presenting as a boy at the time like I do all the time at school. I was as yet not ‘out’ to my family about who I am. So when Monica saw me with Megan and Kara she assumed I was a girl and dropped me in it with my brother. It went ok in the end but she only just realized what had happened.”

“I see,” the older woman concluded. “Monica, the other thing?”

The senior girl looks at me and smiles. “Yeah Mom, even pretending to be a boy, she’s a girl.”

The Principal nodded and smiled thinly, “Thank you, Monica. Would you like to join us in my office, Miss Winters?”

With a last squeeze from Megan, I follow the Principal into her office and take the offered chair beside my parents. Once seated behind her desk, Principal Carlos turns her attention to me at last.

“As you may have gleaned from your conversation, I had asked my daughter to come here to give me her impressions of you Miss Winters. I hope you are not insulted, but I was not entirely certain who would be presented to me this evening. Having a student transfer from the Boys’ to the Girls’ Divisions of our great school isn’t something that I’ve ever had to deal with during my time here. I suspect it’s a fairly rare occurrence in our history, if it has ever happened at all.”

I sit in silence, unsure if I’m meant to say anything, but Mom and Dad don’t look upset; positive?

The Principal continues, “From what my daughter indicated just now and having spoken already with your friends this morning, I have no doubts you’d be far better suited with us than your current arrangement.”

“You spoke with Kara and Megan today?” I frown.

Principal Carlos nods, “They came to see me at lunchtime to speak in your favor. They indicated that they were aware we were having this meeting and wanted to lend their testimony. You have very loyal friends, Miss Winters.”

Her words filled my heart with joy. I knew that we were best friends, but they’d managed to keep that fact from me. I wasn’t mad, more happily surprised; I really love those two.

“I don’t want to cause a disruption, Ma’am.” I offer. “I realize this is very unusual but I just couldn’t cope living the way I was. Now, I’m struggling to stay under the radar with the physical changes that are happening to me.”

“Your parents informed me,” Carlos agrees. “From what my opposite number indicated, several teachers had expressed questions in that direction.

Oops.

“I didn’t set out to deceive anyone, but I wasn’t willing to let myself develop like a boy,” I admit quietly. “I couldn’t… become that.”

Principal Carlos smiled sympathetically. “I cannot relate personally but the concept seems unpleasant. Don’t think I have no sympathy for your case Miss Winters, but I also have an entire school of girls to care for and their parents. In an ideal world, this wouldn’t be a big deal, but our world is far from ideal. Attitudes to persons in your situation are not yet as enlightened as I’d hope.”

She looked towards the window before returning her gaze to me. “Tell me, Miss Winters. What do you hope to do with yourself going forward?”

Did she mean job? Education or next week in class?

“I hope to graduate and attend medical school. I’d like to be a doctor like my Mom. I’m working incredibly hard to keep my grades high, but I am losing out a little on phys ed.”

Principal Carlos smirked at that comment. “I can imagine that class is a little tricky for you presently.”

“Less so with the gym membership Ma’am, but yes, it’s still very awkward.”

“Loath as I am as a businesswoman to lose a paying student place, as an educator and a parent I have to ask, why wouldn’t you rather go to a school where nobody knows your past? Clearly, you would have no trouble being seen as a girl?”

I glance over at my parents before returning my attention to the Principal. “I’m really new at this; living my life correctly. I might look like any other girl but I don’t know much about how to function in society as a young woman. If I go to another school I might be taken as female, but I’d live in constant fear of discovery because I wasn’t equipped with the same lessons other girls have. I’d also be terrified that someone would discover that I’m different. If I come to school here, not only do I already have friends, but I can learn to move through this world like other girls do and I can do it safely. I’m not ashamed of being transgender, but I know I’ll need to focus on my studies, not ensuring nobody discovers my past.”

Principal Carlos smiles. “That’s an incredibly mature viewpoint, Miss Winters. This state says that as a transgender child under medical treatment, you are entitled to use the changing facilities and bathrooms with the other girls. What would you say to another girl who had an issue with your presence?”

“Obviously, I’d like to Ma’am,” I admit, “but I’m also aware that who I am will be no secret. I know some people might be uncomfortable with the idea. I don’t want to force myself on anyone against their will. I’d rather use a gender-neutral or disabled bathroom and the same would go for changing rooms; I might have the right to do so, but I have to consider how I’d feel in their place.”

I blush slightly and pause, “I would never dream of doing anything inappropriate, I’m… not interested in girls, Ma’am.”

The Principal’s lip quirks slightly at my remark and I think she is picking up what I’m putting down. “The staff and I would be willing to protect your right to use those spaces, Miss Winters, but I can accept your desire to consider other's feelings. When you attend this school I’ll make the staff toilet available for your use. If you change your mind and wish to use the girls' facilities, I have no problem with that.”

“When, Ma’am?”

Principal Carlos smiles and nods. “Yes Miss Winters, Starting on the first day of the Spring term, I look forward to welcoming you as one of my students.”

Mental calculations; it’s the start of November, which makes it six weeks until the end of the semester. That’s going to be quite a challenge, but it’s not insurmountable, probably.

“No sooner?” My mother asks. “I’m sure you can see, Holly is struggling to present as a boy, even now.”

The Principal smiled apologetically, “I’d give her a place today, but with her studies where they are, I’d feel better with her finishing out the Fall semester where she is. This way she’s in the right place academically. It’s also far less disruptive to class sizes and placements if we introduce a new student at the start of the semester if possible. If I recall correctly, she’s also on a class trip this December, correct?”

“Yes Ma’am, to Germany.”

Principal Carlos nods, “It would be less disruptive, especially considering that. Imagine if we transfer your daughter and she ends up attending this trip and confronting her former classmates in a foreign country. I would also be right in assuming her paperwork and passport are all currently in her, old, name?”

“Yes, that would be correct.” Mom concedes, shooting me an apologetic look. “This has been rather sudden for us.”

Carlos smiles apologetically. “As you can see, this would ease multiple potential issues for her, and my colleague across the way is in agreement that this would be most suitable. I realize it might be difficult for you, but patience will be a virtue.”

“On that note, to ensure your safety, we will need to tell your teachers for your Germany trip, and otherwise a select few will be made aware to ensure your privacy and safety are paramount. In addition, your requirement to attend gym class, even the off-site membership will be waived without impacting your grade.” The principal paused and smiled. “That of course will change in January once you’re one of my girls. I’ll expect full regular participation, Miss Winters.”

I couldn’t hide my smile, “Yes Ma’am.”

When we walked back out into the foyer, the grin on my face was enough to tell Meg and Kara what the result was. Before I could make it three feet, I was assaulted by huggles.

“I assume this pleases you two?” Principal Carlos enquired, watching the giggly bouncy mess happen before her.

“Yes Ma’am,” Kara grinned. “We’re excited to have Holly where she belongs.”

“She’s very lucky to have friends like you two.” she agreed. “I look forward to seeing you in January Miss Winters.”

As we walked back downstairs, I spotted Monica waiting at the foot of the stairwell. Sensing she wanted to talk, the others went on ahead and left us be.

“Hi,” I offered, not quite sure what to say at that moment. “Your Mom seems nice.”

Monica smiled and shifted her weight awkwardly. “Yeah, Mom’s pretty good, but having your parent be a teacher is bad. When they are the Principal? God it never ends.”

“Try having one that’s a doctor,” I offer in return.

“Look,” Monica begins, giving me an earnest smile. “I really had no idea about your brother, I’m so sorry I put you in a weird position.”

“It’s not your fault,” I shrug. “Well, it is, but it’s ok. This semester has been its own wild rollercoaster of mess because of me.”

“Still, I feel like I owe you an apology. You seem like a decent girl and I promise I’ll keep your secret, ok?”

“That means a great deal to me,” I answer honestly. “If I can make it till the end of the semester, it doesn’t matter. But while I have to go to school with those boys? I’d really rather it didn’t get out any sooner.”

Monica nods, clearly understanding what I’m putting down. She steps forward and hugs me. “Best of luck making it six weeks Holly. I can’t see how they manage to not spot the babe in their midst.”

I shrug and make a face, “I Just hope none of them plan to become cops, they kinda suck at spotting things in front of them.”

* * *

Mom knocked on my door a little later that evening before letting herself in. My homework finished, I had actually been reading a teen magazine; something I was able to finally enjoy guilt-free.

“How are you feeling after today, honey?” Mom asks, sitting down beside me on the bed and stroking my hair.

I roll over and close the magazine before squidging up beside her. “I’m ok,” I admit. “I would have liked a better outcome, but I suppose it makes sense. I’ve made it this far, I’ll manage.”

Mom smiles a little sadly and hugs me to her side. “You shouldn’t have to. This is still a lot for me to really process, but seeing you these last few weeks has made it all the clearer for me. Seeing my child smile and look genuinely alive is all a parent could possibly ask for. It might not be what I expected when I gave birth to you, but I’d be a fool to not see how much happier you are.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Holly. Your father and I are both genuinely glad that our daughter is so considerate of our feelings and everyone else, but don’t forget to live for yourself too. We’ll manage, we’re your parents. It’s our job to support you and we would be a pretty poor example if we didn’t.”

“There are so many kids, so many people in my situation that don’t have that,” I sniffed. “So much hate, mistrust, disgust. I’m sorry I let myself believe you’d be anything other than my best friend.”

I can see a glint in Mom’s eye as she looks at me, it’s not sadness, but there’s an emotional moment we’re both sharing. I see Mom as the woman she is in that moment, the adult human who realized she didn’t know all the answers, but chose love anyway. The truth is, she was and is forever my hero.

“I booked you in to see Doctor Harris again on Tuesday, ok? We’re going to get your bloodwork done and get you sorted out properly. Doctor Ward wants that before she sends you on to an Endocrinologist.”

“Is this real?” I murmur, frowning uncertainly. “It doesn’t feel real that this is all happening… I never dreamed.”

“It’s happening, honey,” Mom squeezes. “At the end of the day, your happiness comes first and we’re going to make sure that we do everything we can for you. We’re lucky enough to have good insurance, good jobs, and our health. You might need to wait for school, but we will make sure you’re doing this right before then. That includes getting onto properly monitored medication prescribed by an actual doctor.”

“Are you mad that I took matters into my own hands?”

Mom pauses before answering. I can see the conflict between the parent and the doctor. “Yes and no, but I want you to let me explain.” she begins slowly, squeezing my leg. “I am worried, as a mother, that you took unregulated medication that has such a powerful effect on your development and your body. I am worried that it might not be pure, or authentic or that it might have hurt you. I am proud, as a parent that you did your due diligence and research; I cannot ask for more as a parent than a child who thinks before she leaps. I don’t directly understand the desperation that drove you to that choice, but I can, as a doctor and a mother, appreciate that it did. I don’t need to understand the pain to know what pain feels like honey.”

“I’m sorry,” I admit quietly. “I didn’t want to worry you guys.”

“It’s our job to worry, darling.” Mom chuckles, squeezing me tight. “That’s what we signed up for when you were born.”

I smirk and glance over at Mom beside me. In many ways, we look so similar and I am so very proud of that fact. I’m proud of the woman she is and the example she has set for me in life. Regardless, I am still a shit-stirrer at heart, and I cannot resist the urge for a quick poke.

“I hope you got the extended warranty...”

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Fake It Till You Make It - 18 - The Boy And I.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

Voluntary

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Eighteen - The Boy And I.

Turning up at Rick’s place that Saturday evening was a fine balancing act in personality hopscotch. I had managed to tame Holly back into a reasonable facsimile of Alex, no mean feat given that he didn’t really exist anymore outside of school. The trickier part was, that while I had to restrain myself from being too feminine around Rick, I had to somehow not shatter his mother’s apparent impression that I was not just female, but his girlfriend. What the hell do I get myself into?

See, this is where I realize that non-trans folks are utterly oblivious to gender variance unless it’s screamingly obvious. It must be a blessing honestly, to be able to exist in a world where that just doesn’t matter. I could make a joke about how boys are dumb, and we could all laugh, but in reality, it’s more than that. Everyone really just makes assumptions and nobody questions them too hard. As much as we might want there to be, there’s usually no ulterior motive.

I was waiting outside Willy’s store when Rick’s truck pulled into the lot. While I was a little better prepared for the country this time, I certainly wasn’t going native any time soon. Before you get your hopes up for a romantic moment, I was in my usual Alex drag of jeans, a tee, and a hooded sweatshirt. Granted, this time the jeans were actually a girl's slouchy boyfriend cut pair, but they looked more gender-neutral on me than any of my old ones. Did I look like a rampant tomboy to most people? Probably. The trick was managing to still look boy enough for Rick, and girl enough for his mother. Why is my life this complicated? Oh wait, my bad.

“Hey Alex, you make it ok?”

I climbed up into the cab before he could do anything dumb like jump out to help me. “I didn’t have to wait too long and nobody tried to stick me on a horse yet.”

Rick sighs and shakes his head, “You’re not going to let me forget that one, are you?”

“Eventually,” I grin, “but for now It’s a pretty strong reminder of why I don’t belong on horses.”

Rick shrugs and turns us out of the parking lot. “Nah, you’ll get the hang of it, I promise. It’s fun, really when you get the hang of things.”

I sniff in the alluring scent of cheese and meat that is filling my nostrils. “Pizza?”

Rick gestures in the back seat with his thumb and we hit the main road out of town. “Couple of fresh pies from Antonio’s; Sausage and Bacon and four cheese. That should be enough to see us through the movies.”

I approve of the selection. I’m a little pleased that he remembered the pizza we got when we went into the city that one time, just the two of us. Secretly, I let the tiniest part of myself believe it was a boy/girl date. I remembered the waitress calling me miss and how secretly, it overjoyed me. Sadly, I have to push those feelings down; I can’t allow myself to feel that way no matter what it does to me. It was hard to suppress my feelings when I was still living as Alex, but now that I’m Holly everywhere but at school, it’s almost unbearably difficult.

After the short drive, Rick turns the truck down their driveway and into the yard. As we roll to a stop beside the house, the first thing I spot is the absence of his parent's cars.

“Home alone?”

Rick glances over and nods. “Oh, yeah. Mom and Dad went into the city to some art gallery thing. Mom’s on a board for local artists.”

I hadn’t really connected his down-to-earth Ranch wife Mom with the city art scene but then again, I’m a kid; what do I know? At least with his folks out, I don’t have to deal with the girl stuff for one evening. I actually feel a good amount of relief.

Rick hands me pizza boxes and I follow him up to the house. Once inside, I follow him through to their magnificent kitchen.

“I still can’t believe you live here, this place is amazing.” I opine, staring around their cavernous space.

“Your place is hardly small,” Rick points out grabbing sodas from the refrigerator.

“I’ll give you that,” I concede, “but yours is on another level; I could live in your bathroom pretty comfortably.”

“Only because you’re so tiny,” Rick chuckles. “Pretty sure you’d consider one of the stalls a mansion. Come on, let's go set the movie on before these pizzas go cold huh?”

“Sure Gigantor, lead the way.”

We make our way through to the living room and set up camp on their huge sofa. Naturally, we pick comfortably distant spots from each other. What? Did you think I was going to accidentally lay my head on his shoulder halfway through the movie? Get a grip, this is real life not some cheesy piece of trans lit.

I’ll give him credit, scoring a copy of Howard’s Mobile House was a great coup. I’d been expecting to wait up to six months for it to become available in America. A copy direct from Japan is a pretty epic score. Considering that the Taylor family’s TV is huge, this is as good as going to the movies.

We start the movie and tuck into our pizza, I can honestly think of a lot worse ways to spend an evening. There’s not a lot to describe here; if you’re into Anime, you’ve totally seen this classic. If not, you won’t care anyway. Two glorious hours pass by, and before we know it, the movie is over. Honestly, I’m a little sad.

“That was amazing,” I enthuse gleefully as the final credits roll. “The Kiss with Potato Head and Sarah that broke the curse. Then she fell in love with Howard; it was just so sweet.”

“Steady on!” Rick laughed as he ejected the movie. “You sound like Anna when we used to watch these movies together as kids. She was always so caught up in the soppy bits.”

I sit back and shrug, “It’s a great happy-ever-after ending; you can’t help but feel good about it.”

Rick rolls his eyes, “I mean yeah, the prince heading back and ending the war, and the whole scene at the end when the bombers heading off to a new war somewhere else was kinda powerful.”

“Well, I liked the soppy bits,” I reassert. “You’ve gotta thank your sister for me. I loved it.”

Rick smirks and shakes his head. “I’m going to take a leak, want to watch another?”

“Sure.”

Rick takes off and I busy myself cleaning up our mess. It won’t do to have his parents come home and find the place a tip. He might get away with it, but I’m a conscientious guest, first and foremost. I carry the boxes through to the kitchen and toss our cans in the trash. I’m in the process of getting us fresh drinks when Rick returns.

“You didn’t need to clean up you know.”

I toss him a soda and grin, “I hired myself as your cleaning lady like Sarah did.”

“Oh you’re my cleaning lady?” he replies raising an eyebrow. “You don’t look ninety.”

“I’m a bit more spritely than that, sure, but I can clean just as well.”

Rick opens his mouth, as though he is going to say something else but chooses instead to turn red. “Ah, never mind,” he mutters awkwardly. “I have the second Space Conflict prequel, wanna put that on?”

Why the hell did I call myself the cleaning lady? Ugh, I’m an idiot with a magical ability to kill a perfectly nice evening. I nod and avert my eyes, “sure Rick, that sounds good.”

The second movie is a bit more awkward after my faux pas, but soon we’re more focused on the TV than my big mouth. Honestly, I’m not that bothered by the film; I’ve seen it before. It does however provide a pretty reasonable distraction for my mind that allows me to drift off to sleep.

I woke up what felt like moments later curled up on the sofa by myself. The TV was quietly scrolling through the credits of the movie we had been watching and there wasn’t a single sound in the house.

“Rick?”

There was no answer, although I didn’t think that he had gone to bed, because his phone was still sitting on the sofa arm where he had left it earlier. I got up slowly and stretched as I glanced around. It’s exactly as we had left it, almost as if I’d slept for only a moment. I couldn’t have been out for more than fifteen minutes, twenty tops. Where has he gotten to?

I can see the moonlight streaming through the windows on the far wall. There’s a slight movement on the porch, and I realize after a moment that it’s a human figure out there in the darkness. I move cautiously over to the window and peer out. After a second, I spot Rick leaning against the balcony railing just staring off into the distance.

I open the door and step outside. He spins around as he hears my approach, he looks surprised, like I caught him doing something wrong.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” I offer awkwardly. “I was just wondering where you vanished off to.”

“Oh, Alex, I’m sorry. I just needed some time to myself; to think, you know?”

He looks troubled and I’ve never seen him behaving like this before. I can tell he’s struggling with something and by the look in his eyes, I know it’s me. I make a face and sigh, my breath misting in the cool night air. How the hell have I fallen so far? I made myself one simple promise and I couldn’t even keep that. Megan’s prophecy so long ago was entirely correct; I really do care for him and it hurts not being able to do anything about it. I should have just steered clear from the moment she told me what she could see was happening. I wrap my arms around myself and smile sadly. “I’m so very sorry Rick.”

“Why are you sorry?” he blurts out. He looks surprised, as though he was terrified that I could read his mind. “None of this is your fault… how could it be? I… Alex… fuck.”

Rick turns away and runs his hands through his hair. He looks distraught, and I’m starting to realize why. When he turns back to face me, he looks like he’s almost on the edge of tears.

“I don’t… I don’t even know where to begin,” he admits. “I’ve never… hell, I’m struggling to even say it.”

I step closer, reach out, and touch his arm. It’s a comforting gesture, but one I recognize is more Holly than Alex. Suddenly, I don’t give a fuck about hiding myself around him anymore. “What is it, Rick? You can talk to me, I promise.”

He glances down at my hand on his arm and seems to freeze for a second as he stares at it, not able to pull his arm away. I can feel him trembling under my touch, but I’m not sure if it’s because of the cold or his nerves. He glances back up at me, and his eyes are wide with fear. His mouth opens like he wants to speak but he gulps before glancing away. “Alex… I… I think I’m gay.”

I had been so selfish, I should have stayed away from him. I should never have allowed myself to get close to him or to develop these feelings. I should have just kept my head down and not allowed myself to tempt fate. I thought I could straddle the line and just be friends with the guy. Now, he’s suffering because of me. I’ve put him in the exact position I didn’t want to and I know what he’s feeling, but I need to hear him say it.

“Why do you think that?” I whisper hesitantly, not taking my eyes away from his.

“Because… I think that I’m, in love with you,” he croaks out. “I’ve barely been able to stop thinking about you. From the moment I first laid eyes on you, when the semester started, there was something; something special about you. As we got to know each other I’ve gotten these urges, these desires. Somehow, our friendship just isn’t enough. I can’t stop thinking about holding you or kissing you whenever we’re together. God this must be… I’m so sorry.” he blurts, the anguish evident on his face.

“Back there on the sofa when we were watching the movie, you fell asleep. You looked so peaceful lying there, so beautiful.” he smiles softly, a wistful look in his eyes. “I just wanted to take you in my arms and hold you tight. I don’t know why, I’ve never felt like this before,” he admits. “Nobody else ever captured my heart like you did. I thought I just wanted to be friends, that this was what real friendship felt like but… it was more.”

Here we go Holly, time to ironically have some balls. This is the pivotal moment where I might find happiness or it might destroy my life. I’ve gotta roll the dice here and run the gauntlet of fantasy ending or get my ass kicked and buried in a shallow grave, god I love being trans.

“You’re not gay,” I reply quietly, looking away from him for the first time. “I would need to be a boy for you to be gay, Rick.”

There is silence as I listen to my heart beating against my ribs. I can feel the deep blush rising in my cheeks despite the cold night air.

“I… don’t understand,” he murmurs, his voice catching with emotion. I can feel him standing so close to me now, that I can sense his body heat radiating out. “What do you mean you would need to be a boy for me to be gay?”

“I’m a girl,” I confess quietly, unable to meet his eyes. “At least, I should be.”

“You’re… how? But I’m…?”

I glance up at him cautiously. He’s not angry, he just looks confused. I would be too in his position. Hell, I have no idea what I’m doing. None of this was planned, but I’m making it up as I go alone like so very much in my life.

“I’m transgender, I should have been born a girl, Rick.” I explain, “Long story short, In my heart and soul, I am like my Mom and sister; a girl. I need to be that, with every spark of my being. It’s who I am, and I cannot live as a boy. I’ve been on female hormones now for about eight months. I’m just trying to tread water until Christmas when I can leave this school and transfer to the Girls’ Division. Then, I don’t know; maybe I can live the rest of my life.”

In for a cent, in for a dollar. I reach up, unzip my sweatshirt, and shrug it off my shoulders. Underneath, I’m only wearing a T-shirt and my sports bra, but my shape is pretty obvious, even in the dim light of the porch. Reaching up, I pull the hair tie out of my ponytail and shake my hair out until it flows down around my shoulders. I swallow and I look back up at him defiantly, I stand before him as Holly Juliette Winters.

“This is who I am; this is the real me.”

Rick’s eyes grow wide. What he’s seeing for the very first time is the girl me that hides just behind the surface at school. Like Meg and Kara said, it can be a little jarring when your mental image of someone snaps in two. It’s surprising just how set in their ways people can be. I haven’t changed a lot, but I’m confident he’s seeing me in an entirely new light.

I shiver involuntarily, the porch isn’t exactly T-shirt weather. Rick just stares at me, his eyes flicking around as his jaw moves wordlessly.

“Say something, please.” I implore.

Rick looks at me and shakes his head slowly as though he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “My god, you’re beautiful, Alex.”

“Holly.”

“Holly?”

“My real name is Holly.”

Rick smiles again, “That’s a really pretty name, it suits you.”

If I could soak my panties at this point, they would be like Niagra freaking Falls, more to the shame sadly. All the same though, my heart does that squishy pang thing at his beautiful words.

He looks almost embarrassed now and he grins in the way that I just love so much. “I have no idea how I didn’t see any of this. I was… so, caught up in my own head; I thought I was falling in love with a boy. I was battling the feelings that I was gay; I fought it, tried to deny it but in the end, I just, couldn’t… I had to tell you,” he admits. “Oh, gosh, I never even thought. Do you even like boys?”

“I like boys,” I whisper breathlessly, “and one in particular, I guess.”

“A…Holly,” he murmurs softly, reaching out to take me by the shoulders. I step forward and allow him to wrap me in his arms. “Holly, I’ve dreamed about this moment for months. I told myself I was crazy but… is this for real?”

I want to scream out loud when he says my real name. I nod slowly, “It’s real. I’m not… perfect, but it is real.”

Rick shakes his head and smiles so sweetly that it hurts my very heart. “You are perfect, Holly, just the way you are.”

With that, he leans down and gently presses his lips to mine. Suddenly, the air isn’t even cold anymore. I melt as his lips caress mine and I find myself gasping for oxygen. He doesn’t wait as I feel his tongue gently caress my bottom lip.

We kiss for what feels like hours, our only accompaniment the moon and stars above. My heart is singing a song I never expected to hear with words that were once but a distant dream. I don’t know what I’m doing or if it’s even sensible. Honestly, at this moment, I don’t even care. In that time, that place, my heart and soul have but one focus.

Eventually, Rick breaks the kiss and smiles gently down at me, his eyes are so full of affection. “We should get you inside, it’s freezing out here.”

“I can’t even tell,” I murmur back at him, a lazy grin on my lips. I let him take me by the hand, my legs still slightly unsteady after our kiss and he leads me back inside the house. I can’t believe this is happening, it feels like a fairytale.

How the hell did this happen? Here I am with a boy that seems to like the real me. A boy that is holding my hand, a boy that has kissed me. He has seen my truth and he accepts me for who I really am. I cannot begin to explain to you how very monumental this is for someone in my shoes.

Inside, out of the cold, I suddenly feel extremely uncertain of myself. I allow my hand to slip from Rick’s as we walk through, into his family’s living room. Instead of following him, I just stand, rooted to the ground, and doubt myself. Even now, I have no idea why I could not allow myself to just accept that a good thing could happen to me.

“Holly?” he asks nervously. “Did I do something wrong?”

I shake my head, “this is real, isn’t it?”

Rick smiles; it’s that classic Rick smile with the slight quirk to the right-hand side that sits halfway between a smirk and a grin and it just moves my mountain. “Yeah, I can’t believe it, but it’s real. It feels like I’m dreaming.”

I walk forward nervously and take a seat on one of the sofas.

“I wasn’t planning to tell you like this,” I admit with a sigh. “I… was trying to deny how I felt about you, about us. I was convinced that you would hate me, that you would resent me for what I could see I was doing to you.”

Rick chuckles quietly as he sits down beside me, “Yeah, I’ve been a little confused. I did kinda have a major identity crisis. I’ve never been attracted to boys before, and here I was falling for someone I was convinced was one. Typical luck though; only I could manage to fall for the only girl at an all-boys' school and be convinced I was gay.”

“Sorry about that,” I grin sheepishly.

“How the hell does anyone in school see you as a boy?”

“You did,” I point out, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I guess my eyes did, but I don’t think my heart ever did,” he confesses. He frowns before looking back at me. “I think that somehow, somewhere in my head, my heart, I’ve seen you as a girl from the first moment we met.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told a few times that I suck at hiding.”

“Megan and Kara, right? Your friends?”

“They were the first to find out about me back at the start of the semester.”

Rick nods, “That makes sense. You know, that very first game of the year, when you came over to see your brother with them, I thought it was three girls at first.”

“It was.”

“Your Brother, Rob, he knows right?”

I nod, “my family knows. Rob, he looks out for me at school.”

He shakes his head, “I can’t believe you still go there.”

“I have to hold on,” I sigh. “They said I can transfer at the end of the semester, it’s not so long.”

“That’s insane,” he murmurs, it must be so hard for you.”

I feel him slide closer and wrap me in his arms. There’s nothing sexual about this moment, I just feel safe; protected. It’s an intoxicating feeling that I never want to let go.

“I was so afraid that my parents would hate me, I just… I was going to kill myself.” I admit. ”Last Christmas.”

“Oh my god….”

I shake my head and hold a finger to his lips. “Let me finish, ok? Then you can say your piece.” I sigh and relax back into his arms, my back now to his chest. “I’ve always felt this way; that I should have been born a girl. It’s the one memory that overrides all of my childhood. Last Christmas, puberty was starting to rear its ugly head, and… I couldn't… I just couldn’t become like my brother,” I choke.

After a moment to collect myself, I continue. “I… I had to do something, so I managed to source medication online. I took medications that stopped my puberty and started me on the path I should have been. I was told it would take time, I’d be able to hide it for a year or two until I got to college but I don’t think they accounted for my age,” I chuckle darkly. “It’s becoming impossible to hide my changes.”

“You’re telling me,” he chuckles. God that feels amazing, I can feel the vibrations rolling through my body.

I twist around until I’m sitting across his lap. It’s a little more intimate than I had planned, but here we are. I look up at him and smile nervously. “Can I kiss you? Is that ok?”

His smile is all I need. Slowly, my heart thumping I reach up and cup his face in my hands. He looks as nervous as I feel. I lift myself up and press my lips against his. The tingle of sensation rushes through me and I feel electrically charged. Arms wrap around me and hold me firmly as I feel his tongue probing at my lips. I let them part and feel his tongue entering my mouth.

At this point, my breath is ragged and I can barely sense the world around me. I’ve shifted somewhere in our liplock to straddling his lap, my thighs on either side of his so our faces are almost level.

“Rick.” I gasp between gulps of air, “Oh god, Rick.”

I feel his arms grip my sides and lift me as he lays me back until I’m beneath him on the sofa. Our bodies touch and I can’t keep the moan of pleasure inside me.

“Am I hurting you?” He asks, lifting himself slightly, his face full of concern.

“No,” I whisper and grip his hips with my thighs, “not even a little bit.”

I can feel… lil’ Rick pressing against my pelvis down below and it feels… significant. I block that thought from my head and focus on the moment. This isn’t going to be happening tonight, but just the thought alone seems to flip some switch in my mind. A desire I never knew I had to have… him… within me.

I can feel his hands roaming along my sides as we kiss, his hands gripping my body so firmly yet so gently that I feel utterly safe. I slide my fingers up underneath his shirt and run my hands across his abdomen. His skin is hot and firm and I can feel the hair against my fingers. A moment later, I feel him reciprocate and I gasp out loud as he touches my bare flesh.

“Oh god, don’t stop,” I whimper, biting his lip.

Rick’s fingers reach the bottom of my bra and he looks momentarily uncertain. Driven by passion I push him back slightly and shrug out of my shirt so I’m now lying there in just my sports bra and jeans. Rick’s eyes roam my body and I can see the pure lust in his eyes; it drives me wild. Quickly, he tosses his own shirt before leaning back down and kissing the skin of my upper chest. His lips feel like molten lava against my skin, and I feel his hands roaming along my body.

I don’t think I could possibly be more happy if I tried. In this moment, I feel so utterly wonderful that I might cry tears of joy. I feel a hand slide up and cup the side of my breast through the fabric of my bra and eyes that glance tentatively at me for permission. Reaching down I grab his hand and place it gently against my left breast. Right then and there I want him to touch me, I want it so badly.

The gentle squeeze is all I dreamed of as his fingers gently tease me through the fabric and I cannot hold back a whimper of ecstasy. At that moment, I would be willing to give him anything in the world.

Really romantic huh? Getting excited? I bet you are. Unfortunately, this is when the most poorly timed cockblock of our young lives strikes. What is the female version of a cock block I hear you ask? I’m a little torn between Clitorference and Clam Jam, but I digress. Trust me, it sucks If you’ve been there.

Picture this; Mister Lover Boy has his hands tentatively on my boobs when we hear the crunch of tires and the splash of headlights from the darkened yard outside. Both of us panic, our explorations forgotten as we grab for discarded clothing and spring to our feet. Somehow, we’re just about presentable in time for the front door to swing open and Rick’s parents to walk casually into the house.

Picture this for a moment if you will, because this moment is seared into my memory for all eternity. Rick and I are stood next to each other, both bright red in the face and breathing heavily. My hair is loose, and my T-shirt is pulled up exposing half my abdomen and the shape of my boobs is incredibly obvious to even a blind man. Our lips are red and swollen from kissing and the pair of us look guiltier than sin.

Rick’s mother is the first to spot us and she looks a little surprised but hides it well. His father, however, is grinning like a fool… men!

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Rick’s Mom exclaims, grabbing her husband’s hand and steering him towards the kitchen. “We sent you a text message to tell you we were on our way home, honey. We thought you’d be… elsewhere.” She looks a little embarrassed, but it’s not a patch on us. “John come on, let’s let them pull themselves together.”

“I uh, sorry… Mom, Dad,” Rick blurts, “I uh…”

“Don’t worry, sorry for disturbing you honey,” she calls over her shoulder as she vanishes with a still-grinning father.

I look up at Rick and shrug, “they don’t seem surprised at all.”

“Uh… no,” he admits scratching his head.

“Why did they text you?”

Rick pulls his phone out and reads it then raises his eyebrows and shows me the phone.

Mom - We’re coming home, please be clothed when we get there. Love Mom.

“The fuck,” I splutter, shooting Rick a bemused look. “Why does your mother presume we were sleeping together?”

“I.. have no idea,” he admits slowly. “Look, Holly…”

I swallow and sheepishly pull my shirt all the way down, “you’d best call me Alex around other people. I…”

“I understand,” he nods, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear affectionately. “I’ll go see them, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Rick leaves the room and I slump down on the sofa. I’ve just made out with a boy, a boy who knows I’m a girl and sees the real me. To cap this weird ass evening off, his parents came home and absolutely knew we had been making out. holy shit; how do I end up in these situations?

Rick gets back a few minutes later and he’s looking far too pleased with himself. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

“What did they say?” I ask, following him out the door. “Your parents?”

“I’ll tell you in the truck.” he grins, come on.”

We leave the ranch house and walk out across the yard to his truck by the barn. I don’t bother with my sweatshirt but I wrap my coat around myself tightly against the chill as we walk. God, I feel so happy right now I cannot even begin to explain it. I don’t even have to hide anymore, it’s unspeakably freeing.

Rick gets the door for me and gets that same tummy squish feeling. I pop up on the balls of my feet and kiss him gently in thanks before hopping up into the cab. I don’t know why, but doing something so simple feels so damn good right now. He climbs in beside me and starts the truck.

“So what happened in there; what did they say?” I ask as we turn out of the ranch yard and head towards the main road. I already have a pretty fair idea, but I’m playing dumb.

Rick grins at me in the gloom. “Well, it turns out that I really was the only one who thought I was gay,” he shakes his head. “My parents were giving us a little space tonight when I told them you were coming over. You know… for things that boys and girls get up to.”

“I’m not sure if I should be offended or not,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.

Rick looks over as we turn off the driveway and onto the main road. “What?”

“That they thought I was that easy.”

“You’re not surprised that they thought you were a girl?”

“I’m pretty sure your Mom has thought that from the first day I met her.”

Rick frowns and then makes a face as he puts two and two together, “damn, that explains why she was so pissed when I got you dunked.”

Trying to get dry and not reveal myself to you was a little difficult,” I grin. “I was soaked and I couldn’t even get out of my wet clothes.”

“I kind of have a confession to make.”

“Oh?”

“Remember that one Saturday, when we went into the city to hang out?”

I’m starting to feel a little suspicious here, “Uhuh?”

“I was just beginning to accept that I had feelings for you,” Rick admitted. “I wasn’t sure how to rationalize it, and I was trying out the idea in my head. When we were having lunch, a little part of my mind, right in the back, was pretending we were on a date.”

I chuckle softly in the darkness, how ironic. “I was doing the same thing,” I admit. “I knew I could never have you, I had to remain your friend and nothing more. I let the tiniest part of me pretend we were on a boy-girl date and it was so sweet.”

“We should, if you want, that is?”

“I’d like that,” I smile, reaching out to touch his hand on the center console.

We chat idly for most of the way home. It turns out that Ricky Boy has had feelings for me for almost as long as I have; how ironic eh? The difference was, that he never really knew why or how to frame them.

It still feels like a miracle that this moment has come to pass at all. The very fact that I’m here, riding home in my boyfriend’s truck, still able to feel the touch of his lips on mine feels unbelievably good.

Truth be told, I never expected this day to come for me. I always hoped that it might; well, you do, don’t you? The devil on my shoulder told me that I would never find a boy who cared for the real me. I might not be able to live my life as me one hundred percent of the time yet, but my spirit is singing at this moment. Nothing can beat me now, no matter how much it hurts.

We pull up outside my place a little before eleven and Rick kills the engine, “Holly…”

I unfasten my belt and reach across and take his hands in mine, “Rick, I cannot begin to tell you how happy you’ve made me tonight. I… I never dreamed that this might happen.”

He smiles, god I love that smile of his. It’s got that little quirk on the left and the crinkle at the edge of his eyes as they sparkle. “You nearly drove me nuts,” he chuckles, “But I’d go crazy for you again in a heartbeat.”

“I’m real sorry about that,” I giggle and bite my lip.

“My god, you’re so damn beautiful,” he whispers, stroking my cheek. “Can I kiss you again?”

My breath catches in my throat and I can’t speak, Instead, I just nod wordlessly and wait as he closes the distance between us. I feel like I’m on fire the second his lips touch mine. My world melts away until the only two people on its entire surface are right here in this truck. His arms grasp me gently and my mind flashes back to that moment where he caught me when I tripped.
Hindsight is twenty-twenty. Now I know that our little mistaken embrace was so shocking because we both desired it so much. Now? Now I never want him to put me down.

We kiss for what feels like an eternity, probably all of a minute or two before I pull myself away reluctantly. “I’ve got to go inside; my folks are expecting me home.”

Rick nods and grins, god, he looks so good when he smiles at me. He hops down and makes his way around the truck to my door before opening it for me and offering me his hand. “I’m going to miss you.”

“You’ll see me Monday,” I point out, not wanting to release his hand.

“Monday is so far away,” he points out with a dopey grin.

“So call me?”

“I’ll do that, Holly Winters. Good night.”

“Good night, Rick Taylor.”

He leans down and kisses me softly. I swear to god, I have to fight the urge to pop a freaking foot. I just stand there like an idiot as he walks back to his truck and drives away down the road.

With a sigh, I turn around and let myself into the house. It’s pretty dark, but there’s a light in the kitchen; I guess someone’s still awake. I guess I’m not that late after all.

I kick my shoes off and toss my jacket on the side before heading through to the kitchen. My spirit is light and I’m pretty sure I’m not sleeping anytime soon. A nice herbal tea and I’ll wander off upstairs to change into something silky and girly to go with my good mood.

“Hey, sweetie.”

The voice startles me as I enter the kitchen. Mom's at the island, still wearing her scrubs as she reads through some documents.

“Hey Mom, did you just get in?”

She nods, “Ten minutes ago. How was your even…Oh my, Holly, come here.”

“Huh?” I reply intelligently. I comply with parental unit A’s orders however and move around to sit beside her. “What’s up?”

Mom reaches out and strokes my cheek. “Did you tell him? Of course, you told him,” she smiles. “My little girl is a woman now; God, I missed so very much of your life.”

Oh, now I follow. Damn, she’s good. One look and she has me sussed.

I pour out the entire evening to my mother there at the kitchen island. I told her every detail because I wanted to share it with her. Any consideration that I might be embarrassed about sharing my romantic evening with a boy was long gone; Alex was dead. Sure, I left out a few of the more saucy details of our sofa time adventures, but that wasn’t shame, that’s not wanting to get grounded in round one. Do you think my mom is beyond grounding me just because I can’t get pregnant?

Mom smiles and we share a soppy cuddle, I can smell the scent of her shampoo as she holds me close. “I could tell you know; a mother always can. When you came in just now, there was a look about you, Holly. You looked like you were finally at peace with the world. Your lips were quite swollen too,” she giggle

My hand flies to my lips in surprise and I giggle back. It’s a really freaking amazing little moment we’re sharing.

“He drove me home and walked me to the door. God Mom, when he calls me by my real name it just melts me.”

Mom smiles, “Young love is so beautiful at the best of times. For you though; gosh, I cannot imagine darling.”

“I never hoped…” I admit. “Not once did I truly believe it might be remotely possible.”

“You’re living a lot of firsts baby, and you’ll live a lot more before you’re done.”

“I love you, Mom.”

I grab my tea and go to head towards the stairs. “You’re ok with this, right Mom?”

Mom nods. “I am Holly. You’re my daughter, never doubt that. You seeing a young man doesn’t bother me in the slightest as long as you’re responsible. Promise me one thing though?”

“Anything, Mom.”

Mother dearest smiles slyly. “I know you can’t get pregnant darling, but that doesn’t mean you need to start testing the theory straight away, ok?”

“MOM!”

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Fake It Till You Make It - 19 - The Morning After The Life Before.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Ninteen - The Morning After The Life Before.

Waking up on Sunday morning felt like starting a whole new life. My heart was singing and I felt a little like that chick that lives with the seven little dudes singing about how great her gig is. In hindsight, that movie is kinda creepy, but I absolutely felt like a fairytale princess when I swanned into the kitchen in my robe to get breakfast.

“What’s up with you?” Rob asks, eying me with undisguised brotherly suspicion.

“Nothing,” I beam as I almost float over to the coffee maker. “I just slept so well last night.”

“I think I preferred it when you were depressed,” Rob snickers. “Nah seriously, what’s up?”

“I had a good night and I slept well. Add to that, I’m another day closer to never having to be Alex ever again.”

I sit down at the island beside him and take a long greedy drag of my coffee. I feel a little uncomfortable about the idea of talking to Rob about last night. Sure, he’ll find out at some point, but I really don’t want to have a ‘I kissed a boy’ conversation with my brother.

“You’re counting down huh?” Rob raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, I expect you are. I guess I already kinda said goodbye to him.”

“Soon, I can too,” I groan, jamming a toaster pastry into my mouth in a most unladylike way.

“So, what’s the deal with Rick then?”

God damn it, he’s not dumb, is he? I suppose I do need to actually tell him at some point if I want to actually see the damn boy.

“Rob, can you promise not to get weird about something?”

The oaf narrows his eyes and nods slowly, “Yes, but that depends entirely on what it is.”

“I’m going to share this because I want you, no, I need you to understand, ok Rob?” I pause and wait for my brother to nod before continuing. This feels harder than coming out to him in some ways, but I suspect there’s a good element of fear that he will think I’m gay for liking a boy. Hell, at the time I’m pretty sure a little tiny slice of my own mind still thought liking boys was weird.

“Last night, Rick told me that he had feelings for me,”I begin, watching his expression closely. “He told me that he was struggling with his sexuality and he broke down and admitted that he liked me. Given that I’m not a boy and, that I like him too, I confessed my true identity to him.”

“Shit,” Rob exclaims, his eyebrows reaching his forehead. “How did he react?”

“Pretty well I guess,” I admit awkwardly. “He accepts me Rob; he sees Holly.”

Rob’s expression is unreadable for a moment, his brow slightly furrowed as he thinks over the ramifications of what I’ve said. After a few moment, he nods and looks over at me, “Are you sure?”

I’m not sure if he’s asking if I’m sure I like boys, or if I’m sure he accepts me. Honestly, I’d rather not ask for clarification and make it weird. Regardless, I have but one answer.

“Yes.”

Rob nods and takes a breath before giving me a serious look. “If he hurts you Holly… I’ll kill him, you have my word.”

I put my hand on my brother’s arm. “Thank you, Rob, but I don't think that will be necessary.”

“So you… and him?”

I nod slowly, keeping an eye on him. “Are you ok with that?”

Rob hesitates for a moment before nodding more slowly. He looks a little uncertain, which, I should really expect, given the news. “I accept you as you, Holly; one hundred percent, ok? I won’t lie, it might take a minute for me to get used to my baby sister seeing boys… that she’s in class with.”

“To be fair, I don’t share any classes with him.”

Rob gives me a look, “You know what I mean, sis.”

“It’s a little strange for me too,” I concede. “I’ve never actually dated anyone before.”

“So you’re dating?”

“Maybe? But it’s too early to tell,” I shrug, “I’m open to the idea?”

Rob smirks and shakes his head. “You know, I got used to the idea of you being a chick pretty easily Hol, but somehow the idea of you dating boys seems more difficult. Not because you’re not a girl and it’s gay or something… rather, because I’m still getting to really know my little sister and I don’t want to share her with some other guy yet.”

Fuck you, Robert, that’s the sweetest thing anyone ever said to me.

* * *

It’s a little before lunchtime when my phone rings. The sound startles me out of the history textbook I’m reading. Look, just because I’m transing my gender doesn’t mean I get off homework to paint my nails, ya girl has career plans.

Flipping open my phone, I spot Rick’s name on the screen, and it makes my heart jolt nervously. Does he regret last night? Is he calling to tell me to keep this on the down low? All of a sudden, my morning of excitement and joy is shattered as I hit a mini panic attack “Uh, hello?”

“Hey, Holly, how are you doing?”

The panic washes away in a heartbeat as I hear him say my name. I can’t explain how good that feels, or why I’m such a freaking hypochondriac… probably extensive trauma, but I digress.

“Hi! Oh, me? I’m great. How are you?”

I can hear the smile in his voice as he chuckles at my over-exuberance, “I’m great too, really great. Are you doing much today?”

“Just studying,” I admit. “Chilling out I guess, you?”

“Want to go get lunch?”

I suddenly feel rather hungry, I wonder why that is.

“Yeah, I’d love that, when?”

“Does now work?”

Downstairs the doorbell rings.

“Fuck, Rick! Give me a few minutes!” I slam the call-end button and fly around my room like a womanly whirlwind.

Why are men like this? It’s adorable and spontaneous and romantic but it would be far more romantic if I was dressed and ready to be seen by the boy I like. Yeah… Ten points for effort, minus five for warning, buddy boy.

This would technically be my first ever time seeing the guy I just kissed as the real me. Sure, you can make a compelling argument that I look just as female in a hoodie and jeans, but it’s just not the same now is it? No, he saw through Alex to see Holly, but I really want my first time actually deliberately Holly to be perfect, too much to ask?

The whirlwind stuffs herself into a pair of grey patterned tights, a black pleated skirt, and a pretty long-sleeve top in a deep maroon. With the addition of my ankle boots and the assistance of a pushup bra, I think I look reasonably decent.

Holly is staring back at me in the mirror but her hair is still a little wild. Time to do something I’ve never ever considered before. I slip out of my room and shimmy along to the top of the landing like a ninja infiltrating a rival’s castle. I can hear male voices chatting away downstairs which leads me to believe that Rob has let the well-meaning gibbon into the house. Rats, this complicates matters rather significantly.

Having a bright idea, I pull my phone out and dial Mom’s cell. I really hope she’s in the house somewhere.

“What’s up, darling?”

“Are you in your study?” I whisper urgently.

“Yes, I was just reading some journals why?”

“I need your help upstairs, urgent emergency, please Mom!”

A few moments later, Mother Dearest arrives to find panic-stricken me desperately brushing my hair in the bathroom.

“Mom, I can’t make my hair behave, please help me!” I whine, thrusting the brush in her direction.

Mom smiles this long-suffering yet knowing smile as she takes the brush from my desperate paw.

“Let me guess; The doorbell I just heard and your general state of panic means that boy interest number one arrived for a spontaneous romantic gesture and you were being a goblin in your room?”

“Mom, not the time.” I wince slightly as she pulls at a knot in my hair. “Ow, “I was studying, I didn’t expect to see him or at least… give me some notice.”

Mom smiles at me in the mirror and rolls her eyes. “Men don’t realize how long it can take to get ready honey. They mean well, they really do, but sometimes good intentions clash with a bad hair day and they don’t really understand.”

Mom finishes attacking my maine and I’m pleased to see the girl looking back seems a lot more civilized with her hair neatly braided.

“Want a little makeup?”

I nod, smiling what I hope is pleasantly, but what I expect looked more far more desperate.

“Go get your bag and we’ll be quick.”

I rush off to grab my makeup kit and come racing back to my highly amused maternal unit. She’s finding all this hilarious and doesn’t seem to appreciate what an all-out panic I’m in. With an expert hand, Mom slaps some liner, mascara, and blush on me and finishes off with a light gloss. The girl looking back at me now looks a lot more ready for her debut; disaster averted… I think.

“Thanks Mom,” I beam, squeezing her half to death.

“I’m going back to my journals,” she sighs, still smiling so I know she’s not actually mad. “Have a nice time and I want you back in time for dinner, do you understand me, young lady?.”

“Yep, love you, Mom,” I yell, racing off to grab my handbag.

I skid to a stop at the bottom of the stairs barely avoiding breaking my neck. Hey, you try sprinting down the stairs in two-inch heeled ankle boots; it’s a risky enterprise, I can tell you. I can see Rob in the kitchen leaning against the island and he’s talking to someone just out of view. I pause for a moment to center myself and head in for one of those 'pivotal life moment' things.

Rick is stood there casually, hands in his pockets laughing with Rob about some football story when the heel of my boots clopping on the tile floor acquires his attention.

“It was freaking insane dude! Like, I was gonna…. Wow...”

“Uh, hi,” I offer shyly with a dumb little finger wave.

“I’ma leave you guys alone,” Rob chuckles, grinning like a hyena. “Catch you at school Monday, bro.”

“Yeah…” Rick replies, his eyes not leaving me the entire time. Holy fuck, the butterflies in my stomach right now are doing calisthenics on Adderall.

“Holly, wow… you’re beautiful.”

“You didn’t give me a lot of time, sorry,” I mutter, not able to meet his gaze properly.

Before I realize what is happening, I can feel his presence close to me. Gentle fingers lift my chin until I’m looking up into his huge beautiful eyes. God, they’re stunning this close. Beautiful brown orbs with flecks of green and blue right at the edges.

“Holly, you’re so utterly gorgeous... I.. I cannot believe I didn’t see this sooner,” he admits, shaking his head slowly.

“I uh… thank you.” I stumble over the words, not fully able to form sensible human words. “I wanted you to, I guess I mean that… well, I wanted you to see the real me today.”

“I saw her last night,” Rick smiles. “But you look incredible right now.”

Woah boy, this one has the tummy squiggles squigglin’.

“Can I take you out to lunch?”

I nod and smile goofily up at him. “Sure, I’d like that.”

Without any further awkward family moments, we make it outside and down to Rick’s truck. He holds the door for me, and it feels as good as it did the very first time. I give him a little smile of thanks as I straighten my skirt. Holy fuck, I just straightened my skirt after climbing into a boy’s truck; this is real.

I’ve got to tell you, this is a weird feeling. It’s not a bad one by any stretch of the imagination but it is certainly unusual. Imagine finding yourself in a world where your dream reality is actually happening but you’re reasonably sure it’s not a dream. You want so very much to believe it, to enjoy it, but a tiny part of you is expecting to wake up at any moment. That’s what this feels like and I still remember it to this day.

We pulled into a parking lot in town and Rick got the door for me. I had no idea what he had planned and I was more than a little curious by this point.

“Where are we going?”

“Surprise,” Rick shrugs nonchalantly.

“Am I dressed ok for wherever it is? It’s nothing crazy, is it?”

He smiles as we start walking, side by side, “you’re perfect exactly the way you are.”

I can’t help but ask the question. It’s been bugging me the whole drive over here. “You’re… really ok with all this? With me, right?”

Rick looks over and simply nods “It doesn’t feel real, does it?”

I shake my head and he grins, “You know, when I woke up this morning I could have sworn it had all been a dream. A wild amazing dream that would never repeat itself.”

“I know the feeling,” I admit. “I… My eyes fall on the building we’re heading towards. ‘Antonio’s Pizzeria.’ “Really?”

Rick grins and looks proud of himself. “Hey, we both kinda pretended the last time we were here that we were on a date, I figure why not make it real after all?”

I roll my eyes and laugh at him. “I hate that that’s an amazing idea.”

The booth we had occupied the previous time was sadly taken so we had to settle for a different one. It didn’t really matter though, it was the thought that counted really. Being here somehow felt deeply prophetic. The last time we had been here, I’d fully accepted that I had feelings for this boy. The fact that he had them too, made our little incident afterward all the more adorable.

I had tried to avoid him, tried to resist him, but it had been out of my control, hadn’t it? I had never been able to hide Holly from Rick, even when I tried. It was like I couldn’t pretend around him.

“Sir, Miss, what can I get you?” The waitress smiles politely as she arrives at our table.

“A couple of cokes and a large sausage and bacon on marinara,” Rick asks, smiling at me as he does it. The rat bastard remembered what we had the time before.

“Coming right up, you guys. It shouldn’t be long,” The waitress beams as she vanishes off with her pad in hand.

“You remembered,” I point out with a smirk.

“It was only like two weeks ago,” Rick shrugs. “I figured a do-over needed to be done properly or it doesn’t count.”

A smile comes to my lips as I remember the last time we were here. “Do you remember after the comic book store, we were walking back to your truck and I walked into a light pole?”

A smile spreads across Rick’s face. “Yeah, that was pretty funny.”

“You remember catching me when I stumbled afterward?”

The smile changes slightly as the memory plays across his mind. “I do,” he replies quietly. “There was a moment when I had you in my arms that I was tempted to tell you how I felt, maybe even to kiss you,” he admits shyly. “God, I had no idea Holly, but I wanted you right then more than any inhibitions I had.”

“I wanted you to,” I admit.

“Was that why you avoided me like the plague at school afterward?”

“Oh, you noticed that eh?” I grin sheepishly. “Sorry about that, I really didn’t know what else to do. I figured I had weirded you out and ruined a great day. I was trying to stay away from you for your own good, and for mine too.”

Rick reaches over the table and takes my hands in his, “not anymore.”

“Not anymore.” I agree, my heart fluttering.

Our drinks arrive, shortly followed by the pizza. It’s hardly a Michelin star restaurant but I couldn’t give less of a crap at the moment. On one hand, I’m sixteen; my standards aren’t that high. On the other, I’m over the moon to be here as a girl, with a boy I like. A boy I really like, more than I thought reasonably possible. Rick is charming and funny, attractive and kind all in one adorable package. The funniest part is that he’s not acting any different to how he was when we were just friends. I really was blind, wasn’t I?

Being here as myself, as Holly, feels like the most natural thing in the world. When I started taking hormones to save myself from the doom that would befall me, I felt a powerful clarity and vitality that I can’t possibly underemphasise. This saved my life, in the very same way that blood thinners can save a hypertensive patient. It brought color and life back to a dead and grey world.

I’m experiencing that very same feeling now as this boy sees the real me, and it feels as though something has changed inside me; something fundamental. I somehow know that I won’t ever really be able to be Alex ever again. He hasn’t really been there since the great coming-out adventure, but now? Now, he’s gone. I can try to play him, but it’s going to be so much harder; my mind just cannot go there anymore.

We’re finishing up and sipping our drinks when I raise the difficult topic I had been avoiding so far; school.

So, about tomorrow,” I begin, giving him a careful look. I know I told him this last night but I need him to understand the reality, as weird as it might end up feeling for us. “I can’t be myself at school yet, not until the end of the term.”

“How the hell are you going to survive the next six weeks?” he frowns.

“Not sure,” I admit with a dark chuckle, “but it’s going to make whatever we have here a little difficult, I think.”

Rick frowns, “How do you mean? I don’t give a damn what others think about me Holly, if that’s what you mean.”

“It’s not about you… I don’t want to cause a scene or draw attention to myself,” I implore. “I’m not ashamed or bothered, but let’s be real here. You’re the big-built football guy; you’re popular. Me? I’m the short skinny runt. Who are they going to beat the crap out of? Don’t forget they already do.”

Rick’s expression darkens, “I won’t let them.”

I hold up a finger. “The bigger issue is that it draws attention to me. Right now I’m getting by because people don’t really pay that much attention; they don’t see the girl among them. If we draw their attention it’s going to look pretty obviously like a boy and a girl.”

“I don’t know if I can just pretend to be your friend at school,” he admits, squeezing my hand. “I really do have strong feelings for you Holly. Now that I know the truth, I don’t think I’ll ever see a boy again.”

“That makes me happier than you know,” I sigh. “But we have to try. Plus, it’s only five weeks really. I have my German trip too.”

“So what? Tough it out and play pretend till the holidays, then what?”

“Then I come back to school as a member of the Girls Division. I’m pretty sure my secret will be out then. If you’re still not bothered by what people say, we can be open about our relationship then.”

Rick looks down at our hands and then returns his gaze to my eyes. “I did a lot of thinking over the last few weeks. I came to the conclusion that I really liked you, the person. I came to peace with the idea that I might be gay; It doesn’t bother me anymore. Am I? No, I fell for a girl without even knowing it. I don’t care what people say; you’re my girl. If you want to be, that is.”

Flippy floppy heart goes squishy. God damn this boy got some rizz as the kids these days say. Well, my kids do at least. Oh yeah, surprise; I have kids. More on that bombshell later.

“I want to be your girl,” I reply quietly. “Outside of school, Holly is all yours. At school, well, Holly has to play a character,” I admit sadly, “Alex the boy.”

“That’s going to be pretty funny,” he smirks. “Now that I think about it, you were never really that good at it anyway.”

“It’s not too hard,” I wave dismissively. “I just switched half my brain off and acted like most of the boys.”

“I’m worried for you,” Rick insists, more seriously. “What if someone finds out about you?”

“I’m not sure,” I admit. “They haven’t for nearly nine months, I can hopefully make it a few more weeks.”

“So, as soon as the semester ends, that’s it; Alex is gone?”

I nod and smile, feeling confident in one thing finally. The thought gives me a feeling of pure joy. “Never again to darken these skies.”

The waitress returns and Rick pays the bill. I don’t try to argue about paying my half this time. Call me old-fashioned, but it’s nice when the guy pays occasionally. I can say that now; this is absolutely a date.

Rather than head back to his truck, we take a walk along the river that runs through the city center. It’s not one of those dingy, ‘many hobos have died in these waters’ places, but rather one of those nice reclaimed public spaces that attract people on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

Walking alongside Rick wasn’t new for me, of course. Holding his hand while we did so, however, was pretty darn new. The world looked at us, and all they saw was a boy and a girl; it felt so extremely right that it made my heart sing.

We walk in silence for several minutes, simply enjoying each other’s presence. It’s fairly busy along the footpath; couples, kids, and families are all taking advantage of the relatively pleasant fall weather.

“I can’t believe just how much more alive you seem now,” Rick opines, glancing over at me.

“How do you mean?”

“You,” he gestures at me. “I kept seeing little pieces of this person peeking through from time to time. When we played games or I made you laugh, I would see… this happy full person poke through. I didn’t realize at the time, but it was your mask slipping. Now that it’s off, the girl inside is shining so brightly.”

“No matter how hard I tried to resist, there were moments where I let my guard down around you,”I admit. “No matter how hard I tried to convince myself that I didn’t like you, I just… you flipped some switch in me.”

“There was one particular moment that started to unravel how I saw you,” Rick admits, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me into his side. God I could get used to this.

“We were in the arcade that one time. Do you remember when your brother brought you along one Saturday afternoon? I was showing you how to play that one basketball game; the one you sucked at so badly? I don’t know why, but when I was behind you showing you how to aim, you smelled… really pretty. I had to fight this urge to hug you to me and it frightened me.”

“Me too,” I giggle softly, remembering the way it had felt to have his arms around me, very similar to now. I closed my eyes as we walked as I remembered the sensation of his body heat radiating through to me, the gentle warmth of his breath.

I feel us stop walking and I open my eyes, the dream temporarily broken. Rick has turned to embrace me, right here on the footpath, just out of the flow of human traffic.

“I want to kiss you, Holly, please, can I?”

I can’t reply with words so I simply nod. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I lean back and raise my chin towards him as he leans down, our eyes never once breaking contact. His lips brush mine with such tenderness that I want to cry out. Here am I in his arms, kissing this boy and the world feels perfect. There is nothing wrong with me; I am normal, I am…happy?

I’m happy.

* * *

Sitting in class on Monday morning, I felt completely out of place. Nothing was outwardly different about the situation; I’m still in the same classes with the same people. To them, I look like the exact same person, but the reality is that Alex is dead. He is now at best a mask and a tenuous one that.

Sure enough, I’d made the example of Holly wearing the Alex mask before. I’d even practiced it; being Holly Winters yet wearing a mask of Alex was in practice what I did every day since my grand coming out. The major difference was that Holly was different now; Holly wasn’t the girl she was last week. Today, with an assured place in the Girls’ Division waiting for me, and having kissed a boy that saw the real me, that poor kid was dead. In her place, was a young woman that was beginning to take flight, and it made me very uncomfortable to be sitting here surrounded by boys.

I’d always felt like an intruder; an outside observer in the boy world, but today, I truly felt like a lamb amongst the wolves. I was jumpy and tense, as though at any moment someone would turn and shout, ‘Girl!’ My ability to successfully play Alex had been failing as the semester progressed, but now, it took conscious effort to stoop and hunch and push my voice down into his monotone.

I think the truth is, that as Holly became a more whole person and gained life experiences, my ability to pretend to be Alex slipped further and further away. I knew who he was, it was still my life, but with every new experience the real me earned, my ability to act like the depressed unhappy child I had been was stripped away.

I wish it was easier to express this sentiment in text because feeling your very existence shift is a most unusual experience. I can only be glad that it was shifting in a net positive direction. One day, there would be no more hiding, and the clock was ticking on that; six weeks, starting today.

“Alex, conjugate Haben into the past plural please?”

Brain search engaged… trawling memories… two weeks ago, Haben… “Sie hattet, Frau Whistler?”

My educator nodded her approval and moved on to the next student to receive a callout. Did she know already? I knew some of my teachers had raised concerns about me and that specifically Frau Whistler and her counterpart in the Girls’ Division would be informed of my secret before our trip, but I couldn’t tell if she knew now. I didn’t think she was treating me any differently today than usual, but I’ve never been a fantastic judge of people.

Ever since the school had become involved I was eying each of my tutors with unreserved suspicion, trying to detect if any of them were behaving differently towards me. The final bell went, and we were packing up to go our separate ways when Frau Whistler called my name.

“Winters, can you stay behind please?”

Threat detected; no gendered title applied. Conclusion? Awareness likely.

On orders, I loitered by my desk while the classroom emptied. My teacher occupied herself with some paperwork until we were alone before closing and locking the classroom door. Threat confirmed.

Returning to her desk, she leaned against the forward edge and smiled kindly. Conclusion; threat minimal?

“I spoke with Principal Gardener this morning.”

I finish stuffing my books into my bag. “I can take three guesses as to what that was about.”

Frau Whistler smiles slightly and nods. “Yes indeed, Miss Winters. He explained that you’ll be transferring out of my class at the end of the semester.”

Ah, full cards on the table, it seems. She doesn’t appear mad, or disgusted, so perhaps there’s good to come here? Apply conciliatory language.

“It’s a shame to leave your class, Frau Whistler, I really did enjoy my time here.”

“You didn’t,” she smiles, “but that’s ok. At least I know it wasn’t my teaching, eh? What I learned goes a long way to explain a few other things I had noticed this year.”

“I’ve been told I’m a terrible poker player,” I admit, with a small smile. “For what it’s worth, I really do enjoy your teaching.”

My teacher nods. “I appreciate that, thank you. Can I ask though, between us like this, would you rather I call you Alex or Holly?”

“In private, Holly is fine Ma’am; it is my name.”

Frau Whistler gives me a strange look. “Now that I’m aware, I’m rather shocked that I didn’t know sooner.”

Why not go for gold and do some recce of my own? “Frau Whistler, you said you’d noticed some things this year. What were they?”

She chuckles to herself and nods. “Unlike the other boys who all seemed to grow, you appeared to get more feminine as time went on. Also, your voice never broke, it was quite noticeable in a class where oral participation was important.” Whistler looks like she’s finished and then she smiles to herself. “Do you remember the day when you came in here to hide away from Herr Taylor?”

“Yes?”

“In a crowd of boys, you’re but one note in the symphony to a teacher. Sure, we try to give individual attention as much as we can, but together, the edge softened. When you were there with me talking, just the two of us, you seemed so different to the others. I couldnt put my finger on the why, just that it wasn’t like any other student.” She smiles. “Now, I know that was because it was a young woman, not a young man that I was talking to. Do you remember when I told you about seeing you at the football game?”

I make a face, remembering that particular game. “I figured you might have seen me at my less-than-boyish best.” I concede.

Frau whistler chuckles as she makes her way to the classroom door. “I will admit, at first, I saw three girls enjoying the game. Even when I later recognized one of them as you, cosmically, it still seemed to somehow fit.”

“They’re my best friends,” I admit with a fond smile. “I find it hard not to be myself around them.”

Frau Whistler smiles. “Hold on to that, Holly Winters, and cherish it forever.”

I left Frau Whistler’s classroom with a feeling of peace in my heart. One of my teachers, arguably my favorite, seemed accepting and supportive. It was a weight off my shoulders even if my disguise had been less than paper thin to her eyes.

Hey, some people are just observant, I won’t win them all. Frau Whistler may have simply been at the right place and the right time to observe me in a way that lowered my defenses. I also liked her cosmic inference. The universe seemed to be aligning in my favor for the first time in my life and I wasn’t about to squander it.

Rather than face the press of the common room and so very many people, I made my way outside into the crisp fall air. Before school, I’d hidden away in the library and now, I wandered along the edge of the grass, enjoying the peace and quiet. Well, relative peace and quiet, I could hear Freshmen trying to kill each other somewhere in the distance but it was unimportant unless any weapons became involved.

Spending my time around people today felt mentally exhausting. Wearing the mask felt false and uncomfortable, but I knew I had to make it through the day. I hoped it might get easier as time went on, that each subsequent day might feel a little bit easier. I wasn’t holding my breath though, I knew it was a bare-knuckle grudge match to the end; now that the genie was out of the bottle, she wouldn’t fit back in.

I found a bench out by the lacrosse field and sat down to enjoy the morning sunshine. Here, nobody would judge how I was sat, or how I looked. Here, I was just another kid sitting on a bench doing nothing of interest. Melancholic? Sure, It’s my specialty didn’t you know?

The world is quiet and peaceful, save for the sounds of adolescent violence away in the distance. I smile because I’m starting to understand that carefree joy that others seem to find so easily. It’s taken me a long road, but I’m finally beginning to know peace. Sure, I have a long way to go yet, but it’s finally in sight. Like a ship finally spotting land after days at sea in violent storms.

“Is this bench taken?”

I look behind me when I hear the voice and spot the one guy who I wasn’t looking forward to meeting today. The one guy I was hoping to put off seeing until lunchtime, if I couldn’t find an excuse to skip it. He’s stood there looking as sexy as ever, his hands in his pants pockets, his tie is at its usual jaunty angle and he’s smiling down at me.

“Hey.”

“Can I join you?”

I nod, and he takes a seat on the far end of the bench, his hands still in his pockets. I can’t tell you how much I want to slide over and let him kiss me, to have him hold me in his arms but I resist those urges. We share a look that pretty much confirms he feels exactly the same way.

“Andy told me you headed out this way after class.”

“Are you keeping track of me now?” I raise an eyebrow.

He smiles, “Maybe, but only because I was scared to see you today.”

I frown, “why?”

“I was scared that I’d do something dumb, like try to kiss you right there in the common room in front of everyone,” he chuckles. “That I’d blow your cover and make an ass out of everything.”

“It’s pretty fragile,” I admit with a smirk. “I came out here to get away from everyone; so I didn’t have to pretend. Pretending is kinda hard; now even more so.”

Rick smiles and nods. “I know what you mean. It still blows my mind that they think you’re a boy.”

“Does it feel weird, seeing me like this, now?”

Rick shakes his head, and he stares into my eyes with a look of utter conviction. “Holly, all I see when I look at you is a girl playing dress up; I don’t think I’ll ever see Alex ever again. You opened my eyes this weekend and I couldn’t be happier. No; it doesn’t feel weird, but it is difficult.”

He holds his hand up to stop me from interrupting and continues. “It’s difficult because I want to be near you and if I’m near you, I won’t be able to keep it a secret. For you, I’ll keep my distance, and for you, I’ll protect your secret. Just know that it’s stupid hard.”

I reach out my hand, sliding it across the bench into the open space between us. After a second, he takes hold of it and squeezes. For the remainder of the break, we sit, side by side, holding hands as we stare out across the fields.

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Fake It Till You Make It - 20 - Daughter, Teacher, Student.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Twenty - Daughter, Teacher, Student.

“Alexander Winters?” The nurse calls from the doorway at the end of the hall.

Grumble

Hearing that name called out in full always grinds my gears in ways that are hard to explain… Oh wait, no it’s not.

Even if I won’t have to tolerate it for much longer, it still freaking sucks. It’s first thing on Tuesday morning, and Mom and I are at the surgery to see ol’ Doctor Harris for my latest oil change. Seeing as I will be off to school directly afterward, I’m in full boy-drag, sadly.

You remember I had to go see the good doctor a few weeks before D-Day, right? Yes, Derp Day, Day of Donkening, Dork Did A Dumbass Day; pick your poison. Due to said visit, Harris already knows all about me, so I’m surprisingly comfortable to go see him now that all our cards are on the table. Well, as much as I can be about this issue, that is.

When we arrive at his office, Harris is waiting for us and greets Mom with a friendly hug. “Hello Veronica, it’s good to see you.” He looks over at me and smiles, “Miss Winters, I hear you’ve had an eventful few weeks?”

I shrug sheepishly and make a face.

“Tony, glad to see you again,” Mom smiles.

“I see a request here from a Doctor Ward for a full workup and report,” Harris points out, sitting down at his computer. “I’ll forward her my exam from a few weeks ago and the panel of bloods I took at the same time. Everything should be relatively current, given the circumstances.”

“That would be fantastic, thank you.” Mom agrees. “What were her levels?”

What? Do you think just because Mom and Doctor Harris are old buds, that he would share my medical records with her? Ones he promised to keep private due to my age? He’s actually a good bean.

Harris glances at me and upon receiving my nod, pulls up the file. “Estrogen levels are within range for a girl in puberty and her testosterone levels are suppressed to within normal margins, although, they are a tiny bit on the lower end of the scale. Serum lipids are good, as is liver function; no issues as far as I can tell with her wider health. She’s a model patient on hormone therapy, if she was actually ON, hormone therapy,” he chuckles.

“Indeed,” Mom agrees, shooting me a slightly miffed look. “At least she’s not done any damage.”

“She was careful,” I offer hopefully, giving both adults my best innocent look. “I really did do my research.”

Harris nods in agreement. “In her defense Veronica, she did indeed: Her dosages are what are typically prescribed for the desired levels. The materials were… while, illicitly imported into this country, entirely legal in Canada.”

“Can we rectify that, now she’s out in the open?” Mom asks. “Or do you need to send her off to an Endocrinologist first?”

Harris shrugs and gives that open-handed gesture people use when they’re not entirely sure. “I can write a bridging prescription for her, but I would rather she see as an Endo for a formal prescription before too much longer. Transgender care is not my field of specialty and there are far more qualified people to help her,” he explains. “I’d rather not disrupt the treatment in the meantime; so yes, I can.”

Woo, I get to stay on the titty Skittles, result!

“I am glad that you spoke to your mother,” Harris adds, giving me a kindly look. “She really does have your best interest at heart, Holly.”

I look over at Mom and smile, “I see that now; I was a fool.”

“You were scared and alone,” Doctor Harris corrects me gently. “It’s entirely understandable, really.”

Harris turns to his computer and types for a moment before handing Mom a prescription and an appointment card. “Mercy’s Endocrinology department, Doctor Maya Anderson, two weeks on Friday, half past four?”

“Perfect,” Mom smiles. “Thank you, Tony.”

With that brief appointment, I joined the ranks of those on real, honest-to-good anti-boy-otics. It was a really affirming feeling to see that first proper prescription, even if it was in Alex’s name. Sure, it was a bridge to keep me tied over until I could see an actual Endocrinologist (Specialist Hormone Doctor), but it was a sign that this was real, official, and proceeding towards my end goal; being me for the rest of my life.

It also helped to confirm for me that Mom and Dad were fully onboard the Holly Express. There was absolutely no hesitation or fanfare when she got it filled at the local pharmacy on the way to school. The look she gave me when she handed over the bag in the car, however, spoke volumes.

“Thank you, Mom,” I offered quietly, clutching the paper bag tightly in my hands. “I know what this means to you.”

“We love you, Holly; never forget that fact,” Mom squeezed my hand. “I’m just glad that we’re able to help you properly now. I’m glad this is all out in the open.”

“I’m still sorry I couldn’t be your son, Mom.”

Mom looks at me and there’s a tear in her eye. “Holly, even sitting there right now in your suit trying to be him, I can’t see my baby boy anymore. Alex is gone and that’s ok; he never really existed. I’m going to mourn who my child was, and heal by loving who she really is.”

Blub. I love you, Mom.

* * *

The bus rumbled onward as the rain beat down on the windows, blurring the view outside. Super cinematic right? Welcome to late fall in my area; it’s very soggy.

“And we kissed by the river, it was… I’ve never felt so alive in my entire life,” I admit, shedding an actual happy tear. Both Megan and Kara beam with happiness.

“You deserve a little bit of luck babe,” Meg offers, giving me a squeeze. “I saw how much you cared about him; to find out he sees the real you too is just… too beautiful.”

“I have no idea how I’m going to keep this shit up for five more weeks.” I groan as I flop back against the glass. We’re on our way home from the Gym on Wednesday afternoon and it’s been the first chance I’ve had to debrief after the weekend of insanity that has rocked my world.

No Gary to interrupt our conversation you ask? The goblin is off exchanging farts with some of his buddies as far as I know. Either way, it’s just the three of us riding home on the city’s delightful public transit system.

Kara shrugs, “you’ve managed so far, it can’t be that different, right?”

“Back then, I was Alex all the time,” I point out. “Now, he barely exists, even at school.”

“How has Rick been since the weekend?” Meg queries, cursing under her breath as the bus's jolt throws off her nail-painting accuracy.

I make a face. “I kinda tried to avoid him but, well, he ended up finding me anyway. I think I feel a lot weirder about it than he does.”

“Damn straight,” she chuckles. “He’s the only guy with a hot girlfriend right there in school with him; I bet he’s cool with it.”

I really managed to get myself into a real mess, didn’t I? Here I am, actively trying to pretend to be the sex I was born. The wrong one, I might add, but pretend I must. Now introduce Rick into that mix and I’d fail pretty quickly. I have no problem with people thinking I’m gay, the truth is that I’m not. No, my problem with people seeing Rick and I being romantic together is me. There’s just no way I can pretend to be Alex when I’m with him that way.

It sounds wild, doesn’t it? The truth falls back to my house of cards analogy. My perception of the world as a boy is pretty tentative at best. Take a few cards off the top, and the house remains standing; my hair, my size, and my shape are all things that can be overlooked. I know with reasonable certainty that I struggle to behave remotely boyish around him. I was failing at that long before he found out the truth, and I don’t see that changing. Something about how he treats me makes it impossible for me to pretend. No, if people saw us together, they would see right through me.

I cannot let that happen, for both of our sakes. What happens after it all comes out? That’s a storm that I’m willing to weather. Will people call us gay? Probably. I’m not naive enough to believe this will be a happy-ever-after beautiful trans-fiction world where everyone can totally tell I’m destined to be a girl and that clearly, Rick is a straight guy dating a young woman. No, they’ll call him a fag and me a freak. That might be the real test.

Sigh. Why can’t life be simple?

* * *

Thursday morning began very much like every other day in my new reality, although I certainly felt a little more comfortable having taken that first icy plunge. Playing Alex should be easy; I’ve played him for most of my life. Somehow now it feels so awkward and isolating.

Morning classes are utterly underwhelming; we’re into the meat of the semester here and are working hard to get stuff done. Honestly, academia is a fantastic distraction from all of the girl/boy world bullcrap that keeps bothering me. Getting my head stuck in my work helps keep my focus away from the situation that I’m in. It used to protect Alex from having to face reality, now, it stops Holly from having to focus too much on pretending to be him.

By now, our courses are in full swing and our teachers have zero mercy. I told you private schools could be ruthless and this one is no different. I’m mostly caught up on my homework from my unfortunate absence but that doesn’t mean the workload eases up. Thankfully I have a free period this afternoon that should sort a lot of this mess out.

As w pour out of Physics, I run into a solid wall of dumbass.

“Watch where you’re going faggot,” snarls one of the bigger guys in my year, giving me a dirty look as though I am composed entirely of cow dung.

I hold my tongue and turn away; there’s no point getting involved in anything with these guys. Suck it up and ignore it, Holly, it doesn’t matter...

“Where you going fag-boy?” the lump growls, grabbing me by the shoulder and spins me around as I go to pass him by. “Who said I was done with you?”

“I did, see you later Kevin,” I point out firmly, stepping to the side.

Kevin frowns and tries to compute the fact that someone has ignored his defacto authority. It takes a few seconds before I feel him yank me backward by my hair.

“Yeeoowwch.” I yelp, falling backward to relieve the pressure on my head. “Get off me you fucking asshole.”

“You scream like a girl,” he chuckles darkly. “Bet you take it up the ass you faggot.”

“How about you go fuck yourself,” I spit, massaging my sore head. “I’m pretty sure nobody else is ever going to take up the challenge.”

Kevin Peterson stands there and blinks for a moment, staring at me.

“What?” I snap, “Leave me the hell alone asshole, fuck off.”

Inexplicably, the guy turns and walks away without another word. The few students that had hung around expecting a fight wander off, disappointed that bloodsport is no longer on the cards. I’m just collecting my things when Andy hands me my remaining textbook.

“You might want to put your hair back in its elastic, Rapunzel,” he chuckles, nodding at the black hair tie now lying on the floor.

“Huh?” I shake my head, slightly and hair falls into my eyes, suddenly it all seems to click into place. “Oh, uh, right,” I mumble, stooping to grab the tie and quickly returning my hair to its low pony.

Andy gives me a weird look but doesn’t say anything. “Are you ok?” he asks, sounding genuinely concerned for my wellness.

“My hair’s still attached to my head, otherwise, no feelings hurt,” I shrug. “I have no idea why he stopped and left me alone.”

“You stood up to him,” Andy points out as we start walking to English Literature. “People don’t stand up to Kevin Peterson; he thrives off being the one in control.”

“I really didn’t feel like dealing with his crap today,” I sigh.

I’m not entirely sure why I just stood up to one of the school’s most prolific bullies. Honestly? I think a part of me was done with being dragged down by some tiny dick asshole that insists on making others feel bad.

Looking back, Alex never actually stood up to anyone in his life. The difference here is, that it wasn’t Alex at that moment. I know it sounds highly schizophrenic, but it was Holly that didn’t take Kevin’s shit. That moment of pain, when he pulled my hair, caused me to drop the Alex Mask entirely.

I glance over at Andy cautiously, now that I realize why Kevin stopped and why my friend reacted strangely. No, it wasn’t just the loose hair that really didn’t belong on a boy and it wasn’t just the tone of my voice. It was the pissed-off girl that came out of left field and slapped them square in the face. Dominoes… I let one too many topple and I cannot afford to do that.

Andy seems a little quieter than normal as we walk to class and it makes me really consider my friend for a moment. While Gary and I were friends because we were both nerdy rejects who were pressed together by the school system, Andy and I were always different. We became friends because in many ways, we were both seen as broken. It was a shared understanding that behind the exterior that everyone else saw, we were worth knowing.

“Andy?”

Hopalong stops walking and looks over at me. He’s never once judged me and he’s always been there. I’ve been seriously ignoring him recently and I feel guilty. Stupid gender crap has gotten in the way of a friendship that I valued. I smile and squeeze his shoulder, it’s a lot more manly than the hug I was trying my hardest to resist. “I’m really glad that you’re my friend.”

Andy chuckles and shakes his head. “I know.”

“Did you just pull a Star Loner on me?”

Andy smirks, “Don’t get your buns in a twist princess.”

I swear to god, If kicking him wasn’t a war crime, he would be limping more than usual.

* * *

Two hours later, it’s finally lunchtime and I drop into my spot at the table with a deep sigh. My brain is entirely frazzled from a morning of extreme academic focus and I am worn out. I’m a little early today, so I’m only the second arrival after our table head, Carson.

“You look like you’re fit to drop,” the Quarterback observes, filling his glass from one of the water jugs on the table before offering it to me.

I give him a nod and a smile of thanks as I kneed my temples. “Algebra has fried my brain, I’m basically useless now.”

“I know the feeling,” he chuckles, “I get that way tryin’ to remember crap in history. My brain doesn’t do good with dates; always feel guilty about not being good with that stuff. My Dad, he loves Archeology and it makes me feel like a bit of a failure.”

Carson colors up and frowns. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m unloading on you, Alex.”

“I don’t mind,” I shrug. This is the honest truth; I don’t. I’d rather people be honest with their feelings sometimes. I know how rich that sounds coming from me, shut up.

“I could maybe tutor you if you wanted?” I offer, surprising myself as much as him. “I’m getting A’s in History at the moment, maybe it might help with technique?”

Several of our tablemates start to arrive as Carson is about to answer. He thinks for a moment then seems to reach a decision. He gives me a quick nod and a thin smile, “I’m free last period today?”

I do a quick mental calculation as the table fills up. “Works for me,” I grin. “See you then, huh?”

* * *

Ordinarily, with my final two periods free today, I would be off home faster than a politician fleeing a funding inquest. Any excuse to get out of Alex and get my homework done in comfort at home is favorable to spending it as a boy in school. No, instead, I’m here in the library finishing off my Geography homework and waiting for my new student. I really don’t plan ahead, do I?

Was it a bad idea, to offer to help? No, not really. I am a good person, despite what you may think of me. The big thing is that I’ve never actually had anyone to offer help to before. Heck, I’ve not exactly been in a helpful headspace. Most of my associates, the nerds, are pretty smart folks. They rarely have ever asked for or needed assistance. Is it a bit of a stereotype, the jock needing help in class? Look, we all have weak points, and Carson like any other student here is actually pretty smart. You don’t tend to last here if you’re stupid. Even the sports stars don’t coast at this school.

Why did I offer? I’m not entirely sure. Perhaps being in a more of a Holly state of mind, I’m more willing to put myself out there to help others. It’s a nice feeling really, even if it does mean staying in Boymode for a little longer than I’d like. Alex didn’t have enough energy to help himself, but Holly, she’s going to be different, I’m starting to see that.

The Library door thuds dully as someone enters and the quiet space is filled with the soft slap of shoe leather on the parquet floor. I finish the chapter I was reading and look up as Carson Orlinski arrives, a cheesy grin on his face.

“I’m ready to learn Professor.”

I roll my eyes and gesture at the chair across from me with my pen. “Sit my child, and we can begin.”

I’ve described the library before, right? Big and gothic with lots of dark wood and tall bookcases. Well, the study area consists of long wooden tables with rather nice padded chairs. There are reading lamps and an area of computers off to one side. Just off the main area. Is a smaller room with printers and copiers and other such noisy modern machinery that Mrs Inverbrook believes to be uncouth. Right now, we’re on one of those long wooden tables and Mr Sports Star is unpacking his pile of textbooks.

Those computers that I mentioned? It was there that I first started to research what I was around age twelve. I had no idea how to explain what it was that I felt as a young child, only that I should have been like my sister Chrissie. It was those very machines that helped me to understand it had a word. When something has a word, it can be written; when it can be written, it can be answered.

“What are you guys studying?” I ask as Carson gets himself settled.

“The Russian Revolution through to the Soviet Union,” Carson explains, opening a textbook. “Trotsky, Stalin, Five Year Plans and all that; it’s just a blur to me.”

“Why do you find it hard?”

Carson makes a face, “It’s so damn dry.”

“So tell me about the last movie you saw.”

Carson’s face lights up at that question. “Oh man, there was this movie with Tim Journey, he plays this American Retired Army Captain who’s all jaded and traumatized from the stuff he did during the Indian wars. Well, now he’s in Japan to sell guns and train them to use them and stuff right? Well, he ends up getting attacked by Ninjas and he helps them fight off a revolution.”

Clearly, Carson enjoyed this movie. I raise an eyebrow. “How quickly did you recall all of that?”

He shrugs and looks confused, “I liked it.”

“So why are you struggling with this then?”

“I don’t get it,” he frowns.

I point at his textbook. “What you’ve got in there, blows that movie away. You’ve got revolution, war, an apprentice betraying his master, assassination, and murder.”

“Really?” he perks up and flips through a few pages. “Like what?”

I smirk and spread my hands like an actor on a Broadway stage about to reveal the big plot secret. “How about when Leon Trotsky, disgraced former Bolshevik leader got an ice axe in the head because Stalin wanted his influence gone so that he could clean up his control of power? He assassinated anyone who posed a risk to him; Generals, Scientists, and Politicians. Anybody who questioned his authority or his decisions was sent to the Gulag or executed. All of this meant that when the Germans did invade after they betrayed their pact with Stalin, the Soviets were on the back foot because they had lost so many of their leaders.”

The boy looks immediately enthused and I know I have him hook line and sinker. “See what I mean? Once you find a way to angle the story to be more engaging, you find it hard to forget.”

“We’re doing this in Senior history class,” Carson points out. “How do you know it already?”

I smile, “One of my Dad’s work friends used to work for The Antonov aircraft company when they were still part of the Soviet Union like, twenty years ago.” I offer. “He works for Dad’s company now, but he loved to tell me all about the sordid history of Communism and I found it fascinating.”

I won’t bore you with the nitty-gritty as I got Carson started with the October Revolution, Lenin, collectivism, and through to the rise of Stalin. Honestly, it's hours of material but I gave him the exciting cliff notes edition. It was surprising how quickly he became totally enthused by the material.

Carson grinned happily. “Honestly, you totally changed this for me, you should totally be a teacher.”

“No,” I shook my head. “I’m going to be a doctor like my Mom.”

“If you heal people anything you can teach, then you’re going to rock it,” he enthuses. “Alex, I really appreciate this. I was honestly hitting a wall on this stuff.”

“I’m glad I could help,” I admit before pausing. “I have to say though, I’m as surprised that I offered as I am that you actually accepted it.”

Carson shrugs, “I’m not beyond asking for help when I need it or I’d suck as an athlete. I’m normally pretty good in the classroom, but like I said earlier, I get a little stuck sometimes when I can’t work out how to engage.”

“I know what you mean,” I offer as I tidy up my books. “I can get like that sometimes.”

Carson shakes his head and gives me an odd look. “I don’t know why, but I feel like I can just talk to you about this stuff. I don’t feel like I gotta put on the whole Super QB cape.”

I get the feeling I should be picking something up here, but you know me by now, my social radar is basically Soviet technology; it only works when it’s Thursday, and sunny.

“Probably because I’ve nobody to tell that might believe me,” I chuckle darkly. “One of the benefits of being a loner.”

“You’ve got Rick though, right?” Carson points out.

Gerk

“Uh, I mean… I guess, we are friends, I suppose,” I admit, glancing up. His expression is neutral, I don’t think he’s asserting anything in particular. My heart rate did backflip briefly, I’m getting far too sensitive for this shit.

“I can see why he likes you though,” Carson continues as he shoulders his bag. “You’re real easy to talk to and you’re pretty funny. You’re nothing like the other guys.”

No shit, Sherlock.

“I ah… I’m just me,” I shrug.

“Yeah,” Carson agrees as we head for the exit. “That’s just it; you don’t seem to care how others see you, you’re different.”

Oh crap, even my broken social radar is screaming hard like an incoming missile threat.

“I’m no different to anyone really; I just want to get good grades, go to Medical school, and stay out of trouble.” I bluster, hoping it distracts him.

Carson shrugs. “Either way, you’re cool Alex, alright? Thanks for listening to my crap and helping. You didn’t have to and I owe you one, ok?”

He holds the library door open and stands waiting. Confused, it takes me a second to realize that he’s holding the door for me; ostensibly, another boy. If I could facepalm without it making this awkward, I would.

I keep my mouth shut and do what he’s expecting. Honestly, now I know why some guys behave a certain way around me, it’s far easier to go with the groove and just prevent embarrassment or beatings. Hell, maybe it will be funny one day? I might even write a book.

“I ah, I’ll see you around, ok?” I offer with a dweebish wave and a grin. I make like a banana and split before this whole thing becomes even more awkward. How do I manage to do this? Do I spray pheromones at boys like some kind of lady skunk? (Please don’t overthink that statement)

If this was fiction it would be hilariously awkward and not a little bit adorable. We’d all have a good laugh at the protagonist’s cringeworthy attempts not to attract the unknowing guys to her ‘true feminine self’. In real life, it's quite worrisome and not a little confusing. I managed to navigate one boy catching feelings for me successfully, the odds of two going the same way aren’t very likely.

I don’t want to date Carson, let me make that abundantly clear for you, dear reader. Sure, he’s a nice guy and he’s certainly an attractive guy, but I’m not interested. Rick and I are still working out what we are, but I’m positive that he’s more than enough for me.

What my exit from the nerd cloister is teaching me is that boys who are less familiar with me are picking up what I’m not trying to put down a great deal easier. It could be that unfamiliarity, or it could be that, unlike my nerdy brethren, they have more social experience than a chaste kiss on the cheek from granny at Christmas. The real problem here is that it’s spreading and far too soon.

What am I getting myself into?

* * *

“Holly?”

Parental yelling apparently does not change, even when you transition.

I stick my head out of my bedroom door and glance around suspiciously; the hallway is empty. “What?” I yell back.

Mom crests the staircase and raises an eyebrow. “Yelling what isn’t very ladylike, darling.”

“I’m a work in progress,” I shrug, “wazup?”

“I was going out to grab some groceries that we’re low on. Do you want to come with me?”

My homework is done and this seems like a good opportunity to stretch my legs. “Sure Mom, give me a few minutes?”

Mother dearest fixes me with a knowing look. “I know this is all exciting and new, but we’re going to the superstore for groceries. You do not need a full face of makeup, Holly Juliette Winters.”

Sunday names, and not even a crime committed yet. Well, that’s me told.

I joined Mom in the car a little under ten minutes later. While I might not have put a ton of makeup on, my hair was being rather rebellious and needed serious taming before I was fit for public consumption. I might not have gone over the top with my cosmetics, but I did need to avoid looking like a Halloween fright doll.

For my outfit, I ended up going with a simple pair of jeans, sneakers, and a nice cozy sweater. As far as outfits go, it wasn’t hugely removed from what I might have worn as Alex. The more important difference was that I now stood up tall and didn’t hide my body. Comfort is strangely beautiful in its own way.

Going to the superstore isn’t exactly exciting rip-roaring transgender drama, I know. Honestly, this made it into the book because it was one of the most normal experiences that I’ve had since my coming out. Even something as mundane as grocery shopping can really plant formative memories in one's young life when it’s finally a comfortable experience.

“Here you go miss,” the lady at the deli counter hands me the package and I place it into our cart. It’s a stupid little thing, but It makes me happy to hear it now. Now, it’s correct and it’s not giving the game away or ruining my secret. Now I’m not remotely ashamed to be called Miss, now I’m proud.

Mom returns from whatever she was grabbing and takes over pushing the cart down one of the isles.

“What do you want to do for dinner tonight? I was considering doing a casserole.” she muses as we pass between isles of canned products.

I give her a look, “Casserole would be ok. You seem unusually domestic, what’s up?”

“Nothing,” she replies examining a can.

“Come on, we don’t do groceries midweek,” I accuse, smelling Rattus Rattus. “What’s this really about?”

Mom glances around and looks a little sheepish. “I know how much I work, and I’m not around for you as much as I was for Chrissie when she was younger. I was trying to make some time to do normal things with you as mother and daughter.”

God, this moment still makes me cry to this day. It was one of the most human moments I ever witnessed from my Mom. She was doing her best to be there for me when I needed her the most. Even though she wasn’t really sure what she was doing, she was trying her best. Yeah, grocery shopping isn’t going to change the planet, but right then, picking up milk and cold cuts felt like the most valuable time in the world.

The cart abandoned, I pulled her into a hug right there in the canned vegetable aisle. “Thanks, Mom,” I murmur into her shoulder. “I love you.”

Mom squeezes me back, “I love you too, baby. I’m sorry that I’m not very good at this.”

“I don’t need you to be good at this,” I admit with a sniff. “I just need you to be my Mom. We’ll work this out as we go.”

Mom leans back and strokes my hair. “I can do that baby, I’m just afraid that I’ll let you down in the process. I should have said something sooner; when I realized what was going on. I love you more than any of this rubbish and I shouldn’t have let you suffer.”

I laugh, which catches both of us by surprise. “Mom, I would have denied it if you had. I don’t think I was quite ready to face this until very recently. I’m not sure if it was Kara and Megan, or even realizing that I wasn’t going to make it to college as I’d planned. The truth is, I was lying to myself as much as I was to everyone else. I knew what I was, but I was afraid of everything. Afraid of taking the risk and trying, afraid that I would never get the chance.”

“Are you still afraid?” She asks uncertainly.

“I am, but I know that I have you and the rest of the family. Heck, I have Kara and Megan, and I have…” I blush as I realize was about to say that I had Rick too. It takes me a second to remember that’s ok and that I don’t need to be embarrassed about liking a boy anymore, “...and, I have Rick,” I add, with more certainty than I feel. “I’ve got everyone I need, Mom.”

Mom smiles and looks a little more certain of herself. “I worry honey, this is so far outside my specialty that I feel a little lost. Unlike at work, I don’t get to wash my hands and tell myself I did my best if it all goes wrong. You’re my child and I’m afraid I’ll make a mistake.”

“As far as I’m concerned Mom, you’re doing just great. I was convinced that everyone would hate me. As far as I’m concerned, anything beyond acceptance is a bonus.”

We continue pushing the cart along the aisle as we talk. “That’s a very shrewd way to look at it Holly,” Mom points out. “You shouldn’t have to look at life that way at your age.”

“I had to grow up pretty quickly,” I point out.

“I’m sorry.”

I shrug, “You don’t need to be; the past is the past. Honestly? I’m just overjoyed that I’ll even get a chance to be me finally. Any outcome from this point onward is a good one. I can live with whatever comes next and I’ll do whatever I can to be the best daughter I can. Once I work out what that is, I guess.”

“When you unearth that secret, let me know,” Mom chuckles. “I was a daughter once myself and I have no idea what that is.”

We turn down another aisle and Mom starts referencing her list. I catch sight of myself in one of the glass-fronted cabinets and cannot help but stare. The girl looking back at me seems a little surprised, but she looks comfortable and carefree. From the bushy ponytail to the relaxed posture, she looks…I look, content?

Contentment is a new and unusual feeling for me. It’s not an emotion I’ve ever really felt before in my young life. Try to imagine spending the day with a small pebble in your shoe; no matter how much you shuffle it, you know it’s there and it either irritates you or it outright hurts. It’s always there until you finally take off the shoe and shake it out. Even then, your mind is still aware of the pebble’s effects for some time.

I’ve got a long way to go, but I’m throwing that damn pebble out and life is starting to feel pretty good without it.

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Fake It Till You Make It - 21 - Mistakes Were Maiden.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Twenty One - Mistakes Were Maiden.

“Hey, pass the water?” Rick asks, causing me to look up from the incredibly interesting pasta bake on my plate.

I’ve managed to find some sort of middle ground here at school where I can interact with him like a human bean rather than a lovesick puppy dog and it’s working out reasonably well so far. We’ve managed to maintain our fledgling relationship so far, and nobody seems the wiser. I have to admit, it still feels weird as it feels for me to see him like this.

“Here you go,” I offer, sliding it over. “Game later, right?”

Of course, there’s a game later; I know there is, we all know that I know, but it’s boy conversation.

“Uhuh, Coach is starting me tonight, kinda pumped.”

I knew that too. He’s been on about it all week, but we keep up appearances here in make-believe land. “Oh, neat, good luck!”

“You coming with Rob?” Carson asks, pointing a forkful of Penne in my direction. “

“Mhm,” I offer, “Someone’s got to cheer for him or the poor guy will suck worse than Face.”

“Hey, you’re tight with that Megan Byrne chick, right?” Carson queries. “Has she said anything about Rob, ever?”

This is uncharted territory…what do I do here, with boys talking about dating and romance? I don’t think I ever got this lesson. On the other hand, oh how I do love a little bit of gossip. “No, why? What’s the dumbass been admitting to?”

“He’s seriously into her,” he grins. “If you were cool, you might sound her out for him, you know… he’d never ask you himself.”

Obviously, he’s my brother, it would be weird, duh. What is weirder still, is that I’m expected to be privy to girl talk with Meg and Kara. The fact that they don’t see anything unusual about this is mildly hilarious.

“Just why would I want to help out my brother’s dating life?” I enquired, trying to maintain my expression with a slight dose of mild revulsion. “On top of that, why would she tell me if she liked him, she’s a girl.”

Look, I have to pretend to be a ‘Girls are from Venus and I forgot my space suit,’ teenage boy. Note to self; do not look at Rick or you will blow the act.

“You can’t tell me you guys aren’t tight,” Carson insists with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not sure what you’ve got going on, but you’re always with her and her sister. They gotta tell you something, right?”

Rick is chucking silently across the table and enjoying every moment of this. I boot him under the table while smiling politely. He knows full well what they tell me and why, asshole.

“Uh, well, you know, maybe…” I concede reluctantly. “Look, I can’t promise anything, nor am I ruining a friendship to help Rob hook up either.”

“I knew you’d help out, he’s been moping about her for weeks,” Carson grins. “We really appreciate you doing us a solid.”

I swear, these guys are freaking blind. Thank god, because if they could see how they were acting and what was in front of them I’d be in serious trouble.

I munch thoughtfully on my pasta as I ponder my present circumstances. I’ve found a generally manageable way to play the boy game and it’s just about working out. People treat me like a girl more than not, but they seem to see a boy in their heads. Don’t get me wrong, plenty of the assholes still call me fag and queer. The difference is that they did that before I started hormones too, so nothing has really changed there.

High school; gotta love it.

* * *

Sitting out on the bleachers at games is freezing cold at this time of year. Granted it’s in the high fifties to low sixties, but to me, that’s pretty cold, ok? Due in no small part to the weather this evening, I was wrapped up warm like the rest of the spectators; with Gloves and hats all around.

I was up in our usual spot with Meg and Kara and the three of us looked pretty indistinguishable. That is, except for the fact I wasn’t wearing a skirt like the mental patient named Megan Byrne.

“My legs are going to fall off,” dumbass number one whined, rubbing her thighs.

“You chose it, I did warn you,” her sister adds, handing me one of the hotdogs that she had just returned from acquiring.

“But I wanted to look good,” she moaned. “I…”

“In case you get a chance to talk to my brother, you mean.” I dangle casually, taking a bite from my meaty treat.

The death stare I receive tells me that I’m right on the mark as expected. Megan slumps with resignation and nods. “Yes, fine, I wanted to look pretty in case I got a chance to speak to your stupid gorgeous brother, ok?”

I grin like a shark, “What would it be worth if I were to make an introduction, maybe… nudge the needle in your favor?”

Meg’s eyes narrowed, “Holly Juliette Winters, you mercenary, what do you want?”

I shrug. “World peace, the blood of your firstborn, or maybe the loan of those Prada heels your Gran got you last Christmas.”

“You rat,” she giggled. “Ok, deal, I’ll let you borrow the heels. Will you make me an intro?”

“I’d do it anyway,” I shrug. “I would never dare charge you, gorgeous heels or not. Plus, news just in from Boyworld is that Rob is already interested, so it’s barely any actual work.”

Meg’s face changes to one of gleeful hope in a heartbeat. “Wait, he is? he likes me? You’re not kidding?”

“Since when did you get included in the guy talk mailing list?” Kara interjects.

“Actually, Carson asked me at lunch if you must know.” I shrug. “Apparently, because I’m friends with you two, I’m somehow party to your romantic interests and able to sway you to a particular boy’s heart.”

“So they think you’re included in our girl talk… and that you can try to talk up one of their friends for them,” Kara confirms, raising an eyebrow.

I make a face and nod. “Yeah, apparently they skipped that memo. I didn’t tell them that bleeding heart here is into Rob anyway. They don’t get to find out any secrets.”

Kara grins. “They see you like a little sister; their spy in girl world.”

I considered her thoughts as I watched one of the opposing team's players get his soul dumped out of his body. “Yeah, you’re probably right about that. Although I’m pretty sure they have no idea that they do it.”

“You confuse them; They see… whatever the fuck you pretend to be at school, but their little brains and their junk says girl,” Meg opines. “They have no idea why, but you do.”

“Do you want this in with Rob or not?”

“Oh god, yes please,” she whines grabbing onto the front of my coat, “please, please, please!”

“If you’re going to kill Miss Winters, Miss Byrne, I recommend doing it off school grounds. It reduces our liability.”

The three of us spin around at the sound of an adult voice and spot Mrs Carlos, the girl’s Principal looking down with an amused expression on her face.

“Uh, sorry Ma’am, I wasn’t… I mean, we were just messing…” Meg stammers, releasing me from her clutches.

“I’m aware, Miss Byrne. You’re not actually in trouble… unless that skirt gives you hypothermia.” She adds glancing down at Megan’s fashion choice with a sly smirk. “Good evening, girls.”

The principal turns and leaves us to our business. It’s nice to be included like that; it's so normal. Still feels a little strange to hear out loud, but it feels right.

“I told you it was too short, you’re going to look like a desperate skank.” Kara points out, jabbing her sister in the ribs.

“Better desperate than like my vagina gave up and left home,” Meg fires back.

I blink at the remark for a second then mentally shrug. I’ve heard similar and worse from boys. These two are really, really, special.

A whole lot of football later and the game was over. It was another victory for the glorious Lions and there was a pretty jubilant atmosphere down on the field. True to my word, I had plans to engineer a proper introduction between my best friend and my brother. Magnanimous lady, aren’t I?

There are many that might think it felt strange, nudging my brother together with one of my friends, but the truth is, while it was a little ick, I wanted them both to be happy. They were the perfect fit for each other; Rob was an outgoing but secretly sensitive guy and Meg… well, behind the firebrand was a sensitive and thoughtful girl who yearned for a kindred spirit.

My girls had been there for me and so has Rob in just as many ways. I could handle the nausea that the idea of them making out generated if it meant they were both happy. Aren’t I just a little saint?

With our team set to cinch the division with relative ease, things were looking pretty cozy. After navigating a sea of band members, players, family, and other hangers-on, we eventually found our way to our little knot of players.

Rob, Carson, and Rick were together by the end zone when we finally reached them. They were laughing at something RJ had said. Knowing him, chances are it was filthy dirty, and unsuitable for primetime, so I shall not repeat it.

“Hey guys, awesome game,” I called, giving my brother a wave.

“Hey spike,” Rob grinned, ruffling my hair with his massive paw.

“Gerroff, asshat,” I complain, smoothing my hair back into place under my hood.

“You guys enjoy the show?” Carson preened. “I hope y’all caught my naked reverse to Ricky Boy here for the final TD. That was a beautiful setup, if I do say so myself.”

“Naked reverse for a TD… that sounds like something from Sex Ed class.” Kara points out innocently. “I’m pretty sure Miss Morton went over that the other day.”

“I uh,” Carson scratched his head as he turned red. “It’s a pass… thing.”

I’m not entirely sure which sister is worse, but they're pretty much at a dead heat today. I think it’s time to lay some groundwork.

“Are you guys off to West’s tonight to celebrate?”

“After a big victory like this one? You betcha bottom dollar we are,” RJ grins. “Y’all gonna join us?”

“Sure, we’d love to,” I answer for the group. “If we can bum a ride off my brother that is.”

Rob cocks an eyebrow, “sure, but why? You never come to West’s with us.”

“I’m changing my mind, I’m allowed to,” I shrug. “Plus you guys did great; I wanna help you celebrate.”

I am not the only member of my family with enhanced senses where Rattus Rattus is concerned. Brother dearest senses deception, but is thankfully none the wiser when it comes to my intent. I may have to beg forgiveness later if this one goes south.

Rob squints at me for a moment, trying to suss out my game before finally agreeing. “Alright, you can ride with me; but no screwing around and these two can walk from our place later, I’m not a damn taxi.”

“Thanks, bro, I knew you were our savior,” I replied cheerily. Drawing an even more suspicious scowl from him. Am I going to milk this entire debacle for all it’s worth? You betcha.

The conversation returns to the game and we we chat aimlessly for a few more minutes before the coach comes to round up his guys. Apparently, the dude wanted to get home, who knew? While they departed for the locker rooms, we began to join the crowds wandering out of the stadium and toward the parking lot.

I haven’t told you what I’m wearing, have I? I forgot this is a trans-fiction epic and thus, my every attire is of vital narrative importance to you all. Contra to Principal Carlos, I am not En-Holly at the moment, well, mostly not.

I am wearing girls' boy-cut jeans because, ironically enough, they fit me far better now and look more neutral. On top, I’m wearing a slouchy long-sleeved teeshirt, a sweater and my big winter coat. With a pair of gloves and the hood firmly up I’m nice and warm. I’m generally riding the out-of-uniform line as I always do between tomboy and runt. It’s about as far as my Alex impression goes these days, and it serves its purpose relatively well… ish.

Thankfully we didn’t need to wait long for the boys. Ten minutes after they had departed, the knot of players could be seen exiting the school buildings and making their way toward the lot. It didn’t take long for Rob to spot us waiting by his wheels.

“So are you guys going to tell me why you’re suddenly so interested in going to West’s?” Rob asks by way of greeting, unlocking his car.

“No reason at all; I just fancied a change,” I shrug, dragging Kara into the back seat with me. “Come on, we don’t want to be the last ones there!”

Rob glared at me suspiciously for a moment before he climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine. Megan, with no choice left but the front seat, got in beside him and belted up. The parking lot is still rather full, so our departure was a slow affair. Once we were safely away from prying ears, the interrogation proper, began in earnest.

“What’s going on, Holly?”

“Me?”

“Yes you,” Rob gestures back at me in the mirror. “What exactly is my sister up to Kara? You’re the sensible one.”

“I have no idea, please leave me out of this,” the sensible sibling declared, raising her hands in surrender..

“Well?”

I shrug and smile in what I hope projects sweet innocence but comes across far more accurately as ‘shifty as hell’. “Nothing, Rob, nothing at… Oh, look, Rick’s behind us! Come on Kar, I forgot I had to ask him something!”

Before Rob or Megan can protest, the two of us have bolted from the back seat. We run back through the line of cars to where Rick’s pickup is idling. In a flash, I have the door open and we both join him on the front bench in a giggling heap.

“Heya,” I grin, looking up from the tumble.

“What the hell kinda musical cars are you guys playing at?” Rick asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Setting up my sister,” declares my friend. “Hello, Kara Byrne, a pleasure, of course.”

“Uh, hey,” Rick offers with a half-hearted and firmly confused wave. “Holly, what is?”

“Remember how Rob likes Megan?” I prompt. “Well, you idiots wanted me to set them up: Guess what? Megan also likes Rob too. I couldn’t exactly say that at lunch today, so Instead, we’re playing matchmakers.”

Rick chuckles and shakes his head. “I swear to god, you’re exactly like Anna.”

“Who’s Anna?” Kara asks from the door side.
“His older sister,” I explain. “Apparently she had taste.”

Rick rolls his eyes and puts the truck in gear to follow the line of slowly moving cars. “So you’re really coming to hang at Wests huh? I thought you were avoiding the after-game scene?”

“I can stick it out, if we can give Meg and Rob a little time to get to know each other,” I admit. “I just have to stay Alex the whole time.”

There’s a snort beside me which is resolved with a swift elbow to the ribs. “I’ll… I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Rick raises an eyebrow but says nothing. Why is everyone else so convinced I’m bad at this?

The truth is, I’m not entirely opposed to going to West’s. At the start of the semester, sure, it wasn’t my scene at all. Now, however, I’ve somehow managed to become friends with a lot of the team guys, so the idea is far from unappealing. My only worries are playing Alex outside of school, and spending time as a version of me that I cannot stand. Tonight isn’t for me though, so I can and will tough it out. Remember, it’s hoes before bros, In this case literally.

West’s is a popular hangout with teens in our area. It’s like a bar, but without alcohol and it has a diner attached that serves food until late. It’s pretty popular with all the cool kids from school and generally seen as a tiny bit exclusive. You know the sort; it’s the place sports teams go to celebrate after a game… yeah, that sort.

Rick pulled the truck into the lot at West’s. It was only a half hour after the end of the game and yet, the place was already heaving with kids.

“You sure you wanna go in?”

I shrugged as I watched Rob’s car pull into the lot behind us. Neither occupant of the car was bleeding, so clearly it was going ok so far. Whether she’d let us survive what I had done was another matter.

“Yeah, we should; Meg won’t forgive us if we leave. I can manage to keep my head down for a few hours. This is for her and Rob, not me.”

“Well let’s go then,” He called hopping down from the cab. “I need a burger bad. After that game, I could almost eat a hor…”

I glare up at him, “Don’t you dare.”

The music inside West’s was the usual cheesy pop of the era blasting just loud enough to force us to elevate our voices and stand close to be heard. It was certainly hot inside, full as it was with kids. As such, my coat didn’t survive particularly long before it was off. Most of the football guys were over in the diner area filling their faces with processed meat and it was in this direction we gravitated.

“Hey, you guys made it!” Face beamed, ripping a hotdog in half with his jaws like a hydraulic press. “Alex, dude, you too!”

“Yeah, Face, I came,” I offer, “good game by the way.”

“Yeah dude, it was epic, we crushed the Badgers like the rodents they are.”

“Dude, Badgers are mammals,” some guy pointed out, quite correctly.

Contrary to your expectations, I wasn’t immediately pointed at and exposed as a girl. Everyone was rather more focused on stuffing their faces. Honestly, being of secondary or tertiary importance to food and football is totally fine by me. Did I sit with Rick? Yes, I did. We are meant to be friends after all, and I’m capable of sitting next to the boy for a few minutes without trying to kiss him. What kind of girl do you take me for?

It was quite relaxing to snarf my fries and let the conversation wash over me. Across from our booth, I could keep a reasonable eye on Rob and Megan who were sitting with RJ and Monika. Both couples, and yes, I did say couples, seemed to be getting on rather well. Was that a look that Megan just gave my brother? God, being a matchmaker feels pretty darn powerful.

“Your plan seems to be working,” Kara muses, following my gaze.

“So far,” I agree. “but who really knows if it will last? The female has been known to devour her mate after the act.”

Rick gives us a look and shakes his head, “You two scare me sometimes.”

“Who scares what?” Carson asks as he drops back into his seat. “‘Nuther burger dude?”

Rick accepts the food with a nod and gestures toward the fledgling lovebirds. “Winters and Megan; Alex’s managed to work some magic.”

Carson regards the two and grins broadly, “Nice work Alex, how the heck did you make that happen?”

“Trade secrets,” I shrugged nonchalantly, popping a fry into my mouth. “If I told you I would have to kill you.”

Carson doffs an imaginary cap and bows his head. “I’ll give it to you, I didn’t actually know if you could even pull it off.”

“Such low expectations,” I chuckle. “You did ask, I delivered.” I won’t be telling him that she was already into him. My knowing that feels a little too privileged for a boy. This whole thing is a bit more exposure than I would need. Either way, everything seems to have worked out for the best. All I have to do is see the night out and I’m home free.

While some of the simpering fandoms come to kiss Carson’s ring, I excuse myself and make for the mini arcade where the volume is a little lower. Here, I can put my quarters to some good use and keep myself out of trouble.

I have my father to thank for my love of gaming. When I was little, he took me and Rob to an arcade during a family vacation in Florida. We spent several hours blasting and bleeping away in gaming heaven. For me, it was the start of a love that I still hold to this day.

One of my favorite games is Blockblaster. It’s a super retro game where you have to stack different-shaped blocks that fall down the screen. I remember getting a copy on my handheld gaming console when I was eleven, but there’s no beating it in an arcade cabinet.

I can’t tell you how long I was playing for, but I was seriously into my game. Stacking blocks is serious business and I was rolling through the levels like a champ. My hands were starting to get a little sore and the one foot that I was favoring was falling asleep.
It was so warm in West’s that I’d even shed my sweater. Hunched over an arcade machine, my slouchy long-sleeve t-shirt was baggy enough to hide my shape, mostly. It’s pretty easy to forget gender dysphoria when you’re lost in a video game.

“I could never manage to get past the first few levels,” Rick admitted by way of greeting as he arrived beside me. “I’m not surprised that my girl is kicking its ass though; beauty and brains.”

“It doesn’t involve throwing a ball, so I’m pretty decent,” I concede, not taking my eyes off the screen while I flow.

“They have one of those layup machines here,” Rick points out, moving around behind me. I can feel his presence close by and I hear his voice in my ear, low and husky. “I could help you aim, take the ball and your hands in mine and guide the shot, have you right there, close to me.”

My heart flutters and I fudge a block. I can feel him right behind me, just like he was in the arcade that Saturday long ago. My breath catches in my throat as my heart starts to race. “Rick… don’t…” I complain feebly. “Not here, please.”

“God, I want you so bad, Holly,” he murmurs in my other ear. I feel his hand slide down my side and come to rest on my hip. “It’s so hard to resist you every day.”

I swallow, but there’s nothing there, I watch the blocks stack up until the game-over message scrolls down the screen. I don’t even give a modicum of a fuck anymore. Rick takes my hand from the joystick and spins me around until my back is up against the cabinet. “Not here, please Rick,” I beg, not for a moment hoping that he stops.

“There’s nobody here,” he grins wolfishly, glancing around. “They’re all in the bar playing pool. “There’s nobody here but you and me. I could kiss you and nobody would ever know.”

My heart is pounding and I feel powerless as he holds my hands up against the frame of the machine. As much as I feel trapped, it feels… exciting. “We shouldn’t...Rick…”

Rick glances around again and shrugs, “There’s nobody here but us. I know you want me to do it as much as I do,” he points out. I have no idea why, but my teenage mind is so flooded with hormones that it rejects a million reasons why this is a really bad idea. All I know is that horny teenage girl brain says kiss the hot boy pushing you against the wall. My nipples are rock hard and I want him to touch them so badly that I push my chest forward as I tilt my head up towards him. “Rick…”

He leans down and pauses for a split second, teasing me, before allowing our lips to finally connect. His flesh feels like molten metal to the touch as we kiss hungrily, right there in the arcade. I can feel his hands on my body as we make out, my skin feels like a thousand volts are running through it.

I don’t know if it’s the public location that it’s so close to our classmates and friends, but I am so unbelievably taken by the moment that I have given all sense of reason to the pursuit of passion. At that moment, I didn’t care what or where we were. I didn’t give a damn who knew; I love this boy.

That idea comes crashing back to reality when I spot someone walking past us. The girl isn’t familiar and she doesn’t pay us a blind bit of attention. Fortunately, it reminds me of what we’re doing and where we are. Like being slapped in the face with a flaccid trout, the passion is gone and I’m back in the real world.

“Rick, no,” I assert, gently pushing him back. “We can’t, not here…”

Rick’s face transitions from confusion to understanding and he nods, clearly still flustered. He is coming to his own slightly slower realization as his own horny mist subsides. “I’m sorry Holly, I… you’re… I can’t resist you.”

I grin sheepishly and give him a look that suggests I’m in total agreeance as I straighten my clothes. “I feel the same. We don’t have long left. We can hold out… probably.”

Rick grins and nods. “Wanna head back? Show our faces?”

I nod reluctantly. “Best had, or they’ll wonder what we’re up to.”

We make our way back through to find the others who are indeed playing pool over by the bar area. Calling it a bar is generous; the strongest things they sell are energy drinks.

Socializing, in this context, mostly means standing around while other people talk. I don’t actually have to give much input, just be seen in public with these people. Ever since the cat got released from her hessian prison, It’s been an increasingly difficult job to maintain Alex. If I let myself slip when I’m talking to the girls, Rob or Rick, I could get myself in real trouble.

From my inexperienced observations, Operation: Loveheart has been going swimmingly. So far, Megan and Rob seem to be behaving in a very friendly manner towards one another and I’m pretty sure I noticed a few hand brushes occurring. Hopefully, something useful has been kindled here tonight.

Being a teen hangout, we were all kicked out a little before ten that evening. I long to kiss Rick goodbye, but with so many people around we have to be strong. Rather, I have to be strong for the both of us if tonight is anything to go by. Well, I played my part too, but that doesn’t matter… probably.

Rob, true to his word was waiting by the car when we finally made it outside. Recovering coats could be a complicated business sometimes, especially when Kara insisted on peeing before we left. With little fanfare, we all piled into the car to head home. It wasn’t missed that Megan chose the front passenger seat of her own accord this time.

The ride home was light and friendly with the four of us chatting away after what had turned out to be a pretty decent evening. It would have been a billion times better if I was Holly for all of this, but hey, my time will come.

Once we dropped the sisters home and it was just Rob and I remaining, he changed the topic almost immediately.

“Don’t think I didn’t see your little games tonight,” he pointed out as we set out for home.

“You two needed a shove,” I point out. “Promise you’ll treat her well? She’s one of my best friends.”

Rob glances over and nods. “Thank you, Holly.”

Aw shucks. “You deserve to be happy,” I reply, squeezing his arm.

Rob chuckled quietly. “When the guys told me they sent you off to try and put a word in for me with Megan… I knew they had no idea what they were asking. I never thought you’d actually do it though.”

“She likes you too, but I think you already know that,” I point out.

“Yeah, she does… we do,” he admits.

My brother looks happy; that makes tonight worthwhile to me. Now, I just to make sure that both of them know that if they hurt the other, I can get access to very sharp blades.

* * *

Gaming was always one of my favorite activities, but I’m pretty sure you’re well aware of that by now. I spent most of Saturday morning lounging on the sofa with my controller blasting bad guys and snatching gold as my favorite cartoon dragon.

For me, gaming had been a genderless distraction that allowed me to escape the bounds of my physical body and vanish into the digital world. There, I could be a magical beast, a boy, a girl, or anything that I wanted to be. I will admit, I loved swinging from platform to rockface in pursuit of ancient treasure as Laura Loft, even if most of my classmates only liked her for her pixelated assets.

A text on my phone disturbs my gaming, making me miss a jump and fly head-first into an explosive vase. My rather crispy dragon blinks back at me in disappointment, covered in soot before she passes out. Sigh.

Kara: “Hv tht CD 4 u, bring ov l8r x K.”

She had been promising to lend me one of her new albums the night before, so I had been half expecting the message. Now that it’s acceptable for me to listen to girly pop I may or may not be going down a very pink rabbit hole; I have no regrets.

Returning my phone to the sofa’s arm, I restarted the level and got back to playing. While today was intended to be a casual and lazy day at home, I had taken care to dress nicely that morning, if still somewhat comfortably. After last night, a tiny part of me was hoping that Rick would call by unannounced again; this time I would not be found unprepared!

I was wearing a cropped slouchy sweater in a lovely cream color that was hanging off one shoulder with a flouncy floral maxi skirt. It made me feel extra girly; after spending extended time as Alex yesterday, that felt rather good. My hair was neatly brushed and my makeup was light; just a little mascara and some gloss. Overall, I was a pretty well-put-together gal for a day on the sofa.

Another level completed, I checked my phone; still no texts or calls from Rick. Maybe I’m over-preparing for something that isn’t going to happen? As nice as it feels to look good, I’m also a major proponent of sweatpants and tank tops. Cozy goblin mode is pretty hard to overstate.

I turned off the console and replaced my controller in the cabinet before heading for the stairs. If he comes over, he can hang out with me on the sofa and experience Goblin Holly at her very finest. I can’t have the boy expecting me to be a perfect model of femininity every time we are together; he might get ideas.

The doorbell rings as I reach the top of the stairs. Turning, I trotted back down just as Rob stuck his head out of the kitchen, half a sandwich sticking out of his face. I wave him off as I skid across the tile floor trying to stop in my stocking feet, “I got it, It’s Kara for me!”

You know how my dumbass works, right? Blind hope, luck, epic incompetence, and a dash of high charisma score. I don’t bother to check my assumption, being an all-knowing teen. Instead, I swing the door wide open. “Thought you were coming lat…”

“Uh, Chrissie?” Garry asked, furrowing his brow.

Oh fuck.

“Alex? What the fuck are you wearing?”

Shit, fuck, shit, fuck… think fast… don’t think fast… panic.

“I can… I can expl…” I sigh, letting my shoulders drop, “I got nothing.”

“What the hell is this?”

Rob wanders up behind me still eating. “Hol, you good? Either get in here or close the doo… oh.”

Fuck

Rob looks down at Gary’s growing disgust and frowns, “Right, you… inside.”

“Ugh, no,” Gary frowns. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Because I’m telling you,” he growls. “Get inside right now, or I will pound you to dust, runt.”

His revulsion at me aside, Gary complies with the slab of brother’s demands and slinks into the lobby. On the way past he casts me a sidelong look of something approaching disgust.

“Why are you pretending to be a girl? Why is your brother ok with it?”

“I’m not pretending,” I reply with more conviction than I feel. I realize I’ve got to make a stand here. I gesture at my body, “I am a girl and this is the real me.”

“You’re not a girl, Alex.” Gary points out. “You’ve got a dick, I’ve seen it.”

“You; have a bit more respect for her,” Rob growls as he folds his arms menacingly. He stands behind me as an imposing wall of gorilla, seemingly content to let me do most of the talking. Scary dog privilege is real I guess…

“I know that, Gary.” I start out slowly, not willing to look him in the eyes. “I know what my body was like, but that isn’t who I am; not inside.”

“So you want to be a girl? That’s weird. You were a normal guy yesterday!”

I laugh at that, a genuine, heartfelt laugh. “I’ve not been normal for a very long time. Can you honestly tell me that I’ve been particularly guyish? I like you Gary, but I’m not like you.”

I look up, and he’s staring at me. It’s not disgust, but it’s a serious disdain. “How long have you been gay?”

Eye roll.

I doubt this will be the last time that someone asks that question, so let's try to be polite about it.

“I’m not gay; this isn’t about who I want to date or anything. This is about who I am, in my heart.”

Gary glances at Rob who is still glowering from one side like some sort of violent referee. He returns his gaze to me and inclines his head like a spaniel. “This is why you’ve been spending so much time with my sisters, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” I admit with a shrug. I watch his eyes as they follow my chest as my shoulders move and regret the action immediately. “I told them back in September.”

“Figures; I was convinced you’d turned gay,” he admitted. “How come your brother knows?”

“Because she’s my sister,” Rob interjects for the first time. “She’s our parent's daughter, our sister, and her name is Holly.”

Gary’s eyebrows rise. “Shit, you told your parents? They didn’t ship you off to some shrink?”

“I’m not crazy, I’m transgender. This isn’t some sickness or curable thing.”

“Like on the talk shows? Transvestite?”

“Transgender,” I correct. “It means that I was born in the wrong body, my heart, my soul… is female. My body… well, it was male.”

“Was?”

I blush, I don’t really want to have this conversation. “I’m being treated, and it involves changing me, with like, medication.”

“A sex change? So why are you still at our school?”

The word makes me cringe but my young self in the early 2000s doesn’t correct him. Now? I hate the idea of it like the many other slurs. “I’m transferring at the end of the semester, so I’ve just got to make it to the end. Please don’t say anything to anyone?”

Gary seems to mull over the words for a moment. “I guess,” he shrugs. He seems surprisingly non-committal, but thankfully Rob helps to clarify matters.

“You’re not going to say shit, Gary. If you do, I will ensure the entire football team uses you for tackle drills until you end up in a wheelchair.”

Gary turns white and holds up his hands. “Yeah, ok dude, I get it. I won’t say anything about he… hi…her?”

Rob looks at me and I give him a curt nod. That’s about as close as I can expect from whatever this messed-up situation is. I will have to inform his superiors of his awareness so they can properly deal with their brother. Oh, you thought I meant his parents? No dear reader, his superiors.

Rob walks Gary out, leaving me alone in the lobby. I’m not sure how I plonked myself in this mess, but I managed to just about survive it for now. I really need to be a lot more careful going forward. Thank god big brother was there to step in. If I had been here alone, I am positive that my truth would be all over the school by Monday. As it is, I’m relatively confident that he’s never going to utter a word.

Have I lost a friend? Time will tell.

Probably... Sigh.

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Fake It Till You Make It - 22 - Justified Use Of Force.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Twenty Two - Justified Use Of Force.

Never let it be said that I am not an idiot. No, not academically, but in so many other aspects of my life, it would hold pretty true. In a way, as Holly, I am but a young infant, discovering her life as events unfold. The joy and excitement of being the real me is kinda like realizing that I really enjoy chewing my hand or giggling insanely at my parents as they pull silly faces; It’s all new and exciting and I really don’t know where the rules are. The fact that I made it this far in my life and with my transition with only so few mistakes is genuinely a miracle.

I keyed the passcode into the pedestrian gate at school that Monday morning after Dad dropped me off. It feels a long way removed from that first morning back, was it really only ten weeks ago?
I slowly sip my coffee as I walk into the building; the warmth is reassuring and the caffeine rekindles my fragile sanity. The corridors are quiet as I make my way inside and head for the common room. As per usual, the place is like a tomb at this time of day. I once feared it, but now? Not so much.

Inside, I find myself a cozy spot on the sofa and curl up to sip my coffee. One more week and it’s Thanksgiving and this year I really do have something to be thankful for. Having my family know the real me is something I never actually imagined could possibly happen. Hell, even on a personal level, I’m thankful that I will never have to go to the Boys’ Division again.
Another week after that and I’ll be in Germany, holy crap! Time is ticking down, and if I can keep… incidents… to a minimum, I could possibly make it out of this mess alive. Obviously, I’ll have to deal with a new school and being known to be trans; oh boy, that’s going to be a wild adventure.

Speaking of incidents; A Byrne sibling without ovaries walks in as I’m contemplating my survival. Oh boy, what timing. Rather than walk over to our usual area, he sits deliberately off to the other side of the common room and pulls out a book. Ok Buster; two can play at that game.
I collect my bag and my coffee and get up. Noticing my movement, Gary looks up and looks set to reposition; I guess I really do have cooties now. Instead, I keep my head held high and walk over to the football team’s spot, plop down on the sofa and deliberately ignore him. Another benefit of this spot is that it has prime TV angles and the remote is on the table next to me. I turn it on and put on a news program. Hopefully, the noise will disturb his reading. See? I can be petty too.

“Trouble in paradise?”

I glance up and spot Carson slinging his bag onto one of the other sofas. About fifteen minutes have passed and I’ve been sitting here, zoned out staring at the screen.

“Mayhaps.”

Carson drops into a seat and props his feet up. “Whatever; you’re welcome here. I just never expected to find you inviting yourself over.”

“I can change,” I smirk, casting a glance at Gary and two of the other nerdlings that I used to hang with. I hope he keeps his mouth shut.

“Sure you can,” Carson grins, “Things work out with Megan and your Bro after Friday?”

Did they? They actually did. I’m pretty sure I heard Brother Dearest on the phone to Meg on Sunday night after I had filled her and Kara in on the doorstep incident. “I dunno,” I shrug. “I’m not exactly on Rob’s ‘tell about my love life’ list.”

“Did Megan say anything?”

Jeez, who knew that guys cared this much about relationship shenanigans? Admittedly, I haven’t ever really hung out with the romantically active males of the species until recently. The past few days have certainly raised my threat levels, so I’m slightly more aware of the fact that he’s expecting a female friend to tell me about her romantic entanglements.

“Apparently, they’re seeing where it goes,” I offer neutrally, gesturing behind Carson. “You can always ask him yourself.”

“Ask me what?” Rob inquires, dropping onto the sofa beside me along with Face and Pete, another Defensive lineman.

“Carson wants to know if Meg got you to put out. He seems to think you’re a bit loose, brother dear.”

Rob starts for a moment before he realizes I’m putting him on. “You think I tell this runt what I get up to?”

“I mean, you needed him to fight your battles, dude.” Carson shrugs playfully.

“I never asked her to do that!”

Shit, Rob you fuckwit!

“But she wanted to go out with you, so it all worked out, didn’t it?” I throw in brightly, giving Big Brother a playful elbow. “Right, Rob? Megan, she totally wanted to go out with you.”

“Uh, yeah,” he frowns before his eyes widen. “Uh, yeah no, yeah, she did.”

My brother is an idiot, he owes me for that mistake.

Thankfully, nobody noticed Rob’s little pronoun slip. I’ve told you a thousand times how unobservant people can be. The reality is that I was way more scared than I needed to be, but at the same time, paranoia prevented things like Gary…

* * *

“Mister Winters, pay attention, please.”

I glowered at the honorific but held my tongue. I’m sitting in Algebra, and Mister Clark is being especially prickly today. I’d been paying attention the entire class as he droned on and on about Quadratics, but the one moment when I chose to glance out the window for two literal seconds, I was jumped on.

“I would appreciate your undivided attention while I cover material relevant to your final, Mister Winters.”

“I’m sorry sir, I just looked at the window one time,” I offer sheepishly.

“Four additional pages of exercises for tomorrow.” Clark declares with a dirty look. “Do you want to continue to argue with me?”

“No sir,” I murmur.

I wish I had no idea why my teacher was picking on me but sadly, I have a pretty good idea. See, Clark is usually the sort to call people by their first names, in fact, he does and did, even to me. Ever since the school found out about Holly and some of my educators were informed, he has become a colossal asshole.

What can I really do about it? I can’t challenge him about it or go to the Principal; no, he would refute the claim or back it up with trumped-up evidence of my behavior. All I can do is comply and keep my mouth shut. It’s only a few weeks to go, right?

I never expected things to go perfectly, but it certainly puts a dampener on your day when people act like dicks for the mere sake of it. Between Gary and Mister Clark, I know it’s not even the worst yet. Imagine how bad it will get when I’m actually out.

Just how many people who are friendly now will turn on me later? It’s ironic really; as a girl undercover, I made more cool guy friends than I ever did as Alex. Somehow I think the more outwardly feminine I get, the more my personality matches. When I was just a boy that behaved like a girl, people thought I was strange. The more I resemble Holly, the less weird it seems, even if they don’t outwardly notice it.

The bell rings and Clark lets us out. I quietly take my extra homework without complaint. It sucks, but it also won’t hurt me to do some more exercises; the joke’s on him, it helps me get my grade up so I still win after all. If the worst thing that I have to face is a passive-aggressive old man with a superiority complex, then I’m not doing too badly.

Walking through the halls, I marveled at the position I was in. I had mentally checked out as a member of the division and I was pretty happy about it. Who would have thought that I would be here, about to finish my last weeks among the boys before transferring to be with the girls as I deserved. It’s insane to really think that your life, which was filled with existential pain for so long could finally be turning up good.

Bad things, it seems, really do indeed come in groups of three, because contemplating my more feminine future apparently let my Alex mask slip. One moment, I’m imagining starting my new school in January and the next, I’m flying through the air. I land hard, the wind knocked out of me, and come to rest against the wall. I blink hard and gasp for air, momentarily stunned by the impact.

“Fucking fairy,” a voice sneers loudly before kicking me in the ribs. “Take your fucking queerness elsewhere.”

My chest exploded with pain and I curled into a ball to prevent further impacts. I feel another foot hit me but after that, nothing further comes. After a few moments with no further kicks, I tentatively eased myself up and took stock of my surroundings. I looked for the owner of the voice, but there were no likely culprits, just a sea of moving students paying my plight no attention. I wish bullying was uncommon here, but it’s sadly a part of school life. Unless there’s a good chance of a fight, people ignore it and stay in their lane.

I hauled myself to my feet and dusted myself down. I have no idea who did it, so there was nothing to really report; the story of my scholastic experience in a nutshell. It hurt a little to breathe but nothing felt broken, so I picked up my bag and shuffled away in pain.

When I made it to German class, the look that Frau Whistler gave me told me that something was far more wrong than I had initially assumed. “Alex, my gosh, what happened to you?”

“Huh?” I replied brightly.

“Your face sweetheart; what happened?”

I reached up and touched my cheek and recoiled when I felt the twinge of pain. “I.. uh, tripped; it’s nothing really.”

Frau Whistler shook her head and guided me toward the door, “You and I are going to the nurse’s office right this minute.”

Before we left, she turned to address the class, fixing them with a stern look that suggested that crossing her would be extremely ill-advised. “Read quietly and I will send up the secretary to cover for me until I return. If she reports any nonsense at all, you will all be receiving extra homework. Am I understood?”

After affirmative sounds and a rustling of books, she took me by the shoulder and guided me out into the corridor.

“What really happened to you?”

I shrugged painfully as we walked. “I got tripped and booted; I never saw who did it. What’s wrong with my face?”

“Your cheek is starting to develop a nasty bruise, and judging by your posture, I’m guessing that more of you is hurt too.”

I grimaced as I gingerly touched my ribs and nodded.

Frau Whistler tutted angrily to herself as we walked along the corridor. Honestly, she seemed more miffed about this than I was. Of course, it hurt, but it wasn’t exactly the first time that something like this had happened to me. Is it wrong to say that I was almost used to it?

Frau Whistler paused briefly at the office to pass on her message before escorting me outside and across the quad toward the Girls’ Division. It was only once we were in no-mans-land, that she spoke openly to me.

“Holly, you need to come to us when bullying like this occurs, especially now. What if they had uncovered your secret?”

“If I knew who it was, I promise that I would have said something,” I sigh. “But I honestly didn’t see a thing.”

Frau Whistler gave me a sad look but said nothing. Across the Quad, we make our way up to the Girls’ Division entrance and sign in before making our way through the corridors to the nurse’s office. Deja vu moment? It certainly wasn’t my first visit here this semester, but that felt like a lifetime ago now.

The last time I was in this building, I was here as Holly, a prospective new student. Hell, come January I WOULD be a new student here; it was guaranteed. It feels a far cry away from being here in a suit, dressed as Alex, I was almost ashamed for anyone to see me like this.

A few moments later, we arrived at the Nurse’s office and Frau Whistler guided me in through the open door.

“Judith, do you have a moment? We’ve had a bit of an accident.”

Nurse Carter looked up from her paperwork and spotted the two of us in her little waiting area. “Oh dear, let’s take a look at you, shall we? I think I have some ice around here somewhere.”

Frau Whistler closes the door behind herself and latches it. “Judith, I think you might need to do a bit more of an exam, there’s a complaint of a chest injury.”

The nurse looks a little confused.

Frau Whistler looks at me and raises an eyebrow. “You’re going to have to tell her, but it won’t leave the room, I promise.”

Sigh. Well, she’ll find out in January I suppose.

As if on cue, I turned bright red and couldn’t look her in the eye. “Uh, Nurse Carter… I’m uh… transgender, I um, my ribs… I uh… I have breasts.”

Carter’s look shifts from confusion to a smile of understanding. “Oh, I see! That’s not a problem honey, I’ve met some boys like you before when I was working downtown. Don’t fear; you’re safe with me, ok?”

Boys? Eye twitch.

I think Frau Whistler followed my line of thinking because she made a face. “Uh, Judith, I don’t think…”

“No, it’s ok, I’ve worked with a couple of transgender boys, I did some volunteering at a clinic and I know that top surgery is probably a way off honey, but I promise to be respectful, ok?”

Wait a second… does this chick…?

“Uh, um, Judith; Holly isn’t…”

“You’re not meant to use their birth names,” Nurse Carter chides my teacher. “What would you prefer I call you sweetie?”

Does she? Oh for fuck’s sake, she does.

“Judith, I think you’ve got it… backward.”

Nurse Carter looks between us uncertainly for a second. “You mean you…”

“Yeah… I kinda…”

“Oh…ooh!” Her eyes go wide. “Oh gosh, I’m so silly! I thought… Oh, wait… didn’t I see you once before this semester? I’m sure it was something food-related .”

I nodded, “Yep, the fish.”

“Your mother’s a surgeon, isn’t she?”

“Veronica Winters Ma’am, yes,” I reply. “I uh… I’m transferring here in January but for now, I gotta still… you know.”

The nurse nods sympathetically, “So what happened?”

“She was tripped in the hallway and kicked in the ribs,” Frau Whistler explains for me. “I don’t think it’s too bad but I wanted you to take a look, given her, delicate, situation.”

“Pop your upper clothing off then dear, are you… underneath?”

“Sports bra,” I admit, reddening a little.

“Pop behind the screen and take everything off but your bra, ok honey?”

I step behind the little rolling screen thing and start removing my clothing. I’m a little hesitant at first because I’m not entirely used to adults seeing Holly yet, never mind in my underwear. Once I’m done, I step back out and cough politely.

Frau Whistler and the nurse turn around and do a pretty poor job of masking their surprise. Me? I just stand there with my arms wrapped around my tummy waiting for the world to swallow me up.

Putting her surprise and curiosity behind her, Nurse Carter gave me a quick once over in her usual professional manner, gently touching my ribcage with her gloved fingers to check where it hurt. After a few moments, I was pronounced unbroken and permitted to get dressed again.

Honestly, I’m quite keen to get back into my uniform. Not because I like being Alex, but letting myself out of his mask has really upset who I’m meant to be right now. Sitting here being called Holly and wearing a bra in front of two other women is confusing my little head. Given that I’m here during the school day, It’s a great relief to get myself hidden once more. Knowing my luck, the entire football team would walk in with stubbed toes.

“Well, you’re going to have some lovely bruises, but I don’t think anything’s actually broken. If it persists beyond a few days, I would recommend visiting the urgent care. As it stands, I can give you something for the pain and you can get back to classes if you feel up to it?”

“I’m sorry for all the trouble,” I offer awkwardly, “I was ok, really…”

“Nonsense,” Frau Whistler replies. “You’re my student, and when you walk into my classroom looking like a beaten wife, I have a responsibility to her and her parents.”

What a choice of words… I swear, if anyone was going to bust my secret, it was likely one of the growing number of adults who can’t seem to keep my pronouns straight. I really don’t know why we let them run the world.

“I look forward to seeing you in the new year…Alex.” the nurse offers with a theatrical wink. Jesus, my existence is a joke to these idiots.

“No offense Ma’am, but I hope I never have to see you for this again, especially after January.”

That might have sounded harsh, but I really was sick of ending up here at the nurse's office. She was a nice lady, but getting my ass kicked was something that I was hoping was near its end. Not to say that girls don’t bully one another, but I expect it's a lot less physical usually. As long as I can keep out of the clutches of the boys for a few more weeks, I’ll be fine.

I was walking back across the central courtyard with Frau Whistler, clutching an ice pack to my cheek, when she stopped me by taking gentle hold of my shoulder. “Holly, look…I’m so very sorry.”

“Why?”

Frau Whistler looks about as upset as I’ve ever seen her. “I’m sorry about the bullying; I wish from the bottom of my heart that we could do more.”

I shrug, “There isn’t much that you can do when we don’t report stuff. They know how to keep a low profile and or intimidate us into staying quiet.”

She shakes her head and sighs, “It shouldn’t be that way.”

“It is what it is, welcome to High school.”

“Holly…” Frau Whistler frowns suddenly and seems lost for words. “In there… with the nurse. I had no idea that you...”

Oh… she’s referencing what she saw when I was out of Alex drag, standing there in my bra with real honest to god breasticles on my chest. I forgot that she’s only ever seen Alex mode and a bit of androgyny from me.

“Uh, yeah,” I chuckle, my bruised ribs making me instantly regret it.

“They said you… I… it was a surprise, is all.” she smiles politely.

I glance around us standing here in the central courtyard of the school between both divisions. It’s a little prophetic, given my current dual life. “Thank you for being kind to me, whether this makes sense or not.”

My teacher looks less than pleased. “Holly, you don’t need to thank me for being a decent human being. I may not understand what you’re going through but I would be a fool to think that you’re anything but a young lady. I’m sorry that the world can’t manage to treat people with human decency. Especially ones who have never lifted a finger against them.”

* * *

“Who the fuck hurt you?” my brother demanded, grabbing me out of the flow of students after next period.

“Whoah there, Rob, what’s gotten into you What do you mean hurt…?”

Rob glanced around before leaning in closer. “Holly, I can see the bruise on your cheek and Kelper said you got checked out to go see the nurse with a teacher last period, what am I meant to think? Again, who did this?”

“I don’t actually know,” I sigh. “Could have been anyone, Rob; I got tripped and kicked. The corridor was crowded. I never saw them, I promise.”

Rob relaxed a little when he realized I wasn’t purposefully hiding my attacker’s identity from him. “Sorry Hol, I just… I hated seeing you get your ass kicked before I knew the truth. Now? I…” he shrugged, not needing to say the rest.

We’re still out of sight so I touch his hand and smile. “I get it, Rob; thank you. Look, I have to get to class, I’ll see you later ok?”

Rob nodded, “Yeah, sure. Hey, what class was it?”

“After History, why?”

Rob works his jaw and shrugs, “Nothing, see you at home Spike.”

* * *

Modern Holly here; What follows is not something that I directly witnessed, but rather, heard about from a few sources after the fact; a little interrogation of my brother and boyfriend helped too. So far you have spent this entire book reading about things from my perspective, I think it’s about time you had a little break from that tragic mess. What comes next… is what boys do after dark… well, no, during the day actually… At School at least. I don't know, I just work here, ok?

I will clarify that it took a great deal of enhanced interrogation to convince my brother and boyfriend to reveal the truth of these events. US Military SEAR instructors would be quite proud of them both.

Holly reached up and touched Rob’s arm affectionately and gave him a small smile, the mask of Alex slipping away briefly. “I get it, Rob; thank you. Look, I have to get to class, I’ll see you later ok?”

Rob nodded, “Yeah, sure. Hey, what class was it?”

She frowned, “After History, why?”

Rob works his jaw and shrugs, “Nothing, see you at home Spike.”

Rob Winters watched his little sister disappear off down the corridor. It was amazing he could even manage to pretend to call her Alex anymore. Even here, dressed like all the boys and playing the role, he still saw right through it.

When Danny Kelper had told him about what he had seen, Rob had nearly lost it. As soon as he had been free from class, he had sought out his sister for answers. When he saw the bruise on her cheek and how she favored her ribs, he had murder on his mind.

Seeing his youngest sibling get bullied was always hard. He had always tried to be the best brother he could be. Then she came out; suddenly the kid brother turned out to be his kid sister and it all changed: Seeing some of the assholes at their school continue to hurt her now that he knew the truth? He could barely contain the rage he felt.

“Taylor, a word,” Rob growled, spotting the wide receiver chatting with a classmate in the corridor.

Rick broke off his conversation and fell in beside his teammate as he strode along the corridor.

“Did you hear what happened to…spike?”

Rick looked momentarily confused for a second before he caught on. “What? I didn’t… What happened?”

Rob worked his jaw as he fought to control his fury, “Some asshats put the boot in; she’s pretty bruised but she’s ok. No idea who did it, or none that she will tell me.”

“And you want to find out who so we can reeducate them?” Rick concluded.

Rob nodded, “apparently it was after History this morning, which she has on South Wing, level two. See who was there.”

“Rick nodded, his expression growing as dark as Rob’s, “Yeah, I know a lot of those guys, someone will have seen something.”

Rob bumped his fist and nodded his thanks. “Gotta get to class, man. Let me know what you find out.”

After the next period, Rick caught up to Rob as he was leaving Physics. “I got a lead; one of Granger’s guys was telling tales about… yeah. You know…” he shrugged, glancing around at nearby ears.

Rob nodded, “Wanna go see if he squeals?”

“I got a free,” Rick shrugged. “They hang out behind Tech on break.”

The two made their way downstairs and out of the main school building. The Technology Department was separate and housed all of the design and technology classrooms and workshops that the school operated. Behind it, was a slim section of parking lot that was often home to the smokers, dopeheads, and less sociable members of the student body.

It was here that they found Peter Umbridge selling cigarettes to a knot of lower-classmen. He was exactly where they had been informed; by the dumpsters at the rear of the Tech department. On seeing the two football players, the smarter of the little shits vanished like cockroaches exposed to a naked flame.

“Why are you scaring off my customers? Can’t you guys find anything better to do?” Smeared Umbridge.

“We want a word with you, alone,” Rob remarked, eying the few remaining younglings that were either too stupid or too brave for their own good.

“I’m busy,” Umbridge shrugged, taking cash from what looked like a Freshman.

Rick took the bag off Umbridge’s shoulder and hurled it into one of the dumpsters.

“Hey, what the hell man?” Umbridge protested, balling his fists.

Before he could react, Rob pinned him against the metal wall with a dull clang. “You were on South 2nd after History today, who fucked with my little brother?”

“I wasn’t,” Umbridge croaked around Winter’s forearm. “I swear.”

“You were,” Rick pointed out dryly. “You’re in the same class and you were telling Nate about seeing the attack. Tell us what we want to know or you join your produce.”

“I… uh… oh, you mean? That was a misunderstanding,” he croaked desperately, wriggling against the immovable force holding him in place. “Really, nobody meant nothing bad, he slipped.”

“Who?” Rob snarled, squeezing tighter.

Umbridge grabbed at Rob’s hand and kicked his feet in a feeble attempt to try to break free. After a moment’s struggle, he relaxed and let his head drop. “Fine, it was Nial. He was, well… and I’m quoting him directly, right? He said ‘The little faggot had it coming for swishing about like that.”

“Nial Peters?” Rob confirmed. “Nial Peters from the swim team?”

“Uhuh, yeah, Nial Peters,” Umbridge admitted with a nervous grin. “I promise, it was him, I saw it all.”

Rob released the sniveling toad and let him slump back against the filthy dumpster. “If you lied to me, I will flatten you, fuckstain.”

“It’s the truth, I promise,” Umbridge begged.

Rick elbowed the guy as he passed, “Go fishing for your bag, dickhead.”

It had taken all the skill and self-control that Rick could muster to not overreact at lunchtime. Holly had acted as though nothing was different, despite the growing bruise on her cheek. She had dismissed it as a clumsy fall and as much as he wanted to refuse her claim, he knew it was most likely for the best.

He wanted to coddle her, to get angry and protect her, but he knew that at school he had to maintain his distance for her sake. It didn’t mean that he and Rob couldn’t solve the problem their own way. He might not be able to protect her outwardly, but he could make sure that the asshole was punished for laying a finger on her.

He found Rob shortly after their lunch and the pair quietly left school grounds. They made for the parking lot where students parked their cars with a single focus; Nial and the other swim team members would regularly leave school and go to a diner a few blocks away for lunch. It wasn’t what they were meant to do, but the school usually overlooked it for the seniors. Especially seniors on sports teams.

Taking Rob’s car, they were soon parked in the lot across from the eatery to wait for their intended target.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Rob offered, glancing across at his teammate.

“You didn’t need to ask dude.”

“I know, and that’s what I mean,” Rob pointed out. “Thanks.”

Rick shrugged but didn’t take his eyes off the door to the diner. “It’s the right thing to do.”

“We haven’t really talked… about you and my sister.” Rob prompted.

Rick glanced over and felt suddenly uncomfortable. “You don’t approve?”

Rob rolled his shoulders and shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t approve, I just… can I be honest?”

“I’d prefer it.”

“I only just got to know her; my baby sister… Shit, I can’t think of her any other way; no matter how much I try. She’s important to me and I’ve always looked out for her. I know how bad things have been for her over the years, but I never knew what she was dealing with inside. I’m terrified of what will come next semester when it’s all out there, I just know I’ll be there beside her.”

Rick simply nodded, with little to add to his teammate’s thoughts.

Rob looked across at his sister’s boyfriend and fixed him with a stern look. “You’re really important to her and I think you’re a good dude. You’re there for her, even with… all of this crap. Will you still be there in January?”

“I will,” Rick replied quietly. “I’m not going anywhere. I love her; nothing is going to change that.”

Rob nodded, “Good. Then it‘s up to both of us to protect her. She can’t know about what happens here, but you already know that, don’t you?”

The door to the diner opened and a knot of swimmers came walking out, laughing together about something irrelevant. Rick didn’t look away from them as he opened the car door. “Less talk, more action.”

“Peters!” Rob growled, slamming the door behind him as he strode forward.

The taller of the four guys looked over, his confusion turning to recognition as he spotted Rob. “Winters? What are you doing over here?”

“Looking for the shitstain that thinks it’s cool to hurt my…brother.”

Nial Peters's expression changed from mild curiosity to mirth. “Oh, your little faggy brother? Might want to keep that queer on a leash then.”

“I think you’d better watch your tone,” Rick offered, carefully eying the other swimmers with Peters. The three guys were all equally tall and broad-shouldered in that classic swimmer’s physique, possessing a wirey strength, and looked ready to use it. The advantage here was that they were outweighed by himself and Rob by a good 50 pounds a piece.

“I’ll say what I want, Taylor,” Peters snapped. “Why are you here fighting Winter’s battles for him?”

“Because I can’t stand bullies,” Rick shrugged. “You three can leave, we need a word with your buddy.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” one of the shorter guys shrugged. “You want to start something?”

The other two looked momentarily hesitant, as if judging their chances of success against the two football players. Both seemed to reluctantly pick and squared up alongside their friends.

“I want to finish something,” Rob growled. “Teach your friend some manners.”

“You want to fuck the little faggot, is that it, Taylor?” Nial chuckled. “Stick with the team a little longer, I’m sure you’ll get your turn with Alex once he’s done with the seniors.”

There were no further words as Rob dumped Nial Peters on the asphalt of the parking lot, scattering his cronies like bowling pins in the process. At almost the same time, Rick laid out the talkative friend with a single right hook to the jaw.

Rolling on the ground, Nial Peters managed to land a few good hits to Rob’s ribs as they grappled but with a twist, he managed to kick the guy upward and throw him off to one side.

“Fuck you, asshole,” he snarled, driving his left fist into the swimmer’s gut as he blocked his telegraphed right.

Nial doubled over and was defenseless when Rob kneed him in the head, sending the boy sprawling backward onto the asphalt, his nose streaming blood. “Leave my si… leave Alex alone, do you hear me?” he roared.

Nial held his hands up and nodded, “Yeah, shit, I’m sorry dude.”

Rob grabbed a fist full of collar and leaned in. “You touch h…im or hear of anyone else doing it without you stopping them or telling me and I will kill you. Do you understand me, asshole?”

“Yeah, I… I do.” Nial grimaced, rubbing the blood from his nose.

Rick dropped the second idiot on the ground before the third retreated rapidly, conceding the fight unchallenged. He looked across at Rob who gave him a nod.

Rick walked across and looked down at the far less intimidating and talkative Nial Peters. Without pausing, he kicked him swiftly in the ribs, causing the boy to curl up in pain. “Have a nice day, dickhead.”

Rob took his arm and pointed at the diner windows, slowly filling with curious onlookers. “Time to go.”

Rick nodded, spitting on the prostate bully before turning to follow Winters back toward his ride. The pair departed before the swim team members had even dragged themselves up off the asphalt and they were a block away before either said a word.

“Thanks,” Rob offered quietly as they drove back toward the school campus.

“I got you, dude,” Rick replied, flexing his grazed knuckles.

Rob smiled to himself; there was no way that Nial Peters or any of his friends would ever touch his sister again. They wouldn’t be the only ones, but for now, it would stem the tide. What came in January was another story. One he felt powerless to prevent.

Rick had risen significantly in his expectations. The guy was a good teammate and clearly cared for his sister a great deal. He hadn’t blinked when Rob had suggested punishing those responsible and he could clearly take care of himself in a fight. He hadn’t been ignorant of the two guys that Rick had taken on alone.

If Holly insisted on dating anyone, he reasoned, at least it was a guy with honor. He was still coming to terms with the basic concept of his sister having a romantic interest in anyone at all; he just didn’t see his younger sibling that way. Perhaps, he supposed, that was more the life of Alex.

Holly was different; she was so much more than his little brother had ever been. So much more alive, full of love and life. He would get used to it, he knew; he was pretty sure she wouldn’t give him a choice anyway. He felt glad that this guy would stand up for her if it came to it; what more could a brother ask?

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Fake It Till You Make It - 23 - The Matriarch’s Court.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Twenty Three - The Matriarch’s Court.

“Do you want to come over and watch a movie this weekend?”

I look up from my books and raise an eyebrow at the lump of boyhood disturbing my homework session that Tuesday in the library.

I’ve been back at school a week since Taytlorgate and our relationship has managed to survive going to school together so far. It’s been a little awkward at times, especially when he wants to express affection if we’re alone. For him, all he sees is Holly cosplaying as a boy, so he doesn’t care. Me? It’s my brain worms and social hangups at play. It leaves me feeling weird about being in ‘boy mode’ and interacting with him that way. Screw it; I’ll survive, I guess. The less said about West’s the better.

“Just a movie, huh?”

Rick grins down at me and shrugs. I might not have a ton of experience as a girl, but I’m pretty sure that as a teen boy, he’s got bigger plans than cinematic appreciation. Then again, I’m a teenage girl and we are not exempt, we just like some warning.

“Maybe,” he grins shyly, “if you want to?”

I find it adorable that this big, gorgeous, intelligent guy is acting nervous and shy around me; it’s so sweet. I give him a little smile, “I’d like that.”

“Whatcha doing?” He asks dropping into the seat next to mine. I realize suddenly that arranging a date isn’t his entire plan and my homework will sadly be getting done at home.

I show him the textbook cover, “Finishing Geography so I don’t have to take it home with me.”

“Want a ride?”

“Sure,” I roll my eyes. “You broke my concentration anyway.”

School is starting to let out as we make our way toward the parking lot. Walking with Rick still feels a little awkward, and I’m not particularly talkative. I know that to all the world we appear no different than before; just the unlikely friendship of a nerdy runt and a football hero, but inside, I’m just terrified they can see through the flimsy disguise that I put up. I'm sure they can see how much I like him.

Fear had been such a controlling factor in my life that shutting it down was incredibly difficult. I know that most people wouldn’t begin to think that we were dating, but I dreaded them making the assumption. It took a great deal of strength to resist the urge to reach out for his fingers whenever his hand brushed near, or to kiss him whenever he smiled at me.

To me, that relationship was an equal part of the Alex disguise that I wore at school. Rick didn’t date Alex; he was dating Holly. I know how bipolar that sounds, but it helped me to separate the two personalities and keep things in one piece as my divergent lives progressed. Alex was still the loner; still the single depressed nerdy kid that was somehow friends with the popular jock. A terrible tired trope, I know, but nobody seemed any the wiser.

Once safely in the cab of Rick’s truck, I cast off as much of my Alex costume as possible while remaining decent and stole his sweatshirt. It was massive on me and it smelled of him; perfect combination in my eyes. It seems stupid, but I felt a lot better like this. Even in this halfway house, I was more Holly than Alex and in my head, I could be his girlfriend now. Now, I wasn’t reminding him that I had been born a boy.

I’m curled up in the passenger seat of the truck, watching Rick as we drive. He’s listening to music on the stereo and watching the traffic ahead. I don’t think that he’s aware that I’m studying him so intently. I gaze at the lips that have kissed me and the hands that have held me and feel my tummy flutter. Who would have possibly imagined that my wildest dreams might actually come true?

“What are you thinking about?”

“Huh?”

Rick glances over as he drives and nods in my direction. “You; you’ve got this super intense look on your face. Don’t get me wrong, it’s cute as hell, but you look like you’re deep in thought.”

Ok, I’ve never been called cute before, but I could totally get used to it. I do turn a little red, but I catch myself pretty quickly. “Just life, I guess. Getting used to the new normal.”

Rick nods to himself, “I can understand that; you’ve got a lot going on and it’s bound to weigh heavy on you. It’s not long until we break up for the holidays though, right?”

“Four weeks left,” I sigh. “Three, if you don’t count the trip.”

A strong hand reaches over and squeezes my shoulder. “You got this,” he murmurs. “Four weeks, and it’s all over.”

“I still can’t wrap my head around how you’re so good with all of this,” I sigh. “Every day at school, you’re reminded of what I really am. This… us, it might be a secret for now, but once I come back to school it will be all out in the open. If you still want to be with me, they’ll come for you too. I don’t think you’re quite prepared for what that means. You see what they do to me when they have no idea.”

Rick looks across and his hand reaches down and grasps my own. God, my hand looks so small in his; so delicate. Holding his hand makes my heart clench, why the hell do I work so hard to push him back, to remind him what I am?

“I’ll tell you a million times, Holly,” he asserts firmly. “I don’t give a good goddamn what anyone else thinks. Hell, the only reason I don’t show how much you mean to me in school is because you don’t want me to. Fuck them, who gives a shit?”

I gaze out of the window and watch the traffic flow past for a moment in silence. “I’m not embarrassed.”

“I know you’re not.”

“I don’t act like it,” I murmur.

“I get it,” he admits. “You might not think I do, but I got a fair idea. You, Holly Winters are my girlfriend. That Alex kid? while he’s a good friend, we’re not dating. He’s just a front you put on to keep people at bay until you’re out of this place.”

“Pretty astute,” I smile/

“Do you remember what I said the other week? That all I see is a girl playing dress up? A girl in a costume? Yeah, well I figure a costume can’t date, so why would Alex date anyone?”

Surprisingly he’s hit the nail entirely on the head. Why does he have to be so… logical?

“Basically,” I concede. “I’m sorry for being weird about stuff.”

Rick laughs, “Mom always told me to listen to a girl and make damn sure I understand what she’s saying before I open my mouth if I want a happy life.”

I screw my face up and give him a dirty look. I want to give him a slap for a remark like that, but It’s also one of the most damn affirming things anyone’s ever said to me; I guess he skates on this one.

Fifteen minutes later, we rolled to a stop outside my house. He’s all forgiven now and I’m snuggled up beside him on the front bench. If you’ve never had that experience, trust me, it’s very high on the contentment list. Reluctantly, I detangle myself and get ready to head inside.

“So, you’re coming over this weekend right?” Rick asks, looking a little uncertain. God, I cannot fathom how Mister Confident is always so shy where I’m concerned, almost as if he’s afraid I’ll say no; like that would happen!

I nod, reluctantly grabbing my bag and belongings. “Sure, Rick, I’d love to.”

He smiles and pulls me in for a kiss that curls my toes like the binding on my notebook. After a few heavenly moments, I reluctantly pull back and straighten myself up. Mom will kill me if I spend the evening making out in full view of the neighbors, regardless of gender.

Rick gives me a happy little grin and he looks so boyishly handsome right there I almost feel willing to defy my Mother. “Look, I don’t know if you guys are doing anything for Thanksgiving, but… I thought maybe I could invite you over. I want you to, obviously,” he stumbles. “Mom asked me to ask as well.”

“I don’t think we’ve got any plans,” I shrug. “Chrissie is home for the week, but that’s it.”

“Come over to ours and celebrate with my parents, it’s just going to be the three of us.”

Meet the parents… do the whole family thing, sure I already met the parents, but formally? Oh god, they also think I’m called Alex. Oh boy, I’m not done with the critical comings out, am I?

“I think I need to talk to your Mom first,” I reply hesitantly. “You know, the whole Alex and Holly thing might be a little relevant.”

“That’s not her problem,” Rick shrugs.

“Isn’t she going to wonder why your tomboy girlfriend, Alex, suddenly became a girly girl called Holly?”

Rick frowns, “I didn’t really think about that. Yeah, maybe you should. I could talk to her if you want me to?”

I shake my head, “No. That’s for me to do, but thank you. I think I need to talk to her woman to woman; she’d probably appreciate it more.”

“Knowing my Mom, yeah, she would,” he admits with a chuckle. “Though, if you get her on side, Dad won’t be a problem. He does whatever she says.”

I smile, I know my Dad is exactly the same way. Don't get me wrong, he’s not whipped or weak, but he loves Mom and they see eye to eye on most things. It’s a partnership and not a power dynamic. If one of them makes a call, they both respect it because they know how the other thinks. Can I handle this? Can I come out to Rick’s parents?

I’m going to have to do it eventually, whether I want to or not. The big unknown will be whether it blows up in my face or not. His parents seem nice, but that doesn’t exactly account for diddly squat when it comes to the big T topic. It can turn the nicest people into utter monsters that can’t stand the look of you.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more.

* * *

I drove the racket hard, throwing all of my energy behind the strike. The projectile screamed across the court like a ballistic… is this too much? Yeah, I was playing Badminton, I wanted to make it sound far more exciting than it actually was. Sexing up any game with a piece called a shuttlecock is unsurprisingly rather difficult.

My epic drive was easily returned by Megan and our volley lasted a surprisingly long time before we finally conceded the point, the final one of the game. Obviously, I was extremely disappointed as I’m pretty sure I was meant to win, biological advantage, right?

“Good game guys,” Tina called, drowning herself in her water bottle. “I’m freaking done.”

“That was a really long game,” Meg agreed, wrapping her towel around her neck. “Showers and home?”

“Not rushing off to text my brother?” I teased, dodging a towel whip with a giggle.

It’s been three weeks since Holly first made an appearance here at the Gym and I’ve thankfully lost a lot of the anxiety that I had over being recognized. In total trans stereotype, I do a quick superhero change in a gas station bathroom down the road and spend the rest of my afternoons as Holly. Once I’m out of the hated suit, I’m able to come and go without anyone noticing anything wrong.

I pluck at my sweaty tank top and make a face, “Yeah, I think I’m in need of a good shower too.”

Yeah, I’ve gotten over that as well. Other than keeping my underwear on to prevent any mishaps, I’m pretty sure now that I’ve nothing that would worry anyone in the changing rooms. It doesn’t mean I walk around topless or anything, but I’m more than comfortable changing. It’s weird how you mentally adjust, isn’t it?

We make our way back in from the courts and head for the locker rooms. This has rapidly become one of my favorite times of the week. I get to hang out with my friends and be taken as exactly what I am; Holly, a girl. It’s funny how you start to enjoy life more when it’s the right one, finally.

I’m not sure how I feel about Tina. She’s a great girl and I really like her perky, oddball personality. It feels a little unfair that both Megan and Kara know about me, but Tina doesn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a proponent of telling everyone I’m trans or anything daft like that, but with this being such a major part of my life currently, I feel like I’m lying to her, which I am.

I do in fact go to the same school, but not the same division. I am having to actively conceal that I got to school still as Alex. Hiding is hard work, and it wears you out having to keep your guard up constantly.

Sure, all these delightful trans-fictions make it seem so very easy; the protagonist passes as female, nay, she fails to pass as male most of the time. That means that when presenting as female, it’s easy right? Wrong.

There’s stuff you can’t talk about around those who don’t know about you, and you have to actively conceal who you go to places with. Most of your time is made up ensuring that people don’t make the connection or find out and it’s quite exhausting. As comfortable as I’m feeling now that I get to be myself that I have at least one friend who has no idea about Alex, and it’s tough to balance the two.

Sorry, a boringly realistic moment there where I have to remind you that even in the best of circumstances and a dream situation for some, it has its risks and difficulties. Yeah, that’s me, the Grinch of trans drama, sorry not sorry.

I step out of the shower and wrap myself in a towel before heading back to the locker room. I’ve already pulled on dry underwear, so I’m not particularly worried about being detected. Lil Alex isn’t much in the grand scheme of things and taking care of that is… not something I’m going to describe here. It’s safe to say he doesn’t make an appearance.

Finding my locker, I grab my gym bag and pull out my clothes before starting to get dressed. Today, that’s Jeans, nice ankle boots, and a cute top and jacket. The temperature has fallen somewhat, so It's starting to really feel like the approach of winter. Out here, that rarely drops below the low sixties, but that’s pretty cold for us!

“You guys doing anything for Thanksgiving?” Meg asks as she dries off her hair.

“Grandparents, in San Diego,” Tina shrugs. “A Long ass road trip and big arguments; I can’t wait.”

“We’re just staying home like always,” Megan shrugs. “Mostly lots of rels coming over and Gary annoying everyone. What about you Hol, any plans this year, considering?”

“Considering what?” Tina asks raising an eyebrow.

“Considering her sister is home from college finally, she’s not seen her in months,” Kara interjects, eying her sister. “Right?”

“That, I guess,” I concede, “although my boyfriend did just invite us all over to his parent's place for the holiday so… I’m considering it.”

“Wait, he did?” she balks, “Like that’s a big step right?”

“I guess, but I think I want to talk to his Mom first,” I offer cryptically, making an eye gesture. “Make sure she’s cool with the five of us, you know?”

“Right,” Kara agrees catching my point. “That’s probably a really good idea for place settings and stuff.”

Tina eyes us curiously but remains quiet. I’m positive she’s unaware of the reality of that conversation, but at the same time, I hate having to use code in front of my friends. This split life crap is exhausting and I want it to be over.

Megan joins me in the bathrooms where I’m fixing my face before we leave. “What did your parents say about you getting your ass kicked?”

What? You thought I wouldn’t tell them about that?

I sighed and shrugged at my reflection as I applied mascara. “They weren’t pleased, but what can they really do? They already laid down the law with the school and it’s easier to just avoid drama till I’m done. Nobody knows the truth, so it’s best if it just stays that way.”

“What truth?”

I jump as Tina appears behind me with makeup bag in hand. She has a quizzical expression on her face.

Megan points at my cheek, “She got in a fight at school and her parents lost their shit.”

Tina’s frown lessens and she nods, “That why you’re transferring?”

“Yeah,” I shrug. “I just… don’t belong there.”

“Wild,” she shrugs and takes up a mirror next to me. “You seem alright to me, even if you are friends with these two.”

“I can hear, you know.” Megan huffs.

Tina chuckled darkly, “That was the point. “Seriously though, you seem like a great girl. Who hit you?”

“Just some asshole,” I sigh. “They think it’s hilarious to pick on me.”

Tina turns to me and touches my arm. “You mean to tell me some guy did this to you? And the school did nothing? You got beaten up by a boy and that’s avoiding drama?”

Shit, that does make things a bit weird to explain. I decide to go for a new angle. “Uh, I got…” I do my best to look dejected. “I really don’t like talking about it; some bad stuff, you know?”

Tina smiles sympathetically and gives me a sideways half-hug. “I get it, I won’t pry, but that sucks. Roll on January, huh?”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “Indeed.”

* * *

The bus dropped me on the quiet main street of Johnson Creek a little after five that evening. Back when I first saw the place, I thought it a dreary and dead little strip of nothing, but now it seemed a little more quaint and idyllic. I would still struggle to want to live here, but it certainly looked a lot more welcoming than I remembered.

I was casually dressed, but very much Holly this time. I was wearing an ankle-length black denim skirt with a warm pair of cozy tights and a white long-sleeved T-shirt. Coupled with my ankle boots and a cute grey wool coat, I felt comfortable yet casually stylish. Probably not country-appropriate, but I am, after all, a city girl.

There was no game tonight, but the coach had still kept the team back for extra practice. That meant that I had extra time to head home and make myself pretty before catching the bus out here to wait for Rick to come through on his way home; all perfectly timed.

What, you thought I’d ask my dad to take his new daughter out to her boyfriend’s place this soon into the gig? Do you think I’m crazy? I know he accepts me, but I’m a little reluctant to force this element down his throat too quickly. I love my father, but after the earful I got for being bullied by boys, kissing them might be a hill too far.

The truth of the matter is that I had not originally planned to even bring dating into the picture until very much later, once everyone became more settled with the idea of Holly the girl. When do any of my plans ever work out as intended, you ask? Mom had sussed me pretty quickly but seemed more than comfortable with the idea. Rob and Dad? I was taking things a bit more slowly. Boys can get weird and I didn’t want to make them uncomfortable.

It was for that very reason that I planned to handle tonight the way I did, but could I even manage that the way I wanted to? Of course not.

“Alex? Is that you honey?”

Guh?

I glance up from my thoughts and spot the one and only, Mrs Taylor, coming out of the grocery store with arms full of bags.

Without thinking I hopped up from my perch on a low railing and rushed over to grab a bag to ease her load. What can I say? Perpetually helpful sort, that’s me.

“I know Ricky said you were coming over tonight but he hadn’t said you’d be waiting out here on your own honey. How long did that boy say he would be?”

“Uh,” I checked my watch. “Thirty minutes, Ma’am.”

“It’s Rebecca, remember?” she chides playfully. “I won’t have any Ma’am’s or Mrs Taylor’s, do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’... Rebecca.” I grinned. “I had no idea you were going to be out here.”

“I just popped in for some bits and pieces for dinner,” she shrugged as we walked over to the BMW I had seen parked in their yard. She popped the trunk and started depositing her bags. “Did my son tell you to wait out here all on your own for him? For shame, I’ll be having words with that boy when I get home,” she frowned.

“It was my idea, honestly,” I replied quickly. “I told him that I would take the bus rather than wait for his practice to be over.” I offered, hoping to protect Rick from a maternal beating. “I didn’t mind waiting, honestly.”

“Still,” she wagged a finger. “A gentleman would have timed it so that he was waiting to collect you. Rick should be a proper gentleman, especially leaving a lovely young thing like you sitting around in the middle of nowhere.”

I didn’t reply, I wasn’t sure I was going to convince his Mom that I was totally cool with this arrangement. Rebecca instead offered me a ride back to the ranch with her to wait in their home, rather than out her by the side of the road. Who am I to argue? Well, that was my mistake.

For the record, Rebecca Taylor drives like a harpie with a firecracker up her butt. Within two blocks I was hanging onto the edge of my seat with a death grip as she flung the European sedan out of town and onto the main road. What had been a fifteen-minute drive with Rick behind the wheel of his truck, was barely ten with Rebecca Waltrip up on the wheel.

“Best let that son of mine know to come straight home,” Rebecca ordered, pulling into the yard beside their home with a spray of gravel as she shut off the engine. “You can come on in and give me a hand with all this before they get home if you like.”

Well, that was me told. I fired off a quick text to Rick and grabbed a bag before following his mother into the house. Who knew that Rick’s Mom and my own had so very much in common?

I dropped the groceries on the counter and stood patiently, waiting for Mrs Taylor to give me an instruction. She seemed like a nice woman from the few times we had met, but I truly didn’t know her that well.

Admittedly, the first time we met, I was convinced that she saw me as Alex, a male friend of her son, however, time and context clues made me realize that she saw me as not just a girl, but the presumptive girlfriend of her son. The second time, I absolutely knew she saw me as her son’s romantic interest.

Here we are in her kitchen, unpacking groceries before I spend the evening watching movies with her son. It’s all so very domestic, and yet, I’m practically shaking, knowing what I have to tell her.

“What’s got you all tied up honey?”

“Hmm?” I murmur intelligently. “I’m sorry, I was caught in my head.”

“I noticed, Hon,” Mrs Taylor chuckled softly as she began washing vegetables. “Anything I can help with?”

Well, this would be the time, wouldn’t it? I have two things to break to her, and neither is ideal.

“Rick invited my family and me to your Thanksgiving celebration this year Ma…Rebecca. I want to tell you I’m really honored by the offer…”

“It’s ok if you’ve already got plans,” she shrugged. “I just wanted to extend the offer, what with you and Rick being a couple. It would be lovely to spend some more time together and meet your parents.”

“We only recently became a couple,” I admit. “We were friends for quite a while.”

Rebecca smiles at me. “You might have thought that you were just friends honey, but I could see it the first time you came over here. You and Rick had a real connection; those are rare.”

Ugh, now I feel pretty awful about what I have to say because she’s so very nice, and right.

“I’m afraid I cannot accept the invitation. It’s not because we have plans, but because It wouldn’t be right of me, Ma’am.”

Rebecca Taylor dries her hands and turns to face me with a curious expression on her face. “And why would that be?”

Le gulp.

“I um, my name isn’t really Alex… well it is, um but…”

Rebecca crossed the kitchen and took my hands in hers. “It’s ok, sweetheart, you can talk to me, what’s going on?”

“I didn’t mean to lie to you, I… it wasn’t meant to happen like this. It wasn’t meant to happen at all... When I was here the first time, youkindaassumedandIddidn’twanttocorrectyou.”

“Slow down sugar, it’s alright, what did I assume?”

“That I, um, that I was a girl.”

“You’re not?” She raised an eyebrow. “You look like one to me.”

“I’m, ah…” My mouth is dry and this feels worse than telling my parents. At least the telling part was taken out of my hands. Plus I’m pretty sure this woman could bury me in the hills and nobody would ever know, if she wanted to.

“I’m transgender,” I practically whisper, staring at the floor. “I’m… I wasn’t born like this.”

Rebecca inclined her head and seemed to look at me more carefully. “I like to think I’m a pretty smart woman, but you have me a little confused honey. Is that why you were wearing boys' clothes last time you were here and hiding your breasts?”

I nod slowly and cautiously. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“I see, and Rick knows about this?”

“He does Ma’am.”

“It’s Rebecca, honey, I told you.” she pauses and frowns. “I don’t pretend to understand, but if you want to be a boy, why are you wearing a skirt now? Not that you don’t look pre… I probably shouldn’t say that.”

“I….”

Wait a second.

“Want to be a boy?”

Mrs Taylor slaps herself on the leg and sighs. “Oh gosh, I must have really offended you by offering you my Anna’s things after you ended up in the creek, I’m sorry.”

The penny finally drops and I realize what she’s thinking.

“Oh, gosh no! No, I want to be a girl… well, I am one, I mean, I should be one.”

Rebecca Taylor’s face goes through a few quick emotions as she processes what I’m telling her. I’m almost starting to get used to the mental gymnastics people do when I explain what I am to them, I think it hurts their brains.

Finally, she reaches a decision and smiles kindly. “I think I’m going to make us some coffee and you’re going to explain this whole thing to me from the beginning.”

Oh boy, did I start from the beginning…

Sitting in the family room with Rick’s Mom, I laid it all out to her as plain as day. Every moment, from my first knowledge of my sense of gender to the present moment sitting there in her home. I admit, I spent most of the time hoping that she wasn’t going to leave my corpse in the hills but I’m being overdramatic. It was evident fairly quickly that she wasn’t deathly afraid of the cursed creature before her and was more than willing to hear me out.

“So that first time… you were just friends and even he… really? He didn’t see it?”

“People who knew Alex always tended to see Alex, despite the obvious reality. Anyone who didn’t know me, well they saw more of Holly.” I admit.

“I saw a whole lot of Holly when I came bursting into the bathroom,” Rebecca chuckled. “My gosh, I must have given you a real fright, honey.”

“I appreciated the dry clothes, but it did make me panic a little.”

“You two made a cute couple, even then,” Rebecca smiles warmly. “I was telling my Tom later that night that you two riding in across the pasture reminded me of when we first started dating ourselves.”

I hesitate for a moment. “So, you don’t mind me and Rick seeing each other, considering everything you know now?”

Rebecca stood and came over before sitting down beside me on the sofa. She picked up my hands in hers and smiled reassuringly. “Holly, I may not fully understand the how or the why you find yourself in this situation, but I would have to be blind and dumb to see you as anything but an intelligent and pretty young woman. My son would be lucky to have a woman like you.”

And just like that, I burst into tears. Big fat ugly tears of relief, happiness, and shame. Having someone accept you and truly see you as your real authentic self is an emotional floodgate. All the tension and stress I’d held about Rick and his family came flooding out like the Rhur Valley in the 1940s.

It was in this sobbing state that Rick found me in a short while later. I looked up from my tissues and spotted him loitering by the door looking too terrified to step into the room, lest he was struck down with a violent case of the feels.

“How long,” *sniff* “have you been there?” I ask croakily.

“Uh, a few minutes, are you guys ok?” he asked hesitantly, glancing between myself and his mother.

“We’re fine honey,” his Mother replied. “Go pop the oven on for me, would you?”

Rick gave me an uncertain look before my smile reassured him enough for him to leave. Behind me, Rebecca chuckled softly.

“What?”

“You saw that, didn’t you?”

“I don’t follow,” I frown.

“I told him to turn the oven on and he waited for you to tell him you were ok before he left. That’s love, sweetheart.”

I couldn’t help but smile; the thought made my heart lurch with that happy squiggle it does. “I love him too,” I admit, finally realizing it. “He’s been so kind, so caring. Above all else, he gave a damn about me when nobody else did.”

Rebecca smiled and squeezed my shoulder. “Go upstairs and fix your face, honey, then you can join me in the kitchen, ok?”

* * *

Makeup is a miracle, because when I came back down to join the Taylors for dinner, it was far less obvious that I had been sobbing on their sofa only fifteen minutes prior. Of course, Rick treated me like I was made of fine china the entire time, but I can’t blame the boy for caring.

Both Rebecca and her husband Tom were great people, and for the first time, I felt truly relaxed sitting there at the table with them. Unlike my own family who, let’s be real, had a whole familial stake in my existence, they did not. To know that Rebecca had given me her blessing and her acceptance helped to wash away a great deal of my nerves.

After dinner, Rick’s parents beat an expedient yet polite retreat, leaving the two of us to watch our movie in peace. It was funny, I‘m pretty sure I can still remember us making out on this very sofa only a couple of weeks ago, but now, I suddenly feel like a bundle of nerves.

Rick dropped down beside me with a bowl of popcorn and flipped on the TV. I had left a little room between us, and I wasn’t entirely sure how to go about doing the whole casual romance thing.

Rick glanced over and slid up the sofa until he was beside me. “Is this ok?”

I nodded nervously. “Sure.”

“Would it be ok if I put my arm around you?” He asks uncertainly. “I don’t want to, like, assume or anything.”

I gave him a reassuring smile and slid closer until we were just about touching. His body felt incredibly warm against my side and my heart was thumping within my chest. When he placed his arm around my shoulders and snugged me in beside him, the butterflies in my stomach lept.

Look, I know this isn’t the first time we did anything romantic, but it’s the first time we did it intentionally knowing that more would come from it. To me, a girl who has literally no romantic experience and is still working out how she ought to respond to a boy, that’s very different to spontaneous shenanigans.

“Are you ok?” Rick asks as the movie starts playing. “You’re shaking.”

For the first time, I realize that I am. I’m a huge knotted-up bundle of nerves and I have no idea why. Trust me to fuck up cuddling on the sofa, right?

“I just don’t want to do anything wrong, you know? You’re the first boy I’ve ever been close to like this,” I admit shyly, blushing furiously.

Rick squeezes me and leans down before gently kissing the top of my head. “I won’t push you to do anything, but I do like this.”

Just admitting that I’m nervous seems to have dispelled quite a few of them. “It’s not bad,” I concede with a little smile.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Rick asks, his fingertips playing with my hair in a way that makes me almost shiver with sensation.

“Sure.”

“This is the first time I’ve done this too.”

I turn and look at him properly. “What do you mean?”

“You’re my first girlfriend and… I guess the first girl that I kissed.”

“I don’t really believe that, you must have.” I insist. “Right?”

Rick shakes his head and blushes himself. “No, honestly, it’s the truth. Remember how I told you I only really became popular this last year or two? That and being in all boys' school somewhat stunts your opportunities to mix.”

I grinned slyly, “What are the chances huh? You found the one girl in the entire place.”

“Yeah, I lucked out there, didn’t I?” he replies, lifting my chin with a finger. “Want to help me practice?”

My heart skips a beat. Ok, so I know that’s not what happens but it sounds so deliciously romantic. It’s far more reader-friendly than discussing the relative behavior of adrenaline and endocrine responses to emotional stimuli, but I digress.

I cannot find words at the moment, but I just about manage to nod my agreement. Slowly, Rick turns his body towards me and lowers his face to my own. I close my eyes as our lips meet and it feels as wonderful as every other time before. Now, however, I don’t feel quite as shy anymore.

We kissed tentatively for a few moments, exploring each other’s lips. The sensations are heady and exotic, taking me to a new world of sensation. While I’m certainly no expert myself, mister first girlfriend is doing a fine job, he must be a natural talent.

After a few moments, I feel Rick’s hands come around and grasp me by the torso. His hands feel huge as they hold onto me as firmly as a rock. For a brief moment, my memory flashes back to him catching me on the sidewalk when I slipped. Yeah, it really does feel as good as I had imagined it might.

I feel a hand slide down and gently squeeze my butt. It’s a new sensation but not entirely an unwelcome one. In response, I nibble at Rick’s lip, which seems to excite him even further.
“Holly,” he growls, “God, you’re hot.”

I feel myself roll and slide until I’m lying underneath him on the sofa, his body above me as we embrace. Right now, literally and emotionally, he’s my entire world and I could want for nothing at all. I reach up and pull my top off, casting it aside with abandon. Feeling his hands on my bare skin feels like delicious electric shocks.

I’m starting to feel extremely worked up in a way I have never experienced before. My body exerts an unexplainable yearning, a demand for more. As someone who grew up, isolated from sexual desire and feeling, it was both terrifying and intoxicating.

With a little shyness, I guided Rick’s hands to my chest and gasped as I felt his gentle touch on my breasts. The sensation was unusual but extremely pleasurable, somewhere in my head, my brain was screaming for more though. Reaching up, I pull one of the straps off my shoulder and slowly take his hand.

Rick looked nervous, almost terrified as I encouraged his fingers into my bra and onto the bare flesh of my left breast. After he became accustomed to the touch, I felt his fingers graze against my erect nipple. The sensation is like an electric jolt that runs down the length of my spine to somewhere within my abdomen.

Somehow, this moment feels like the most important exchange of our nascent relationship. In the back of my mind, I know how I was born, and I know how the world sees me. I know what I have downstairs, and I have no intention of ever using that thing for evil. Right now, however, my boyfriend has his hand on my breast, my very female, organically grown, farm-to-table, breast.

I could ruin this moment with the sociology of secondary sexual characteristics and their intrinsic meaning to us as human beings. All that I care about is that my breast is in the hand of a boy who sees me as his girlfriend; this moment, to me, feels like a confirmation that I am woman enough for him. My proof is evident, even if I am imperfect.

I never said my shitty little warped brain was particularly logical, but in my hormone-ravaged mind, I was proving to RIck that I was a girl, that I wasn’t a fraud. That as much as I was broken, I could be enough. Trust me to overthink romance, huh?

We continued to fool around on the sofa until the movie was over. I never even really paid it any attention, so I can’t actually remember what it was that we watched. Funny that, huh? Thankfully, we managed to pull ourselves together and redress long before his parents reappeared.

We never ventured further than our above-the-waist explorations and for that,` I was somewhat glad. Sure, I’d had Rick’s hands on my butt through my skirt and mine had certainly been on his, but neither of us had ventured south in any meaningful way. At the moment, I wasn’t comfortable going there, and I wasn’t sure when I might be.

The idea of giving Rick pleasure was both a terrifying and intriguing prospect. Believe me, I’m a teenager, I’m well aware of the multitude of ways to work with that equipment; remember I got to an all-boys school, and they talk far too much.

The truth was, while I felt comfortable considering approaching that idea, I was afraid of him wanting more from me. Would I even be willing to consider… that? Sex? I had no idea what I was getting into regarding intimacy, but my hormone-charged heart was trying to lead my emotionally damaged brain. An imperfect girl and an imperfect body are an awful combination when her body and mind are raved by estrogen’s sweet grasp.

Her heart wants what it cannot have, and yet, her brain fights the neurosis and the shame of what she knows she really is. Romance and sex as a transgender girl are a layer of shame and embarrassment on top of teenage fears regarding sex.

I know some people hold no similar concerns and they live largely unashamed or concerned by their bodies and I do not mean to suggest that they are, in some way, imperfect. What I need you to understand is that I, Holly Winters, found my own body humiliating. The more feminine I appeared, the more it hurt to be this way. That imperfection burned my soul, and it left me carrying a great deal of shame that I desperately wished to overlook.

Why did I have to be transgender?

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Fake It Till You Make It - 24 - Holly's First Thanksgiving.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Twenty Four - Holly's First Thanksgiving.

Chapter Twenty-Four - Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving, while it stems from the time of the pilgrims, really has a unique meaning to each and every family that celebrates it. I know for many, it means arguments and distant relatives. For my family, however, it was always a happy experience. Perhaps it was because we got on well with each other or because we weren’t a particularly large family. I know that unlike many, I always found it to be an exciting time of year. Obviously, this year I had a great deal to be thankful for, can you guess what? I digress.

I got out of the Gym on Wednesday afternoon and bid the girls a happy holiday before racing out to the parking lot to join Mom. Today was special; today I was going to meet my sister for the very first time in my (new) life.

I sound melodramatic, I’ve obviously met my sister Chrissie before. In its own way, this was as much a reunion as it was a first meeting as sisters. I remembered our games as kids; we would play with her fashion dolls and build vet’s surgeries and offices out of cardboard boxes, or the times we would host tea parties for her doll collection. I cherished those moments, but when Chrissie grew up, she became too cool to play with her little brother.

Over time, we grew apart, even as we remained close. In hindsight, I know it was the dawn of her puberty; her first period, her first bra. Chrissie became a young woman and it separated us. I could only hope that now I was following the same path it might bring us closer together once more.

We pulled into the short-stay parking lot at the airport and made our way into the arrivals lounge of the terminal. I’d be lying if I wasn’t extremely nervous about this meeting. Chrissie wasn’t home for long, not until Christmas, but our parents had got her a return flight so that she could be here; for all of us, it was a pretty special year.

“What time does her flight get in?” I asked, scanning the sea of passengers flowing out of baggage claim.

“Not for a little while,” Mom observed, reading the arrivals board above us. “Let’s get coffee, huh?”

We made our way over to one of the extremely overpriced coffee outlets in the terminal designed specifically to fleece waiting families out of their hard-earned Dollars. According to the board, we still had twenty minutes before Chrissie landed. Being a domestic flight and lacking check baggage, we’d probably see her in close to thirty or forty if TSA weren’t being particularly frisky today..

“Nervous?” Mom asks as we sit down with our beverages.

I make a face halfway between indigestion and uncertainty. “Yeah, I think so. I know she said she was cool when we spoke on the phone, but meeting her for the first time? Little scary.”

Mom smiles and nods, “It will be, but she does love you, honey. You’re going to get on just great, I promise, you’ll have no issue with Chrissie.”

“I hope so,” I sigh, watching the travelers passing by. “I’ve never been very thankful before. I’ve got a lot to be thankful for this year. I’d really love it if I could share that with my entire family.”

Mom smiles and squeezes my hand and we sit in companionable silence. I say silence, it’s an airport coffee shop. It’s packed and loud and honestly, not the place for a big deep discussion on childhood dysphoria, depression, or even the weather.

I’m pretty confident Chrissie will be awesome about everything. We had spoken on the phone a few times since my grand reveal and she was still the sister I remembered from so very long ago. I still had a little worry, but that’s brain worms for you. Not just residents of demented politicians dumping bear carcasses in public parks, but often residents of our own heads.

As the time approached, we made our way back out into the arrivals area and waited by the railing for Chrissie’s plane to unload. I had been a little torn about how to dress to meet my sister for the first time as my real self. A part of me wanted to dress down to ease the blow, but another told me that I ought to go over the top to assert my femininity; to prove that I really was a girl. Why can’t things be simple?

In the end, my solution was simple; fuck it. She’s going to love me no matter what, so be Holly and not anyone else. I don’t have anything left to prove and I shouldn’t start with my own sister. It was late November, so practicality had won out over fashion to a greater extent and I was wearing jeans, a pair of knee-high leather boots, and a chunky cream sweater under my coat. My hair was down but clipped back behind my ears with a pair of barrettes. I was wearing my usual fairly light makeup; some eyeliner, mascara, and a swipe of lip gloss. In all, I think I looked suitable for a little sister collecting her big sister from the airport.

Makeup was one thing that I was starting to have fun experimenting with. I was getting considerably better at it too, if I do say so myself. Practicing alone or with Kara and Meg had really upped my skills, although it still sometimes took Mother Dearest to bring me back down to earth. Look, I’m pretty sure every teenage girl gets told she looks like a hooker occasionally by her mother. Hindsight would prove her correct on more than one occasion. Sorry, Mom!

I caught sight of my sister before Mom as she exited baggage claim with the sea of warmly bundled passengers from her Chicago flight. Her Blonde hair was up in a messy bun and she was wearing jeans and a University of Chicago sweater as she wheeled her bag along behind her. There she was; an average college girl coming home for the holidays in a sea of holiday traffic. This college girl was my big sister and I recognized her instantly.

“Chrissie!”

My yell caught her attention but she wasn’t quite sure who the short brunette girl was. I saw her spot, Mom, then look back at me before her look of confusion changed to one of the broadest smiles I had ever seen on my sister’s face.

I had planned to be coy, I had even planned to be demure. Heck, I had been really nervous right up until the very moment that I caught sight of her. The look I shared with my sister in the arrivals lounge of the airport that day changed our relationship on the very spot. I ran to my sister and hugged her fiercely. I wasn’t particularly coherent, but I knew at that very moment that she loved me.

Emotional reunions in arrivals are nothing new, so people moved around us to get on with their own business without paying us any real attention. If only they had known the significance of our embrace.

Chrissie pulled back from our hug after a few moments and regarded me with a soft smile, “It’s good to finally meet you, sis.”

“It feels good to hear you say that,” I grin, wiping my very soggy eyes. “I’ve missed you… I guess a lot has happened since you went back to school.”

“You don’t say,” she laughed, brushing the hair from my eyes. “You look good, you look really happy.”

“She looked a lot better before she sobbed all over you,” Mom observes dryly, hugging her returning daughter, “hello, Darling, welcome home.”

“Hey Mom, have you guys been waiting for me a long time?”

“No, maybe thirty minutes. Are you ready to get home?”

Chrissie gives an exasperated sigh and nods gratefully, “After that ride in a packed tin can? Absolutely. I got a date with a sofa, some cocoa, and this little lady.” she gestures at me. “Lead on, Mother!”

I’d tell you all about our return to the car and our grand adventures trying to escape the airport parking structures and connective roads, but I’m sure you’ve all been there before. It’s unpleasant, complicated, and utterly confusing. No time for complex gender discussions here, all three of us were scanning for signs and offramps until we finally made it to the freeway.

Once we were safely on a less complicated road, Chrissie wasted little time in starting off the conversation.

“I can’t believe how much like Mom you look,” she opined from the front seat. My sister had evicted me from my prime spot by privilege of age. Admittedly, just this once, it was a concession I was willing to make.

“She always took after me, but even your father was saying the same thing,” Mom replied. “Though she does have your spending habits.”

“She really must be my sister,” Chrissie giggled. “Seriously Holly, you look incredible. I knew you looked super girly this summer but wow, you’ve like, totally blossomed.”

I color up like a firetruck. Having my physical appearance discussed is a little uncomfortable for me still, even if it is complimentary. “Uh, thanks, I guess. My plans to keep all this under wraps until I got to college kinda fell flat on their face.”

“I have no idea how you were going to manage that, sis, I saw your boobs this summer.”

“What?” I blurt, “You did? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I did,” Chrissie admits sheepishly. “I told Mom what I’d seen and what I suspected. You were reaching for a shelf in the pantry and your shirt kinda pulled tight. They were small, but it wasn’t puppy fat, girl.”

“This was back when I was just starting to realize what might be going on with you myself, darling,” Mom admits with an apologetic smile in the mirror. “Chrissie brought her suspicions to me and with what I had observed, it made us seek out Doctor Ward’s professional opinion.”

“I really was the last to know,” I complained sourly, slumping back in my seat. “I really thought I was keeping a better lid on things.”

“Maybe for people at school, baby, but not from your own mother and sister. We’re a lot closer to you than they are.”

“I should have been more careful,” I groan. “What if I’d let someone at school see? I could have ruined everything”

“Whether you realized it or not,” Chrissie points out. “I think, on a subconscious level, you felt a little safer around us. It meant you subconsciously let your guard down, even if it was just a crack. From what it sounds like, you were working so hard to keep up the act, you had to rest at some point.”

“Maybe,” I concede. “I just feel like I should have done better. I really did make a mess of all of this.”

Chrissie reaches back and squeezes my knee reassuringly. “Don’t think of it as screwing up, sis. It just proves you couldn’t hide who you really were.”

“I have to still, for a few more weeks,” I grimace, watching the traffic flow past the window. “I’ve got two weeks of school and one international field trip then I’m done with Alex forever.”

“I have no idea how she manages to still pretend to be a boy, Mom.” Chrissie opines, gesturing vaguely in my direction. “I remember seeing her in the summer and she’s just… she isn’t… not anymore. When I first saw you guys in the terminal it took me a second to recognize her. I know it’s only been two or three months, but it’s like a night-and-day difference. When I left, she was super feminine, but now? She’s just a girl, there’s no two ways about it.”

“Welcome to puberty,” Mom chuckles. “Even when it’s medically induced, it’s like a wildfire on a teenager.”

She’s not wrong. I have changed since she went back to college. Hell, I’ve changed since the semester started. Hearing her opinion with a few months of separation really brings it home though. I only have to survive for a couple more weeks and it’s all over; no more hiding, no more Alex. It’s always darkest before the dawn…

* * *

“Hey Kid, you in there?”

I was on my bed reading when Chrissie’s knock snapped me from the world of superheroes and crime. “Yeah? what’s up?”

My sister slid into my room, grinning like a cat. “I wanted to spend some time with my baby sister, is that such a bad reason?”

Comic returned to my night stand, I sat up. “It’s not, I just figured you’d be busy.”

Chrissie joins me on the bed and pats my leg fondly. “I’m really sorry that I excluded you as we grew older. I had no idea how you really felt and I want you to understand that. I know we still got on, but… you and I had something special when we were small.”

“I get it, it’s not your fault,” I shrug. “You started changing, life changed, boys and girls are different.”

Chrissie frowned sadly and squeezed me tightly. “They are, but you weren’t. You never were, kiddo. This entire time you’ve just been, well, you. I shouldn’t have put you in that box and made distance between us. The truth is, when I had my first period, I felt different from you and Rob suddenly. A little ashamed and unclean if I’m honest. At that moment, it was me that was the odd one out, so I separated off and spent more time with Mom and my friends. I felt like I was cut off from you guys”

For a few years I was so confused; I had no idea what I had done wrong,” I admit with a sardonic chuckle. “I had always blamed myself.”

“I’m sorry,” Chrissie sniffs. “Please forgive me?”

I turn and hug my big sister, “I forgave you the second you said my real name.”

“I have a little sister,” Chrissie smiles, wiping a tear from her eye. “I always wanted one, you know? There were times that I pretended that you were her.”

“Wishes come true?” I smirk playfully. “Seriously, what’s prompted the late visit?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“No,” I admit, feeling a little silly, “just curious.”

“You’ve probably not had a sleepover yet, have you?”

“I’m a little old for that, maybe,” I shrug, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Nu huh, no way sister,” Chrissie grins. “I’ll be back.”

With that, the bustier version of Arnold Schwarzenegger scampered out of my room and off into the bowels of the house. What she was up to exactly, I had no idea, but it likely wouldn’t be particularly good for me. You just develop that sixth sense with siblings.

About ten minutes and one chapter of my graphic novel later, Chrissie returned without bothering to knock; yup, definitely my sister.

“Right, up, and you need to get changed, missy.”

“It’s late,” I complain, glancing down at my baggy T-shirt and shorts. “And what’s wrong with my Pajamas?”

“No way,” Sister One shakes her head, “change now. Where are your PJs?”

“Top drawer,” I wave generally in the direction of the closet. “What is going on?”

“Got a surprise for you, and you need something nicer than that ratty lot. Here, catch,” Chrissie tossed me a ball of silk and stepped back, a grin plastered on her face.

Unfurling the clothing, I recognized it as the pale pink silk shorty PJ set I had bought with Mom that first trip. It consisted of a pair of scandalously short… well, shorts, trimmed in white lace, with a matching camisole with adjustable straps. It really left little to the imagination and It was something I saved for when I felt super girly.

Chrissie stood there, hands on hips, and watched me. “Are you not getting changed?”

Fine sister; you asked for this…

I shrugged and pulled my shirt over my head and wiggled out of my shorts. Other than my panties, I was stark naked. I had obviously changed around my friends before, so I wasn’t shy about changing around other girls. The truth was, this was the first time anyone other than Mom had truly seen me, and I think it was the first time that I saw Chrissie truly lost for words.

“Holy shit,” she breathed eventually, her eyes like saucers. “I had no idea.”

Feeling slightly self-conscious at her gawking I slipped into the PJs and adjusted myself. “Yeah, I’ve kinda changed a little.”

“No kidding,” she shook her head. “Holly, I knew you… but I… wow.”

“Real me.”

“It does suit you,” she smiles softly, reaching out and squeezing my hand. Her soft smile shifts to a grin and she gestures over her shoulder at the door. “Right, come on missy, let's get on with this, no dawdling by flashing your tits again.”

I feel so cheap!

Realizing I had little choice but to comply, I grabbed my fluffy white robe and slippers before following her out into the corridor. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Downstairs, now don’t ask questions.”

I petulantly rolled my eyes behind her back and followed her down the stairs. Chrissie led me through to the living room and deposited me on the sofa before vanishing off to conduct more suspicious activity.

A few minutes later she returned with mugs and a bag of something under her arm.

“What are we doing?”

Chrissie deposited two steaming mugs of what I could now smell was hot chocolate on the coffee table and plopped down beside me. “Little sister, we are having a sleepover.”

“But we both live here,” I pointed out.

“That doesn’t stop it being a sleepover,” she pouted. “We’re going to watch movies, cuddle up under a blanket and talk.” Her expression changes and she looks almost regretful. “It’s what I wanted to do with a sister if I had… if I had known that I had one.”

I squeeze Chrissie tightly. I can feel the tears welling in my eyes as my throat catches. I want to say so much to her at that moment, but I cannot find the words. Somehow, it’s everything I wanted too. Every hope I ever had is right there and possible suddenly.

I let the tears fall as I hold onto Chrissie. This is healing; it’s repairing us both and we need it. Over her shoulder, I spot movement in the doorway. Mom smiles and steps back into the hallway without a word. She knows we both need this; that we need some sister time to bond. I don’t deserve to be this lucky.

“Tell me about this boy,” Chrissie asked with faux casualness as we finally collected ourselves.

I turned pink. “Well… I, uh. He goes to my school.”

Big sister rolled her eyes. “I know that; Mom told me already. I want details girl.”

“Well,” I admit. “We sort of became friends at the start of the semester. He’s on the team with Rob so I saw him at games. After a while our hanging out stopped feeling quite so much like being, well, friends.”

Chrissie eyed me, “you started to develop feelings for him?”

I nod and chuckle slightly, sipping my chocolate. “I denied it for so long, resisted the idea. Oh, not the idea of liking boys. I accepted that over the summer.” I admit. “Rather, him specifically. I told myself that it was impossible, unattainable and to allow myself to dream would get me outed or beaten if I made a mistake.”

“How did you two end up all lovey-dovey then?”

I smile, “I confused him.”

Chrissie raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“He started to have feelings for me too. I guess he saw more of Holly than I had intended. It gave him a bit of an identity crisis and… one day it became too much. The poor guy came out to me and professed his feelings.”

Chrissie shook her head and grinned, “My little sister the siren.”

“You make me sound awful,” I cringed.

“Not at all,” Chrissie smiled. “I’m sure he’s not alone though. I bet far more guys see more girl than they realize.”

I thought about Carson’s behavior and other guys at school. “Some do, and then get pissed and beat my ass… others are acting weirder and weirder.”

“How so?”

“Some guys… treat me like a girl without even noticing; they hold doors, move out of my way, or tell me stuff that they would never tell other guys. Hell, the Football team considers me some sort of good luck charm at games and they have no idea why they do it. Somehow I’m just, their friend.

Chrissie chuckled and shook her head. “You’ve got those boys real confused.”

I made a face and nodded in agreement. The truth was, that I didn’t particularly feel like correcting them either. I enjoyed that they treated me more like a girl than a boy. Even the ones that bullied me, in a way, affirmed me. They told me that I was categorically not like them: I was no boy.

Did we have a sleepover? I suppose you could call it that, even if it was in our humble living room. We chatted about our lives and our friends, Chrissie caught me up on college life and I filled her in on my friendship with the sisters. Between the chats, cuddles, and watching cheesy movies with hot chocolate and snacks, it was one of the best nights of my life and a formative memory for me going forward.

It was a night that showed me that Chrissie was still the same girl that I had once played with as a young child. The girl I had always felt so close to, the girl that I had mourned the loss of as we grew older. We had been separated by gender and by my own struggles with being her brother. The truth was, as sisters, we fitted together perfectly.

Just as being Rob’s sister seemed to make sense, being Chrissie’s felt natural and easy. We had so much in common, and I still had so very much to learn.

* * *

“Are you two waking up, or do I have to come in there and start yanking on blankets?”

I cracked an eye and stared bleerily out from my fluffy warm cocoon. Mom was standing with hands on her hips in the doorway of the living room, a less-than-impressed look on her face.

“Comfy,” I mumbled sleepily, snuggling in tighter. “Ten more minutes.”

“As adorable as the sight of my darling girls curled up together on the sofa is, it’s time to get up. It’s after ten on Thanksgiving and we’ve got work to do.”

I shifted and poked a boob that wasn’t my own. My sleep-addled mind registered that the blonde head nestled into my shoulder belonged to my sister. The head stirred upon boob pokage. “Five more minutes Mom,” Chrissie grumbled.

Both of us yelped as the room became exponentially colder when our blanket was cruelly snatched away by an unimpressed parent. You’ve all been there; suddenly you’re freezing cold and your brain takes a few seconds to catch up to the shock.

“Upstairs, shower and get dressed. I want you both down here for breakfast in fifteen minutes so we can get started on dinner.”

“Ugh, yes Mom,” I groan, scratching a boob in an extremely unladylike manner. “I don’t remember falling asleep.”

“Me either,” Chrissie shrugs, adjusting her pajamas. “Come on kiddo, let’s go before we anger the dragon.”

“I heard that!”

Before we could further irritate Mother, we complied with her orders and scarpered off upstairs to wake up properly. Sleeping on the sofa isn’t particularly comfortable, but the shower managed to soothe my aching muscles after the cozy yet uncomfortable night’s sleep. Dressing more comfortably in some sweats and a T-shirt, I was back downstairs, bright-ish-eyed and sort of bushy pony-tailed.

“That’s better,” Mother observed as we slunk into the kitchen, still yawning. “Coffee pot is full, and there’s breakfast waiting. Eat up and we can get started.”

“I came home for a vacation,” Chrissie grumbled, filling her mug. “How come I gotta work?”

“It’s not work, we always make dinner together.”

She has a point; we always have. I never particularly had an interest in watching football unless someone I liked was playing in the game. That meant that I never bothered watching the big game with Rob and Dad. Offering to help was an excuse then and a sneaky opportunity to be with Mom and my sister; now, Im actually a little excited to be part of the team.

Sure, you can make feminist jibes about the girls doing the cooking, but our family has its balance. Dad does a lot of the weeknight cooking and a ton of the cleaning because of Mom’s schedule. Mom actually loves to cook and so do I. Admittedly, Chrissie often got roped in to ‘prepare her for life as an adult’ but it was never particularly a woman thing.

The truth is that Chrissie is often relegated to pealing veg and prep jobs because she’s literally dangerous with anything that involves actual cooking. It may well be a scheme, but she hasn’t starved at college, so who knows?

It feels a little wrong, as a proud independent woman, but deep down I feel a little bit of girlish pride to be here cooking with my Mom. Doing the ‘girl’ job still feels exciting to my dysphoric young mind, but it’s more than that, it’s sharing an experience with two people I love.

After we gobbled up our breakfast and managed to caffeinate ourselves back into some semblance of consciousness, Mom set Chrissie and me to pealing various vegetables while she got the turkey going. Dad’s a decent cook, and I’ll never knock his dishes, but Mom is truly an artist.

While we work, we chat about Chrissie’s time in Chicago and Mom’s work. I even get to offer my thoughts about school and life. The funny part is, my being trans is never once mentioned. Today I feel normal; a regular girl with a regular life and it feels so utterly right that I want to sing with joy… If I could hold a note without instantly dropping it down a mineshaft that is.

“I tell you what,” Chrissie opines. “I think I should move back home; Holly has a boyfriend, Rob is grunting on about some girl and me? I’m still freaking single! You’d think at college that I could find a decent guy, but no. I am destined to be an old spinster.”

“You’ve not been on any dates?” I ask cautiously. Obviously, my relationship with Chrissie has changed, but I still feel a little uncertain about where the new lines lie when it comes to ‘sharing our love lives.

“Plenty,” she sighed. “The problem is that none of them are keepers. Before you say it, no Mom, I’m not letting my schoolwork slip.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less from you,” Mom chuckles. “Nobody catch your eye?”

“One, but he’s focused on his work too,” she admits. “I really just… I want to get a little romance and scratch that itch, you know?”

“Your sister has been making up for lost time herself,” Mom offers casually, a sly grin reminiscent of Megan crossing her lips. “She came home the other night with a hickey on her neck.

I turn, not just red, but full-on crimson. “I uh… I… bu…I… had my hair down.”

Chrissie grins like a shark and points the potato peeler at me. “Dear sister, are you getting your oats sowed already? You work fast my girl!.”

I am struggling to process this level of casual openness between the Winters women (God, I love that expression)

“I… buh… no?” I spluttered, uncertain how to even respond to such an accusation. As you can imagine I am the color of a firetruck, in a volcano, on Mars.

“Leave her alone Christine,” Mom chided. “She’s not doing anything of the sort, I would hope. But that doesn’t mean a mother doesn’t notice the evidence of a little heavy petting.”

“That sounds positively puritanical,” I grumble. “We’ve kissed a couple of times, ok? I have not had sex with anyone,” I point out more firmly than I feel, shooting my grinning sister a death stare.

“And what’s it like? kissing boys?”

I shuffle awkwardly. “Dunno, I don’t exactly have anything to compare it to.”

Chrissie frowns. “You never?”

I shook my head shyly. “No, not really. I… I guess I wasn’t interested in anyone until, well. Hormones.”

Chrissie nodded knowingly, “One day you saw a boy and… boom, holy shit, am I right?”

I glance between my mother and sister and shrug, “Kinda, I suppose. Sorry; I feel kinda weird talking about this stuff.”

Mom reaches out and touches my hand and smiles kindly. “It’s ok, Darling; we’ve all been there and you’re no different from any other girl. I know you feel awkward because of how you got here, but the truth is that it doesn’t matter. You can tell us anything and you can be honest about how you feel. I’ve always encouraged Chrissie to be open with me because it’s healthy.

I want her to learn that there is nothing wrong with her body or her feelings. Women have desires too, no matter what society tells us and I want my girls to have a healthy relationship with themselves and their sexuality.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to my Mom after her declaration. I was genuinely speechless at her statement; I knew that girls and women wanted to do stuff like that; hell, I had learned enough from the Sisters and Tina to know that girls were just as horny as guys. Talking about it with my sister and mother, however, was a different topic entirely.

I returned to dicing carrots to distract myself from her words. I wanted to share with them, but I also felt quite embarrassed. The closeness that Mom and Chrissie clearly shared was wild to me. That I was being offered inclusion made me feel both nervous and yet filled me with joy to be seen as their equal.

Fuck it.

“We’ve kissed a bit, but I don’t really want to rush; I’m… I don’t want to do… that... until I’m correct… down there.”

“Correct?” Chrissie asked then her eyes widened. “Oh, shit. I didn’t think about that.”

“That can’t happen until you’re eighteen, Honey,” Mom reminded me gently, stroking my back. “I know you want it, but it’s the rules.”

What a tragedy, no lunch break vaginoplasty for me on the taxpayer, whatever is America coming to.

“I know,” I sigh. “I just don’t wanna even think about that kind of thing while I’m… you know.”

“Not the worst thing in the world to keep your virginity until you know yourself and the world a little better honey.” Mom

“Yeah I can imagine,” Chrissie admitted making a face. “Tough break, sis. Still, you’re not missing out on much. Trust me; men are nothing but problems.”

“Your father isn’t a problem, is he?” Mom counters.

“Mostly,” Chrissie grimaces before smirking.

* * *

Sitting down to dinner with my family that Thanksgiving Thursday afternoon was an incredible experience that I will never forget; Mom, Dad, Rob, Chrissie, and I were finally a whole family. It truly meant the world to me that I was able to finally sit alongside them as Holly Juliette Winters. I was finally the person I was meant to be and my family loved me.

I won’t spoil you with an entire breakdown of the meal or how hard it was to drag Rob and Dad away from the TV, but I will share one moment with you. Like so very much in this odyssey of idiocy I call a book, It matters.

“I would like to make a toast,” I point out, wiggling my wine glass. (Look, our parents are decent human beans and we get a glass on holidays.)

“Go ahead honey,” Mom smiles.

I stand. We aren’t really a standing-to-toast sort of family, but it feels like a standing moment and I’m pretty sure they know what I’m going to say, but I do it anyway. It matters that I say this.

“This Thanksgiving is very special for me in so many ways. It was only last year that I was so very depressed; lost within myself and within the world. The truth is that this is, in many ways, the first real Thanksgiving of my life. I owe it all to you guys. Dad, Mom, Rob, Chrissie. Each of you has, in your own way, changed my life for the better.”

“Mom and Dad; you loved me unconditionally. I’m a little cranky that you knew for so long and didn’t tell me sooner, but…” I sighed. “That’s on me too. Thank you for loving me.”

I turned to Rob and smiled at my big brother. “Robert, you’ve always looked out for me and protected me; you’ve been there, no matter what. When I needed you most, you answered and I couldn’t be more proud of the guy you’ve become. You’re the best big brother I could ask for.”

I turned finally to my sister, Christine. “Chrissie, you were my idol when we were growing up. I wanted to be like you before I really understood what that meant. Now, you’ve welcomed me into your heart as your sister and I couldn’t feel more love.”

Chrissie smiled, Rob smiled, and our parents smiled. At that moment I felt such incredible love. I felt seen finally as the real me, the girl I had always known was in there.

I couldn’t possibly comprehend last year while I sat quietly at the table, performing family, that I would be here as my real authentic self.

Truth be told, it was kinda kickass to be me. That sounds egotistical if you haven’t had to fight for that very basic human feeling.

“I want to say something,” Rob offers, standing. I take my seat and give him a grin.

Rob returns the smile with warmth and raises his glass toward me. “Holly, you kinda came out of left field this year, but at the same time, it’s like you’ve always been here. The more I think back, the more I realize we always had this big bro, little sister thing going on; I just never saw it clearly.”

He shrugged and looked a little darker suddenly. “I’m thankful that you’re still alive. I know you dodged around saying it directly, but I’m really freaking happy that… well, you know. I can’t imagine how bad it’s been, but I’m glad you came out the far side. This you is pretty cool.”

“Seconded,” Chrissie offered raising her glass. “To the little sister we always had, but never really saw. I’m glad we get to know her now.”

Mom cleared her throat and glanced at Dad before taking her turn. “Your father and I are thankful for our amazing children. “Robert; a wonderful young man with a heart of gold and the spirit of a lion. You look out for your siblings and protect those that are weaker. You’re so very much like your father.”

Rob had the good grace to blush at that remark. I know he idolizes Dad.

“Christine,” Dad took over. “You’re doing us all proud at college and I couldn’t be prouder to have such a beautiful and intelligent daughter.”

Mom turns to me last and I melt under the warmth of her love. “Holly, darling. You have been through so many difficulties, but perhaps none as trying as this year. You tools us your truth and threw yourself on our acceptance. You’re a brave and courageous young woman that reminds me so very much of myself. Despite all your troubles, you’ve managed to maintain an excellent record at school. We’re both so very proud of you.”

She glanced at Rob and Chrissie. “Both of you accepted your sister without question and have stood by her. Your father and I are so very proud that we raised such wonderful children. All of you make me so very thankful to have my family happy and whole this year.”

* * *

Modern-Day Holly Here: Thanksgiving; it’s a weird holiday. For some, it’s a time of family, joy, and celebration. For others, it is an obligation and a time of arguments and awkwardness. Sure, I could go into the history of the pilgrims and our first celebrations as a fledgling nation, but you all know that one. What exactly Thanksgiving means today, is very different.

We’re a fractured people, probably more so now than we were back then when I shared that first real Thanksgiving with my family as Holly. That one event will never leave my memory, even as I now celebrate even more joyful family holidays.

I am thankful because I have a chance to live authentically; not something that everyone gets to say, trans or not. I am thankful because I get to share my love with my family, old and new. I wrote this chapter a few weeks before Thanksgiving so very far in the future that little Holly has no idea where she will be one day.

Now, on top of being a daughter, I too am a wife and a mother; how life sneaks up on you, eh? I have two beautiful children and a wonderful husband. Coming home to celebrate this holiday feels so magical with a house full of family; Rob and Chrissie’s kids all get on great with mine, and Mom and Dad love being doting Grandparents.

We are lucky that we have a good life and a good family, not everyone does. To me, Thanksgiving started that year, back in 2004. That was the first year of my life in many ways, and I have never looked back.

Take the opportunity, if you can, to tell someone you love them. Share your feelings and be kind. Life can be cruel sometimes and we don’t even know it. We become numb to pain and we let it soak into our bones until we know nothing else.

I would be remiss to not point out that today, we need to be thinking of others more than ever before. The world is an intolerant place. Not because people are intolerant, but because those in power want to keep us divided. Don’t push people away; look past the hate and try to see the person. Life is far too short to be tribal.

I know you’re scared, I am too. The truth is that this too will pass, we can and will outlast it. I prescribe hope at this time of thanks and love; hope for a future where we can all live in freedom. Hope that one day, we throw off the yoke of the fascists and that justice will prevail. Hope that one day a worm doesn’t dictate medical policy.

I swear to God, you couldn’t write a comedy about this shit, nobody would believe the setup.

Happy Thanksgiving to all my American friends (And those that celebrate it) This is a tough year for many of us. Keep your chins up, there is plenty to be thankful for, even if it isn't immediately obvious. Stay strong and be yourselves. The night is always darkest before the dawn.

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Fake It Till You Make It - 25 - Girl On Tour.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Twenty Five - Girl On Tour.

“I hope everyone has their passports to hand,” Frau Whistler called out to the assembled masses in the airport departure terminal.

It was five-thirty in the morning and I was severely lacking in sleep. You need to understand that I’m really not a morning person at the best of times, but now… now I’m basically a zombie. I’ve not even had coffee since we left home at three; my tank is so empty that Mike Pence’s soul is jealous.

There were around forty of us gathered here, a combination of girls and boys from both classes and all of us appeared to be struggling with the earliness of the hour. This is the one thing I’ve always hated about airports; they’re time prisons. You have to arrive three hours before your flight only to do very little for the entirety of it and feel like it vanished.

One fun fact about this trip was it was a joint venture between both the Boys and Girls Divisions of our school. This was normal for many of the bigger trips as it saved on resources. This meant that Frau Whistler and her cohort were joined by Herr Norton and his merry Mädchen.

It was already going to be bad enough for me, trying to keep Holly under wraps while around twenty guys in close proximity for a whole week. But a co-ed jury of my peers? Yeah, this was going to be interesting. My saving grace was that after this, I have one quiet week left and then it’s bye-bye Alex for good. Personally, I cannot wait.

I pulled my passport out of my backpack and waved it in Frau Whistler’s direction. “Here, Miss.”

“At least one of you remembered,” she smiled, looking as tired as I felt. “Perkins, show me where your passport is before the TSA searches you so hard that your Grandchildren feel their gloved pinkies.”

While Frau Whistler corralled our number, I gazed longingly toward the security area. Believe me, I wasn’t looking forward to going through it, but I was quite excited to reach the departures lounge beyond. Why? That’s where the coffee shops lived. The sooner I let the TSA have their wicked way with me, the sooner I’d be in the warm embrace of a double-shot macchiato; I’m a simple girl with simple needs.

So what has happened since Thanksgiving? Honestly, not a great deal. The week after the warm, fuzzy, family holiday was about as bland as bland could possibly be. I could waste your lives with another chapter where I talk about my feelings, make out with Boy Wonder, and deal with teenage angst, but it would be superfluous to proceedings and just serve to make you all melt like a good trans-fiction. In reality, it was spent shopping for my present international adventure, avoiding being beaten to a pulp, and keeping Holly Winters a big fat secret. Yeah, that lasted all of zero minutes in typical me fashion.

“Erm, Holly?”

Whadafuck… why is someone… oh shit.

“Huh?”

I turn around and come face-to-face with a particular pint-sized blonde that I know very well indeed; Tina. Yes, that Tina, no not Turner, the one from the Gym.

I grinned nervously and scratched my head, “Uh, Hey Tina. I uh, didn’t know you took German?”

She pointedly looks me up and down and raises a delicate eyebrow, “I didn’t know you were a boy either.”

I swear to god, I don’t know how I managed to get into these situations.

“It’s…ah, kinda complicated,” I sigh, my shoulders dropping.

Tina jerks her thumb towards a bench along one wall of garish advertising displays, “I think you and I need a lil chat, missy.”

We walk away slightly to one side and sit while the teachers begin checking everyone has their required travel documents. You know kids; cannot be trusted to walk and chew gum.

“So what’s the deal?” she begins without fanfare. “I’ve seen you at the gym and ain’t no boys with them titties, yet somehow, you’re here with the boys’ German class. How the hell are you managing that?”

I mentally shrug and decide to run the quick highlights version of my sob story so she catches the relevant parts.

“That’s because I am actually in the boys' German class.” I sigh. “I’m transgender; I should have been born a girl but wasn’t. I’ve always felt that way; like something was cosmically wrong. I’ve been taking steps to correct things and… well, as of January, I’ll be transferring to the Girls’ Division and this whole charade will be over. I didn’t want to lie to anyone, I just… this wasn’t ever the plan…”

“Woah, top ten anime plot twists.”

I shoot Tina a look and she grins. It’s not the sort of grin like she’s laughing at me, it’s more as if she’s laughing at her own joke. I shake my head and ignore her, at least she’s not flipped out and screamed yet.

“Outside of school, I’m just Holly; you can ask Meg and Kara. Here, for now, I still gotta be…” I swallow and regret telling her the next word. “Alex.”

“You’re a really shit boy, you know,” she offers casually. “I can see why you’d wanna change teams.”

I make a face. “It’s a little more nuanced than that.”

Tina shrugs. “Yeah, but I like life to be simpler; it’s far less depressing that way. So these dipshits have no idea that they’re in class with a chick, do they?”

“Somehow,” I agree with a whopper of an eye roll.

“Well,” she grins. “Finally there is something to make this trip a bit more interesting. I thought it was all going to be culture and boring lectures. I can’t wait to watch this trainwreck unfold.”

“I’m not a zoo exhibit,” I complain.

“Monkey says what?”

“Shut up.”

This is going to be a very, very long trip. How was I meant to know that Tina goddamn Booth was in the Girls’ Division German class? I’ll be having a strongly worded text exchange with the Byrne sisters later for omitting this critical information. I swear, if I survive this with my Alex disguise intact, It’s going to be a miracle.

Once everyone’s crap is verified our educators lead us through to the security area. The first hurdle of the trip is here and it’s going to be a fun one for yours truly. While the photograph matches me and looks far more teen girl than teen boy, my passport very much says Alexander Winters, and Male. My current problem is I look like neither, but you know that already.

My new blonde shadow is sticking close to my shoulder, which is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, I‘ve grown quite fond of her annoying ass. On the other, my hanging around with a girl is going to send mixed signals to outside viewers that stack the deck against my purported masculinity.

“Empty your pockets in the tray and walk through the metal detector please.”

I didn’t have much on me that was metal, so I deposited my stuff in the plastic bin and wandered through for my dose of electromagnetism.

“Miss, step to the side please.”

Great.

“It’s Sir,” I mutter, as much as I don’t want to, ‘tis what my ID proclaims and the last thing I need is a confusion holdup alerting people to my situation.

“Sorry, uh, kid. I gotta give you a pat down, it’s the rules,” The security weenie offers.

I hold my arms out while the man pats me down in a business-like manner. Somehow managing to avoid my boobs.

“All done, thank you.”

Wow, I made it through entirely unscathed; perhaps miracles do happen. Eh, this cannot last.

You have to remember that this is 2004, so it’s just before the era of full-body scanners that would have made my life utterly hell. Thankfully the TSA was still in its infancy and as yet, had not quite gained all its tools of harassment. Being a white kid with a school party we were left mostly unmolested. Yes, I use that phrase deliberately.

I collect my belongings and wait for the rest of our horde to be through before we’re allowed to proceed on to the part I’ve been looking forward to the most; the departures hall.

“I want you all at Gate Thirty-Four in one hour exactly!” Whistler yells over our chatter. “One hour, or you get left behind and can explain to your parents why they’re making a trip out here at this time of day.”

“Come on,” Tina urges, dragging me by the arm. “We’re getting coffee and talking about your weird-ass self.”

“I’m not weird.”

“Sure you’re not, girl.”

I groan. “Stop calling me that.”

All I get in response is a raised eyebrow and a giggle. I get the feeling that this is going to get very old, very fast.

We set up camp in a coffee shop with an overpriced cup of caffeine and a bagel each. We’re tucked into a booth in a secluded corner so we can talk relatively freely at this early hour.

Tina takes an almighty bite of her bagel and chews happily. I use her full mouth as an opportunity to take back control of the conversation. “Look, no matter what you think of me, you really need to call me Alex and male this week. I’m serious Tina, this could get me in real trouble if you mess up.”

“I’ll be good… in public.” she grins around her bagel. “So like, outside of school, what are you?”

“Holly,” I admit. “Outside school, I’m just Holly. Best friend to Kara and Megan, sister to my siblings, and daughter to my parents. It’s relatively new; maybe a month or so since I started living as myself properly. From what I’m told both Frau Whistler and Herr Norton know about me for safety’s sake.”

“That’s so cool.” she enthuses. “Like, go you.”

I make a face. “You’re weirdly positive about all of this, why?”

Tina shrugs. “I have two moms; queer shit doesn’t phase me. I’ve met transsexuals before but never one my own age, so it’s kinda neat.”

“You have?”

“Sure,” she shrugs. “Like, my mom Sarah runs a GLBT outreach center. A bunch of them go to a support meeting there, they’re pretty cool.”

“I’ve never met anyone else like me in real life,” I admit. “Maybe I’d like to try it sometime, but for now I’m still working on keeping this under wraps until the end of the semester.”

“So you gotta do boy drag till the holidays?”

I nod. “Yeah, they wanted me to finish up the semester so it’s less disruptive to transfer. I’ve been doing OK until this trip… I didn’t expect to run into you.”

Tina grinned. “I saw you and I was so confused. I knew you were probably coming to our school from what you had said at the gym, but I was like… didn’t she say January? And why does she dress like my Mom Emma?”

“Your Mom Emma?”

“I can’t just call them both Mom, there’s two of them… Mom Emma is chapstick.”

“What’s that?”

“A type of lesbian; like, not butch, but not femme. Basically somewhere in the middle, kinda a tomboy.”

I just look at her wide-eyed. “I have no idea what all this stuff means.”

“Am I interrupting anything good?”

I jump a little as I spot Frau Whistler standing next to our booth. “Oh, uh no, just talking.”

“Holly was just telling me about her whole ‘hiding as a boy’ deal.”

“TINA!”

Tinker-dumbass shrugs, “What? You said she knows?”

“I mean, not the point,” I muttered, blushing.

“Ah,” my teacher sighs, slipping into the booth beside me. “Whilst that is true – I do know about it – it’s not really something you should be discussing without someone’s express permission, Fraulein Booth. As far as I know, they are trying to keep this under wraps till the end of the semester.”

“I’d prefer if you tried to hide this, even a little” I mutter, glaring at Tina. “Just because someone knows doesn’t make it cool to just blurt it out.”

“Ho…Alex is right. S…” ” Frau Whistler sighs. “You know, now that I know, I really do struggle to call you a boy.”

“Not you too,” I groan, actually headdesking the table. “Try and pretend for my sake, please?”

“You’re far too pretty to be a boy, honey,” Tina grins. “I might not be as gay as my moms, but you’re hot as shit and it shows.”

Frau Whistler betrays me and chuckles. “I think what Fraulein Booth is saying is that you struggle to put forward a particularly masculine presentation when out of uniform.”

“Two more weeks and I won’t have to ever again,” I groan. “Just got to survive two weeks.”

“Jokes aside, I will cover your secret, Alex.” Tina smiles more kindly. “But I reserve the right to call you Holly when in private.”

“Only if she wants you to,” my teacher interjects. “It’s her choice at the end of the day.”

My god, neither one of them can keep a straight pronoun. I’m so freaking dead.

* * *

Flying from the United States to Germany is an extremely long journey indeed. We’re expecting to be in the air for a little over fourteen hours, which will see us landing at around seven in the evening, local time. We essentially spend our entire day in a big metal tube, forty thousand feet over the Atlantic Ocean and France, but who really cares about France though?

I’m sat in a window seat next to two guys with whom I don’t really socialize with in class, so I spend most of my flight watching movies or reading. Honestly, for a loner like me who’s only just worked out the whole friendship deal, it’s not a bad way to kill a day.

“Here you are Miss,” a flight attendant beams mechanically as she offers me a meal tray.

Grrr

I accept my lunch and pretend like I didn’t hear her. It’s far easier to just not react and draw attention to the pronoun tennis that my life has become. At the start of the term, I was a little better at portraying Alex when out of uniform. At least people that I didn’t know only assumed I was female most of the time. I think the biggest part is that now I’m now living as Holly almost full-time, so more feminine behaviors are my more overt default. If you add to that the effect of a few more months of hormones, basically everyone who doesn’t know me would put money on my being born female.

Am I pleased with that outcome? Yes, ordinarily, I would be totally fine with it. The only problem currently is that for this week, I am stuck with people from school. The chances of this all coming out are dangerously high, but hey, I do love to live a dangerous life, don’t I?

How matters will go now that I have another on the trip that knows about me? I have no idea. I like Tina and she has been fun when I only knew her as Holly. Now she knows Alex is Holly, who knows what will happen? She seems so utterly casual about the whole thing, which certainly concerns me more than a little bit. Time will tell if that goes bad or not.

I finish up my meal and our attendants collect our trays. Considering this would be, I believe, lunch, it was rather filling indeed. Having chosen the chicken, I was served a rather delicious tagliatelli in a mushroom sauce that really managed to hit the spot. The salad and dessert managed to leave me rather stuffed and sleepy.

A glance at the screen on the back of my seat told me that we had a good five hours remaining before we made Deutschland, so I figured a little nap would serve me well. First, though, the bathroom was calling.

Window seats are fantastic, until you need to use the toilet. After managing to squeeze past my classmates, I made my way back towards the facilities in the middle of the economy cabin. What? You thought they flew us first class? Pft, not that kind of school.

Heading back, I spotted various members of our party spread out throughout the huge cabin of the Jumbo jet. Frau Whistler and Herr Norton were having what looked like a comfortable conversation on the far side and I spotted Gary chuckling with his little friends somewhere a few rows behind them.

Gary was still a large unknown; he hadn’t said anything as far as I knew, but he could still stick a knife in at an inopportune moment so I had to keep my eye on him. I’m pretty positive that his sisters threatened physical violence if he messed me around, but I wasn’t sure how stupid he was feeling.

I pass Tina, who is seated in the central block of seats a couple of rows in front of the bathrooms. She’s blasting away on a Gamekid and chatting to a dark-haired girl beside her. As I pass, she spots me and wiggles her eyebrows. Yup, it’s going to be a long trip. How I’d love to be sat beside her like any other girl.

I arrive at the bathrooms and find myself waiting behind an elderly lady with a cane. Not one of those people comfortable to ignore others, I give her a polite smile.

“Hallo, junge Frau, gehst du nach Hause?”

It took me a second to realize she had spoken to me in German. She was asking if I was going home. I shook my head, “Nein, ich bin Amerikanerin; ich mache Urlaub."

She nodded knowingly when I told her I was on vacation. “Ah, it is good to visit the world. I wish I could travel when I was your age.”

“It’s a school trip,” I offer, “We’re visiting the markets.”

“Ach so, they are beautiful.” She smiles happily. “You will have a lovely time.”

“I hope so,” I grin. “You’ve been on holiday?”

“Visiting my son and his family in San Francisco,” the old lady admits. “They have two lovely children, girls. But now I go home and get to rest!”

“Sounds nice.”

She nods, “It is not so much work, but they are young and they wear me out quickly.”

The current occupant of the bathroom exits and vanishes off towards the tail of the plane and my companion smiles before stepping inside. “Have a nice trip, young lady.”

I smile to myself. Did you notice what I did? No, you probably didn’t, did you? I used the feminine form of American; hell, she started it. Look, just because I have to be a boy around my classmates, doesn’t mean I have to all the time. I’m not likely to see the kindly old Oma again.

Another bathroom frees up and I do my business and return to my seat. After a little twister with my rowmates, I return to my spot next to the window. Outside, the sky is bright blue and the clouds scud past beneath us. I pull down my blind and curl up in a ball in what little comfort I can manage. Within minutes, I’m away in the land of nod.

* * *

Setting foot on foreign soil feels very different each and every time you do it. Traveling between English-speaking countries like the United States and the United Kingdom is fairly benign, but when one enters a country where English is not the primary language, it makes itself immediately obvious. Our first steps off the plane at Frankfurt International Airport had our entire hoard reduced to wide-eyed children. Honestly, for all the German I had learned, I was quite lost as the tannoy blasted out garbled incoherent announcements that probably made little sense to the Germans as well.

Frau Whistler raised her voice and waved to the group to get our attention. “Everyone! Listen up! We’ll head through German Immigration now and then collect your bags. Please stick together, do not wander off and please have your documents ready.”

She glanced over at one group of boys who had been talking the entire time and paying zero attention. “Paul, If you left your passport on the plane I will abandon you here and apologize to your parents later.”

The boys shut up almost immediately.

I pulled my passport out of my backpack and said a silent prayer that this entire enterprise didn’t blow up. (Figuratively, not literally, this is an airport after all.) This, of all places in the trip, carried the greatest potential for being called out. All I needed was a German Immigration officer wondering loudly why a teen girl was trying to travel on a boy’s passport and my Schnitzel was cooked.

“You look like you’re trying to sneak three bricks of cocaine into the country up your butt.”

“Tina, what the fuck kind of shit is that?” I gasp.

The tiny blonde flashes me a dastardly smirk. “I don’t know, it just seemed to match the painful, terrified expression on your face. It’s that or you need to take a massive…”

“No,” I cut her off with an exasperated sigh. “I’m not exactly looking forward to immigration if you must know. It has nothing to do with my butt.”

Tina giggled unhelpfully. “I’m guessing your passport still says Alex, right?”

I nod and she giggles, “Oh yeah, they’re going to love you.”

“I liked you before this trip,” I complained bitterly as we joined the rest of our classmates in the immigration line.

My timing is perfect and we join the queue close to the rear. Sure, it will take ages but it also means that nobody will overhear potential problems. Herr Norton is at the very back while Frau Whistler leads our people through. This way, nobody can escape or cause too many problems. It’s almost like they think we’re a bunch of useless sheep!

Tina and I are the last two to reach the desks and I step forward and smile as pleasantly as I can manage.

“Reisepass, bitte.”

I hand over my passport and smile again, hoping I look casual rather than constipated. The German official examines my passport, glancing back and forth between me and it for a second or two before turning to his colleague.

“Erik, schau mal” he calls, waving the passport. I feel a rock drop in the pit of my stomach as ‘Erik’ wanders over and glances at the passport too.

“Ist das dein?”

He’s asking if it’s mine, I know what he’s implying. “Ja, das ist mein.”

“In deinem Reisepass steht, dass du ein Junge bist?"

I sigh. I’m still following the German here, they just asked why my passport says that I’m a boy. Time to clarify matters. “Ja, ich bin ein Junge, kein Mädchen.”

Two pairs of Germanic eyebrows raised. “Amerikanerin?”

“Ja, wie mein Reisepass steht.”

The man picks up a phone and jabbers away in rapid German.

“Problem?” Herr Norton asks, stepping up next to me.

“Bitte, Herr, warten Sie,” The man waves towards the teacher asking him to wait his turn.

“Nein, ich bin sein Lehrer… I’m his teacher, guardian?“

The man shakes his head and continues on the phone.

“Passport troubles, Winters?”

I nod and sigh with exasperation “Exactly what you might expect.”

Herr Norton smiles and waves me behind him as he approaches the desk. He waves the chap Erik over and begins explaining the matter in rapid German. The man seems surprised and then starts nodding before turning to his colleague and jabbering away. A few minutes later the original officer waves me forward and hands me my passport. “Deine Reisepass. Alles in Ordnung, Fräulein. Willkommen in Deutschland.”

For fucks sake.

By the time Herr Norton and I catch up to the others, they are waiting in the arrivals hall, having already cleared customs and collected their baggage. As expected, our late arrival hasn’t been missed by the others.

“What was all that about?” one guy asks, “you took ages in there.”

Before I can answer, Herr Norton steps in with the save. “The number was glitched on Alex’s passport with it being a newly issued one. They needed to sort it out manually so it took forever.” Herr Norton sighs dramatically. “What can you do with computers, eh?”

Nice cover teacher. He just went up higher in my estimations.

People seem satisfied for the moment. Gary glances my way and frowns. I’m pretty sure he knows why I was delayed but he’s keeping his trap shut. He’s a tricky one; that slippery bastard is going to be alert to shenanigans this trip, so I’ll need to be on my best behavior. The problem is that without his sisters he might be harder to control. I wonder if I can set Tina on him? There is, however, every chance that this might be considered a war crime.

Once everyone is ready, Frau Whistler escorts us out into the pickup area where a large intercity style busis waiting for us. In no short order, we were herded aboard our transport and we set off into Germany proper.

I managed to snag myself a seat to myself on the bus and curled up to watch the weird and wonderful scenery pass by. We landed in Frankfurt, so it’s a fair drive to our hotel somewhere north of Bonn. Once we get out of the Frankfurt suburbs and industrial areas, it's actually an incredibly scenic drive as we pass Mainz and turn north towards Koblenz. It feels weird to actually be here, but it’s exciting all the same.

After a couple of hours of Autobahn travel, we roll up at our accommodation for the week. Our hotel is not some glitzy four-star city center spot for trendy folk with cash to burn. We might be on a private school trip but it doesn’t mean we’re loaded either. No, we’re staying out in the sticks in what roughly equates to a business hotel. It’s clean and tidy but it’s not particularly interesting or snazzy.

The Hotel Am Rhein is located in a town called Wesseling. It’s slap bang between Köln (What the Germans call Cologne) and Bonn, the two major cities we’ll be visiting during our visit. It’s right on the bank of the mighty Rhein in quite possibly the most industrial little town I’ve ever seen. It’s like Detroit, but less dead and far more Lederhosen.

We arrived at the hotel around six in the evening. By this point, most of us are pretty exhausted. We’ve been traveling for most of the day and I for one could do with a whole lot of sleep. The problem is that if we want to actually beat the jet lag we need to stay up for a few hours yet.

“Your room is three fifteen Fraulein, danke.”

I take the key offered by the receptionist and hold my tongue. Tina chuckles quietly beside me and gets an elbow in the ribs for her trouble. It turns out that we’re going to be neighbors for the week as she’s in three fourteen with a girl called Sarah.

We haul our bags into the elevator and ride up to the third floor.

“Who are you sharing with?” Sarah asks as we traipse down the corridor in search of our rooms.

“I’m on my own I think.” I offer, not wanting to really go into the why.

“Cool,” she enthuses. “We doing anything after we get settled? They said we were free until like ten.”

“We could always head into the town and take a look around?” Tina offers. “I saw some cafes and stuff on the drive-in.”

“Sure,” I shrug, “I am kinda hungry.”

We agree to meet in fifteen minutes so I drag my bags into my room and take a look around. For a small hotel, it’s actually a rather nice single room. There is plenty of space, a decent bed, and a very clean and tidy ensuite bathroom all to myself.

I toss my bag on the bed and begin unpacking. Before you ask, I didn’t bring any girly stuff with me. Ok sure, most of the stuff is from the girls section now, but it’s all really androgynous and not designed to enhance my figure. Naturally, I have my bras and panties, but those are just a necessity at this point. Obviously I’ve not brought anything uplifting, but rather my compression sports bras, what do you take me for?

Fifteen minutes and a quick wash and tidy later, I’m waiting outside my room to meet the others. It’s pretty cold over here, so I toss a leather jacket on over my hoodie and stuff a beanie on my head. Coupled with my cargos, I look about as macho as I can manage these days. Maybe Tina is right, I think I might be sending out potent lesbian vibes. I hope Germany doesn’t have any of those or I might be in serious trouble.

A few moments later, Tina and Sarah come spilling out of their room, having changed completely out of their comfy travel clothes and into warmer winter outfits befitting the current cold climate.

“You been waiting long?”

“Nah,” I shrug, falling in alongside them as we head back towards the lobby. “I got my stuff unpacked and grabbed a jacket. Not really much to do.”

Did I agonize over the mirror trying to make myself look more boyish then suffer an existential crisis of dysphoria at the very act then shrug it off and accept my lesbian vibes? maybe.

“So you’re… Alex right?” Sarah asks, giving me a once-over. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” I smile carefully. She seems like a nice girl from our brief interactions, but I’m reluctant to get too relaxed around her at the moment. The last thing I need to do is slip and reveal something too girly and I start unraveling this entire mess.

Sarah is taller than both Tina and I, standing around five foot eight or so in her winter boots. She has long black hair and is currently wrapped up in a furry hooded coat and a pretty woolen hat and glove set that I’d far rather be wearing.

We set off from the hotel and headed south into the town itself. It wasn’t that big, but somehow they’ve managed to fit a ton of stuff into a tiny space here. Unlike the States, the roads are super narrow and nothing much reached past three stories.

We walk for about fifteen minutes before finding ourselves in the center of the little town. There are a lot of pedestrian streets here, all of them filled with various bars and restaurants serving a bustling clientele in the winter evening. We were hungry kids, so our first port of call was fast food.

“Was kann ich euch bringen, Mädchen?" the rosy-faced chap in the burger joint asks as we traipse in out of the cold.

Again, sigh.

“Einen Moment, bitte,” I ask, giving the guy a friendly smile.

I peruse the menu of the place, it’s a typical takeaway selling burgers, sausages and the like. Nothing remotely healthy, but delicious all the same. I glance over at Sarah and Tina, “What do you guys fancy?”

“Some fries maybe? Oh, one of those currywurst things?” Tina asks, almost salivating at the prospect.

I turn back to the waiting Wurstmeister. “Drei Currywurst mit Pommes bitte.”

(Italics are in German, I won’t waste your time translating more)

“No problem girls,” the guy replies, “Three currywurst and fries coming up. Are you visiting? You don’t sound local.”

“Yes, school trip.” I offer, “We are from America.”

“Wow, that’s a long journey. I hope you enjoy Germany.” he grinned. “That will be twelve Euros please.”

I fork over the cash and receive three polystyrene trays of paprika-sauced goodness in return. We thank our server and head back out into the cold to enjoy our bounty.

“That guy thought you were a girl.” Sarah points out. “He kept saying Mädchen; that means girls.”

Grr.

“It happens sometimes,” I shrug. “I just ignore it.”

“Alex is just a bit too pretty for a boy,” Tina mumbles past a mouthful of potato sticks.

“That must be a bit weird,” Sarah opines. “So how do you know Tina then?”

“We play Badminton together at the Skyline with Meg and Kara Byrne.”

“Ah cool,” Sarah grins, sticking a slice of wurst in her mouth. “I just stuck to volleyball.”

We walk through the town eating our food. Most of the normal shops are closed at this hour of the day, but the bars and restaurants are keeping the nighttime consumer happy. It’s quite unlike anything I’ve experienced in America, although being sixteen, that’s not exactly a great deal.

I deposit my empty food tray in a nearby trashcan and lick the last of the curry sauce off my lips. For takeout, it was absolutely worth the money and it has left me feeling in a particularly good mood. Even the exhaustion from a day of travel, passport shenanigans and Tina’s buffoonery can’t manage to kick the smile off my face.

My phone rings while we’re walking back along the road to the hotel and I drop back while I answer it. I don’t recognize the caller ID, but it’s got a US country code.

“Hello?”

“Holly?

My heart warms as I recognize the voice. “Rick? What are you doing calling me? You know I’m in Germany right now, don’t you?”

The voice on the other end of the line chuckles softly, “I know; I’m calling on Dad’s phone, he has international minutes.”

“It’s really good to hear your voice, I miss you.” Yes, I’m this soppy, deal with it, dear reader.

“I miss you too,” he murmurs affectionately. “Was the flight ok? How is it there?”

“Yeah, just in Wesseling now; the town where we’re staying. We’re heading back to the hotel after grabbing a snack. The flight was chaos and boredom and I’m super sore but I’ll survive,” I sigh happily.

“I’m going to miss kissing you while you’re away. I can’t wait until you’re back.”

You know, I’m almost ready to hail a cab back to the airport just so I can speed that reunion up.

“There’ll be plenty of time for that when I’m home. How was the game?”

“We won, but it wasn’t the same without you there though.”

I glance up and realize we’re almost back at the hotel. “Rick, I gotta go, we’re back now. I’ll talk to you soon, ok? I love you.”

“Love you too Holly, send me a postcard, ok?”

“With bells on, cowboy,” I murmur before I hang up the line.

I catch up to the girls as we arrive back at the riverside.

“Who was that?” Sarah asks. “Parents?”

“Just a friend,” I reply quickly. “Seeing how the trip was.”

“Some friend to call you all the way over in Europe,” Tina observed dryly. The expression on her face said there was more to that remark, but she thankfully kept to her word and remained schtum.

Maybe she does possess a modicum of tact after all.

* * *

There’s a knock on my door a little after ten thirty that evening. I’m already in my jammies and ready for bed. What jammies say you? A sexy nightie? Something silky and just a little frilly? You should know better by now; plain old shorts and an oversized T-shirt. Try to remember I’m attempting to do boy still so I have to behave myself.

I squint through the peephole and spot a certain irritating pixie.

Opening the door, I raise an eyebrow at Tina. “Sup?”

“Can I come in?” she beams sweetly.

I hold the door open and step aside to allow her entry. “What do you want?”

“Talk?” she offers, parking herself on the bed. “I know I’ve been a bit of an ass today but I don’t travel great. I tend to get a bit annoying.”

“Just a little,” I reply with a slight smile, plopping down on a spot at the top end of the bed. “Look, I didn’t mean to lie to you about who I am all those times at the gym. I would understand if you felt like I had betrayed your confidence.”

“What do you mean?” Tina frowned.

“Changing rooms and stuff…”

Tina scoffed and waved her hand dismissively, “I don’t give a fuck about that. You never once acted weird and you aren’t into chicks, not that I’d care. Anyway, you’ve got more than enough of your own that I’ve seen.”

“How do you know I’m not into girls?”

“I’ve been around plenty of lesbians,” she shrugged. You’ve never looked at another girl the way I’ve seen you glance at boys. Plus, I heard you on the phone to Loverboy earlier, whoever that was. There’s no hiding a boyfriend call.”

Hmm, operational security must be tightened.

“Fair enough, yes,” I admit, blushing slightly. “He called and I couldn’t well do that in front of Sarah.”

“Oh, she thinks you’re super gay by the way.”

“Gay?”

Tina nods, “Somehow she’s missed the chick part that keeps slapping her in the face, but she’s convinced you’re a total flamer gayboy.”

I shrug, “I’ve had worse. As long as she thinks I'm a guy that will do, I suppose.”

“So who is he? Loverboy?”

“Do you know Rick Taylor? He plays wide receiver on the football team?”

Tina looks thoughtful for a second and then it clicks. “The tall dark handsome? Wait, how the fuck are you doing better in the dating world than half of the Girls’ Division when you’re not even here yet? That’s just not fair!”

“I didn’t exactly plan it,” I admit, remembering just how hard I fought that particular attraction. “I wasn’t planning to get into any romantic entanglements yet.”

“He is not a bad catch at all.” she nods approvingly. “You’re gonna break a lot of hearts when that comes to light.”

“Great, just what I need,” I roll my eyes. “Start out as the new girl in January and have most of them hate me for being trans AND taking the guy they wanted.”

“I’m sure more than most will be fine with the trans bit… especially as you’re into boys. The team guy bit? More of a problem,” she giggles.

I know she’s playing with me, but it’s not an unreasonable concern. Jealousy do be a vibe sometimes.

“So how do we keep Sarah and the others off my trail?”

“I got her taken care of,” Tina considers. “The others? That’s on you girly. Your bro train is coming off the rails all on its own. If you can manage to keep them fooled this week in a country with an entirely gendered language, then you’re the Queen of Egypt.”

“Shit.”

“Shit indeed,” she grins. “I’ll help where I can, but it’s going to be a big task.”

“I’m glad that I have someone on my side,” I admit. “Thank you, Tina, I really mean it.”

She shakes her head and smiles. “You know, it always seemed so weird that Meg and Kara were such close friends with you but I’d never heard about you before. You didn’t go to our school but you knew so much about it and came to the same Gym on a school day… Even still, I honestly had no idea you were hiding out in boy town until I spotted your ass back in the terminal.”

“Such luck, eh?”

She looks at me and shakes her head, a sly smile spreading across her lips. “I’m sticking around you, Holly Winters; you make shit real interesting.”

God, I was afraid of that.

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Fake It Till You Make It - 26 - Wurst Luck.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Twenty-Six - Wurst Luck.

I arose bright and early the next morning, did my stuff, and had myself down in the hotel restaurant by seven-thirty on the dot. It might seem early, but compared to when I’m up for school it wasn’t particularly awful. On the bright side, staying up later had really helped me sync myself in and kick the worst of the jet lag.

One thing the Germans do very well is coffee. The brown elixir of life was as plentiful as it was rich and delicious. I helped myself to a large cup and as a growing girl, assaulted the breakfast buffet with gusto. Unlike home, it was a selection of breads, meats, and cheeses. Well, when in Rome… or rather Deutschland, I suppose.

There were a couple of others in the breakfast room by the time I arrived, but not a huge number yet. It seemed that more than a few of our cohort had been struggling with the timezone change. I was starting to assemble a sandwich comprising cheese and salami when Tina and Sarah joined me at my table.

“Morning! Did you sleep well?” Sarah smiled pleasantly, dropping in beside me with her own similarly continental spread.

“I’ve had far worse,” I admit, “But my brother did have a phase where he snored like a chainsaw.”

“I’m an only child,” she offers, tucking into some sliced fruit. “Always enjoyed the excuse to stay with others on school trips; it felt like a sleepover. How come you’re on your own?”

Why the questions before I finish my caffeine?

“They just had room, I guess. We had an odd number of guys.”

“It must be lonely; being by yourself.”

I shrug, “I’ve got a brother and a sister, I’m used to having a lot of people around so a break is nice.”

Tina drops into the seat across from us and stuffs a roll in her mouth like a hamster preparing for winter. “Mormimgfp.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Hungry?”

The midget nods vigorously. I’ll give her credit, for a pint-sized pixie she’s full of personality and I do kinda have a soft spot for her.

We finish up breakfast and our teachers corral us into a seating area off to one side of the lobby. At the time it was irritating, but now, I just feel sympathy for my teachers at having to herd forty excitable teenagers.

“Calm down everyone. The faster you listen, the sooner we can be on our way!”

Frau Whistler had her educator voice on today, and within moments we were suitably quietened down.

“Right, today is our first market trip. We will be heading up to Köln. They have three markets and we will try to get time to see them all if we’re lucky. You’re all sixteen and mature enough for some trust if you prove yourselves worthy, so if we have time I’ll see if we can get you some free time too.”

“I’d like you all dressed warmly and back down here again in thirty minutes ready to leave. Delay the coach and you get left at the hotel… probably.”

“Probably Frau Whistler? Aren’t you sure?” a poor unfortunate boy asks with a grin. Clearly he’s trying for clown cred, but it’s going to backfire.

Frau Whistler glares at the delinquent idiot. “Michael, we’re not allowed to leave you, but making this trip difficult for others will result in you being considered unsuitable for free time for the rest of the trip.”

Basically, fuck around and find out in teacher speak.

Once dismissed, we vanish off to our rooms to gather warm gear, Euros, and various cameras and gizmos that we want to bring with us. My parents got me a nice little digital camera that I intend to use mercilessly on this trip. Heck, if I’m lucky I can probably get a few Holly-worthy selfies when nobody’s looking.

I dress warmly for the day in a pair of jeans, my Rans, a sweatshirt, and a bulky winter coat. With a chunky hat and scarf, I would be well suited for the Arctic Circle. Look, where we come from it’s perpetually seventy-five and sunny, so sue me, I get cold.

I won’t bother to describe the organizational mess that is getting forty teenagers onto one bus. Surprisingly enough, it was just about managed within Frau Whistler's timeline. With little fanfare, our taciturn driver had us out into traffic and on our way as we left our hotel behind and set off north towards Köln.

The weather was rather cold this morning, but there wasn’t any snow on the ground yet. Aboard the bus, the atmosphere was rather warm and festive which put people in good spirits. While not a particularly long journey by distance; perhaps eight miles as the crow flies, the far narrower streets and heavier traffic entering the city made the trip last a good half an hour.

Before we managed to reach a destructive level of boredom, we pulled to a stop in a bus lane next to Köln’s Neumarkt; the first of our destinations for the day. Debussing before our transport vanished into the morning traffic, we stood huddled in an impatient blob while Frau Whistler delivered our marching orders. We had forty-five minutes here before we were to return to this exact spot on pain of death. Even with instructions as clear as this, I fully expected someone to screw it up.

When we were finally dismissed, I set off into the lanes on my own to explore the market. Perhaps that seems like a loner move, but I honestly wanted to experience a little of what they had to offer here on my own, away from the others. It had a rather useful side benefit that any misgenderings wouldn’t raise any eyebrows.

If you’ve never experienced a German Christmas market, either in your home country or Germany itself then the sights, sounds, and smells are something to behold. Whether it’s the roasting chestnuts and wurst, candy, or cake, the smells are enough to drive you wild. Add to that the delightful music and burble of the crowd and you can become lost in the atmosphere.

“What would you like Fräulein?”

I glance across the selection of tree ornaments on the stall. They’re all beautiful little painted wooden trinkets; soldiers, horses, snowmen, and beautiful little snowflakes. They’re not cheap, but I think they’d look adorable on our tree at home. I select a horse and a snowman and hold them up to the seller. “These, please?”

“The horses are very popular,” The man smiles, “I’ve sold out of those by mid-day in the last few days.”

He wraps them and hands them over to me. “Have a nice day Fräulein.”

I grip my bag and head back into the flow of people moving through the market. So far, I’ve purchased a little silver angel for Chrissie and a bag of what appear to be homemade cinnamon toffees. Things are certainly not cheap, but it’s not broken the bank yet. I don’t feel a pressing urge to blow everything in one market, I know we have quite a few to visit, but I’m hoping to bring everyone back something as a memento.

A finger taps my shoulder, “I thought that was you.”

I turn around and spot Tina’s roomie, Sarah. “Oh, hey.”

“Those decorations are super pretty.”

I carefully unwrap the horse and hold it up for her to see. “My Mom always loved horses, I thought it would look nice on our tree.”

“That’s cute,” she agrees. “I only got some little pastries so far.”

“Toffee for me,” I grin, shaking the other bag that I’m holding.

We start walking down the lane of little huts and stalls, eying the various products on sale as we dodge the crowd. Sarah stops at a nearby stall and I squeeze in alongside her in the press of bodies to get a better look. The stall in question has beautiful silver jewelry, by the looks of it, all handmade.

“Oh, these are so pretty.” she enthuses, eying the section of earrings. “Which do you think would look best?”

I regard the pretties before me. “Those snowflakes or the little bells, maybe the flower?”

“Totally agree,” she muses, focused on the trinkets. “You getting any?”

“Nah,” I shake my head, “I don’t have pierced ears.”

Sarah gives me a weird look and I realize exactly what I had said. “I mean, why would I? I might get my friends some.”

“You’re tight with Megan and Kara, right? The Byrne sisters?”

I nod as I select two pairs each for the girls. Animals for Kara and flowers and snowflakes for Megan. “We’re close, they’re cool.”

“So how’d you and Tina end up being friends?”

This chick is on twenty questions and I’m starting to get a little suspicious.

“We met at the gym, you know Skyline? The pass we can get instead of regular gym class?”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you hang out with any of the guys since we got here, what’s up with that?”

Yup, she’s definitely sniffing. Danger Holly Winters, Danger.

“I hang out with Gary… I guess.”

Sarah gives me a look. “It’s ok to just hang out with the girls; nobody’s going to judge you, Alex.”

“Why would they judge me?”

Sarah gives me a long sideways glance as we pass a wurst stand and I divert towards the meaty delights to put off further questioning.

“Two please,” I ask, waving my Euros at the purveyor in exchange for a pair of meaty treats. Transaction completed, I hand a grilled Bratwurst in a bun to Sarah and tuck into my own. It’s real hard to ask questions when your mouth is full, avoiding them is also pretty hungry work.

“I’ve never met anyone so good at dodging my questions, you know.”

“I’m a private person,” I shrug as I take a bite of my sausage.

Sarah eyes me again but doesn’t get a chance to push her conversation further as a winter-wrapped Tina arrives with two other girls.

“Hey! We’ve been looking everywhere for you guys,” she sighs theatrically, snatching the wurst from my paw.

“Hey!”

“You can have it back in a second, porky.” she snips, taking a huge bite of my snack before returning it. “Mm, tasty.”

“You calling me fat, Booth?”

Tina looks me up and down and shrugs. “In certain places,”

I clench my jaw and give her a death glare. I know what she’s suggesting and I’m not rising to it. Remind me, why do I like this girl again?

“Alex, right?” One of the girls asks as the other starts chatting with Sarah.

“Ah, yeah,” I shrug, giving her a friendly smile. “I don’t think we’ve met?”

“Chloe,” she smiles. She’s about my height and her brunette hair is full of beautiful ringlets. She’s wearing the most gorgeous pair of furry lace-up boots that are making me insanely jealous, but I digress.

“Did you find anything good?”

“A few trinkets for my family and some earrings for my friends, you?”

“About the same, they did say the other markets are bigger,” she shrugs. “Hey, you’re friends with Tina, right? I don’t recognize you from class though.”

Gulp.

“I’m not in your class,” I answer as flatly as possible, trying hard to avoid making it a big deal.

“Oh gosh! I’m sorry.” Chloe blurts, covering her mouth. “God, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s ok, it happens sometimes, I shrug dismissively. “Lots of layers, and I’m friends with a lot of girls, not a big deal or anything.”

God, I can’t wait for the days when I can just be friends with someone like Chloe and it does not require explanations or awkwardness. Two more weeks, and it’s all over, forever.

The little awkward moment is swept away as our gracious leader Tina decides it is time to raid the remaining vendors. Under her expert guidance, we cut a five-girl swathe through the remainder of Neumarkt. No stand was left unmolested by our passage. In the chaos, I even managed to grab a gorgeous little snowflake necklace for myself without Sarah spotting!

We were having such a good time that we barely made it back on schedule. As it was, we ended up having to really move it to get back to the meeting point in time for our bus. With only a minute to spare from our deadline, we finally skidded to a halt before our less-than-impressed educators.

“Thank you for being punctual ladies,” Frau Whistler sighed theatrically as she noted our arrival, “at least we’re all finally here.”

Tina grinned sheepishly and hid her shopping bags. “Sorry Frau Whistler, we got caught up with the stands.”

“Girls!” Some random guy muttered derisively, just loud enough for us to hear.

I blushed and stepped behind Chloe and Tina to ensure I wasn’t picked out of the group in front of everyone. Being center stage wouldn’t make for the best time to defend my questionable gender presentation. Thankfully, any further discussion was curtailed by the arrival of our erstwhile transport.

Without further ado, we piled aboard our coach to prepare for our next destination. Of course, being bundled in with a group of girls meant that when we found seats, I ended up sat with them. I’m really doing a piss poor job of playing the boy for this final hurrah, aren’t I?

Forty hot and excited teens soon had the confines of the bus rather steamy, and of course, hats, gloves, and jackets were soon being removed with great gusto. As we pulled out into traffic, my seat partner Sarah leaned in conspiratorially, with designs on resuming her prior interrogation.

“So, was that your boyfriend last night?” she whispers, “on the phone?”

Oh shit.

“No, what? I don’t have a boyfriend, Sarah.”

“It’s ok if you’re gay Alex, I mean, it’s pretty obvious that you are, honey.”

Oh you poor misguided girl, Tina was right. What I’m more annoyed by here is her insistence on pushing the issue.

I give her a meaningful look. “I am not gay, Sarah. Trust me, I would know if I was.”

This is factually correct, I don’t like girls even one bit.

Sarah gave me a look as though she didn’t remotely believe a word that I was saying but thankfully ceased her pursuit of my sexuality.

What is this chick’s problem? Thankfully some girl across the aisle manages to draw her attention away from me for a little while, saving me from further interrogation. I’m reasonably convinced that she has some inkling that something is off. As for her hearing my conversation with Rick, I will need to be far more careful.

Eventually, we arrive at the Alter Markt, the older of the three markets here in Köln. Our educators give us our marching orders and send us on our way. We’re here for a little longer, an hour and a half, and are expected to source our own sustenance. Give teenagers access to stands selling various winter treats and I’m sure nobody will manage to go hungry.

To avoid further interrogation, I make a point of tagging along with several of the other guys. Not ideal admittedly, but hey, when in Rome… well, Köln.

“So where have you been?” Soccer Steve asks as we descend into the market. “Man, I’ve barely seen you since we left home.”

I shrug as I dodge a rather large woman in a huge coat, “here and there. I got cornered by a girl I know and her friends.”

“You and chicks,” he chuckles. “First it’s the Byrne sisters and now here? What’s your secret, Romeo?”

Yeah, being a girl; the number one secret to getting a chick’s number.

One of the other guys looks confused. “Wait, you’re saying that this guy is hooking up and we’re fucking around looking at nutcrackers? What the shit!”

“I’m not hooking up with anyone,” I reply firmly. “Not on a school trip, not back home either, how about we drop it?”

“Touchy,” Steve laughs. “So what is it that you get up to with Gary’s sisters then if you’re not hooking up?”

I cast a quick glance at Gary and realize he’s not looking best pleased with this direction. I did not think this through and have worked my way into a corner. Thankfully, I have spent enough time around teenage boys to know the suitable response here. Remember, I have a machine gun mouth when I need it.

“Dunno, but you should be asking what your mom is getting up to…”

Steve tries to swipe in my direction but I am far too fast for his blunderingly obvious move. Many years of bullying have left me with ninja reflexes. I dodge his swipe, he misses, and his friends laugh at him now. Suddenly, Steve is the subject of friendly abuse for them and I can just follow along quietly; boys can be so easy to distract sometimes.

The Alter Markt is themed with scenes from winter fairytales and it’s just as stunning as the Neumarkt. All through the lanes of themed cabins, festive music is playing and the scent of food wafts freely through the air. It really is an experience one has to enjoy at least once in their lives. While it is true that you can get the same experience all over the world, the German Christmas markets are just somehow better when experienced in their original form.

I follow the others around for a while but they’re mostly just making dumb jokes and finding new and unique things to stuff into their mouths. There’s nothing wrong with them, but I can only tolerate so much brospeak. I really wish Rick was here; I’d love to wander the markets hand in hand with him, enjoying the food and atmosphere. Cuddling together and enjoying the experience, sigh.

The boys are busy trying to chat up some girl at a crepe stand with a whole load of weapons-grade boobage hanging out of her Dirndl. For those of you who don’t know, that’s one of those traditional fancy German dresses with the white underdress and the apron. While they are drooling, I spot a stand selling cute knitted winter wear and I cannot help but admire some of the pretty things. Back home, sure, one could say it’s not particularly cold. I am however pretty sure I could find a use for a nice set of hat and gloves.

I glance around and spot the boys still attempting to convince Fräulein Crepe that a bunch of teenage boys from America are extremely exotic and attractive. I don’t feel particularly worried about getting spotted, so I continue browsing and this is my first mistake; I presume far too much. You’d think I’d have learned this by now, wouldn’t you?

I try on a beautiful white slouchy woolen hat and pose to myself in the little mirror attached to the side of the display. God I’d love to be wearing a little makeup and a nice fashionable winter coat, but hey, I’m coping here… there’s always another year right? The hat is super cozy and honestly looks extremely cute in that way slouchy hats do. I’m too distracted by myself to notice Gary’s arrival.

“What you doing?” he asks, making a face at my rather unmasculine antics. “Take that shit off.”

Well, this is a conundrum.

“I was just…uh, seeing if it would fit.” I offer. “My Mom’s head is the same size as mine.”

“Sure you were,” he replies, shaking his head, a weird look on his face.

I turn to the lady manning the stall. “I’ll uh, take it, with the gloves and scarf please, for my Mom.”

“No problem Fräulein, I’ll wrap it up for you.” the lady smiles as she takes my Euros.

Gary isn’t much of a slouch linguistically, so he knows exactly what she said. The look he fires my way tells me we’ll likely be talking later, deep joy.

I kick myself for getting sloppy. I really shouldn’t have let myself have a little moment, but I can’t help it. Holding up the Alex mask is a full-time job these days. One that’s even harder out of uniform with everyone calling me Fräulein everywhere I go. Over here, nobody sees a guy. All they just see is Holly and I wish I could enjoy it.

* * *

We started the afternoon at the Kölner Dom and the Market in the Roncalliplatz around it. The gothic cathedral loomed large over the square, packed tightly with stands and stalls. It was by far the largest of the three market’s in the city and would be ours to explore for the next two hours.

Having learned my lesson from the morning, I set off alone. Hanging with the girls got me marked as one of them and doing what I ‘should’ and being with the boys got me picked on. There really was no good answer to this spicy gender conundrum.

My solution? Be by myself. That way I could be called Fräulein, and get sie’d and ihr’d as much as anyone wanted and nobody I knew could hear it. Total genius move… as long as I kept my head down and avoided running into anyone.

The market here at the cathedral was a little more traditional and less showboaty than the other two aimed more at families. Despite its size, it managed to have the most people and stalls of all of them. Everywhere I looked, families and groups of friends wandered back and forth enjoying the delights of the Weihnachtsmarkt in all its glory.

Closing my eyes, the sights and smells were a delight to the senses. Unlike the markets back home that tried their hardest to imitate the German originals, it just had that… extra that managed to make it perfect. Perhaps it was the general wall of chatter in the language in question, but the whole thing just felt far more normal and less false. It was still a commercial enterprise, don’t get me wrong, but it truly felt like a festive celebration.

“I thought I saw you off on your own.”

I spun around and spotted Frau Whistler grinning at me from behind a chunky red scarf.

“Oh, hey Ma’am. I wanted to get time by myself. Things have been a little hectic this morning.”

My teacher nods and smiles in understanding. “I hope Fräulein Booth hasn’t been too much of a bother?”

“No Ma’am, she’s not,” I admit. “A little full-on, but she’s been pretty decent. It’s everyone else that’s got me frustrated today.”

My teacher raises an eyebrow, so I elaborate. “Sarah Granger is convinced that I’m gay and wants me to admit it, the boys will pick on any perception of femininity as weakness and random girls are asking why they don’t know me from their class. It’s been an eventful day.”

“I can imagine,” Frau Whistler chuckles. “Glühwein?”

It’s my turn to elevate some eye furniture. “I’m not twenty-one, you know that.”

My teacher smirks uncharacteristically. “You can drink at age sixteen here in Germany. Plus, I’m sure you look old enough, Fräulein Winters. I’ll overlook it this once as you’ll have appropriate adult supervision.”

So that happened… I sat down at a lovely little hut with my German teacher and enjoyed a steaming hot mug of mulled wine. I won’t say it wasn’t unusual, because it sure as hell was. Life certainly likes to make its twists and turns when I’m around huh?

“So, two weeks including this trip huh?”

I nod, “Yup, and I cannot wait.”

“I think it’s all for the best, Holly. You’ll do far better amongst the girls. I just hope that you can have a smooth transition once you start. School can be hard for kids at the best of times, but when one is different it can be… tough.”

“I know Frau Whistler, I’m prepared to face whatever comes. I’ll be doing it as myself so I will see it through.”

My teacher smiles kindly as she sips her steaming beverage. “Look, when it’s just us, you can call me Jenny; you’re barely my student anymore.”

I frown, “Thank you, but that kinda feels wrong; to call a teacher by their people name.”

“Oh, my people name huh?” she chuckles. “Yeah, I suppose I am a people outside of all of this.

“My mom gets the same thing because she’s a doctor,” I offer. “Plenty of people only know her as Doctor Winters.”

“You’re planning to go into medicine too, correct?” Jenny Whistler asks. God that still feels weird to write even twenty years later.

I nod, “Yeah, I always wanted to be like her when I grew up.”

“Like her in far more ways than one.” My educator smiles before raising her mug in salute, “A noble cause, and it pays far, far better than teaching high school, even at a private one.”

She spots my bags and gestures at them. “All gifts, or did you buy anything for yourself?”

I pull out the hat, gloves, and scarf set and unwrap them before presenting them to Jenny. “These, and a pretty snowflake necklace. I’ve not had a lot of chances to shop for myself yet.”

“These are lovely, it’s a shame you can’t wear them here.”

“I know,” I sigh, watching my breath mist before me in the crisp afternoon air. “But I will soon, and that’s ok.”

Jenny Whistler shakes her head and smiles sadly. “I don’t really understand the why, Holly, but I really don’t know how you manage it.”

“Being Alex?”

She nods, and I grin. “I don’t; I’ve not been Alex in a long time. I’m Holly always, but I dress up and act like Alex here at school. Outside the gates? I’m just Holly Winters; daughter, sister, and girlfriend. I can put up with a few hours a day because I know it will end soon.”

“Girlfriend?”

Of course, she would latch onto that. I’m about to reply when her expression switches to a sly smile. “Young Mister Taylor, I think, yes?”

“How…”

“Did I guess?” she grins. “I may not teach him, but I have seen the two of you around the school. I didn’t notice anything odd until I knew the truth about you, Holly. Once I did know, it wasn’t hard to see a young man besotted with a young lady. Watching him follow you around, smile at you. It was the most obvious thing in the world.”

A thought comes to me and I feel emboldened by the admittedly limited alcohol in the Glühwein. “Why are you so ok with this? With me; it’s not exactly normal, is it?”

Jenny Whistler shrugs and looks off into the distance for a moment before returning her gaze to me. There’s a strange look in her eyes and I find it hauntingly familiar. “I had a brother once,” she starts, haltingly. “His name was Chris and he was three years older than me. I loved him so very much.”

“Chris killed himself when he was eighteen. He was gay, and he had never dared to tell our parents. We were staunch Catholics, really devout; the whole idea of gay people wasn’t on the table for Mom and Dad. Chris, he couldn’t take it. He hung himself in his bedroom and I was unlucky enough to find him. He came out to us all in his suicide note.”

“My god, I’m so sorry.” I reach over to touch her hand on the tabletop, a tear forming in my own eye.

Jenny wiped her eyes and sniffed. “I promised Chris that I would never judge anyone else for who they were, that I would never deny someone that told me their truth. Sure, I’m not gay, transgender, or anything myself, but I don’t have to be to tell you that I believe you. I don’t need to understand to see the young woman in front of me.”

I sit there, stunned for a moment just staring at my teacher. No educator has ever said anything quite so profoundly personal or powerful to me before. It was that simple and she had managed to summarise it so succinctly; you didn’t need to be gay to treat a gay person’s identity as valid. You didn’t need to understand gender dysphoria to accept that a transgender person was who they said they were. All you needed to do, was believe them. By validating someone, by accepting that this person was telling you their truth, you let them feel seen and you gave them power; power so readily taken away by an uncaring society.

“I think I understand,” I offered slowly. “I’m glad your brother had a sister like you.”

Jenny smiles, “I wasn’t there for him when it mattered. But I cannot change the past. The future is all that matters now. Chris would have liked you, Holly.”

She paused and laughed to herself as she drained the remainder of her mug. “No, Chris would have laughed his ass off at the wild crap you’re pulling off. He’d think it was brilliant.”

* * *

We made it back from the Christmas markets a little after five that evening. In typical fashion, there was a lot more going on in the evenings, but we were teenagers and we had been at it for most of the day. Honestly? My legs were pretty happy with the idea of relaxing tonight!

One thing they never tell you about long-distance travel and jetlag is that starting your holiday activities immediately feels like a really good use of time, but really leaves you feeling totally wasted, even when you’re an energy-filled teenager.

Dinner in the hotel’s restaurant was scheduled for six, so I had a little over an hour to relax before heading down for dinner. Perfect opportunity to call home if I got my time right; a little after five in the afternoon central European time would make it… about eight in the morning back home? Good enough in our household.

The phone rang for a few moments before it was finally picked up by my mother. “Holly? Is that you?”

“Hey Mom! Yeah, it’s me, how are you?”

“I’m good, everyone here is good. How was the flight, how is Germany?”

“Really, really long,” I complain, flopping back on the bed with a huge sigh. “We got to the hotel after dinner, went out for a little bit then spent today at the markets in Cologne, it was so amazing! I got presents for people and I had a wurst, Glühwein.”

Mom chuckles, somewhere five thousand miles away, “You sound like you’re having a really awesome time honey, I’m so glad. How is everything… else?”

Aka, any mishaps or woopsiedoodles to report? Frankly, It’s gone surprisingly well so far.

“Uh, you remember Tina, from the gym right?”

“I think so, your little blonde friend?”

“Well, it turns out that she takes German class, who knew?”

Mom’s tone turned instantly concerned. “Honey, is everything ok? Was anything said?”

“She was surprised, but it turned out ok; more than ok I guess,” I admit. “She’s a supporter, well, she supports me. She will keep quiet, I’m positive.”

“I’m glad you have someone there who knows honey, it makes me feel a little better that you’re not entirely alone.”

“I’m not really alone,” I frown. “Everyone else is here.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Oh,” I remember suddenly. “German immigration got a bit confused with me too, although Herr Norton, the girls' teacher, sorted it out. Otherwise, I’ve been ok, Mom. I think I got this, as tough as it is.”

“Only one more week once you get home baby, ok?”

I hugged my pillow tightly to me, “I know, Mom, not long now. I miss you guys.”

“You’ve only been gone two days baby, it can’t be that bad.”

“I know, but It’s just… I’m so far away.”

“You’ll be home in no time ok, I love you, Holly.”

“Love you, Mom.”

I ended the connection and stared at my phone for a moment. That’s the thing, technology might make us virtually closer, but I still knew I was nearly five thousand miles from my family and my home. That’s no walking distance in anyone’s book, even if we discount the large wet thing in the way too.

Hearing Mom’s voice made me feel connected to the world back home. I felt safe, even if in reality, my world was still just as perilous as it always was. This was my first big trip away from home; I hadn’t even gone away by myself within the continental United States, and yet, here I was all the way over in Europe.

It truly was a real case of swimmer, meet deep end. It might have been slightly less stressful if I was at least one consistent person rather than two. Ah, well, you can’t pick the trans nightmare, right?

It wasn’t long until dinner, so I got myself up and changed into a clean pair of cargos and a sweater. God, how I wished it was Holly that was here instead of boring old Alex. Hell, I could have been sharing with Tina or some other girl; we could have been having so much fun shopping and experiencing the culture here in Germany. I could be laughing with friends, rather than sitting here alone, missing home and trying to keep my head down; survival isn’t living.

I was in the bathroom tidying up my windswept hair when I spotted my bags from the day’s shopping. I decided that I deserved to indulge myself, even just a little bit. After a quick rummage, I managed to locate the snowflake necklace I had bought and slipped it around my neck. The chain was a fine silver, and the little snowflake pendant glittered in the light.

I smiled to myself and tucked it inside my hoodie’s collar: Nobody else had to know I felt a little bit pretty tonight. Even if the outward appearance was all Alex, I could know that inside the surface a tiny little bit of Holly was smiling. I resolved at that moment; I would enjoy this trip, even if it couldn’t be outwardly as myself. I would find ways to be happy.

Downstairs, the restaurant was starting to fill with hotel guests as a steady stream arrived for the impending feeding time. Initially, it took me a few moments to spot the others, eventually spotting our party being off to one side behind what appeared to be a coachload of French tourists.

I made my way over with the full intention to sit with Steve and his folio of fools; I might not get on with the boys that well, but I had to make appearances. Unfortunately, I spotted Tina standing and waving like a lunatic from one of the nearby tables. “Alex, over here!” she squawked, as subtly as a fart in a church.

“You really are extremely subtle, do you know that?” I pointed out, taking the remaining chair at the five-person table. “Did you run out of flags and flare guns?”

“I thought that might be a little too subtle,” she smirks. “We saved you a spot.”

“I was going to sit with the guys,” I offer weakly, in an attempt to display some manliness.

“No, come on Alex, you’ve got to sit with us,” Tina pleaded, “right guys?”

The round of affirmations from the three other girls seemed to make it a unanimous decision, so I surrendered and took my place with Tina, Sarah, Emma, and Chloe, the four girls that I was hanging with that morning. I really do suck at this pretending to be a boy thing, don’t I?

The meal for tonight was a set menu, which was probably for the best, given how many of us there were. We were all served in fairly short order by the hotel’s efficient wait staff. The menu? A cream of cauliflower soup to start, which was surprisingly tasty. This was followed by a knuckle of pork with boiled potatoes and seasonal vegetables. Not super festive, but it certainly filled a lot of hungry stomachs.

While the main course had been more than sufficient to please hungry teenagers, dessert was a little more disappointing; ice cream. As far as we could tell, it appeared to be two small scoops from a tub, narry a garnish or flake; utter travesty!

“This is kinda disappointing,” Sarah complained, shoving her vanilla slop around the bowl.

“The food here is super plain,” Chloe agreed, finishing off her own meager helping and looking disappointedly at the empty bowl as if it might summon more.

“What about we make our own dessert?” Tina offered, a sly smile spreading on her lips. “We all bought a bunch of candy and stuff at the markets today, right? What if we go back upstairs, pool a bunch, and have our own snackfest evening?”

“That sounds pretty neat actually. I’m down,” Emma, a tall blonde enthused. “I got a bunch of little cupcake things. We could grab our PJs and make it a real party!”

“I’m so down,” Sarah enthused, “I have like, a bunch of pastries and some candies.”

I’ll give her due credit, it’s actually a pretty good idea, and one I’d love to share in if I were just one of the girls; next semester cannot come fast enough. Then again, that is even supposing anyone actually wants to be friends with a freak like me. Sorry, I can be a barrel of laughs at times.

I make a face and shrug dismissively, “I’ll leave you guys to it, I’m gonna head back to my room and read. Have a good time, huh?”

“No way!” Chloe chimed in, “You’ve got to come too, Alex!”

“I’ll just get in the way, and I don’t want to be a hassle. I want to call home anyway.” I lie, trying to look like it doesn’t hurt.

“Nope, no escape,” Tina interjects, ruining my escape. “Four versus one say that you’re coming; don’t think I didn’t see the toffee you bought.”

What? You thought all the winter treats we teens bought were to be taken home intact? Get real, we’re pigs. I let my shoulders sag and hold up my hands. “Fine, for a little while, maybe.”

Oh great, I am apparently now an attendee of what pretty much amounts to a sleepover… as the only boy. The only problem is, I’m actually a girl and I need to keep that part a big fat secret. Dear god, why do I let myself in for this shit?

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Fake It Till You Make It - 27 - The Sleepover Club.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Twenty-Seven - The Sleepover Club.

You have to understand that when I packed for this trip, sleepovers were not exactly high on the list of important things to prepare for. Thus, my selection of available night clothing runs to shorts and baggy T-shirts; stuff that can pass for a boy’s if I need it to. With my shaved and rather girly legs, this might be a bit of an issue, even if I add a sweater or hoodie to hide my shape. My only option? Repurpose some sweatpants and hope this all works out ok.

Don’t get me wrong, I really wanted to hang with Tina and the other girls for the duration of this trip, but I know that being seen around so many other girls tends to make people see past the thin veneer of boy. Ugh, dominoes can kiss my delectable ass.

Back in my room, I changed into a pair of sweatpants and grabbed one of the oversized T-shirts that I had been using for sleeping. With a hooded sweatshirt over the top, I felt reasonably shapeless and bulky enough to get the job done. Tucking my hair into the back of the collar, I grabbed my supplies and headed off for a night of paradoxical adventures. I was both looking forward to tonight and dreading it at the same time.

I knocked on Tina’s door a few moments later and it was opened almost immediately. Inside, a grinning blonde devil in shorty PJs was greedily munching a bag of mini pretzels. She waved and hooked her thumb toward the room behind her. “Hey, come on in, macho man.”

I shot her a look as I stepped inside and hefted my offerings. “Looks like you got started early, I see.”

Tina shrugged and rubbed her stomach. “I’m hungry and I could do with growing a little bit.”

This girl is like, five foot two and skinny, she’s not entirely wrong.“Yeah, but you want to grow up, not out.” I indicate, poking her as I pass. “Where’s Sarah?”

Tina shrugged, “She said she was going to grab some stuff downstairs. Chlo and Em are on their way over.”

“I really don’t think this is such a good idea,” I complain. “As fun as it sounds, don’t you think it’s a bit risky?”

Tina made a face and shook her head. “No, not at all. Have some fun, Hol; you only live once. Nobody here would care if they knew anyway. They’re good chicks.”

“If they do care, I’m fucked,” I point out dryly. “If they find out that I’m a girl and have an issue with it then I’ll be exposed to everyone.”

Tina threw a pretzel at me, “Nah, your biggest problem is them being jealous of your boyfriend, I promise.”

I plopped down on her bed and snatched up the thrown pretzel and stuck it in my mouth. “They can be jealous all they want as long as they keep their hands off him. Mister tall, dark, and great ass is all mine.”

She shakes her head and smiles, “I have no idea how these fools can’t see you’re a girl.”

A knock at the door interrupts our conversation and Tina heads off to let the new arrivals in. I make sure I’m sitting back and looking as manly as possible. Basically just spread my legs and slumped. This feels so weird, I don’t know why guys do that.

Chloe and Emma enter with armfuls of snacks. It turns out the porky train had made a few stops today on its way to Gobble Gobble station. Beds are appropriated and snacks are spread out before us. As threatened, everyone is in their pajamas; which given that it’s winter and a hotel, is a variety of T-shirts, shorts, sweatpants, and tank tops. What? Did you expect everyone to be in frilly night dresses or silky chemises? Honestly, I don’t exactly feel entirely out of place, just a tad warm with the hoodie hiding my body.

“My god, have I told you how gorgeous your hair is Alex, why do you never let it down?” Emma asks, stuffing some toffee into her maw. “You always have it tied back and stuffed in your collar. It’s such a shame to hide hair like that.”

Jeez, we’re playing twenty questions already, my favorite. I shrug and try to look disinterested. “I just don’t want it in the way, that’s all.”

“Why not get it cut then?” Chloe asks, “I find my hair such a hassle sometimes but my Mom won’t let me chop it short.”

“You’d look weird with short hair,” Emma chips in, folding her friend’s hair up to mimic a short bob. “Your face would look kinda fat.”

“I don’t think so,” I offer, “Plus, you should do what you want, who cares what others think? I think you’d look really pretty either way.”

See? I’m a smart girl; compliment and encourage Chloe. This distracts her and everyone else from the questions about my own hair. I’m a cunning lil bitch when I want to be.

Chloe gives me an appreciative look, “so why don’t you let it down now? I want to see it.”

Fuck, dodged one missile right into the second.

“Heeeey, anyone for some little pastry things?” Tina asks brightly, waving around a little package of cinnamon-scented delights.

“Sure,” Chloe grins, grabbing one before pivoting her attention back to me. “Come on Alex, please? I want to see how long it is.”

I don’t think I get to dodge this one any longer, let’s hope I can afford a domino or two.

Reluctantly I pull my ponytail out of my collar, slip the tie off it, and let it flop down straight. “There, see?”

Chloe rolls her eyes and scooches over. “No, not like that, you can’t just let it flop, you’ve got to fluff it up like…” She trails off as she fluffs up my long brunette hair, letting it fall around my face, and just stares at me open-mouthed.

“What?” I ask, acting like I don’t know what she’s seeing. Chloe and Emma are staring at me and Tina is trying not to laugh behind them both. I avoid looking at her or I’ll lose my poker face.

“Alex, you’re… no offense, but you’re really cute.”

“Ah, uh, thanks, that’s what every guy wants to hear.” I bluff, crossing my arms defensively.

Chloe shakes her head, “No, I don’t think you understand. Please don’t be offended by this Alex, but you look really cute… for a girl. I thought you looked a bit girly earlier, but wow, like, you’re actually really pretty.”

I turn red, like, cartoon fire truck red. Think rising red level as steam starts pouring out of my ears and a blowoff valve on my head whistles, cartoon red.

“I uh…”

Chloe screws her face up. “God I shouldn’t have said that, it’s probably just your hair, do…”

“No, you’re right though,” Emma adds. “Before in the market, I was convinced that you were some girl that we just never really noticed in class before. When Chloe told me you were in the boys' school, I was like, totally shocked.”

“Guys, come on, you’re embarrassing him,” Tina interjects. “Alex, they’re just joking, you don’t look like a girl.”

At that moment, there’s the sound of a card in the door lock and it swings open to reveal Sarah carrying two bags of soda bottles. “There was a store just down the road I saw last night, it was still open, so we have drinks!” she beams, hip-bumping the door closed behind her and kicking her shoes at the wall. “What are we…”

You know why she stopped talking right? You know exactly why she shut up and just goldfished.

“Oh my god, Alex, you’re a girl… I knew it!”

Fuckiyaki Beef with spring rolls and egg fried rice. Why me? Who did I piss on in a past life to deserve this?

“Uh, no… I’m not,” I gag intelligently. “I’m a boy...”

Sarah places the drinks on the side table and shrugs out of her coat. “No way, nope, that makes so much sense now… the boyfriend, the denials, you never hang around with the guys… your voice, frame, everything. How the hell are you… why are you hiding out as a boy at an all-boys school?”

Jesus tittyfucking Christ, I say again, why me.

Tina steps up and touches her friend’s shoulder, “Hey, Sarah, dial it down. Alex is embarrassed, he’s not a girl.”

“Are you in on this?” she asks her roommate, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “How come you and Alex ran off at the airport?”

“To get coffee, duh.”

“You were late at security, I bet your passport says you’re a girl,” she points out, looking smug.

I rub my eyes and sigh. I don’t think I’m getting out of this one intact, so it’s time to take the reins. “It’s… not that simple but you’re right and you’re wrong.”

“Alex…?” Tina asks uncertainly.

“It’s ok Tina,” I shrug. “I don’t think I get out of this without the truth. I told you coming tonight was a stupid idea.”

“You sure?” she asks again, balling her fists like she’s ready to take them all on. It’s weird seeing someone so tiny turn into a protector all of a sudden. She turns to the others and glares. “What Alex is going to say goes no further than this room, got it? Like, pain of death, got it?”

“Sure,” Chloe shrugs uncertainly, glancing around at the others. Emma nods and Sarah frowns but gives her assent as well. The whole room turns to look at me and I can feel a bead of sweat roll right between my shoulder blades.

With a sigh, I haul the hoodie over my head and finger-brush my hair. I sit upright and open my posture. “I am a girl, but it’s not that simple,” I admit.

There’s a couple of gasps as people take in Holly and realize they had been totally wrong, but right, but also wrong, but also right… you know what I mean.

“How are you in the boys' school?” Chloe asks, disbelievingly, “Is this some prank?”

And now I ruined the brief moment where I was just another girl. “Because,” I sigh, “technically I am; I’m transgender.”

“You want to be a boy?” Emma asks, “Why?”

I’d laugh if that was the first time I’d heard that. Trust me, It happens a lot more in life when you actually look like the sex you identify as and people find out that you’re trans. It’s probably the weirdest when doctors do it; oh boy they get a surprise.

“No, I was born a… boy,” I admit sheepishly. “I’m not one though… I couldn’t… be one.”

“Holly was born a boy, but she’s a girl like us in her heart and soul,” Tina Interjects. “She’s transitioning, which means she’s taking hormones, which is why she looks like us. She’s transferring to our school at the start of the semester, they’re making her finish this one out with the boys. That means she has to stay undercover as Alex till she can get out.”

“Oh my god, that explains the boyfriend,” Sarah breathes. “I knew I heard that right… no wonder you were dodging my questions, sorry!”

“Your name is Holly?” Chloe asks, “That’s really pretty.”

I nod. “It’s what my Mom and Dad were going to name me if I had been born a girl… like I was meant to be. I chose to keep it because that’s who I’m meant to be; their daughter.”

“That’s sweet,” she agrees. Her face changes as she realizes what started all this mess. “Oh god, I’m sorry… the hair thing… I didn’t mean to. Oh, and I said you were so… wait, that’s not an insult, is it?”

I chuckle for the first time in this landmine-infested conversation and smile. “No, not to me. Thanks for that, actually.”

“So like, none of them know, at all?” Emma asks.

“No,” I shake my head. “Well, not true, but it’s limited. Our teachers do, and yes, I had an issue at immigration.” I roll my eyes. “They thought my boy’s passport was wrong.”

“No shit,” Sarah admitted, raising her eyebrows.

“Hang on, you said boyfriend. Does he go to our school?” Chloe asks, zeroing in on the hot gossip like a laser beam.

“Uh, maybe?” I concede.

“Oh, she blushes!” Emma giggles. “Go on, who? You’ve got to tell us!”

“I don’t know if I want to say,” I shrug, feeling the heat boil out of my ears. “I’m… it’s still kinda new.”

“Ok, well… this needs some investigation.” Chloe grinned. “No names, but we do have questions.”

“And snacks,” Tina pointed out, offering a bag of fudge.

“Oh, the drinks!” Sarah slaps her forehead. “I totally forgot them in the whole ‘Alex is a girl,’ business.”

“Is he cute?” Emma asks slyly. “I know you don’t want to say who, but you have to tell us some about him.”

I smile as I think about Rick. “He’s kind and considerate; always putting me first. Gorgeous, strong. I feel so… special whenever he’s around.”

“Yup, she’s a girl alright.” Chloe giggles. “He sounds like a real treat.”

“So, like how did you know?” Emma asked the sixty-four thousand dollar question.

“That I’m a girl?” I furrow my brow. “How did you know?”

Emma makes a face, “I dunno; I just am.”

“Kinda the same,” I admit. “Ever since I knew there was a difference, I just knew I was meant to be on this side. It didn’t make sense. I had boy parts and to my parents, I was their son Alex. It never felt right… like wearing clothes meant for someone else; it felt awkward, ill-fitting, wrong.”

“That must be so weird,” she admits.

“Now imagine that nobody else can see the weird clothes that don’t fit. That restricts your movement, makes you feel swamped and uncomfortable all the time. They change everything you do; make it harder, separate you from sensation and feeling. Now imagine that everyone else fits theirs just fine.”

“Surprisingly easy to understand,” Sarah concedes. “That sounds like shit.”

“I’ve known Holly for a few months,” Tina admits, drawing everyone else’s attention. “We first met at Skyline, the gym thing school offers. She was joining me and the Byrne sisters for a doubles game and we ended up playing most weeks. Always thought she was a childhood friend of theirs that went to a different school.”

She looked at me and smiled, “You can imagine my surprise when I turned up at the airport and saw her tomboy ass lurking with the boy’s class.”

“I didn’t mean to lie,” I smile apologetically. “It was just nice being a normal girl for once… not, different.”

“Nah you didn’t lie,” she shrugs. “Technically you never once told me anything that wasn’t true. I would have done the same thing in your shoes.”

I got a whole bunch of questions from the girls that you’ve heard me answer before. Why do I have boobs? When did I know? What does the boys' bathroom smell like… the usual things. I do my best to answer them all as well as possible.

Thankfully the conversation eventually turns away from me, if you can possibly imagine that. I think that somehow I’ve survived this one. I have no idea why, but I think I lucked out here; four girls know about me and are seemingly ok about it.

I don’t really know Chloe or Emma, but they do seem genuinely nice. If Tina is cool with them then I guess they’re good. Sarah still feels like a wildcard, but time will tell. The cat is out of the bag and causing chaos, so I guess I have to make a thing out of this and see how it goes.

I accept a glass of soda from Sarah and drink deeply. The truth, it seems, is very thirsty work. Someone turned on the TV to a crappy movie. It’s in German, so we aren’t really paying that much attention. Now that I’m not quite such a major topic, we dive into the snackfest properly.

Sitting here hanging with these girls is actually really fun. Sure, we’re pigging out and chatting about literally anything and everything, but for once I don’t feel any pressure. Maybe trying to be Alex for this long now is actually hard for me? I haven’t actually been him for more than seven or eight hours in a row in months. Was it really October when I came out? God.

“Were you there last week? God, it was such a good game!” Emma enthuses. “The guys were on fire, they totally dominated. Johnson and Winters on the defense didn’t let a thing get past them.”

Tina snorts, “I don’t think she’s put two and two together yet.”

For once, I actually giggle along myself. “No, I don’t think she has.”

“What?”

“Who was that you were talking about?”

Emma frowns. “Kyle Johnson and Rob Winters, the linebacker and corner guard?”

“Wait, your last name is Winters, isn’t it?” Sarah interjects slightly faster than her friend.

“Wait, you’re related to Rob Winters?” Emma blinks. “But he has a little… Oh.”

“Cool transition from back handspring to foot in mouth there Em,” Chloe giggles before her face changes to shock. “Wait, now I know why I thought you were a girl when we first met! I remember seeing you at the games! You’re always with Megan and Kara Byrne. You three were always together and I just… assumed.”

“Ah, yep. I’m amazing at pulling off boy,” I smirk. “Rob’s my big brother, I always came to games to support him.”

“I don’t know how I didn’t put two and two together sooner.” Emma shakes her head. “Yeah, that’s it… wow, I had no idea.”

“You had no idea because you hit your head on too many landings.” Chloe snerks. At my blank look, she smiles. “We’re on the cheer squad, JV members.”

Who’da guessed it, me being tight with cheerleaders. Before you even think about hinting that I might try out for the squad next semester, this isn’t one of those billion trans-fiction adventures, so get your disappointment out of the way now.

And so it was that I ended up sharing a snack-filled evening with four of my future classmates. How the hell did I end up here? I’m thousands of miles from home and I couldn’t manage to keep myself hidden for a few measly days.

Honestly? I’m somewhat relieved. It was one thing to have the teachers know, but it’s another to have some peers that I can share myself with. This semester cannot be over fast enough, but I’m glad I’ll have more than Kara and Meg when I start next semester.

Thankfully, we chatted about far more inconsequential things than my messed-up self. Getting included in conversations about fashion, music, and boys was truly refreshing. Sure, I had gotten to have these conversations with the sisters, but those two were practically MY sisters. This felt more normal somehow… there was no secret here. Honestly, we were having such a good time, we kinda forgot to go to bed… yeah, all of us.

* * *

I woke up feeling a lot more tired than normal and with a pressing urge to pee. I was in a hotel room, but I was reasonably sure that it wasn’t mine. There was another body sleeping close to me and I was far too warm. Cracking an eye, I was met with an unfamiliar pillow. Turning my head, I spotted Tina, stretched out and fast asleep beside me, and from the feel of it, someone’s foot was on the back of my neck.

“What time is it?” A voice croaked from somewhere on the other side of the pile of bodies.

“Six,” someone groaned, “I need to pee.”

The bed shifted and footsteps padded away. I pulled some hair out of my mouth and cracked an eye. My view? Blonde hair.

I stretched, removed the leg, and rolled over, falling off the bed in the process. The jolt woke me far more successfully than I had imagined.

You did count correctly earlier, there were indeed only two beds. At some point during the night, both had been pushed together to make a better picnic space and as such, all five of us ended up curled up in various blankets and pillows in a general heap.

Pulling myself to my feet, I padded towards the bathroom and passed a sleepy-looking Chloe on the way. “Morning,” I murmured, stifling a yawn.

Chloe grunted something unintelligible in return and made her way back toward the bed. Diving into the bathroom, I closed the door and dropped my sweats before slumping onto the toilet seat. Vent procedure complete, I redressed and returned to the main room.

Other than Tina, who was miraculously still face down in a pillow, most everyone else was awake and either upright or in the process of redressing. No, none of us were naked, but various extra clothing got ditched during the night. It turns out a pile of bodies is quite warm.

“I’m going to head back to my room,” I offer, grabbing my hoodie. “See you all at breakfast?”

Receiving a general murmur of agreement from some of the heaps of flesh, I let myself out of the room. The corridor was thankfully quiet, so I scuttled back along the corridor to my own room in relative anonymity. Sure, being seen leaving a girl's room might be bro cred, but It’s also attention I’d rather avoid. Plus, who would actually believe that I had slept with a girl?

Once I’m back and safe behind the locked door, I’m able to properly go about my morning routine. My mouth feels like a hamster died in it after going to bed without brushing my teeth, so that’s my first port of call. After that, well, you don’t care for me to describe showering and washing of smelly bits, do you? No? Good, I wasn’t going to, you perverts.

Once I’m clean, I throw on a fresh pair of panties and a sports bra before dressing in my usual Alex drab of jeans, tee, and sweatshirt before shoving my feet into my Rans. With a final check, I stuck my keycard in my pocket and headed for the restaurant.

I got down to breakfast a little before seven and the place was still largely empty. After grabbing my food, I looked around to see who I could recognize from our group that was braving the early hour. Other than two guys I didn’t know, I spotted Chloe and Emma already sitting with their food. How the hell did they manage to make it down here so fast?

A little part of me told me that I should sit by myself or join the boys for the sake of my cursed masquerade. The louder voice, however, Holly’s voice, told me to just sit with my friends; who the hell even cared anyway? Decision made, I walked over with my head held high.

“Hey guys,” I smiled, taking a seat beside them. I’m pretty sure waking up in the same bed earns me a modicum of casual familiarity.

“Hey,” Chloe replied with more joy than I felt. “Last night was epic, wasn’t it?”

“It was pretty fun,” I conceded. “Though sleeping with someone’s foot on my head was kinda new.”

“She tosses and turns like crazy,” Emma rolled her eyes. “She’s been like that since kindergarten.”

“You two have known each other a long time then?”

Chloe nods, “Yeah, we were doing sleepovers and stuff almost our entire lives, we even did dance class together.”

“I think I can count last night as my first proper one,” I admit, taking a bite out of my Brötchen. It was kinda neat.”

“Your first? oh...” Emma caught on quicker than I’d expected. “Well cool! Glad we could be a part of your cherry pop experience.”

“Speaking of that, you never did tell us who it is that you’re dating,” Chloe leered playfully.

I rolled my eyes, “Who died and made you Sarah?”

Emma snickered at that comment, “She can be a little bit of a terrier at times, but her dad’s Chief of Police, so that’s no surprise really.”

“I’m just defensive about everything at the moment.” I sigh. “Plus Tina kinda joked that people might hate me more for who I’m dating than what I… am.”

“Oh she probably didn’t mean anything by it,” Chloe shrugs. “It’s got to be weird though for you... He goes to our school, right?”

“Yeah, it’s how we kinda fell into… whatever this is,” I admit. “I kept trying to deny my feelings for him and avoid it. All the while, he kept trying to be friends with me and we clicked. Somehow, I couldn’t resist catching feelings. It turns out that at the same time that I was trying to deny how I felt, so was he. The only difference was I was giving him a crisis of sexuality.”

“How do you mean?” Emma asks, sipping her coffee, enraptured by my revelations.

“I knew I was a girl, and that he was a boy,” I explain, glancing around to make sure we’re not being overheard. “I wasn’t particularly worried about being attracted to a boy.”

“Based on what he told me, his eyes saw a boy, but his mind and heart somehow knew that I was a girl. He started falling for me without consciously realizing what was happening. By the time he did, he was struggling with the idea that he was attracted to a boy.”

“Until he didn’t,” Chloe finishes with a grin. “That’s really freaking adorable.”

I nod, and my stomach does that little romantic flip-flop thing I’ve come to really cherish. “I never knew that loving a guy could feel so normal or so wonderful; being his girl, it feels… right.”

“What’s right?” Tina asks abruptly as she drops down on my other side, shortly followed by Sarah. “Morning ladies.”

“We were just discussing who someone is dating,” Chloe grinned conspiratorially. “A certain chica is being coy.”

“I mean, I would,” Tina nodded her agreement. “One that fine? She’s going to have a lot of jealous rivals come January.”

“God, I want to know who it is so badly,” Sarah groaned.

Does it really matter? They like me, they won’t care, right? Why am I afraid to say? A hold-over of Alex, let it go, girl…

I take a long draught of my coffee and swallow before placing the cup back on the table. “Rick Taylor.”

“Rick Taylor what?” Emma asks with a frown that turns rapidly to a look of shock. “No freaking way!”

“Yes way,” I hiss. “Inside voices perhaps?”

“Oh my god, he is beyond gorgeous, I totally approve,” Chloe beams. “That guy is so fine.”

“Yeah, Tina mentioned his unavailability might break a few hearts.”

“Not half,” she cackled. “He’s up there with your brother and Carson for top hotties on the team.”

I make a face, “Can we not put my brother on a pedestal like that? At least not while I’m eating. Plus he’s taken too.”

“He is?” Emma asked, a look of regret flashing across her face. “And uh… sorry.”

Thankfully breakfast conversation diverts away from my love life to other topics of far more mundane scope. The restaurant is starting to get busier, so it was probably wise that we kept this one in more discreet environs. The weirdest part is the girls have switched to Alex and male pronouns almost seamlessly, I’m rather impressed actually.

“Listen up everyone, I don’t want to have to repeat myself,” Frau Whistler announced loudly, immediately silencing the horde of excitable teens in the hotel lobby.

“Today will have a slightly slower pace than yesterday, but we will have some free time for you this afternoon to shop in Bonn. We’re making a historical stop first at the House of the History of the Federal Republic of Germany and yes, while I know this might be a little dry for some of you but we will be visiting the Christmas market down in Bonn after lunch. Right! Everyone off to your rooms, I want you down here ready to go in fifteen minutes!”

Dispatched, we scurried off about our ways like a horde of rats. Teenagers getting organized is a mess at the best of times, now? Well, it’s a blessing we get anything done at all. I didn’t take long to get myself sorted because Alex drag is super easy; I was already in it. I grabbed my bag, my camera, and my coat and scooted off downstairs.

“Alex, can I have a word?”

I look over and spot Frau Whistler standing with Herr Norton to one side of the lobby, both looking a little weird.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Ah, I don’t quite… how should I put this,” Herr Norton starts out, blushing. Danger Holly Winters, Danger.

“We overheard a student mention that you were seen leaving a girl’s room this morning,” Frau Whistler continued, raising her eyebrow. “I’m sure there’s an innocent explanation, given… certain circumstances. Nothing untoward occurred, right?”

Well, this is awkward. On a scale of one to ten, it’s a solid fifteen and I turn bright pink on the spot. “No ma’am, nothing at all… that’s… gosh, no.”

She smiles and gives Herr Norton a glance that seems to read, ‘I told you so.’

“Ma’am, nothing remotely inappropriate happened. We were… ah… hanging out, and we all just fell asleep.”

“Miss Booth and Miss Appleton’s room I presume,” she raises an eyebrow. “I assume this means that there are new members of the circle. Who else?”

“Yes ma’am, Sarah obviously,” I admit, “Chloe Johnson and Emma Newman too, Ma’am.”

“No problems?” Herr Norton chips in, “Nothing we need to worry about?”

“No sir, everything is fine, they’re really great.”

“Ok, on your way then,” Frau Whistler offered, dismissing me to join the others now arriving in the lobby.

Well, that was embarrassing, but hey, when is anything ever simple in my life? I expect if someone saw me this will be mentioned today. At least I’m now aware of it and not on the back foot. For once I might be prepared.

“What was all that about?” one of the guys, Danny Masters, smirks as I leave our educators behind. “You in trouble now, Winters?”

“Probably about him being caught in some girl’s room.” a guy next to Gary chips in. “I heard Pete mention it at breakfast.”

“And what are you getting up to in there, Winters?”

I smile politely and I quickly evaluate my situation. Teachers in close proximity, risk of pounding is low. Must distract in boyspeak to remove any suspicion of Holly. Situation: ripe for a low blow. “Well, your mom wasn’t available Danny, I had to improvise.”

I dart off before he can remember to be pissed off. The trail of laughter behind me lets me know his mates have turned on him now. Do I sail too close to the wind sometimes? Yes, but it sure as hell distracts attention from me. I’ve learned to be an expert deflector over the years.

The journey out to the history museum wasn’t particularly long; Just like heading into Cologne, it was about twelve miles with the usual city traffic, so we were parking outside the modern structure about forty-five minutes later. German city traffic is as bad as ours it turns out, who knew?

The museum told the story of Germany after the Second World War. Now most Americans I’m sure know that period of history pretty well, or at least, the high school version; war in Europe, America arrived and saved the day. Obviously, it’s a lot more complicated than that and nowhere near as clean-cut.

This place told the story of the post-war recovery of Germany, the Cold War, and the eventual reunification of Germany into the state it is today. It was humbling and it was honest without any punches being pulled. Its overall modern aesthetic also served to tell us history in a far less stuffy way. It used pop culture and props to really drive home the changes. Despite Frau Whistler’s warnings about stuffy history, it seemed most everyone was highly engaged.

After a brief stop at the gift shop, our horde reboarded the coach and departed towards the center of the city and the Christmas markets beyond. Want me to describe more of those? Nah, you’ve been to one, you’ve been to a hundred. It was quite different from Cologne, but it was also incredibly similar. It did allow us to stock up on treats and various foods that we had since hoovered. Whoops.

Did I just buy food? Of course not. The markets contained plenty of crafts and unique products offered for sale, most of course, with a seasonal theme. Still on the lookout for suitable gifts, I managed to score big with a couple of real winners.

I found a great big wooden nutcracker shaped like the classic soldier for Dad. For Chrissie, I found a beautiful wooden carved figure of a girl in a red cape and a white dress holding a wicker basket wrapped in holly and ivy in her arms. The cute part? The basket was hollowed out to hold a stubby little candle. Neat, suitcase-suitable, and uniquely German; I was on a fine run here.

Our second day in Deutschland was more relaxed than my first two, but only slightly. Was I getting myself into more trouble now that more people knew about me? Absolutely, but at the same time, it hadn’t spread further and my friends accepted me as one of them, what more could I ask?

The truth was, I was likely sailing far closer to the wind than was realistically sensible, but what teenager can remain objective one hundred percent of the time? I couldn’t live the life of a penitent nun, all while watching my friends have the times of their lives. Nobody could manage to remain perfect through all of that. I just had to manage when I let Holly out.

I know it must sound insane, but being the boy I had outwardly presented as for years was very difficult now. It was exhausting and it was physically draining to keep up the mask. Having let Holly out of the bag and allowed myself to grow as my real self, had separated me from an act I had played so well. This trip, even for a few days, had thrust me into far more Alex time than I had been experiencing at home. Being Holly with a few friends even for a short while was a pressure relief valve.

“Oh my god, I heard, like, amazing stuff about this Pimkie place from my pen pal, we totally gotta go check it out!” Emma enthused, dragging Chloe towards what appeared to be a high-street fashion emporium. We had been given some shopping time after the markets to explore Bonn as long as we promised not to get into too much trouble.

Fat chance.

“Coming?” Tina asked, slowing down to walk beside me.

I eyed the place and shrugged sadly, “Nah. I would love to, but... reasons.”

“Nobody would notice,” she pointed out. “Live a little, girl.”

Really, I did want to, but I also knew that it would be the one time someone I knew would see me.

“Nah, another time.” I defer, spotting a fitting excuse. “I think I’ll pop in there and get something for Rob, I have a decent idea of what to get for him.”

“A toy shop?” Tina queried, raising an eyebrow. “Getting him a dolly?”

“Kinda,” I grin.

The toy store I had spotted is massive. This place is spread over several floors and seems to carry literally everything you could possibly imagine, from plushies through to video games. The interior was like a child’s fantasy land with massive displays and the German favorite, Playmobil everywhere, even life-sized!

I wandered around aimlessly staring at the incredible displays of model trains and dolls feeling a little nostalgic. Hey look, I may be a girl, but I’m still a nerd, and nerdy stuff does interest me.

On the third floor, I found what I had been looking for; scale models. See, one thing you don’t know about my brother dearest is that he loves airplanes. Like Dad, he’s obsessed with the things. He doesn’t talk about it in school because he thinks people would call him a geek, but I genuinely believe he might actually have a future in aviation.

While I had gotten the others various German gifts, I wanted to get Rob something special; a model airplane in the German airline Lufthansa’s colors. Dad might be an aeronautical engineer who specializes in military projects, but Rob wants to be an airline pilot. I’m pretty sure he will be really happy if I can find him something appropriate.

A quick look past the various model kits and train sets and I find a selection of diecast models of various aircraft from the dawn of time through to the modern era. After a few minutes of searching, I find a Jumbo Jet in the blue, white, and yellow of the German flag carrier. It’s a little pricey at fifty Euros, but I think Rob will love it.

A voice behind me makes me jump, clutching the box to my chest. “I thought that was you.”

I blink up at Gary and swallow, “Uh, hi.”

Gary shoves his hands in his pockets and nods at the airplane in my hands. “Thought you’d be over the road with those girls. I’ve barely seen you apart since we got here.”

“You got a problem with that?” I frown, straightening up and giving him a death glare.

“That’s not as intimidating as you think it is,” he chuckles. His look shifts and I can’t quite read it for a moment.

“I was getting Rob a gift if you must know.” I point out, waggling the airliner, hoping that invoking the violent wall of brother might remind him of the threat that has kept him quiet.

“I figured,” he shrugs. “Airplanes aren’t really your thing, are they princess?”

I elevate the death scowl to level two. “Don’t call me princess, Gary.”

Gary, in his defense, steps back and holds up his hands, recognizing my look is one or two levels below significant risk to his blood supply. “Easy, ok? I’m sorry. I don’t know when you became so touchy about shit, dude.”

“Are you going to get out of my way so I can get back to my friends?”

There’s almost a pained look on his face, but he complies and moves out of my way.

“Thank you,” I murmur acidly as I pass by him, not even giving him the satisfaction of looking at him.

I leave him behind me and don’t give him the satisfaction of looking back. Being alone with him like that felt different now; colder. I’m not sure how to talk to someone that I know doesn’t like me as a person. Once, we were good friends and I would never have considered being afraid of him. Now? Gary is physically stronger than me and he holds power over my ability to remain hidden. If I hadn’t been so emboldened by our being in a public place like this I might have acquiesced and placated him.

I pay for Rob’s gift and head straight across the street to where the girls are still tearing apart the clothing store. Frustrated at Gary’s words, I head inside without even a pause to reevaluate my decision. Who does he even think he’s calling Princess?

There will be a one week break for Christmas due to my traveling to see family. I will resume posting Fake It on the first week of 2025!! Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, io Saturnalia, or however you vibe. See you soon, it's only going to get way better!
Alyssa.

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Fake It Till You Make It - 28 - Dances With Death.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Twenty-Eight - Danger Damsel.

I rolled out of bed a little after six on Wednesday morning. Yes, it was my own bed this time, before you ask. Truth be told, between an early night and a busy day, I had slept like a proverbial log. There was really only so long I could lie in the warm embrace of my duvet before I had to prepare to join humanity.

Outside, the dark ribbon of the Rhine passed by my window on its way north toward the Netherlands and the North Sea beyond. The little bits of land I could see had a light coating of white this morning. Out in the swirling flakes, a huge barge struggled upstream, a tugboat working hard behind it. Fighting an unending current… hmm, that felt particularly familiar.

Feeling a little stinky this morning, I decided to wash my hair and enjoy a luxurious hot shower. By the time I was finished, every nook and cranny was squeaky clean, hair-free, and totally moisturized. If I have to dress up as Alex, at least underneath, I can be comfortable as myself. If my calculations were correct, today marked the start of my ninth remaining day of playing boy; it really couldn’t come soon enough. I was beyond ready to see the back of Alex Winters.

My boobs were itching again; a sure sign they were up to no good in the dimensions department. For anyone reading this who has never had the opportunity to grow their own breasts, they tend to get a little itchy and tender when they’re first developing. For me, it came and went for the first couple of years and was always a sure sign of growth. Well, at least this time that wasn’t a potential exposure risk. Finally being able to feel happy about my developing body was extremely liberating.

For the first six or so months of my hormonal journey, I had been prevented from feeling joy at my changing body. It was all a risk; a terrible risk of exposure. I couldn’t feel pride or excitement when it was all possibly a bridge too far. Wait, was that on the Rhine too? Quite possibly my most prophetic joke ever.

After a quick and unladylike scratch of said appendages, I trussed the troublesome things up in a sports bra and shrugged into a tight T-shirt. I’m starting to become convinced that by trying to compress and hide the girls during their growth, that I somehow managed to offend them. Enough at least, to want to take revenge on my spine later in life. Maybe it’s like putting your foot on a hosepipe? You hold the water back and it blows up like a balloon… I think my breasts ended up getting the same idea.

Today’s uniform of dreariness was a pair of army green cargo pants and my old favorite Blitzkrieg Flop hoodie with a pair of Inverse sneakers. Add to that my gloves, hat, and winter coat and it was boring, boyish, and best of all, rather warm. Other than the mighty river, the land I could see was starting to attract the sky’s white stuff with growing eagerness. It was likely to be a rather chilly one and according to our teachers, we would be spending a good portion of the day outside.

Breakfast was a pretty exciting affair as a horde of teenagers, most of whom were generally unfamiliar with snow, got to see the growing winter wonderland for the first time outside the hotel windows. With their usual efficiency, our educators had us wrangled and dispatched to prepare for the day’s misadventures. Twenty minutes later, we piled aboard the bus and waited for Frau Whistler to address our assembled horde.

“Listen up people, this is going to be a day involving a few logistical moments so I want your full and undivided attention. We have nudged a few things around due to the weather, but we also think it’s perfect for something we had for today regardless and the company has informed us they’re still running so… listen closely, Michael.”

“Why are you singling me out Frau Whistler?”

Our teacher stared at the unfortunate youth with a look that simply oozed ‘I am responsible for you, but I wish I could abandon you in the mountains.’ It’s a testament to her quality as an educator that she held her tongue.

“Today, we are heading down past Remagen to the Brohl Valley where we will ride on the Vulkan Express. It’s a little, narrow-gauge railway that runs up into the Eifel Mountains and originally brought material from quarries down to the River Rhine. It's about fifteen kilometers in length and we will be stopping for lunch at the halfway point in a town called Oberzissen. Our afternoon will see us head into the city of Koblenz.”

She paused, to ensure we took everything in. “I’ll need you to make sure you’re on your best behavior with today’s timings, everyone. The better you are, the longer we will have for lunch and this afternoon in Koblenz. Anyone that screws around will spend the afternoon with myself and Herr Norton. I promise you will not prefer that option… Michael.”

“What did I do?”

There were murmurings of amusement from the assembled masses and Michael Davis was notably silent. It turns out that even he can listen when he wants to.

Our driver was the same guy from the previous day's outings and while he was no Michael Schumacher, he was more than efficient at navigating the beast of a bus through the busy local traffic. One thing I can say with certainty is that European roads are much narrower than ones back home. Then again, so are many of the people!

Oh, go on, admit it; you laughed.

Around an hour later, we arrived at the little train station in the town of Brohl-Lützing and were ushered out of our transport and across to the little station’s platform. The snow was relatively undisturbed here and it was bitterly cold now that we were out in the open. Despite my coat, I was really starting to shiver by the time our train finally came chugging along the tracks.

Our ride for the morning clanked and squealed to a halt in front of us. It consisted of three small red and cream vintage coaches pulled by an adorable little green Diesel locomotive. This was no Amtrak beast, but rather something I’d expect to find under a department store Christmas tree. Like old tourist trains back home, the coaches were boarded from open platforms at each end and seated around twenty a car on wooden bench seating. It seemed that today the service was a private booking for just us. That meant we were able to spread ourselves out a little throughout the three coaches.

“Come sit with me Alex,” Chloe called out, waving me over to join her towards the tail end of the second carriage.

“It’s damn freezing in here,” I frowned, rubbing my gloved hands together to generate anything approximating heat. “I think I’m going to die of exposure.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” the blonde chided with a chilly-looking grin of her own. “They have little log burners going in each car anyway, it will warm up in no time, probably.”

“So you say,” I counter dryly, feeling my spirit shiver. “But my toes don’t quite hear you.”

Chloe’s response was an eye roll. I don’t know why people don’t take me seriously, honestly.

The carriage did start to warm up eventually as it pulled out of the station. Sure, it wasn’t the summer steam train service, but the view from the windows was spectacular nonetheless. In no time at all, we were clanking and rattling our way up the Brohl Valley in the little train.

“It’s beautiful; almost like a postcard,” Chloe mused, watching the snowflakes falling outside the windows. “It feels so surreal when you think that we’re actually here in Germany, you know?”

“I know what you mean,” I smile. “It really makes the whole class mean something…more.”

“Probably why they make us come here,” she agreed.

Chloe and I watch the snow outside the train window for a few minutes without speaking. All around us excited teens were taking photographs and chatting away with each other as we rattle along the rails. I’ll give them credit, this is a pretty awesome experience on top of an amazing week so far.

“Thank you,” I began, squeezing Chloe’s hand out of sight of the others. “for the whole me thing. Thank you for being cool about stuff…”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she frowns, turning away from the window to face me.

It’s not a bad question, in all honesty. In an ideal world, why wouldn’t she be cool about this? It doesn’t affect her and it’s just common human decency to treat someone with respect. It’s a sad testament to our world that I feel the urge to thank her for treating me like a human being.

“I don’t know, but many aren’t,” I shrug. While we have a little privacy with the rattling noise of the train, I’m not entirely comfortable being explicit about this topic in front of others.

Chloe reached over, squeezed my hand, and winked, “I’m very glad I met you, ‘Alex’.”

Here’s me thinking how much I needed to hide myself from people on this trip. As it happens, I’ll be starting at the Girls’ Division in January with seven or so girls who support me and know me as Holly; that’s a pretty good start. Having four in Germany alone is a real boon to my case.

By the time we pulled into the small station at Oberzissen, the snow was looking a lot more persistent than it had when we had first departed. In fact, the cleared road was starting to pick up a fairly reasonable coating of snow as it ran down the hill and across the railroad tracks. Having departed the train, the crowd on the platform started to slowly drift away in all directions as any group of unsupervised adolescents are want to do. Before any of us could manage to get too lost, Frau Whistler well… whistled, loudly.

“Everyone, stick together! We’re heading across the road to the restaurant here to get lunch and some much-needed hot chocolate before we head back down,” our educator announced, shepherding her flock in the general direction of town. “You can take photos later, let’s get inside and out of this cold before I have to ship any of you home in the refrigerator, ok?”

Across the main road from the little station was a long single-story restaurant set back slightly from the road. Compared to the arctic chill in the air, Grill-Restaurant Gasper seemed incredibly attractive, even if its name was a little on the breathy side.

“Come on, we want to get a good table,” Chloe insisted, grabbing me by the elbow. “If we’re not quick Tina will have cleaned them out before we get there.”

I was snickering at her remark when I felt my foot slide beneath me on a patch of ice on the paving. Do you know that lurch in your stomach when you feel yourself falling? That’s the one. Thankfully my ninja reflexes, honed over years of dodging beatings, allowed me to grab hold of her before I went ass over tit on a patch of icy snow.

“This is super sketchy Chlo, please slow down or I’m going to eat crap before we get there.”

Fate truly possesses expert comedic timing. If it were a person, I would suspect it of purposefully having a pair of jokers up its sleeve. The second I opened my big mouth, a chain of events began that would have felt prophetic if my young life hadn’t flashed before my very eyes.

“Sheiße! Wooaah bugger, look out!” A high-pitched voice yelled desperately, accompanied by the distinctive sound of squealing bicycle brakes and sliding tires.

I had just enough time to yank Chloe backward before a small missile on a bike came sliding past us. Bike and rider skidded sideways, wobbled precariously, and flipped over the guardrail separating the platform from the road a few feet below.

“Holy shit,” Chloe breathed, her eyes wide, “what the hell was that?”

I shook my head uncertainly, I wasn’t entirely sure myself. Cautiously, I approached the rail to look for the errant blur. Thankfully, the drop was only perhaps five feet or so, and both rider and bike were embedded in a snowbank.

Carefully, we scramble down and make our way over, just in time to find the snow-covered rider sitting up and brushing the white stuff from their jacket.

“Das war nicht der Plan.” The figure spluttered, “Bloody hell.”

I glanced at Chloe uncertainly before offering the figure a hand out of the snow. “Hey, uh, miss, are you ok? uh, “Alles ok, Fräulein?"

“Ja, gut… I’m fine,” The rider offered, making a face before she looked up curiously. “Wait, American?”

Chloe nodded, “We’re on a school trip, do you want us to call you an ambulance, or our teachers?”

The girl shook her head, sending snow flying from her cycle helmet. “I’ll be fine, I think, but my front wheel’s propper had it,” she sighed.

“I’ll go get Frau Whistler,” Chloe offered, tottering off to go find our glorious leader.

The rider, it turned out, was a petite blonde around Tina’s size wrapped up in winter cycling clothing which, at that moment, was covered in the ever present white stuff.

“How come you’re up here? This is the middle of nowhere!” the girl asked, pulling herself to her feet rather unsteadily.

“Uh, train,” I offered, gesturing up at the platform over yonder. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“I’ve had worse,” she shrugged as she dusted off her steed. “Everything’s still attached, as far as I know.”

“How come you sound British?” I query suspiciously.

The girl grinned, “probably because I am; we moved here last year.”

Chloe chose that moment to return with Frau Whistler. “Bist du verletzt, Fräulein?”

“I’m fine really, I promise. Just a busted wheel on the bike and a bit of a bump.”

“She’s British,” I offer to my teacher.

Frau Whistler’s eyebrows go up. “Ah, well, ok then. No ambulance needed I suppose. You really should come inside and dry off, honey, you look soaked to the bone.”

“I’ll need to call my dad,” the girl admitted, hauling a sleek racing bike behind her. “Might as well, cheers.”

We made it inside the restaurant and I was immediately hit by just how warm it was out of the arctic blast outside. The small blonde lent her bike against the wall and wandered over to the bar to speak to one of the waitresses in rapid German. A moment later, the employee handed her a telephone and she began dialing.

“Who is she?” Chloe asked.

“No clue,” I shrugged. “Some Brit chick that moved over here apparently. She seems amazingly not bothered after nailing that barrier.”

“I’ve seen worse landings at regionals,” she giggled. “Coming?”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” I shake my head. “Can you grab me a hot chocolate, please?”

Chloe shoots me a thumbs up and heads for the table where the others are busy warming themselves. After a cursory search, I find the bathrooms down a side corridor and let myself in. Like most that I’ve found so far in Germany, they’re spotlessly clean. It makes a change to back home for sure and one I’m grateful for. I find myself a stall and get to work. Whilst I’m doing my business, I hear the outer door bang as another person enters.

I’ve never been particularly fond of public restrooms as you can imagine. Ever since I started hormones it’s gotten far worse and I try to avoid them where possible. Right now I’m hungry and cold, and I’d rather not wait for them to leave so I flush and head for the sinks.

As I wash my hands, I marvel at my reflection in the mirror. The old looking-glass has always been a bit of a two-headed monster for me; I look far more female than I ever expected I would, and that fills me with more joy than you can possibly imagine. One of the downsides of the beast named dysphoria, however, is that I still see elements of Alex that nobody else possibly ever will.

The girl looking back is just that; a girl. The ironic part is that I’m still trying to be him. I think Alex truly died that day I hit the dining room floor at school. In many ways, I’m a new person now; Holly unchained.

I’m snapped from my introspection when a toilet flushes behind me and a cubicle latch slides. Color me flabbergasted when the bike girl appears.

She looks momentarily surprised to see me, then seems to just shrug and joins me at the sink. I glance past her and spot the row of urinals confirming we are, in fact, in the boys' room.

“So you’re on a school trip, right?” she asks casually, giving me a heavy dose of side-eye.

“Uh, yeah,” I agree, more than a little confused myself. “Like visiting the Christmas markets and history stuff.”

“Cool,” she grins. “I was up in Köln last week with my friends from school, it’s really fun.”

“It was,” I agree. “We were there on Monday. We’re doing the Vulkan Express today and a bunch of other stuff before we head home.”

“I’ve raced that train a few times,” bike girl grins. “Though normally road conditions are a lot better than it is now; flippin’ snow.” she pauses as she adjusts her blonde braid, “Seems like a really long way to come for a school trip.”

I dry up and make sure my own hair is still in one piece after being blasted by the train journey. In this case, not looking more like Holly than normal. “Our school is pretty good with its trips. Coming to actual Germany really makes taking German kinda make more sense, you know?”

The girl nods, “Back when I used to live in England we did a school exchange with a place in Virginia, Grottoes.”

“Other coast,” I grin, it's a big country.”

“Sure is,” she admits as she heads towards the door.

“You sure you’re ok after that crash?” I ask. “That looked really rough…”

She chuckles and flexes with machismo that seems quite alien to one so petite. “I’m pretty tough. It takes a lot more than that to break Drew Bond.”

We walk back out into the main restaurant and I glance back at the door and there is no mistake; it’s certainly the boys bathroom. I’m more confused than ever.

A tall man in a thick down coat with a hat and gloves is wheeling the girl’s bike outside to a station wagon with a bike rack.

“Oh hey dad, you got here fast,” she grins, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

The man smiles and ruffles her hair, “Had to pop down to grab some parts in Koblenz, you beating yourself up again, eh kiddo?”

The girl Drew shrugs and shakes her head, “Snow came down quicker than I expected. It was a good job the train had already stopped.”

“Do not tell your mother you nearly hit a train, she would kill me.” the man sighed. “Who’s your friend?”

She looks over at me and grins, “You never did actually say…”

I extend my hand to her father, “Uh, Alex Winters, sir.”

“American?” he raises an eyebrow, taking my hand rather gently. “A long way from home, I see.”

“School trip, Dad; they’re off the Vulkan.”

“Ah,” the man replied with a nod of understanding. “Dave Bond, nice to meet you, young lady, I hope this one wasn’t too much trouble.”

I blush and glance around hoping nobody heard ‘young lady’, “No sir, not at all. We’re just glad we can help.”

“Right, come on you, the dad taxi awaits.”

Drew turned and gave me a little wave and a grin, “It was nice to meet you, and cheers for pulling me out of a snow drift. Have a good time on the rest of your trip.”

I returned the wave, “Watch out for low-flying walls huh?”

“I’ll do my best.”

Drew’s dad muttered something I could barely hear, although it sounded a lot like, “No he won’t.”

I must have misheard…. right?

“She off?”

“Huh?” I turned around and spotted Chloe appearing by my shoulder.

“That was a girl, right?”

“Yeah,” Chloe replied slowly, giving me a funny look. “Why?”

“She came into the guys' bathroom.”

“So did you,” she pointed out.

I looked out across the parking lot at the girl helping her dad load the bike onto the roof-mounted carrier. Even in her bulky winter riding clothes she looked very obviously female. The bike loaded, she skipped around to the front passenger seat and hopped in beside her father.

“You don’t think…?”

Chloe looked at me and narrowed her eyes. “What, you mean?”

I suddenly felt like a certain web-loving superhero meeting their doppelganger. You know the one scene where they both stand there, pointing a finger at each other? I’m pretty sure that was me in that moment.

* * *

“And so, when Germany was reunified in 1990, they ended up deciding to replace the old monument to a future German unity with a replica of the original equestrian statue of Emperor Wilhelm the First. It was a little controversial, but it speaks to an older history from a different time.”

Frau Whistler was telling us all about the massive bronze statue of the King of Prussia from, like, the 1860s. While we were working on dividing America with a nice civil war, Old Bill here was unifying Germany.

We were in Koblenz, having returned from our adventure in the Brohltal without further kamikaze cyclists. Right now we were at the point where the Mosel and Rhine rivers meet, the Deutsches Eck, or German Corner. The corner itself was a humongous monument right on the riverbank, which included flags of all the German states and even bits of the Berlin Wall!

“So who can tell me who the first Chancellor of Germany was and why they were significant?” Herr Norton asks, glancing around the group.

The crowd was silent.

“I know one of their Chancellors but it’s the wrong answer.” Tina giggled quietly beside me.

“Miss Booth?” Norton zeroed in on my less-than-subtle friend.

“Uh…”

“Bismarck,” I hissed to her.

“Bismarck?”

“Correct,” Norton smiled appreciatively. “At least some of you paid attention during our visits. “Otto von Bismarck was the first chancellor and, under Wilhelm the First, helped oversee the unification of Germany. So popular in fact, he served for twenty years.”

“Thanks,” Tina whispered back. “I suck at the numbers and names crap.”

“Stop being such an easy target.”

The blonde grinned at me and all but confirmed she would not cease her shenanigans. I rolled my eyes and returned my attention to our teachers as they further lectured on the mustachioed leaders of Germany.

“I know many of you thought we would release you into the great city here for a few hours of shopping but I’m going to have to disappoint you.” Herr Norton began, clapping his hands together.

He waited a few moments for the groans to emanate from the assembled teens before his smirk gave the game away. “Now we didn’t drag you out here just to look at the Eck, I hope you’ve wrapped up warm because we’re going to be boarding a riverboat shortly and taking a special Christmas tour.”

He wasn’t kidding. Now if you’re American like me, we have a certain idea of riverboats, and these ones didn’t have any paddles, gamblers or gators. No, here in Germany, river tourism is a whole different beast. In Koblenz, it seems like the whole waterfront along the Rhine and Mosel here has jetties and terminals, where tourist boats arrive and depart, taking people on aquatic adventures up and down the river. Some were massive vessels that clearly took passengers on far longer, multi-day cruises to the far north and south, while others were piddling little vessels that looked like an errant barge would see them off in a heartbeat.

Ours, the rather aptly named Wilhelm, was moored just south of the monument on the Rhine side of the corner. The ship was perhaps two hundred feet long and had a raised bridge sitting atop its upper deck. The entire thing was draped in fairy lights and looked incredibly warm and inviting. Well, it’s not hard to look inviting when your backdrop is gently falling snow landing in the black frigid waters of the river.

“That looks cold,” Emma observed with a frown, eying the water as we walked down the jetty toward the ship.

“I don’t think they expect you to take a swim,” Tina pointed out, balling up snow from one of the railings and sending her makeshift missile into the dark water below with a deeply satisfying plop. “Better hope we don’t spring a leak.”

“I’ll save you room on my door, Booth,” Chloe grinned as she playfully poked our blonde menace.

The Wilhelm was just as festive inside as it had appeared on the outside. Inside were Christmas trees, tinsel, and fairy lights strung from every possible place. The atmosphere was warm and cosy and the air smelled sweet and spicy.

Besides our party, there appeared to be a good number of tourists and other visitors aboard, most of whom were clearly adults. It appeared that for them, the Glühwein was already flowing.

Once the crew and passengers were settled, we pulled away from the quay and into the flow of the Rhine proper. With the snow falling everywhere, it was a really beautiful sight. Light Christmas music was playing over speakers and the vibration of the engines as they battled against the river’s current was pulsing through the deck.

The festively attired bar staff rather tragically denied me Glühwein this time, despite being of legal age here in Germany. (It’s almost like they suspected we were on a school trip, Die Ratten). I gratefully accepted a big mug of hot chocolate, however, with appropriate grace.

When I say this is hot chocolate, please do not misunderstand me. As a woman who appreciates her chocolate, I consider myself quite the connoisseur. This mug however was on point; marshmallows wallowing in cream, coated with chocolate sauce, and shaved dark chocolate capped the most luxuriously velvety drink you can possibly imagine. Frankly, I‘d take this over the booze.

For the first part of our journey, we looped up and around the Deutsches Eck, getting a wildly new perspective on the impressive monument to our vessel’s namesake. After a great photo op, our literal Steamboat Willy turned south and began to slog its way upstream.

The interior of the main cabin was becoming stiflingly hot with all the merrymakers, some of whom were becoming a little merrier than two in the afternoon would typically justify. Well, it is Christmas I suppose.

The gang and I made our way out onto the foredeck, our hot chocolates in hand to find some cooler, less congested space to ourselves. Did I just call us ‘the gang?’ hm, look at me being part of a social network, next I’ll be running for Homecoming Queen.

The Wilhelm chugged onward, passing the imposing Ehrenbreitstein Fortress, perched high atop the eastern cliffs. The snow was falling gently as we stared out over the water in open wonder. Between my chocolate and the warmth of my clothing, I was pretty darn cozy. If I pushed myself, I could actually admit that I was content.

We slogged south against the current for some time. Along our way, beautiful Schlosses lined the hillsides of the Rhine valley. There was something timeless about this place. Even now as we shared the mighty waterway with commercial shipping heading up and downstream, you could almost imagine those ancient fortresses looking down upon and defending shipping hundreds of years ago as the tides of Europe shifted. Compared to America, this place just felt… ancient.

We were approaching the turn at Spay where the mighty river swung to the west before curving back south again. The place held a timeless ancient quality only further cemented by the imposing shape of Schloss Marksburg, keeping watchful eye on the world below.

The snow swirled above us and the world seemed quieter, despite the rumble of the ship’s engines.

“Really is kinda beautiful, isn’t it?” Emma mused quietly, echoing all of our thoughts.

“Stunning,” Sarah agreed. “Merry Christmas, everyone.”

The last six months of my life have contained a fair few real moments. Moments where I felt like I was becoming a real person; recognized and seen. Moments I shared with my Mom and Dad, my brother, and my sister. Moments I spent with my best friends and… my boyfriend. Somehow, this moment together with friends felt truly special.

In this moment I didn't feel different. Sure, I was here as Alex, but they all knew me and included me regardless. My…problem wasn’t even mentioned. These girls didn’t accept me; the word suggests some level of tolerance or something different that has to be overcome. No, rather, they included me. To them, I was a friend and my inclusion was a default. For me, that felt like a pretty awesome feeling.

“We need to get a picture of this, to commemorate the moment.” Chloe pointed out. Shifting slightly out of the way of some new, semi-inebriated passengers that had joined the growing crowd on the foredeck.

“I have a camera” I offered, pulling the little digital out of my coat pocket.

“We need someone to take it,” she pointed out, glancing around the crowd.

Two drunk Germans jostled us at that moment, nearly causing Tina to stumble over. The man stared at the angry blonde for a moment with a drunken glaze over his eyes before mumbling ‘schuldigung and swaying back away. Apparently, drunken office parties aren’t just a preserve of us Americans.

Chloe managed to convince an elderly couple to take our photograph, while there was still breathing room on the port railing. Realizing we had limited time before it became too crowded, we bundled together in a group, all hugs and smiles, with the castle high above us in the snow.

I positioned myself toward the rear of the group because I wanted to keep my clothes out of the photograph. With my wooly hat and my hair spilling out of it in the light breeze, I reasoned that I looked about as feminine as the rest if you didn’t see my Alex drab below. The only problem is that Chloe and Sarah were both taller than me.

There was a small step for kids that ran along the gunwale to allow them to see over the side so I stepped up on it to allow myself to be seen between the girls more evenly. With Emma and Tina up front, we had a decent little gaggle of grinning rosy-cheeked faces aimed at the camera.

Yeah, that is a weirdly specific amount of buildup for a photograph, isn’t it? Why am I setting this up so much? Does a boy come out and remark just how similar I am to the other girls, immediately outing me as one of them? Does Gary appear to kick off World Gender War Three? No, it was actually far worse than that - if you can possibly imagine - although I think if you’re smart you noticed exactly what happens next.

The drunken office workers to our left, all of whom had clearly been on the booze long before they boarded our cruise let off an almighty cheer, and the guy who nearly flattened Tina wobbled violently towards us again. What happened felt like slow motion, even to this day.

The idiot staggered right and Tina, sensing impending fuckery, took a step forward and out of his path. He impacted Chloe fairly heavily, which sent her into me. My position on the little step had me just out of balance enough for the unthinkable to happen.

Feeling yourself fall and being unable to stop it is one of the most unpleasant experiences in your life, believe me. As I tipped backward, I let out a squeal before disappearing over the railing. The fall itself was perhaps fifteen feet, but it felt like it took an eternity.

Hitting the water was a blur of sensations. The most memorable feeling I can describe is the sensation of the air leaving my lungs as the shock of the icy water enveloped me. I was overwhelmed with sounds, sensations, and panic in less than a second.

I slipped beneath the surface and was enveloped by the inky blackness of the frigid Rhine. There was no sound, no light, and no sensation of movement. I felt like I was suspended in the void of space, my body, weightless and insensate. The truth is I was underwater for perhaps a second or two before my head broke the surface once again.

I reentered the world of the living to a riot of sound and sensation that assaulted my hypothermic mind like a flashbang grenade. The ship’s engines were roaring as it reversed throttle and the wake slapped me in the face, momentarily choking me as I swallowed a mouthful of murky water.

Above me, I could hear the ship’s horn blasting out alarm and shouts of “Mann über Bord!” echoing out into the still air.

The huge white hull was passing by me less than five feet away and I managed to just about recover enough of my senses to kick away, lest I be sucked below and dragged into the propellers. My limbs felt heavy and all of my motions felt delayed, as though relayed by elastic cable before reaching my muscles.

I spluttered and coughed up a lungful of river water and waved an arm up at the faces staring down at me over the railing. I distinctly remember that moment… my hand in front of my face, reaching up and yet, unable to form words to call for help no matter how hard I tried. In that moment I felt true panic, true terror that I might not be saved.

The world around me got fuzzier and more distant, the sounds and wails of sirens and ship’s whistles less solid. I could feel myself slipping, tiredness starting to encroach on my mind. I did not mentally process it at the time, but hypothermia was beginning to take effect, my body shutting down to protect my vital organs against the cold. I had been in the water barely two minutes and I was already beginning to succumb to its icy grip.

A splash of water hit me in the face as a bright orange shape landed in front of me, barely two feet away. It was enough of a shock to bring me back from the fog and I grabbed out for the object with desperate, thick, tingling fingers. That object? A plastic life ring.

I felt the ship getting vaguely bigger, rather than recognizing that I was being pulled through the water towards it. All my foggy mind knew was that I needed to hold on to the ring as if my life depended on it. In this case, it absolutely did.

The next thing I knew, strong hands were hauling me up and out of the water. Somehow being up in the air, I felt suddenly far colder than when I had been in the water. Before I knew it, I was being hauled over the railing and onto the deck.

"Fräulein, können Sie mir hören? Wie fühlen Sie sich?”

“Alex!” A voice screamed, “Holly!”

I blinked and stared up at the bearded man in confusion. “I… don’t.”

“Ah, English,” he nodded sternly. “Fräulein, you can hear me? Are you hurt?”

“Just… cold,” I chattered, my body starting to shake violently out of my control as I was swaddled in blankets.

Two human-shaped blurs appeared beside me, I’m pretty sure Tina and Chloe. “Holly, shit, are you ok?”

“Mädchen, bitte, give her room, please.” The man ordered, waving the two off.

I could hear the engines revving up once more as the deck below me started to vibrate. “I… slipped… fell.” I chattered.

“We know, we got you fast, ok? We’re going to get you inside and warm now, we are returning to our berth.”

“Holly,” Another voice called out, “Let me through, she’s my student.”

Frau Whistler appeared over me, her face looking white as a sheet. “Dear god, you’re ok. I was so worried, how are you? Are you okay?”

“She’s going to be ok, She needs to get warm and out of the wet clothing,” the crewmember directed to my educator. “You will help me get her inside?”

“Of course,” Frau Whistler replied, her eyes still wide with panic.

I felt myself lifted and carried inside and out of the cold, the warm interior almost as much shock as the ice of the river. Our little entourage made its way past a few startled passengers and through a doorway before heading down some stairs and into a crew area below decks.

I was placed gently on a sofa and surrounded immediately by Frau Whistler and the girls.

“Holly, shit, are you ok?” Tina begged, her eyes wild. “I thought we lost you.”

“Uh… cold,” I chattered, “cold but not dead, I think.”

The crewmen handed Frau Whistler some blankets. “I uh… you should probably get her out of those clothes, I will give you space; keep others out till you are suitable.”

My teacher nodded and the man left, closing the hatchway behind him.

My body was still fairly stiff and out of sync, I was, without fanfare, stripped to my underwear and wrapped in big heavy blankets.

“You certainly know how to make a splash.” Frau Whistler observed, a little more relaxed.

“It was those drunk guys,” Chloe spat as she towel-dried my river-soaked hair. “Those idiots shoved her overboard, they should be arrested.”

“When I heard screaming,” Frau Whistler grimaced, “someone said a girl went overboard… I feared the worst.”

“Uh… girl?”

Fiddleshits.

There was a knock at the door and Frau Whistler moved away to allow the crewman back in now that I was semi-decent.

“Girl?” I asked Tina thickly.

She gave me a look like I was confused. “Yeah, you’re a… oh fuck.”

Chloe raised an eyebrow before sharing her expression. “Oh my, I think… maybe it’s ok? We can just say it was a mistake, right?”

Frau Whistler returned with the crewman carrying a huge hot chocolate. “For her,” he gestured, “I thought she might still be cold.”

“Thank you,” I croaked, reaching out to grasp the mug. “I’m sorry for the fuss.”

“Ach so, it is not your fault, Fräulein,” the man shook his head and scowled. “We were getting close to cutting that party off, The purser should never have never allowed them onboard like that.”

“What is happening now?” Frau Whistler asked.

“We will be returning to Koblenz, the problem is we are almost half way on the excursion so, it will be around an hour or so with the current.” The man paused and listened to an earpiece. “The Captain is going to radio... No… ah, excellent.”

“What’s going on?” Frau Whistler asked.

The man smiled, “A Doctor has come forward, the Captain is having them brought down now.”

“I think I’m ok, really,” I gasp, realizing the potential implications.

“We insist, Fräulein, I am sure your Lehrerin also. You have hypothermia and it is for your own best health to get checked over.”

I shot my teacher a pained look but she mistranslated it and nodded somberly. “Thank you, tell your captain that we’re incredibly thankful for his assistance.”

“I will leave you to it,” the man said politely, “see that she warms up. I have… well, we have some dry clothes that should fit. It is not much but it might help her modesty. I would have found something more… plain, but it was all we had to spare unless she wishes to wear overalls from our engineer Rudi.”

The man deposited a bundle on the small table and smiled politely before returning above deck.

I’m about to be examined by some dodgy Deutsch Doktor on a ship, I’m not wearing any clothes and the whole flipping ship thinking I’m a girl. To cap it off, knocked overboard by stupid drunken idiots that will likely result in the Polizei being involved.

Well, shit.

Welcome back from Christmas break! I really wanted to release this episode Christmas week but I was several hundred miles from my PC with screaming toddlers to cuddle. I've been dying to see what you all think of this one and a big special thanks to Maddy Bell for allowing me to cameo her legendary heroine!
Alyssa.

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Fake It Till You Make It - 29 - It’s a Girl?

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Twenty Nine - It’s a Girl?

"You have got to be kidding me..." I chattered through gritted teeth as I stared at the others with thinly veiled incredulity. "On what planet do you think that this is a good idea?"

Ok, I admit, trying to look incredulous while shivering uncontrollably is pretty difficult. It’s worse yet when you still resemble a drowned rat and you’re wearing nothing more than your damp panties and several scratchy blankets.

Chloe shrugged but had the good grace to give me an apologetic grin, "You've got a choice of your underwear and a towel, wet clothes, or actual dry clothes. Either way, you’ll be here for twenty minutes at least, and then maybe an ambulance. Do you want me to go back and tell the nice man that the boy with boobs wants some more macho clothes?”

"But a dress?" I whined.

Ok look… it wasn't just a dress. I'm normally not opposed to dresses, but this dress, however? I've heard the old saying ‘out of the frying pan and into the fire’, but this was more ‘out of the river and into the oompah band honking, beer glugging, wurst gobbling stereotype’.

You’re wondering what it was that the crewmember brought down, aren’t you? Well you see, most of the serving staff on the passenger decks were in tourist-friendly traditional Kostum of some sort. No, not quite typical of the area, but somewhat expected by the tourists. Aboard a festive tour designed for Auslanders like us? One centered around festive Christmas magic? Total Catnip.

This meant that most of the men were in leather shorts and funny little jackets, they looked ready to slap their thighs and yodel. The women? Yeah, you guessed it, freaking Dirndls.

I eyed the black and red contraption warily. “Isn’t that a bit… much?”

Frau Whistler nodded and made a poor effort to disguise a smirk, “Your own clothes are drenched through. At least this way you will be a lot warmer. Right now, warm clothes are far more important than what those clothes are. You need to raise your core temperature and you will need to get off the ship at some point. I doubt you want to do that in your panties and a towel.”

“Doesn’t look particularly warm,” I observe, raising an eyebrow at the confounded Kleid.

“It’s got a full top under it,” Chloe pointed out unhelpfully. “It’s not like the girls will be on show,”

“Yeah because my boobs are the problem here,” I sigh.

I had to begrudgingly admit that the idea has some merit. It was warm, it is dry, and it is infinitely preferable to sitting down here below decks and missing the entire trip.

Herr Norton knocked before opening the door and leaning in. “There’s a doctor here, is she decent?”

Frau Whistler gave him a nod and he vanished for a moment before returning with a second person. The doctor was a young woman in her thirties with red hair and a garish Christmas jumper showing Rudolf doing something rather unspeakable to a Christmas tree. She was tall and thin, but not in an emaciated way, rather, with a slim dancer’s build. When she spoke, I didn’t hear a German accent.

“I hear you’ve been taking a dip in the Rhine? It is not quite the time of year for it I think!” she chuckled playfully in a soft, lilting, accent.

I shrugged weakly, “I like to be different, I guess.”

She sat down on the seat beside me and gave me a quick look over, checking my hands and feet.

“Any tingles or numbness?”

“A little,” I conceded as I wiggled my toes on command, like a performing… toe wiggler.

The doctor nodded. “That is to be expected; a little superficial frostbite that is only surface depth. It will clear up in a few days, but it might be a little sore. What is your name sweetheart?”

“Uh, Holly,?”

“You don’t seem so sure?” she grinned. “My name is Maxine, I’m from the Netherlands. You are an American, yes? What state are you from?”

I nodded, “California, and I am sure, I just…”

She raised an eyebrow but said nothing. “Ok uh Holly, I will need to do a quick exam to make sure you’ve no other injuries, but I promise that I will be brief, ok?”

She turned to the others, “Can we have a little privacy?”

Frau Whistler gathered up my shadows and escorted them out of the room on request, leaving me with dr. Maxine.

“Why are you nervous?” she started out as soon as the door closed.

“I’m uh, a lot has happened, I’m a little overwhelmed,” I admitted.

“You’re worried about more than that, yes?”

I really wish Frau Whistler was still here, but the woman seemed pleasant enough. Perhaps defense mechanisms kicked in while I was less than at peak skedaddling performance.

“The exam, uh… you should know I’m… tra…” I trailed off weakly, unable to force the words out of my mouth.

“What was that?”

“I’m transgender,” I murmured more clearly, looking away in embarrassment.

The doctor seemed mildly surprised, but instead simply smiled. “You are? Well, it is a good job that such things have absolutely no impact on your body’s reaction to extreme shifts in temperature,”

She lifted my arm and wiggled my fingers. “You see these? Boys and girls all have ten fingers and toes. So, as I don’t believe that I will need to examine your genitalia, it won’t matter for the time being. Do you mind opening the towels so I can check you over? I will be quick, if you are comfortable, of course?”

“Uh… ok.” I stammered, wide-eyed.

I’ll be honest, the doctor’s flippant dismissal of my revelation caught me absolutely off guard. Either way, I did as asked and allowed her a chance to give me a quick once-over. To her word, she was briefly and clinical and I didn’t feel much discomfort, especially as my panties did indeed stay on. Finding no additional whoopsies or whatnots, I was permitted to wrap myself up again.

While she had none of her own equipment, she managed to make do with the ship’s medical bag and her wristwatch. When she was done taking my blood pressure, she nodded to herself and gave me a grin. “I think you will live.”

“Was it in doubt?”

She smirked and shrugged casually, “Eh, not so much, but it’s better to deliver good news as an alternative to something bad, makes it sound more exciting than saying you’re fine.”

I mean, she had a point, but it’s an unusual bedside manner for sure.

“You have a little surface depth frostbite; that can come on very quickly which is not surprising given the water temperature here. According to the crewman, you were in the water for perhaps two or three minutes. Did you know some Titanic survivors only lasted four minutes in similar water temperatures?”

Well, that’s freaking grim, thanks Doc.

“I… didn’t, no,” I admit. “So I’ll get better?”

“It will tingle a bit, maybe ache but you will be ok. Wear gloves and thick socks if you’re out in the cold and it will be fine in a few days. Otherwise, you will have no lasting damage as far as I can tell.”

“Thank you.”

She grinned and started to pack her things, “Not a problem sweetie. However, I do recommend you wear more than a blanket. You’ll need to warm yourself up.”

I looked over at the dress on the table and sighed. “I think I’ve got something.”

She followed my gaze and laughed out loud. “Oh, that will be adorable.”

“Not my first choice,” I sighed. “As has been pointed out to me, it is better than nudity.”

“Quite true, though I think you will make it work.”

The doctor walked over to the door and opened it, allowing Frau Whistler and the others back in.

“Your student has a mild case of frostbite and her core temperature is a tiny bit low but she’s remarkably resilient otherwise. I suspect no lasting damage. Some rest will be sufficient, though she should move around when she feels able, to help circulation.”

“Will she need to go to the hospital?” Herr Norton asked.

The doctor made a face, “No, probably not, but I believe the captain has already called ahead for an Ambulance, yes?”

Frau Whistler nodded, “Yes, he said so.”

“Then see what the paramedics say, I will speak with them and pass on what I’ve seen.”

Well, that might be good news. I’m not looking forward to a visit to the Krankenhaus.

She turned to me and smiled, “Regardless, she should stay out of the water till at least July next time, ok?”

“I think I can manage that,” I conceded. “Thank you.”

“I must be going,” she announced, shouldering her purse. “I think my fiancé will be talking someone’s ear off about sourdough recipes and the correct moisture contents of yeast. I will meet you when the boat docks back in Koblenz.”

With that, she was gone. I had a somewhat clean bill of health and a new appreciation for the Titanic survivors. Not the way I had expected my afternoon to proceed if I was honest.

Frau Whistler looked satisfied. “I think we can forgo the hospital, but no shopping after we get back for you; off to the hotel and bed.”

The prospect of another hour down here was starting to feel rather claustrophobic. Perhaps it was the good doctor’s influence, but I was willing to concede a point on the stupid dress.

“If I put that thing on and wrap myself up with blankets, can I at least come up to the lounge to see the scenery from indoors? I promise, no more icecapades.”

Frau Whistler considered the proposal for a moment before eventually nodding. “Fine, but you’ll stay seated and you two will stay with her.”

There was a knock at the door and Frau Whistler moved off to answer it. I glared at the stupid dress lying on the table in the small crew area and sighed. I must have been lost in some post- near-death brain fog, because the idea was beginning to feel a little less awful. I am a girl after all…

“Are there tights or anything with that thing?”

Chloe checked through the pile and found a pack pinned inside the dress. “Uh, seems so, red and patterned; they look warm.”

Herr Norton appeared with Frau Whistler. “How is our swimmer doing?”

“Regretting my life choices?”

He chuckled at that, “I’m glad you’re in better humor. We were all very worried. I’ve just spoken with the Captain; they’re calling the police to handle those drunks; you shouldn’t need to even give a statement. The cruise line will take care of all of that as they have cameras on deck. As long as you’re medically sound, we’ll have you back to the hotel and resting.”

Waste the entire journey sitting down here and missing everything only to be treated like a patient the entire time? No thanks.

“Pass me the damn dress,” I sighed.

The adults made themselves scarce while Tina and Chloe helped me to get dressed. I say help… they basically treated me like a lifesize doll and stuffed me into the provided clothing, it was incredibly dignified.

My somewhat brief adventure in the waters of the Rhine had left me extremely exhausted. The cold seemed to have managed to sap all the energy it could find within my body and then some. The result? My coordination wasn’t great and my limbs felt heavy and numb.

The dress itself turned out to be surprisingly modest. It was an exact match for the outfits being worn by the servers upstairs on deck. Unlike more traditional styles for the younger woman where one’s decolletagé was on full display to the eager viewer, these more wintery-themed offerings contained a white underdress that had a higher, lace bodice and sleeves that hinted at flesh without actually exposing the wearer to the elements.

The dress itself was burgundy with hints of black trim and a matching black apron tied around the waist. Overall it looked pretty snazzy on the servers upstairs, but on me? I felt rather silly. The tights that went with it felt amazing on my poor cold legs. I conceded that it might not have been the worst idea after all.

“Considering you were in the river ten minutes ago, you don’t look half bad,” Chloe pointed out as Tina returned to drying my sodden hair.

Have you ever tried getting into a pair of tights when you’re exhausted and cannot coordinate your limbs? No? Don’t try it. Here lies no dignity, especially when you need to get help to do it.

“I guess,” I concede, glancing down at a patterned leg. I pulled one of the blankets around myself again and cradled the remaining hot chocolate in my mug. “I still feel totally wasted though.”

“You will,” Chloe admitted. “We did first aid when I was a camp counselor this summer. Hypothermia will use up all your available energy trying to keep your organs warm. It’s why people fall asleep and never wake up again.”

She wasn’t wrong, but experiencing it was another matter entirely.

“Can I do something with this hair?” Tina asked over my shoulder. “You’re already in a dress, it would be daft not to keep it tidy while it finishes drying.”

I shrugged and nodded, mostly staring off into space. With how tired I was feeling, Tina tugging on my hair was actually incredibly relaxing. I was willing to let her do whatever she wanted as long as she kept playing with it.

“Done,” she offered a few minutes later. “Just braided it up and put it out of the way. This way, you don’t look like you’ve been swimming in an industrial accident.”

“Perish the thought,” I murmured sleepily. “Do I look silly, guys?”

“God no,” Chloe smiled. “I don’t know what you look like when you’re normally all gussied up, but you look pretty good considering you nearly died, girl.”

“Well I’m glad I’ll still make it to prom,” I sigh. “Wanna help me upstairs?”

With a little help, I managed to make it to my feet and with a blanket wrapped tightly around the stupid dress, I followed the others upstairs to the main deck.

The main deck was the lowest to the waterline and appeared to be regularly used as a restaurant during normal cruises. Currently, it was being used by guests that wanted a quieter experience away from the festivities upstairs. Right now, quieter was perfect for me.

The girls helped to settle my blanket train onto one of the padded benches before Chloe vanished off to locate more hot chocolate for us. Look, this was a clear and urgent medical necessity, ok?

Right now, my reappearance had gone largely unnoticed as various passengers were caught up in their own experiences. I had no doubt that eventually, that would change when some of our group finally spotted me. I should have cared more but my exhaustion had really thrown a wrench in my Fuck Generator.

I stared out of the window for a moment, up at a castle high on the forested slopes as we passed. In the snowy mist, it looked like it was appearing out of a time vortex, a fantasy land of knights, monsters, and magic.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Tina observed, following my line of sight.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “I just wish I hadn’t messed this whole trip up.”

“Nah,” she shrugged, leaning in against me, feeling rather warm to my still-frozen corpse. “I told you that you’d make this trip more interesting.”

I rolled my eyes and leaned my head on her shoulder, “thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being friends with a weirdo like me.”

“You’re not a weirdo,” she told me firmly. “Even knowing everything I know about you, even seeing you this week trying to be a boy, I can’t see you as anything other than a girl like me. It’s as plain as day to me and anyone else that gets to know you.”

She turned and looked me in the eyes, “Do you know what bothers me the most?”

“What?”

“When you went in the river, I was so worried that I’d lose my friend Holly.”

“Aww…”

“You two look adorable,” Chloe grinned, sitting down on my other side and handing us both steaming frothy mugs. “I bring supplies and friends.”

I looked up and spotted Sarah and Emma and gave them a little smile. “I didn’t stick the landing.”

“Goof,” Emma grinned. “Seriously though, are you ok?”

“Not perfect, but I’m alive and only a little frozen.”

“Girl when you went over, it was a riot on deck. People were panicking and nobody could see you. We thought… you were gone.”

I swallowed a lump in my throat and gripped the mug Chloe had just handed me. It was hot enough to make my fingers tingle, so I guess that was progress on the sensation adventure.

“I thought I was a goner too,” I admitted sheepishly. “Even now it still feels like a blur.”

“You sure know how to keep a low profile, huh?” Sarah smirked, giving me a caring squeeze. “All anyone can talk about is the girl that went overboard. Most of our lot don’t know who it is yet.

I sighed. “That’s not going to last.”

She glanced down and spotted my red patterned tootsies poking out of the blankets I was swaddled in and raised an eyebrow.

“It’s all they had,” I murmured, blushing.

She looked up and seemed to spot my hair and her eyes widened. “What are you wearing under there?”

“The only dry clothes they had were some of the stuff the servers had,” Chloe explains. “Show ‘em, Holly.”

I handed Tina my mug, opened the blankets and kicked up a foot. “Ta da.”

“I don’t think anyone else could manage to fall off a ship into icy water and come out prettier,” Emma shook her head. “What are you going to tell the others?”

“We’re going to tell them that this was all they had and it’s this – or Alex,” she emphasized, “is at risk of further cold.”

“You think they’re going to believe that this is a boy being forced to wear it for the sake of dry clothes?” Sarah raised an eyebrow.

Tina shrugged. “We can say we did his hair and made him look girlier to avoid embarrassment. That Frau Whistler asked us to give Alex cover given that we’re friends so he can get back to the hotel in one piece without being made fun of.”

“It’s thin but it’s possible,” Emma nodded. “People currently think it is a girl that went overboard… we are only giving them what they want.”

I stared out of the window at the falling snow while the girls debated my potential cover stories. The truth was, I was in a rather spectacular pickle. I really do manage to collect those, don’t I?

As it stood, anyone I met in Germany only seemed to see a teenage girl. To be frank, that was what anyone saw these days. I had rather spectacularly made myself center stage with my swan dive off the boat here, which made that even more visible than usual. The problem was that I had at least thirty-five people that still thought I was Alex the boy.

“Guess I have to butch it up,” I sighed, rejoining the conversation.

“If you can act boyish in a dress then I’m Ronald Reagan,” Tina chuckled.

Yeah, she certainly had a point there.

By the time we were approaching Koblenz again, I was feeling a great deal better. The warmth and sugar of the hot chocolate had done a great deal to replenish my depleted stores, and despite my embarrassment, the tights and dress were helping a great deal too.

Have you ever tried staying still as a teenager? It’s next to impossible at the best of times and especially hard when you’re on a trip in a strange new place with exciting sights and sounds; Essentially, you’re a cat. The doctor had even told me that I really should move around when I felt able, so in honor of my circulatory system, I had decided to do just that.

Not wanting to risk matters by going outside, I kept my roaming to the lower deck and the enclosed area of the upper deck. Most of our lot were outside enjoying the sights, so I had a relatively free roam. The few I did see, didn’t seem to pay me any attention.

I felt a little bit like a lower-class passenger on the Titanic, to borrow from the doc’s wonderful example. Here I was, wandering around with braided hair, in a dress, and with a blanket thrown over my shoulders like a shawl. It made some people look at me, but in general nobody seemed to care.

Well, almost nobody.

“What are you wearing?”

Gary was standing there, his eyes roaming up and down my body taking in the current lack of Alex.

“Uh, nothing,” I admitted sheepishly, tugging the blanket tighter around my shoulders.

“Is that a dress?”

“It’s all they had that was dry, what’s your problem?” Tina asked sharply.

Gary looked between the pair of us and shrugged. “Whatever, I was just going to ask if you were ok.”

“He’s fine,” Tina pointed out, “How’s about you give him some space, huh?”

“A dress though?”

“Do you want me to repeat myself?”

Gary gave me one last look that I couldn’t place before holding up his hands in surrender. “Fine, whatever.” he shrugged. “Not my problem.”

Tina bristled as he walked away, “What’s his problem?”

“He… knows,” I admitted quietly. “The only one that does.”

“That’s Meg and Kara’s brother, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah, and he found out a few weeks ago… by accident. We used to be close, but he didn’t react well.”

“But he has kept quiet so far?”

I smiled darkly, “The benefits of having a scary big brother prepared to make threats of bodily harm. He could convince you to keep the secret of Jimmy Hoffa.”

“Fair enough,” she shrugged.

“Excuse me?”

I looked over my shoulder and spotted three girls looking a little uncertain. I recognized them from the trip, but I didn’t know their names. “Yes?”

“Are you…” one asked before pausing and looking at her friend. “Did you, were you… you fell overboard right?”

Here we go… “Yeah,” I admit with a sheepish grin. “Some drunk knocked me over the railing.”

“You’re from our school, aren’t you? I’m pretty sure I recognize you,” the other pointed out.

“I…” The third opens her mouth and looks confused, I know exactly what the next words are going to be. “You’re not in our class, are you… .”

Joy.

“No,” I sigh and gesture at the dress. “This isn’t my choice, it’s all they had. It was this or blankets and stay downstairs and miss it all.”

The girl looks a little surprised, “Oh, wow uh… you’d never guess.”

“We convinced Alex to do it,” Chloe steps in. “You know, people were saying that a girl went overboard so… why not give them what they expect. You know; make it less embarrassing.”

The girl raised her eyebrows, “Sure, I guess that makes sense.” She looked at me and smiled. “I’m glad you’re ok and… don’t take this the wrong way, but you look really good.”

“Uh, yeah,” I mumble, trying to look dissatisfied with the whole thing. “You know, it’s kinda embarrassing.”

“Oh I can imagine,” her friend offered. “You’re really brave.”

I sat down on one of the chairs and shrugged. “I just didn’t want to miss the tour stuff.”

The girls gave me a weird look and said their goodbyes before wandering off.

“What was that about?” I frowned.

Tina sat down beside me and put an arm around my shoulder. “Girl, when you’re trying to look like a boy taking one for the team, try not to smooth your skirt under your butt and cross your legs when sitting down, you dumb bimbo.”

Fucking hell.

* * *

By the time we pulled into the jetty in Koblenz, it was pretty much common knowledge that Alex was wearing a dress. Yeah, you can imagine how that works with a bunch of teenagers; as soon as one person knew, they suddenly all did. The girls were tittering and the boys were out and out making jokes. Honestly, I was rather considering jumping in the river again just to avoid them all.

“Hey Alex, you gonna serve our dinner tonight?” Kyle, one of the brain-dead morons, called over to raucous laughter as our teachers gathered us together before we departed the Wilhelm.

I held my tongue, and I tried to keep my ‘poor wounded, and uncomfortable Alex’ portrayal as solid as possible despite my appearance.

“Nah, but he makes a great serving girl,” another cackled.

“Ignore them,” Tina muttered beside me. “Not worth the time.”

She was right, but kids will be kids, and it was getting on my nerves. Not so much because it was hurting me as Holly, but that I was having to still be Alex like this. Somehow, that felt more incongruous and absurd.

Between my hair and the dress, I was pretty much presenting full Holly to the world. As far as anyone else could tell, I was just a girl. To them? I was still their male classmate and had to pretend as such; people really are that blind and dumb. Do you know how hard it is to be presenting as yourself and having to act like you don’t like it?

By the time we were ready to disembark I was truly fed up with being the butt of jokes. I wouldn’t mind, but none of them were particularly original.

“Is this you coming out as gay? Did your near-death experience make you want to stop living a lie?”

“You want a date for prom?”

“You’ll make some guy a great wife one day.”

“Hey, does this mean you can’t do math anymore?”

It really does get freaking old, and the temptation to scream that they were all sexist pigs was very strong indeed. The weird part was that I knew they likely would never say these things to a real girl. A boy they could see as feminine or less masculine? Totally fair game.

Frau Whistler, the Dutch Doctor and one of the crew members escorted me ashore as soon as the Wilhelm tied up in Koblenz. Much to my deepest joy, there was an ambulance and a police car waiting on the pier, just as promised. I do manage to leap from one frying pan to another don’t I?

On the bright side, I was finally free of my classmates and their clever comments, but I wasn’t particularly keen on the idea of going to a German hospital. No commentary on socialized healthcare, to be frank I rather love the idea. No, my bigger issue was me trans, them doctors. The potential for difficult, awkward, and just plain uncomfortable situations was really rather high.

“Here, you take a seat here Fräulein, let me take a look at you.” The lady paramedic smiled pleasantly, offering me a hand to climb into the back of their shiny new Krankenwagen.

“So they told us you are Americanerin, here on holiday, yes? You took a bit of a swim?”

“She was pushed overboard,” Frau Whistler pointed out, “She was in the water perhaps three minutes before they got her out”

“Let’s take a look at you shall we?” The medic offered, pulling the door closed behind us. “Your name, Fräulein?”

“Uh, Alex Winters, Ma’am,” I offered, sticking to my legal name, given the rather official circumstances.

“Can you take off the Strumpfhosen? I will need to see your legs, Alex.”

Strumpfhosen… what are… oh, tights!

“Uh, sure,” I shrugged, reaching up under my skirts and rolling the tights down my legs as demurely as possible.

“So there is a little redness to your extremities, this is pretty superficial, you’re very lucky,” she explained as she fiddled with my tootsies. “Sensation? Any numbness?”

“A little,” I admitted cautiously.

“It looks like your Doctor de Vries was right,” The medic declared, removing her latex gloves. “You get to skip a trip to our hospital eh?”

“Uh, good, I guess?” I smiled nervously. “So you think that I’m going to be ok?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “ There may be just a little discomfort for a few days. Keep yourself warm and wear gloves and warm clothing if you are going outside.”

“Thank you so much,” Frau Whistler offered. “Her parents would kill me if I brought her home damaged.”

“She is not the first person in the river this season and she will not be the last,” The medic sighed. “It’s surprisingly common, although usually they do not that often fall off boats.”

“I like to be different,” I offered, trying to find a classy way to pull my tights back into place.

Paperwork signed, I was allowed to exit the ambulance. All solved eh? You thought that was it? Did I get away with the entire thing? Pft, no.

“Fräulein? Haben Sie einen Moment Zeit?”

Shit.

A pair of Polizei officers were stood there waiting for me the second I set foot on the sidewalk.

“Die Mädchen sind Amerikanerin,” The medic called over to them as she closed up the back and walked around to hop in the cab with her partner, a grumpy chap who never spoke to me the entire time we were there.

“Ah, American,” the officer smiled. “You are the girl who end up in the river?”

“Uh, yes,” I admitted cautiously, glancing over at Frau Whistler.

“You can talk to them,” she smiled reassuringly before turning back to the officers. “I am her legal guardian, Jenny Whistler, her teacher? We are on a school trip from the US.”

“Sehr Gut,” the man nodded, pulling out a notepad. “You can recount the events, Bitte?”

“Well, I was just minding my own business… my friends and I were posing for a photograph and the guy stumbled into us.” I shrugged nervously. “I mean, I don’t remember a great deal.”

“Would you say that the group was drinking or misbehaving?”

I glanced over at Frau Whistler, who gave me a nod. “Yes sir, I think they were drunk. They were slurring their speech, singing, and unsure of their footing; one bumped into us twice before I got… well, you know.”

“I see,” the officer concluded, tapping his pen against his pad. “The Captain, he has given us videotape of the incident and the line wishes to press charges. Your statement is useful but we won’t need you for court. Do you have identification?”

Gulp.

“Not with us, Officer,” Frau Whistler stepped in. “I’m keeping our passports in the hotel safe. I do have my business card however if you need our contact details?”

The man accepted the offered card and tucked it into his notebook. He glanced over at his partner who shrugged and nodded. “I think we will be sufficient, ah, Frau Whistler. If we need more we will contact you, I have your telefon yes?”

“You do,” Frau Whistler smiled, putting her arm around my shoulder. “If that’s everything I would like to take Alex back to the hotel, she has had a bad enough day.”

“Of course,” the officer smiled, “Gute Besserung, Fräulein.”

“Er, Danke.”

Frau Whistler guided me away from the dockside and off towards the road where the bus was parked waiting.

“I guess I got off lucky there,” I admitted, glancing back as the Polizei officers spoke to some of the crew.

“A little, but with the cruise line wishing to press charges, you should be fine.” She squeezed my shoulder and shook her head. “What are we going to do with you, Holly Winters? This has turned into a real pickle.”

I glanced down at the fabric of my frock sticking out of the blanket I was still wearing. “I could join the circus?”

“You don’t have any useful talents,” she shook her head. “Now a touring comedy show, perhaps.”

She might have a point there.

I never actually did get to see what they did to those drunks, but I’m pretty sure they were sobering up pretty quickly. Truth be told, I think that I managed to get off rather lightly when it came to the medics and the police.

I really do manage to make a real pickle out of things, don’t I? Trust me, this isn’t the way I would have done things. Like it or not, the circumstances were such that I was going to have to tough it out and find a way to make do. No matter how I cut it, there was a cat somewhere and it was missing a bag.

We rejoined the bus and I found a spot by myself near the front as we merged out into the city traffic. I really didn’t want to feed them any further ammo by sitting with the girls which might cause me to slip and act like, well, me. Nor did I want to face more bullshit by sitting with the guys. Instead, I sat close to the front and I glowered. This had not been a bright idea, despite suggestions to the contrary.

Other than Frau Whistler checking on me during the journey, I was pretty much left to brood in peace. I was reasonably sure that she had heard a few of the comments herself. When she stopped by to check on me, there was a look on her face that seemed to be a mixture of frustration and displeasure. Truly, I know how she felt.

We made it back to the hotel a little after four in the afternoon, and my intent was to make a beeline for my room for a hot shower and a change of clothes. As you can imagine, that was never going to happen when I was monkey of the month.

“Yo Alex,” Steve called, jogging to catch up to me. “Wait up.”

“Want to poke fun too?” I asked without looking back. “I’ve heard quite a lot of them so it better be original.”

“Chill dude, wanted to see how you’re doing, you know? The whole taking a dunk in the Rhine in the wintertime is pretty metal.”

I stopped walking and turned around to face him, a little surprised by actual concern. “Yeah, I’m ok… mostly; thanks, I guess.”

“Cool,” he grinned. “You know, you kinda make a good-looking chick….”

I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes, “come on, not you too.”

Steve frowned and looked a little confused. “Dude…”

I made a face, “What?”

“Could you not stand like that? It’s weird, dude.”

I glanced at the floor-to-ceiling mirror next to the reception desk and blanched. I was standing with my weight on my left hip and my arms were indeed crossed… under my boobs. I looked like a pissed-off girl, not… a boy.

“Uh, I don’t know what you mean,” I gruffed, standing up straight and hunching, “I’m not doing anything.”

“Uh, sure,” he frowned, looking more than a little uncertain.

“I’m gonna… go.” I gesture toward the elevator. “I’ll… yeah.”

I walked off and hit the button. When I stepped into the car, I looked back out and Steve was still looking my way. That was weird, double weird with extra bacon.

Ugh, boys!

I had gotten my clothes and stuff back from Frau Whistler, so I was able to use my keycard to get into my room. After dumping the soggy bag in the bathroom, I flopped over on the bed and closed my eyes. Had this just been one afternoon? I wasn’t even sure how I was going to call Mom and tell her what happened.

I pulled myself upright and tugged at the laces on my dress to no avail. It wasn’t that they were too tight, but rather that it hurt my fingers to try and unlace them. With a sigh, I pulled myself to my feet and went back out into the corridor to elicit help.

I knocked on the door and waited for an answer. Eventually, the door opened and I marched straight inside. “I need help getting this thing off,” I sighed dramatically. “I love it, but I need out of this thing before any more weird shit happens; I swear Steve was like five minutes away from asking me out.”

“Uh, Alex…”

I turned to look at Sarah confused, “We’re alone now, what’s with the Alex?”

She looked past my shoulder and a flash of uncertainty crossed her face. I suddenly had that feeling of dread you experience when you realize that the monster is right behind you. In this case, I had a pretty good idea of what I’d find.

Slowly, I turned around. Sitting on Sarah’s bed were two girls. Two girls that were not Tina, Chloe, or Emma…

“Oh shit.”

“Alex, this is Cleo and Hannah,” Sarah offered, gesturing at the two. “You guys know Alex, right?”

“You’re the guy that fell in the water, right? The redhead sitting closest asked, inclining her head as she regarded me. “They said it was a girl at first, nobody knew who it was. Now you’re here… in a dress.”

“It was all they had that was dry,” I pointed out lamely. “I didn’t pick it.”

“No, sure you didn’t,” she shrugged. “You look pretty convincing for a guy in a dress.”

“We made sure he didn’t look stupid, you know?” Sarah interjected, grinning like the world’s worst poker player. “Tina braided his hair so it looked more like… you know.”

“Hey, look can I get some help out of this stuff?” I asked, wiggling my fingers. “I can’t quite grip the laces, they’re on too tight and my fingers are still funny.”

“That’s a really pretty dress,” The redhead pointed out, standing up and walking over for a closer inspection. “I’m Cleo by the way, and that’s Hannah,” she offered, gesturing over her shoulder at a mousy brunette a little taller than Tina.

“Uh, hey,” I bro nodded… ineffectually.

“Say, they did a pretty good job with all of this,” she offered, looking me up and down before grinning broadly. “They gave you a pretty decent rack too.”

I turned red and made a face, “Er, I dunno about that.”

Cleo stepped closer, “Let me help with those laces, I’m sure you’re not used to a dress like this, right? Why would you be?.”

“Uh, thanks,” I muttered, shooting a look at Sarah, who was absolutely no help at all. Thanks, Sarah.

Cleo deftly unlaced the bodice of the dress and raised an eyebrow as the contents of the underdress settled rather naturally within.

“There you go,” she offered, “Need any more help, or can you manage from here?”

“I think I got it, I mean, it’s probably ok,” I shrugged, quite possibly the worst thing I could have done in that moment as my chest jiggled rather realistically.

The girl’s eyes narrowed and she grabbed a handful of chest.

“Youch! Hands off,” I squealed, pushing her back and realizing immediately that she knew.

“You’ve got boobs!”

Oh dear.

“I… uh… so do you!”

Good work Holly, you fucking muppet.

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Fake It Till You Make It - 30 - Girl Or Bust.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Thirty - Girl Or Bust.

“Hey honey, how’s the trip going?”

“Hey Mom,” I smiled as I held the phone to my ear. I was picturing her sitting on the sofa back at home in our living room. It felt like an age since I had seen her and yet, it had only been four long days. They do say that time flies when you’re having fun… I suppose the same applies to chaos.

“It’s… well, it’s been quite busy, I guess.”

This was quite categorically the understatement of the century. It was in fact, somewhat akin to implying that the First World War was a minor disagreement over personal space. While I dive into explaining things to Mom, I should probably take a step back and explain what happened in Sarah and Tina’s room, right? I suspect that you’re quite keen to follow on from chapter twenty-nine. Gosh, I’m such a tease.

The girl’s eyes narrowed and she grabbed a handful of chest.

“Youch! Hands off,” I squealed, pushing her back and realizing immediately that she knew.

“You’ve got boobs!”

Oh dear.

“I… uh… so do you!”

Yup, I said that. That was the smartest shit that I’ve ever said in my life. Even smarter than anything I ever said during or after medical school. Quite possibly the most mature and well-considered defeat of an argument that ever took place. Admittedly, the US Supreme Court has me beat with their Conservative majority opinion of “Nuh-uh, your face!”

The girl looked confused for a moment and I questioned whether or not I had sufficiently broken her brain. “But you’re a… boy,” she pointed out falteringly. “Aren’t you?”

Between the struggles of the last few months and the strange mental clarity of a near-death experience, I was running out of reasons to hide myself. In my head, today had been a watershed moment in my career as fuck-farmer. This season’s crop had been too low and I had to admit defeat and declare bankruptcy; there were no fucks left to give. There was a point of no return and a decision was laid out before me. Two buttons, and I had full control over which I wanted to press.

Ending up in the dress was the awkward result of my appearance and circumstances. I doubt the boat crew would have ever suggested such a thing to someone they saw as a boy. They did not… and as such, the conundrum, the escapade, the shenanigan was established.

My classmates saw Alex in a dress; it was funny to them, no matter how confusing I clearly was. I looked like I belonged like this, and that seemed to press some sort of button for them. They did not consciously realize it, but it seemed to be resonating somewhere in their little monkey brains.

I didn’t want to be Alex in a dress. I wanted to be Holly.

Fuck it.

“I’m not a boy,” I told her flatly, “I never was.”

“But you’re in the boys' school, right? I don’t get it.”

“I’m trans,” I sighed. “Born a boy, not a boy, don’t want to be one.”

She blinked at me for a moment, “Oh, really?”

I guess that explains why she looks like us,” the other girl pointed out from the bed. “Why didn’t you say that earlier?”

Whadafuq?!

“Huh?”

“On the boat,” she explained. “The whole ‘I’ve got to do this because it’s all they had,’ routine?”

“It was all they had… or all they brought me.”

“So why not just say you were a girl?”

“Because I was trying to hide it,” I sighed.

“Not very well if you’re wearing a dress,” she countered.

I mean, she has a point, but still.

“I’m Kelly and this is Jenny.” She offered, gesturing at her friend, Grabby McTits.

“Holly,” I replied, giving a small embarrassed wave and pointing at myself, “my real name.”

She smiled, and I felt instantly disarmed. Fuck this, fuck hiding, I’m done.

“Sarah, can I steal a top? I want to get out of this getup.”

Sarah seemed to snap out of her moment and nodded. “I got something that would look good on you, but are you sure though?”

“I’m done hiding,” I sighed, plucking at my skirts. “I nearly died today, they can’t make me feel any worse. Holly is here for the rest of this damn trip.”

She grinned, and at that moment I knew that she had my back. Almost at the same moment, the lock cycled and the door swung open as Tina returned from whatever she was up to. She spotted me, Sarah, and the other girls at the same moment, and her eyes went wide. “Is everything ok?”

I shrugged and nodded, “We’re cool.”

She glanced between us and gave me a look, “Shouldn’t we get you out of that thing and back into your normal clothes, Alex?”

“Holly,” I corrected, “they already know.”

“Aw fuck,” she sagged. “Did I miss the existential moment?”

“Yes and no” I rolled my eyes. “That comes later.”

“You mean?”

“Holly is coming to dinner.”

Tina beamed. “I knew this was going to be fun.”

* * *

“Are you telling me that you fell into the river Rhine… you fell off a ship, into the river, fudging, Rhine?”

I held the phone away from my ear and grimaced as Mother Dearest bellowed into the other end. I waited for her to quieten down before putting it back to my ear. “Kinda?”

“What do you mean, ‘kinda’, Holly Juliette Winters?”

Uh oh, Sunday names.

“I got pushed, some drunk guys slipped. It was a huge accident. One minute I was standing there with the girls, the next, I was already falling.”

“And you’re ok?” she asked more calmly, the tone of her voice almost anguished now. “You’re not… hurt?”

“A little superficial frostbite, but nothing lasting. The doctor who saw me said I didn’t even need to go to the emergency room.”

“A doctor?”

“A Dutch lady that was on holiday,” I explained. “She examined me and told me I had a mild case of superficial frostbite, but it was only very minor. Otherwise, I was a little mildly hypothermic but I would recover just fine by staying warm.”

“I wish I was there,” she sighed. “I’m going to call your teacher and see what she has to say. This sort of thing is highly irregular, honey.”

“I know Mom, it… wasn’t planned.”

“I hope not,” she sighed. I couldn’t see her, but I knew she was running her hand through her hair from the rustling sound over the phone.

There was a moment of silence on the line before I plucked up the courage to make my final statement. “I don’t think Alex is coming home.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, after all the confusion this week, the dress today, people… my whole near-death thing. I’m done, Mom.”

“Are you sure it wouldn’t be sensible to wait until you’re back home? There’s only one more week, honey.”

I stared up at the ceiling as I lay back on my bed. “No; I’m done, Mom. I’ve given all that I can give, I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t be him any longer or it will drive me insane. Today also made me realize that I don’t want to experience something so formative, such a big deal like this trip, as someone that I’m not.”

Did I tell her that I nearly died and I couldn’t stand the idea of being buried as Alex? No; she didn’t need to hear that. I know my family would never have buried me as a boy, I wasn’t their son anymore and I trusted them with that. They loved me as their daughter. The problem was I was legally Alex, a boy, and the idea of dying with that uncorrected felt like the greatest lie in history.

There was quiet for a moment on the line, only the static of the international connection. “I understand,” she replied simply. “I’ll speak to Mrs Whistler when I get off the phone with you sweetheart. I’ll… we’ll deal with this, ok?”

“I’m sorry Mom. I just couldn’t make it.”

“Don’t ever be sorry for being yourself, Holly. Just make sure you’re safe and well, ok?”

I smiled. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

I hung up the phone and padded through to my bathroom. The girl in the mirror looked exhausted, but after the day she had experienced, she had seriously earned it.

I brushed my hair, washed my face, and regarded myself again. I looked a little less exhausted, but I wasn’t going to win any beauty contests. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I felt pretty hungry. There wasn’t much putting off what was coming so I walked back through to the bedroom to get dressed.

I had borrowed a couple of bits from some of the gang as I had nothing Holly with me. As you can imagine I wasn’t wearing anything of Tina’s any time soon, but then again, she shopped in the little kids section. The girls had all contributed a few items to the cause. It was going to enable me to make what was going to either be a huge mistake or the best decision of the rest of my life.

I had a cute white slouchy top with a scoop neck layered over a black camisole that let me show off that I had boobs without getting me in any trouble. I got a pair of black skinny jeans from Emma and some fleece boots from Chloe and I thought I looked pretty good.

No skirt you say? But how do I spinny? Dear reader, it is December in Germany and I was recently swimming in ice water. I am not wearing a damn skirt, deal with it.

Returning to the bathroom, I fixed my hair and fastened my snowflake necklace, this time, allowing it to sit proudly against my skin where it could be seen by all. Holly Winters looked back at me, and she looked pretty decent if I do say so myself. It wasn’t perfect, and I was pretty tired, but the important thing was that it was Holly who looked back at me.

There was a knock at the door that tore me away from my moment of self-reflection. Wandering through, I opened the door to find the rest of the gang waiting just outside. Their smiles told me that this had been the right call. Their smiles told me that I had friends by my side no matter what went down tonight.

“Thought you might want this,” Chloe grinned, holding out a small brown leather handbag. “I brought a spare for different outfits… you can keep this one.”

“You sure?” I asked, clutching the purse in my hands.

“Can’t have a girlfriend in need, can I?” she smiled.

I hugged her and quickly transferred my bits and pieces to the bag.

“No makeup?” Emma queried, looking at my naked face.

I smirked, “I don’t exactly have any with me for this trip, but I think I’ll be ok.”

She shook her head. “No way; you’re not making your big debut looking like you just got dragged out of the water.”

“They did,” point out dryly.

“Bathroom,” Sarah ordered, hefting her makeup bag and grinning like a hyena.

Fifteen minutes later, I joined the rest of the gang in the elevator. My hair was flowing freely but clipped behind my right ear with a barrette and I had a decent but subtle makeup job courtesy of Sarah’s talented claws. I looked considerably less corpsey, which was a major bonus.

I won’t lie, my stomach was in my mouth as we descended, and it wasn’t entirely the fault of the elevator. I knew Mom had likely spoken to Frau Whistler, so the adults were hopefully on the same page with me. Everyone else was a huge question mark, however.

The other kids were easier to handle when they were making fun of a male classmate because he wasn’t really me. There was a layer of separation between Alex taking a social hit and Holly. What would happen when I told them that I wasn’t him, would that change? The elevator came to a stop on the ground floor and the doors slipped open. Well, here goes nothing.

I followed the girls through to the dining room and passed a couple of our classmates along the way. At first, nobody seemed to notice anything different. One or two boys even checked us out in their not-so-subtle attempt to be subtle. Thankfully nobody seemed to react negatively yet. Either I had always somewhat blended in with the other girls or they hadn’t realized it was me.

I was listening to Emma telling a story about a summer camp she had attended when I caught sight of the first people looking our way and whispering. It didn’t bother me too much as I had been waiting for it. The Dirndl had an explanation, but Holly didn’t yet have one.

“I think the jig is up,” Tina smirked, sipping her water as she followed my gaze.

One of the boys' tables was staring quite openly in my direction. They were laughing together about something but as yet had not engaged further. Thankfully our teacher’s arrival managed to curb any further shenanigans.

“Can I have everyone’s attention?” Herr Norton called out to the assembled teens. “We’re about to have dinner after a very eventful day and I want everyone to focus on that for the time being. Afterward, I’d like you all to come straight through to the hotel’s function room. We have a brief matter to address and then your evening will be yours.”

Well, that was us told. I’m pretty certain now that Mom has gotten through to them.

“You ok?” Sarah asked as our soup was brought out.

I shrugged, “Probably, but I’m pretty sure we’ll find out shortly.”

“Have they said anything to you?” Emma queried.

“No,” I admitted. “That’s likely more positive than not. I think they’d have cornered me if they were against it. They both already knew anyway.”

“Worst kept secret of the trip,” she snickered.

She wasn’t wrong.

After dinner, we made our way through to the hotel’s function room. It was a pretty generic space that I expect was usually used to host conferences for depressed businessmen in cheap suits selling tile. Right now, however, it was plainly obvious that I was the center of attention.

“Are we all here?” Frau Whistler called, drawing everyone’s attention. “Excellent. Now I want all of you to listen to what I have to say. Listen clearly and without interruption or you will be removed from the room. We will take questions afterward if they are sensible and considerate.”

She looked around and nodded to herself before continuing. “I think you’ve all noticed that one of our students appears a little different at the moment.”

“Not that much,” a boy’s voice sniggered.

Frau Whistler’s glare silenced the comment almost immediately. “As you know, our school has a zero-tolerance policy against harassment of GLBT students and as such, bullying people for being part of said group is a serious offense. This will result in the most severe punishments up to and including expulsion, is that clear?”

There was a murmur of assent from the assembled teens.

“This is going to be a little complicated when it comes to names and pronouns, so please bear with me, ok? They may seem confusing but I promise it will make sense in the end.”

“When someone is transgendered it means that their sense of self, their identity doesn’t match with how they were born. It’s easy to jump to daytime TV shows and film tropes but the reality is far more simple.”

She looked over at me and I knew it was coming. “I’m sure you all know Alex Winters. As you can currently see, she doesn’t look much like an Alex. This is because her preferred name is Holly and she is transgender.”

She smiled at me, “Holly has been in medical treatment for some time. The school and her family are aware and both are fully supportive. It was intended that, at the end of the semester, she would leave the Boys’ Division and transfer across to the Girls’ to continue her education. This has not happened quite to plan, as you can tell. If anyone has any questions, they can direct them to Holly, if she wants to come over here?”

I sheepishly walked over to Frau Whistler trying my best not to return my dinner and emulate that movie with the catholic priests and the head spinning. I smiled weakly at the crowd, publicity isn’t my favorite adventure as you can imagine, and waited for the hammer to drop.

One girl raised a hand and Frau Whistler nodded. “Is h…is she moving rooms?”

“No,” Frau Whistler shook her head. “Holly already had a single room because of this, we didn’t think it appropriate that she share with any boys given her… status.”

Yeah, like the fact that I’ve got boobies.

Another hand went up. “ Are you getting a sex change?”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Frau Whistler pointed out to me.

I shrugged, “It’s a little more complicated than that but in really basic terms, yeah, I guess I am.”

“What bathroom are you going to use?”

“Uh, a free one?” I’m a comedian, I am.

The questions went on along the expected pathways so I won’t bore you with the monotony of the dumb shit people ask transgender people. Genuinely, you would be surprised how few boundaries people think exist when it comes to the sordid world of human sex and gender.

Eventually, people exhausted their questions and the teachers dismissed the now far less interested teenagers. The looks hadn’t changed, but they had at least reduced in frequency. I was pretty sure I was going to have to get used to that for a while.

“Holly?”

I glanced over my shoulder at Frau Whistler. Tina and the others continued on a short way before pausing to wait just out of earshot.

“This caught us a little out of the blue, but I think it was going to become inevitable at some point.”

I nodded, “I agree, but I am sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she smiled. “I think they’ll get used to you quite quickly. Truth be told, this should have been the way the entire time; get a smaller group used to the idea so that when you return to the pond, the shine has worn off somewhat.”

“Far more thought out than reality I guess.”

She smiled and pointed at the girls waiting by the door. “Go on and get off with you. You need some serious rest after your day. Those girls are good friends, Holly.”

I caught up to the gang and we made our way back out toward the lounge area. While our teachers didn’t permit us alcohol on the trip, we were allowed to use the area for coffee and soft drinks. At this point, I needed a good coffee really badly.

“That went better than I think I expected,” Tina offered, dropping heavily onto a cozy sofa.

“Nobody wanted to burn the witch, so I think that’s progress,” I agreed. “This wasn’t my plan, you need to know that.”

Chloe put a hand on my leg and squeezed. “I think it was gonna happen sooner than later, you weren’t fooling many people.”

“Uh, hey?”

I turned towards the sound of the voice. Three girls were stood a little awkwardly by our encampment, all of them not so subtly looking in my direction.

“Oh, hi?”

“Can we join you guys?”

“The more the merrier,” Sarah shrugged, waving toward the empty seats.

“Are you ok?” One asked, after sitting across from me. She was a shorter Asian girl, I think her name was Amy.

I smiled, “I’m a lot better, thanks. A lot more emotional trauma than physical, but I’m going to be a bit gun-shy around water for a while.”

“I can imagine,” she agreed readily. “I’m really glad you’re not hurt.”

“That’s the first time that someone’s asked about my health today,” I smirked.

“I figured you’d had enough of other questions.”

“Are those yours?” One of the others asked shyly, gesturing at my chest.

“Oh they’re all her,” Tina laughed. “I’ve seen them at the gym.”

“Huh?”

“Her bazongas, norks, titties, fun bags, breasticles,” Tina mimed big boobs with her hands. “I’ve seen ‘em; all her.”

“I don’t know how someone so small manages to be so crass,” I cringe.

“You should have seen her in sex ed.” The other girl chimed in with a giggle.

I gave Tina a pointed look, “I can barely imagine.”

“You know, I had been wondering all week what your deal was,” the third girl opined. She was a tall blonde with quite Nordic facial features, heck, she made me feel positively short.

“My deal?”

“I mean, you looked like a girl but you weren’t in our class. You only hung out with these guys.” she gestured at my friends. “We weren’t really sure what to think.”

“Yeah, I really suck at the whole guy thing.”

“How exactly do you feel like a girl?” Amy asked.

That really was the number one question, wasn’t it? How does anyone ever feel like anything? I sat back and thought for a moment.

“When I was really little, I loved my siblings so very much; my big brother and sister were rock stars to me. I loved Rob, don’t get me wrong, but I just felt closer to my sister Christine. I cannot explain why, but I always felt like of the two she was the one that felt like a role model to me. I was always drawn to play with her and to be like her because it felt… right.”

“I loved Rob; he was an amazing guy. Always being brave, strong, and protective of us all. I loved him so much, even when he went out of his way to show off and annoy me.”

There was a giggle at the last remark.

“With Christine, I knew that we had something special; that we were the same, somehow. But as I got older, I was told that I was like Rob, not her. I should dress like him, play with him, look like him. No matter how much I loved him, that felt wrong.”

I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye and smiled at the memories. “The truth is, I didn’t know how to describe how I felt; there wasn’t language for it. I looked like Rob downstairs and not like Chrissie; That meant that I was a boy. It took me a long time to come to terms with the idea that this could be… wrong.”

I looked at the somber faces around me and smiled. “Fast forward a whole bunch of depression and introspection and I realized that I was like Chrissie. What was on the outside didn’t matter; I was a girl too. Strangely, realizing that truth was what made it all hurt so much worse.”

“Why?” Sarah asked softly, her eyes full of love at that moment.

“If you live in darkness, you’re used to it. When you know the room is meant to be well-lit, you start to wonder what you’re missing and what life must be like for those who get to live in the light. You start to realize that you’re wrong. The worst part is, I still had no idea that I could change the lightbulb.”

I saw the blank expressions so I continued. “I knew that I was a girl, but I thought that was it; I was a girl inside a boy and there was nothing I could do about it. I would grow up like my brother and dad and become a man. Deep down inside I knew that it would kill me.”

I was crying a lot harder now and I had to stop to wipe my tears, my pretty makeup be damned. “Then one day, I discovered this woman, this popstar from Israel. She was in this great big contest and was representing her nation. She went on to win the whole contest and it turned out that she had been born a boy; she was transgender. My eyes blew open that day and I could never close them again.”

“It’s funny,” I smiled. “I never knew that anyone else felt like me; that anyone else had this same feeling of being trapped. Better yet, I now knew that I could do something about it.”

“You told your parents?” The blonde asked.

I shook my head, “I had already been sent to the Boys’ Division of our school so I was convinced beyond all rational thought that they would send me to get me corrected somehow. Instead, I bought hormones on the internet. It was so incredibly stupid, I know, but I had to do something. If I could prevent myself from turning into my father or Rob, if I could buy myself time until I got to college where I could be independent… That if I was lucky, I could enact my plan to be me.”

“Until that worked about as well as using a pissed-off raccoon as a toilet brush,” Tina interjected with a chuckle.

I looked across at her and knew that her grin was one of genuine kinship. There was a deep care that shot between us in that moment and I knew that she was on my team for good.

“Yeah,” I smiled sardonically. “I had taken advice from people who started this in their forties and fifties; for them, it all worked a lot slower. In early puberty? I had no chance at all. I made it five or six months before my parents were pretty sure. My sister was pretty sure before she saw my boobs one day and Rob… well, he was kinda oblivious. I was really struggling to be Alex at all anymore.”

“That’s wild,” Amy shook her head. “What are you going to do now?”

I shrugged, “I have no idea; right now I’m making things up as I go along. I was meant to wait until the semester was over before I was transferred. Now, cope, I guess?”

“We got your back girl,” Chloe smiled, squeezing my knee. “I’m pretty sure I speak for everyone here when I say we got you covered, ok?”

Looking around at the others, I saw support and friendship. It was a strangely comforting feeling. All of a sudden, I thought it might actually be possible to do this thing. I was acutely aware that seven girls did not mean unlimited support, but I was pretty confident that with even a small group of allies, I would fare reasonably well.

This whole situation certainly made me consider how I related to others and how they related to me. Girls had come to ask me questions and to get to know me. They wanted to check me out and assess if I was serious or not. The truth of the matter was that I posed a potential risk until they understood this whole thing better. You have to remember that this is 2004; the whole concept of being transgender was still very very unknown outside of media’s phenomenally helpful tropes.

I understood why they were curious and why they felt that way and I didn’t feel threatened by that. I was confident in who I was and what that meant. One thing I had learned from Kara and Meg was that asking for their support would get me a lot further than demanding it.

I would learn in years to come that life as a woman can sometimes come down to a constant series of threat assessments; people, places, and situations. In this case, rather than make a judgment, they wanted to know if I was on the same team as them. If I was, then I was no threat and they could relax.

Some might find that offensive or judgemental but it’s sad a human reality; we fear the unknown. I was blessed that they wanted to find out rather than make a judgment instead. It was for the same reason that I always asked to be included but never demanded it; I knew how that felt and I understood. I was confident in who I was and what they would find.

The big unknown for me was still the boys; Other than some jokes and comments I wasn’t really sure what my reception would be. Time would tell, and my hope was that they could find the understanding to see the real me too. It was certainly going to be interesting.

Our conversation lasted for another couple of hours before we all began to drift off toward our beds. The best part of the evening was when I had stopped being the center of attention. Eventually, we were just a group of girls talking like any normal group. The feeling of just being another human being cannot be overstated.

When I fell asleep that evening I was surprisingly content. After one hell of a turbulent and chaotic day, I felt final peace. While not the entire school, the die was cast. It was no longer in my hands; Holly was here.

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Fake It Till You Make It - 31 - Ice Ice Baby.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Thirty One - Ice Ice Baby.

When I woke up on Thursday morning my extremities were still a little tingly, but I was overall feeling pretty good. Especially when one considers my activities from the previous day. Between nearly being run over by wayward cyclists, falling in icy water, and coming out to my classmates, I had enough excitement for one whole month.

Despite this, I pulled myself out of bed with far more energy and vigor than I had experienced all week. Today, I would not hide myself behind a mask of boyhood, I would not present Alex to the world. Today, for good or for bad, Holly was joining her classmates for the day's adventure. I won’t lie, it felt a little like Christmas morning.

What clothing I had to wear was limited; the girls had given me a few items to borrow the night before and they would tide me over for the remaining trip. With only three days remaining, it wasn’t exactly necessary for me to go nuts. It was also super cold, so the idea of prancing around in miniskirts was entirely out of the question.

Today’s hyperfeminine, girly girl outfit wasn’t particularly dissimilar from what I would have worn as Alex; jeans and a sweater. The difference, in this case, was that the jeans were far tighter and the sweater was a cozy baby blue cropped cable knit. With my Rans and Chloe’s donated bag, I felt pretty good. With my hair brushed and clipped away from my face and my little snowflake twinkling against the light, Holly was ready to face the public.

I didn’t stop to wait for the girls this morning; I knew that it was important that I did this on my own. I would sit with them, that was not in question, however, I had to prove that I was capable of functioning as a human being without an ever-present support system around me. For them to see me as a true equal, I had to behave like one; I had to show them that Holly wasn’t a fragile little girl who needed her hand held at every turn.

When the elevator doors slid open on the ground floor I felt a little surge of fear. I knew that I was safe here, that no harm would come of getting my breakfast, but it felt different now. The day before two things had protected me; novelty and friends. It was new and strange at first, and for almost all times I was surrounded by the other girls.

It was nice, but I had to learn to be myself and to function alone. It was going to be a test of small things. Many boys and girls would judge me based on what I did, not what was done for me. I was also absolutely adamant that I would not come to be dependent on the others, not a charity case.

Thankfully the restaurant was still rather quiet when I arrived, which was certainly a relief. I didn’t immediately spot any of our people, so I made for the serving area to acquire my sustenance. With some meat, cheese, and Brötchen along with a large coffee, I found myself a spot at one of the tables and set about constructing my sandwich. Task completed, I wrapped my laughing gear around the end and bit down.

“Makes a lot of sense.”

Huh?”

I glanced up, mid-bite of my sandwich, and spotted Soccer Steve staring down at me with a smirk on his face.

“I was saying that it all makes sense now,” he grinned. “You being a chick and stuff.”

I put my breakfast down and eyed him warily. “How so?”

“Do you remember the first day of the semester? I told you that you looked like you had both lost weight and gained it at the same time; weird like.”

I thought back, although, in my defense, a lot has happened since then,“kinda?”

“I didn’t want to say you had a dump truck of an ass at the time, seeing as we were both dudes.”

I didn’t know how I felt about such a backhanded compliment. I felt mildly put out that I had been so obvious, even back then. The truth was that I was also equally glad that people had failed to put two and two together.

Did Steve mean well? He probably did, even if it was kinda insulting too. Did he know how to relate to me now or speak to me? Probably not; the bonus here was that it wasn’t an intended insult or violence, so I guess it was a net win.

“Uh, thanks?”

Steve put his plate down and invited himself to my table. “So, this is like a… going forward kinda deal?”

“Uhuh,” I agreed skeptically, watching his reaction carefully. “For the rest of my life, because I’m a girl.”

Steve took a big bite of a wurst and chewed thoughtfully. “I don’t really get it, but like, vibe how you gotta bro…ella?”

“I don’t have a coat made out of puppies,” I reply, raising an eyebrow.

“Sorry, kinda getting used to, like, not calling you bro or dude,” he admitted, scratching his neck a little nervously. “Like the force of habit, right? It’s not like you look like a guy or nothing… I guess you never really did. More just what I’m used to, uh, sorry.”

I shrugged and gave him a conciliatory smile to show I wasn’t offended. I had never really been friends with Steve, but he had never been nasty. If he was willing to talk to me still it was a bonus.

I wasn’t going to get all offended at pronoun confusion or wrong names for now. People are human and they are going to make mistakes. I rather chose to handle it with grace and understanding. I was asking a lot from them so the least I could do is give them some room to learn. Was it a free pass to get it wrong on purpose? Hell no.

A short while later some of his friends arrived so Steve excused himself to go and sit with them. They seemed to be giving me more than cursory attention themselves but I wasn’t as concerned. Steve seemed pretty genuine, so I could only hope that he might be a voice of reason amongst them.

“Did you sleep ok?”

I snapped out of my introspection as Chloe sat down beside me with her breakfast. “Sleep was the last thing I had to worry about,” I replied dryly. “I still think I’m news.”

“Oh, you will be until we go home I suspect, probably after too.” she nodded.

“Great.”

“Come on, there’s been nothing bad yet, right?”

I sipped my coffee and contemplated the thought. “Nothing beyond being told I had an ass like a dump truck.”

Chloe spat out her juice and blinked, “Who?”

I rolled my eyes, “Steve Harper, long story.”

“I mean, it’s a compliment of sorts,” she shrugged. “You do have a pretty nice butt.”

“What about her butt?” Emma asked, joining her friend.

“I was saying it was pretty nice,” Chloe replied casually, seemingly unbothered by my slow boil embarrassment. “It’s pretty impressive that she managed to keep the whole boy gig up this long with that thing.”

“Can we not objectify my butt over breakfast?”

* * *

The bus wound its way north through the traffic as we set off for our fourth grand day out in Deutschland. I had survived breakfast, and so far there had been no outwardly negative comments. Side eye had been in absolutely healthy supply, but I suspected that people were still trying to work out the mechanics of what and who I was.

The day’s adventure was to start out at the Schokoladenmuseum up in Cologne, the factory museum for a rather famous German brand of chocolate. No prizes for guessing who, of course!

After that, we were going to go ice skating in the city before spending the remainder of the afternoon free for shopping. After Wednesday, I think I needed a more relaxed schedule.

When I had bought the pretty white knitwear set at the start of the week, I had planned to take them home and treasure them as a memento of my adventure here. Little did I actually expect I would be wearing them like any other girl. It might seem silly, but I had never felt prettier than I did wearing that hat, gloves, and scarf.

I looked around as we drove and smiled to myself. All those little hopes and ‘one-day’ dreams were now a thing of the past. Here I was, Holly Winters sitting amongst my classmates. For better or worse, it was all me now. Sure, there would be negatives and there would be bad reactions, but I could weather them. With my girls around me, my family, and my friends, I could survive anything. I was going to do my damn best to show people that this was the real me and I deserved my shot.

It was a little before ten when we finally pulled to a stop by the river in central Cologne. There was a small metal bridge and a tiny little castle sitting right on the bank of the Rhine next to the man-made island that housed the Schokoladenmuseum Köln.

Well used to our orders by this point, we disembarked our transport and waited patiently for our teachers to decide what to do next. Yup, even we can manage to behave sometimes, although I suspect that this time chocolate was a strong motivating factor.

“What’s that?” Tina asked, pointing across the street, “Is that what I think that is?”

I followed her gaze across the street to a large white cream building that looked at first glance like a bakery.

“Kölner Senfmuseum,” I read the huge sign. “Yup, that is the Cologne Mustard Museum. I didn’t know there was that much to show about mustard.”

“You don't think we have to go in there, do we?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Only if you don’t listen to instructions, Fräulein Booth,” Frau Whistler pointed out from behind us, making everyone jump.

Our teacher clapped her hands to gather everyone’s attention. “Listen up people, the faster we get organized, the faster you can all be exploring the history of chocolate and getting to the gift shop, which I know is the only reason you’re all so keen this morning.” She glanced around the group with a knowing look.

“We’re going to split into two groups with Herr Norton and myself taking our respective classes. You will each get to take a guided tour separately, do you understand?”

The ripple of agreement seemed to indicate that everyone had followed this fairly simple concept. Don’t get me wrong, I understood what they were asking us to do and why, but given my present circumstances, I wasn’t entirely sure where I fell within that division.

Herr Norton seemed to notice my dithering as the groups began to separate. “What are you waiting for? Get on and join the other girls, Fräulein Winters.”

Welp, that was that; my first official tasking as a member of my true sex. Admittedly it was just a guided tour of a chocolate factory and not anything controversial, but I hoped that nobody made a big deal about it.

I joined the others to very little fanfare at all. Across the little footbridge, we approached the Schokoladenmuseum. It was quite a strange building; lots of glass inserted into what appeared to emulate a 19th-century Schloss, butted up against another wing that appeared to replicate the bow of a ship poking out into the Rhine. German architects are weird, ok?

The museum was split into three distinct portions; A greenhouse with real-life cocoa trees, the factory where you get to watch them mix and make the chocolate, and finally, the museum itself where you get to see the history of chocolate.

Our guide, a young woman called Lina, took us through each of the separate sections describing the process of making chocolate from the source farms to the shop shelf. Truly, as a fan of candy in general, it was fascinating to discover the complexities of its creation.

I expect you to think a museum dedicated to the history of chocolate would be pretty boring. After all, it’s just chocolate, right? It’s tasty and bad for your health and great when you’re feeling sad. It is, however, not particularly complicated, right?

When you realize that Chocolate has been involved in 5000 years of human history it takes on a very different angle. Originally starting out in present-day Ecuador, chocolate arrived in Europe in the 16th century with Dutch explorers… Always the Dutch… typical.

I will refrain from turning this into a lecture on the wider history and knowledge of chocolate as this is, at its core, a story of gender-bending shenanigans. If you get a chance to do a little internet adventuring, I highly recommend you read up; it’s a fascinating topic!

The tour had been a wonderfully relaxing and relatively warm morning compared to our trip so far this week. Most surprisingly, my being trans turned out to be entirely a non-issue. Obviously, they knew that I wasn’t a member of their class, but I think, the few I still hadn’t really spoken to just accepted the duck that walked and sounded like a duck as a fellow duck. Over my life, I found that other girls didn’t typically hold the same ‘ew trans’ hangups as boys. Well, at least more often than not.

“That’s really heavy,” Chloe admitted quietly as we stood before a display dedicated to the Second World War. Surprisingly, despite three days in Germany we hadn’t confronted this particular elephant yet.

It charted the use of the sweet treat during the global conflict, including special high-caffeine chocolate originally developed to keep bomber pilots awake on night missions. The more sobering part that we were currently reading, was detailing the part a tool of war played in helping to undo the damage of the war once it was over.

The so-called Scho-ka-kola, often called Aviator Chocolate, was given out to the German citizens after the conclusion of hostilities as the Allies helped the country recover from its near annihilation. Naturally, the high-calorie count of chocolate meant that it was given to many survivors of the horrific concentration camps to help boost their intake as they were liberated.

There was a particular photograph in the display that showed American GIs handing out chocolate bars to children in Bergen-Belsen Concentration Camp as medical personnel started treating the skeletal, shaved-headed youngsters. The sight was horrifying and truly difficult to process for us teenagers.

“Can you imagine what they went through?” Emma asked. “If I had grown up in Europe then, I might have been one of them.”

“Me too,” I sighed quietly.

“You’re Jewish too?” she asked, looking a little surprised. “I had no idea.”

“Trans, remember?” I replied, giving her a sad look. “People like me got sent to the chamber too.”

“Nobody our age should have to worry about being murdered for existing,” Sarah added. “I’m so sorry.”

I sniffed and felt tears begin to run freely down my cheeks. Standing there staring at the picture of starving children, seeing piled up bodies, and knowing that I could have been one of them if not for a quirk of fate was suddenly extremely real.

I knew that being who I was could get me killed, even in today’s world. People could and did murder girls like me for simply existing. That aside, being confronted by the industrial murder of people like me and Emma was truly horrifying. At that moment, I lost it and started openly crying.

“Here,” Tina offered, enveloping me in a hug. “It’s ok.”

“I… it’s just so sad; I’m scared,” I sobbed.

“It won’t happen to you,” she promised, squeezing me tightly. “I promise.”

I knew she couldn’t promise that; being a trans teenager was pretty terrifying on its own. It was even worse when you heard about murders happening in the news, or online. I knew it could happen; people were still murdered for being gay these days. The world was a pretty scary place when you were different, and in that moment, I empathized very strongly with the children in that display.

“Are we ok girls?”

We looked around to spot Herr Norton looking more than a little worried.

“Just emotional,” Chloe explained, releasing her grip on Emma who looked about as bad as me. “The display was quite moving…”

Herr Norton glanced past us, spotted the instantly recognizable scene, and frowned. “I understand. “Go and get yourselves cleaned up, I saw a bathroom back there.”

“Yes sir.”

I really hadn’t planned for my very first trip into the girls’ restroom since coming out to be to fix my tear-streaked makeup, but there you go. Call me a stereotype if you want, but the truth is, I didn’t even think about it at the time.

When I finished cleaning off my cheeks, I stared at my red, puffy eyes in the mirror. It wasn’t my finest look, but it seemed that both Emma and Sarah were in the same boat. As sad as the moment had been, it felt good to allow myself to show that emotion in public. Rather than crush it down deep, it was ok for me to express my emotions now. The fact that our reactions had been met with sympathy from our teacher rather than scorn was pretty nice too.

I splashed a little water on my face and finger-brushed my hair back into shape. Makeup truly is a magical creation; a little concealer and some new eyeliner and I didn’t look like I had been sobbing in a chocolate museum. Classy Hol, real classy.

A couple of girls entered the restroom and paused. Me being me, I was convinced that they had seen me and were reacting to my presence.

“Are you guys ok?” one of them asked uncertainly.

“Bit of a sob over the Holocaust display,” Tina offered. “We’re good.”

The girl smiled and the pair headed for the stalls without further word or interest in our at-sink activities.

“Feeling better?” Tina asked, hopping up on the counter next to the wash basin.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I was a little overcome all of a sudden.”

“It’s cool,” she shrugged. “You should see me when the ice cream machine is broken at McDaniels.”

I snorted and couldn’t help but smile.

Glancing over at Emma and Chloe, I spotted them talking quietly in the corner, Emma was still looking quite fragile. I wandered over and hovered cautiously just outside their bubble, not wanting to force myself in, “are you ok?”

She nodded and smiled sadly, “We’re a real pair, aren’t we?”

“I never knew you were Jewish,” I admitted, “this must be hard for you.”

She nodded, “I don’t make a fuss about it. My parents are way more devout than I am but that wouldn’t have mattered here, would it?”

“No,” I agreed. “But we’re not here then, we’re here now. It’s different and we’re ok.”

“Hormones, huh?” Chloe smiled, squeezing both our hands. “Couldn’t control them if you wanted to.”

Emma and I grinned at each other and at that moment, I felt exactly the same as my girlfriends. Sure, mine came out of a bottle, and theirs came out of their ovaries, but we both felt the same effects. The very same chemical influences controlled our emotions and our bodies. How we got there was a little different, but it felt natural regardless.

It was incredibly liberating to share this experience with friends and have them understand where I was coming from without needing to say a word. We could feel the same emotions, express them freely, and not be judged for being ourselves. My being transgender didn’t factor in even once. Nobody mentioned it and it didn’t play a role. At that time, we were just girls.

Other than our little pity party, I was surprised by how utterly normal the entire morning had been. The museum was really interesting, considering its sole focus was chocolate. I suppose it was a distinct improvement over the mustard museum though!

Truly though, being here with the girls’ class felt normal. It felt right for me and nobody else seemed to have any major problem with my presence. I had no delusion that this would be my perfect future, but it was a really great start all the same.

* * *

We met up with the boys' class in the gift shop after our tour was completed. As you can imagine, they sold a heck of a lot of chocolate here! While I had already purchased a few chocolatey gifts, I grabbed a couple of specialty sets to bring home for various people. I mean, everyone loves chocolate, right?

Whilst I had been in a pretty good mood with how accepting everyone had been, it was clear that it wasn’t destined to last for particularly long now that the classes were back together. One of the things I had noticed since our reunion with the boys' class, was that there was a lot more tittering and nudging directed towards me.

Collecting my purchases, I set off for the register with a couple of boxes of Köln’s finest treats. Before I could get there, however, I was bumped by an unseen figure, sending some of my purchases tumbling.

I wanted to turn and snap at them; I knew it was deliberate. Instead, I bent down, picked up the boxes, and continued on my way to the register without turning to look back. The chuckles of amusement behind me were enough to tell me why it had happened.

I had no idea which boys had done it, but I was determined to not let them see me bothered by it. There was only so much they could do within view of the teachers and until we returned, they would have no real chance to do anything else. All I had to do was keep my dignity and I would be fine. I was no stranger to bullying and this was no different.

Paying for my gifts, I made my way back over to the girls who were waiting by the exit. On the way, however, Kevin Patterson decided he wanted to identify as a problem. “Where you going, Winters?” he asked, stepping out in front of me.

I narrowed my eyes, “Over to my friends… do you want to let me get past?”

“What’s with the whole faggy shit?”

Boy, this guy struggles with simple concepts. “What exactly is faggy?”

Patterson frowned and gestured at my appearance. “The girly shit.”

Oh dear, this was going to be a struggle.

“I’m a girl,” I point out flatly. “Can I go?”

“But you’re a dude, that makes you a fag.”

I crossed my arms and looked up at the gormless idiot. “So what if I was?”

“So you admit you’re a fag!” he declared triumphantly. “I knew it!”

This was going to take all week, I clearly had to lead him by the nostrils. “And so what if I was? Why does that concern you?”

“I don’t want you perving on me, faggot,” he sneered derisively.

“You’re not my type, sorry Kevin, I don’t like guys that are bullies.”

Suddenly Kevin drew back aghast at my accusation, “I’m not a bully!”

Oh boy.

“Yeah, you are. You pick on people all the freaking time and you’ve beaten up half a dozen freshmen this semester alone. How many times have you been in detention for it? Three times? You’re a bully. You came over here now to pick on me and call me names. I don’t like bullies.”

“But it’s just a joke…” he pointed out weakly. “I’m not…”

I stepped around the confused boy and made my way over to my friends.

“Problem?” Chloe asked, glancing back at the still-floundering Kevin.

“He was calling me a faggot but couldn’t fathom that I wasn’t interested in him,” I rolled my eyes. “I think his vanity at a girl saying she found bullies repulsive overrode his rat brain.”

She smirked, “Probably.”

* * *

The bus dropped us at the Heumarkt just after lunch. Like the other markets, it was pretty large and had tons of stalls selling everything from woodwork to beer. This one, however, was dominated by a huge skating rink that took up most of the main square.

Our teachers paid our way, and soon forty excited teens were booting up in preparation for taking to the ice. Was this perhaps the smartest move for someone who recently partied with hypothermia? Probably not, but I promise you that I was wrapped up very warm and totally protected against the elements.

Once we were ready, the staff allowed us onto the ice. Most of us were, as expected, pretty awful. Just picture a bunch of drunken idiots trying to walk home from a night out. There was a great deal of squealing, sliding, grabbing, and falling before we found our feet.

I want you to understand that I have never ice skated before in my life; not even once. I have, however, partaken of one of the early 2000s favorite pastimes; rollerblading. I was no extreme sports star, but I was pretty capable of racing around and having a little fun. It turns out that this translates extremely well to the ice-based version, just swap your wheels for a pair of knives on your feet and you’re off; the friction is a little different, but you soon adapt.

Chloe and Sarah had both skated before and Emma had not, but she found her balance fairly quickly. Tina, however, was utterly incompetent…

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck…” the small blur squealed as she went rocketing past us along one of the straights of the rink.

“Does someone want to go get her?” Emma asked as she held firmly onto my arm for stability.

“I got it,” Chloe grinned as she kicked off along the ice towards our flailing pixie missile.

“I have no idea how she manages to get into these spots…” she shook her head. “She’s as bad as me, but at least I’m going slow.”

“I’ve not skated either,” I pointed out, ensuring we maintain a pleasant pace along the ice.

“Unlike me, you’re doing a far better job of it!” she giggled.

The rink at the Heumarkt was shaped like a stretched capital B. It was a back-and-forth straight in the middle with two circles at each end, one of which wrapped around a statue at the center of the market. We were just entering that upper loop when I found myself on my ass, staring up at the grey sky above us.

“What the hell?”

Two boys skated past laughing and high-fiving each other as they passed. It was probably nothing… boys are boisterous and clumsy, right?

“Are you ok?” Emma asked, offering me her hand. “Those guys are assholes, ignore them.”

Taking the hand I wobbled unsteadily back to my feet. “Yeah, just assholes,” I rolled my eyes. “They should watch out a bit more.”

We picked up our skating and even managed to finally rejoin the others. Tina? She was as wobbly as balancing a drunken kitten on a baseball.

“Would you quit over-correcting?” Chloe chided, gripping her arm as Tina’s legs made another bid for freedom. “Straighten your legs and just bend your knees a little, tense your butt cheeks…”

I tuned out of the Bambi on ice exercise and gazed around the market. The atmosphere was beautifully festive and I was so very happy to be here. From the mouthwatering scent of food to the Christmas music piped over the speakers, it was pretty hard to not feel extremely festive.

Something heavy slammed into my back and sent me sprawling into the boards that lined the side of the rink. Behind me, I heard laughter again and the word ‘faggot’. Boy, they really do manage to come up with original material, don’t they?

“Are you ok?” Chloe asked, kneeling down beside me.

I grimaced and said something unladylike under my breath as I regained my footing. “I’m fine, I think. Maybe just a little winded. That was on purpose, wasn’t it?”

Chloe nodded sadly, “Yeah, I think so. Do you want me to go get Herr Norton?”

Using the boards to pull myself back up to my feet, I shook my head. “No; I don’t want any drama. I’d rather just get on with this and hope they get bored before too long.”

“Come on Hol,” Tina interjected, before wobbling violently. “That was on purpose, they’re being asshats, They deserve it.”

“I don’t want to ruin the afternoon,” I sighed. “Let's just go guys, come on; we could go check out some stalls?”

Back on our skates, we endeavored to finish the lap. We had been out on the ice for some time and both Emma and Tina were still struggling to really keep themselves vertical. With my new fan club, it seemed prudent to make some space and avoid the conflict rather than have it out when we all had knives strapped to our feet.

We made our way along the lane and out into the broad circle around the fountain at the eastern end of the square. Here, families and friends were merrily skating around and enjoying the festive spirit. There was not an insignificant number with big mugs of Glühwein in hand. Hmm, how to score me some of that, I wonder? I would have to come up with a plan… I’m sure I have some ninja smoke bombs in my handbag.

After circling around the fountain a couple of times, we finally decided to make for the exit. That plan however was foiled when the same group of boys came rolling in and barged us into the barriers. Tina and Emma both hit the ice while one of the larger boys slammed me into the barriers.

“What the fuck? Screw you guys!” Tina squealed.

“Fucking faggot,” a guy called, buoyed on by cheers from his friends. “Nothing but a sissy bitch.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Emma screamed, shoving one of the guys. It was a noble gesture, but it lost a lot of its sting when she slipped over and landed on her butt again.

“Look at all of you! You’re all pretending that the sissy fag is one of you… it's fucked up!” another called out. “Sh…he’s not a real girl but you’re all pretending like he is!”

Pulling myself to my feet, I balled my fists tightly and did my best to stand my ground before them, “Leave my friends alone.”

The ringleader was a guy called Sam Collins. He was a typical run-of-the-mill bully type that I usually had little interaction with. It seemed like he had chosen today to make us better acquainted. Stepping closer, he looked me up and down and smirked nastily, “Aww, hey guys look… the faggot wants to try and be a man finally.”

“Leave my friends alone,” I repeated more firmly than I felt. “We don’t want any trouble.”

“Well, you got trouble, fag,” he snarled, prodding me hard in the chest. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Get lost, asshole,” Chloe growled, stepping up beside me. “Stop calling her a faggot and get out of here before I tell our teacher what you’re doing.”

“Aww, the little girl’s going to tattle on us.” He laughed. “I bet you’re a dyke… all of you are fucking dykes.”

Remember that big mouth of mine? Yeah, it goes off without warning at inappropriate moments. Usually when someone is trying to decide just how much they want to pound me into dust. I really need to learn to manage that one better.

“I thought I was a faggot? make your mind up.”

Sam swung back towards me and glared with pure hatred. With a snarl, his arm cranked back and I tensed for an impact I could never begin to avoid on a pair of ice skates. The punch, however, never came.

Right as he was about to hit me, Sam was taken off his feet by a fast-moving object that dumped him full force into the barriers with an almighty crunch. It took me a moment to realize that it had been a person… a really familiar person.

“Leave her alone dickstain,” Gary growled.

“What’s your problem, Byrne?” One of the others snapped, “What the fuck did you do that for?”

You remember Gary, right? He’s the nerdy guy friend who has been identifying as a douchebag ever since he learned that I was trans. Unlike his sisters who are my best friends, Gary has had a far more difficult time coming to terms with my being a girl.

To say it was a surprise that he appeared out of nowhere to defend me would be an understatement. That he decked a guy twice his size so hard that pro hockey teams are lining up to sign him? Even stranger.

While this altercation takes place, more and more of our classmates are starting to congregate by the fountain, drawn in by the sight of impending violence. A gaggle of girls have come to our side and are now forming a bit of a huddle around me and the others.

“Leave her alone,” Gary repeated bluntly, staring down Sam’s friends with ill-disguised anger. The chief dipshit was picking himself up off the ice and he doesn’t look remotely pleased. Wiping blood from his nose with the back of his hand, he sniffs, “I’m going to kill you for that, Byrne. Why the fuck are you defending the little faggot? Do you wanna fuck him in the ass, huh?”

Gary barks out a laugh, a short sharp ‘hah’ sound. Before Sam Collins gets a chance to do anything, Gary hits him with a right hook that quite literally puts him on ice. I’ll be honest, I’m actually rather impressed.

“You’re going to stop calling her a faggot and you’re going to stop being assholes,” he states calmly, looking them all in the eye. “If you lay a finger on her or any other girl here again, I will lay you out, do you hear me?”

Not a single one answered, but it didn’t really matter. Somehow, the nerdy guy had stood up to a bunch of bullies and won. All of this in defense of me? To say I was stunned was a minor understatement.

Before I could speak to him, however, our teachers and one of the skating rink attendants arrived to restore peace and separate the crowd that was threatening to block the other skaters.

“Are you ok Holly?” Amy, one of the girls from the previous night asked, having finally made it through the mass of bodies.

Frau Whistler eased her way through the bodies to find the group of us by the railing, feeling a little sorry for ourselves. “Girls, are you ok? Holly?”

“We’re fine,” I think,” I admitted. “I… We didn’t do anything to provoke them.”

“I know, we saw,” she sighed. “By the time we got close enough to intervene it was already going on. Go and get yourselves off the ice.”

At this point, the magic of skating had been pretty much ruined for us, so we headed landside and returned to far less sharp footwear. By the looks of things, Mister Collins and his amigos were being collared by our educators in a rather unpleasant way if Herr Norton’s hand gestures were anything to go by.

“Are you ok?”

I turned around and found a girl I didn’t actually know looking at me uncertainly.

“Yeah, uh, I’m… fine,” I offered with a weak smile, “Sorry, I…”

“Claire,” she nodded. “I know we haven’t… that wasn’t right, what they did.”

I shrugged, “No, but I guess it could have been worse. I’m just upset that they hurt my friends to get to me.”

Claire’s expression hardened. “Look, I can’t speak for the others, but what they did was wrong. I might not understand what you’re doing, but you seem like a nice girl and your friends clearly think the world of you,” she added, glancing over at the gang with a smile.

I smiled back at her, “Thanks, that means a lot to me.”

As Claire turned her back to go find her friends, I spotted the least feminine Byrne sibling slouching away on his own.

Who would have imagined that Gary would come to my defense? It was more of a shock than the abuse I had received from the boys today. Their behavior was something I had expected, as much as it hurt to experience. Gary however had hurt me a great deal; we had been friends and the way he had looked at me that day… something had snapped between us.

For him to ride to my defense so strongly after everything he had done and how he had acted? I wasn’t sure how to feel. I still felt quite strongly about what had happened and his behavior but he had called me Holly… perhaps I had misjudged him.

I separated from the group and jogged over to where he was walking, “Gary?”

One of my longest childhood friends stopped in his tracks and turned around. His face was difficult for me to read, but it didn’t seem hostile. I suddenly felt quite embarrassed and uncertain about what I had planned to say.

“Uh, thanks for… before.”

Gary shrugged, “Not a big deal. I just… that was uncalled for.”

“Still, you didn’t have to,” I admitted. “I know things have been difficult between us, but I appreciate it.”

Gary frowned and shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “Yeah, things have been difficult and that’s my fault. When… I found out about you, it threw me. I didn’t know how to feel. I guess I felt a little betrayed.”

“I didn’t mean you to find out like you did,” I offered. It was an accident and then you reacted badly and… I thought you hated me.”

“I couldn’t hate you Holly, I just… it was a shock.”

Woah, he said my name… that felt surprisingly good to hear.

I let my shoulders sag. “I’ve been a bad friend, I’m sorry.”

An eyebrow raised, but he said nothing, so I continued regardless. “When I fell into depression last year, I became real difficult to be friends with,” I admitted. “When I started taking hormones, I had to become secretive to protect myself from discovery. I never planned to come out like this, I was going to…” I sighed. “That’s not important now.”

“Then your sisters found out,” I continued. “I was finally able to be myself and relax with friends and I ignored you. I feel really bad about that. We were friends and I got so caught up in myself, I… I’m sorry.”

Gary shrugged, “I thought you didn’t like me anymore and didn’t want to be friends. Then you rubbed it in my face by spending so much time with my sisters. When I found out, I was so… it was a lot,” he admitted.

“I got overwhelmed and I reacted badly at the time. I guess seeing you this week, even before yesterday. It convinced me that this is who you really are. Hell, it’s who you’ve always been, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I replied quietly, unable to look up.

“Thanks to your terrifying brother, I knew you had to keep this a secret. I kept seeing you slipping…You kept making mistakes and I would see Holly rather than Alex. I was worried that the guys would find out.”

“And then I made a big splash.”

“Something like that,” he admitted with a half smile. “I’m sorry I was such a huge douche Holly… I didn’t know how to relate to you anymore and I withdrew and… I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

“Me neither,” I smiled. Without thinking about it, I stepped forward and hugged him. It was one of those impulsive actions that you just can’t control and have to worry about afterward. At first, I felt his body tense up. After a moment, however, I felt him relax and wrap his arms around me.

As I stood there, hugging one of my oldest friends, I finally felt like a circle had closed. He had been in the wrong, hell, he had acted like a total douche canoe. The truth, however, was that I too had withdrawn and sidelined him in my tunnel-visioned focus on myself. There was blame on both sides and counting the credit would benefit nobody.

If we could say sorry, we could give each other another chance. Friendships were worth more than that. Hell, we were kids, what did we really know?

* * *

Curled up in my bed later that evening, I marveled at my experiences of the day; my first full day as my real self with no secrets and no hiding. I won’t pretend it was easy, but it was over. For good and for bad, I was out in the open living as myself. I was disappointed that people had a problem with me, but I couldn’t be entirely surprised.

The truth was, I was incredibly lucky. For the most part, the girls seemed to accept me. I wasn’t naive enough to presume every girl would and that it would all come out smelling of roses, but it did bode well for next year. My future classmates in at least one subject seemed fairly accepting.

I had friends, amazing friends who cared for me and enjoyed spending time with me. What kid can ask for more? In the jungle that is high school, that’s equivalent to finding a big juicy buffalo to gobble down. I just had to watch out for larger predators and I’d probably be ok.

The boys reacted as I expected; it was funny, it was worthy of bullying and abuse. I could only expect it might get a little worse initially, but the sheen would wear off and they would find a new target to enjoy, I hoped. Eventually, something shinier would come alone when I was out of their visual range; teenage boys can be a lot like a T-Rex at times.

Gary was the surprise of the century, if I was honest with myself. I had never expected him to support me or for us to find common ground. He had been one of my longest friends and I had regretted how he found out. I wanted to tell him; that I owed it to him. That we had a second chance filled me with joy. It was out in the open now and I could start to mend that relationship.

The most important fact was that I was now just Holly Winters, Alex was but a memory. Sure, I knew it wasn’t that simple. As much as I hated it, it was still my legal name and it was on the passport I would be needing fairly soon. The truth was, I had made the final mental separation from my past self. It wasn’t bad, and I didn’t hate the name Alex, but it wasn’t mine.

Closing my eyes, I said a silent prayer for the boy that had been. He wasn’t me, he never had been. The truth was, that he was a small part of me that I had constructed to help me cope with living in a world that saw me as Alex. He had carried me and allowed me to get this far, supported me, and dried my tears. He had given everything to keep me walking so that one day I might run. Finally, when it was all too much, he collapsed from the effort and breathed his last. In a small way, I owed him my life.

I wiped my tears away and picked up my cell phone. Right now, after the day I had experienced and my little fragile moment, I needed to hear a comforting voice. I found the number I wanted and dialed.

“Hello?”

“Rick,” I sniffed.

“Holly? What’s wrong? Are you ok?”

“I’m ok, Rick,” I smiled at the ceiling. “It’s been an emotional day, but I’m ok. How are you?”

The deep bassy voice chuckled on the other end of the line, making my heart flutter. “I’m doing great. School blows, but what’s new? How are things?

Where the hell to start…

“I uh, I came out,” I offered.

“Holy crap, really? Are you ok? What happened?”

My gosh, isn’t that a complicated question? I proceeded to explain the happenings of the previous days' adventures from my dunking to the present. Gosh, it feels like it all happened so very long ago.

“That’s insane,” Rick agreed. “Are you sure that you’re ok?”

“I’m a big girl; I’ll survive,” I admitted with a shrug that only I could see. “I guess, people will find out when we get back unless someone called home.”

“I’m so proud of you,” Rick replied softly. Even over the phone, I can feel the smile on his lips.

“I’ll be home in like, two days, ish,” I explained. “We leave at two on Saturday… that gets us home at… uh, seven Pacific?”

“Your folks meeting the plane?”

“Yeah, they are,” I confirmed. “I can’t wait to see you again, it feels like forever.”

Rick chuckled softly, “Me too. I’ve missed you so much. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms again. I bet you look beautiful right now.”

“I’m just in my pajamas,” I protested. “I’m in bed.”

“Are you? What are you wearing?”

“Rick!” I giggled. “Don’t be dirty.”

“Oh, this is dirty?” he leered. “I’m just in my boxers, lying back on my bed here, thinking about the hottest girl I know.”

Oh dear, that was a mental image. Does anyone have a fan?

I regretted not having anything sexier to wear. “I’m just wearing a t-shirt,” I admitted, “and my panties.”

Rick chuckled and made an approving noise and I felt that delicious squiggle in my tummy.

You wanted more, didn’t you? As much as it will disappoint you, dear reader, I am not going to go any further with recounting that particular conversation. Such a shame. You should know me better by now. Let’s just say that we were both teenagers, and we used up far more phone credit than my parents would be pleased with. By the time we said our goodbyes, I was rather hot and bothered. That boy is in serious trouble when we get home, so help him.

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Fake It Till You Make It - 32 - Momma Didn't Raise No Bitch.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Thirty-Two - Momma Didn't Raise No Bitch.

Friday was a dedicated free day for everyone up in Köln. The bus left the hotel a little after ten and deposited us by the Hauptbahnhof, just across from the Dom. The entire day would be free for us to shop and explore at our own pace, with the only restriction that we have our phones charged and on, and that we meet the group back here at precisely four o’clock. Six whole hours in the big city by ourselves? There was so much damage we could do.

The gang and I set off at a brisk pace towards the city center. We all still had a decent amount of money on us and intentions to do some serious damage to the city’s shops. Alex might have been reserved, but this place was not safe now that Holly Winters was around, that’s for sure.

“I wanna go back to that Pimke place,” Tina enthused as we walked along Hohe Straße, one of the pedestrianized streets of the city center. “They had this awesome leather mini I wanted to get while my Mom can’t see it.”

“My Mom never lets me get anything like that,” Sarah sighed. “She’s always obsessed with my skirts being down to my knees.”

“So don’t tell her, dur,” Chloe offered helpfully. “We should all get one, we could wear them out sometime when we’re back home!”

“We do need to do something together to mark the trip though,” Tina pointed out. “Not excluding the skirt idea, mind.”

“We could get our nails done?” Emma offered. “There’s a place up ahead; we could all get matching acrylics.”

We all looked at each other and grinned like sharks. Our plot decided, we headed for the nail boutique. It was as Emma had indicated, just up ahead nestled between a hair salon and, of all things, a GameGo. Those things really do get everywhere, don’t they? We managed to convince the receptionist of our desires and were led to a row of stations to get our talons touched.

I was especially excited and nervous to be included in the bonding ritual. This was, as you well know, my first ever time getting my nails done. Hell, I hadn’t even been to a hair salon as myself yet. Despite my general comfort in appearing female to all, I did feel a little self-conscious entering such a female space. I half expected one of the ladies to point and scream, but instead, she said nothing at all.

Now don’t believe just because we’re teenage girls that we went utterly insane and got three-inch talons attached to our fingers. As we are in Europe, we chose a rather sensible five-millimeter extension that worked out to about a quarter inch past our fingertips.

As a group, we decided on a rather festive and Christmassy design to befit the season. Each nail was a different combination of glittery red and white polish including presents, snowflakes, and tiny little Christmas trees. Honestly, I’ve never loved my nails so much in my life.

The whole process took about an hour in the end between multiple rounds of drying and the artwork itself. We chatted, laughed, and had a blast as friends. It was a moment in my life that I will never forget; I felt normal.

Before we left, one of the technicians helped us to take a photograph of our five hands in a circle. The photograph shows five identical hands with pretty festive nails in a circle above the sparking white tile floor of the boutique. All five hands are delicate and beautiful with stunning nails, we were all the same. I still have a copy of that photo framed in my house to this day.

The five girls that returned to the street were giggling and laughing and having the times of our lives. At that moment, I was able to forget that I was different. It felt liberating in ways I struggle to describe even now.

“What next?” Emma asked as we wandered along the street.

“Ooh, what’s that?”

I turned to look at what Tina was pointing at and was confronted with a huge shop window full of mannequins in their undies.

“Hunkemöller? Kinda looks like Victoria’s Secret.” Chloe mused, eyeing the shop. “Wanna?”

“Yeah,” Tina nodded. “We got plenty of time, why not?”

I’m pretty positive that stores like this the world over are used to the whirlwinds that are gangs of teenage girls. We descended on that particular fashion emporium like a plague of locusts did upon Egypt; nothing was safe.

I have shopped for underwear before, but I had never experienced anything like this. It was giggly and silly and not a touch raunchy. We were teenagers; we were exploring who we were and how we related to our bodies and our sexualities. Shops like this, times like this were so very precious to me in later years.

“Oh, these are pretty saucy,” Emma giggled, holding a pair of extremely tiny lacy panties in front of herself. “I should indulge.”

“Your Mom will kill you if she finds those in the wash.” Chloe grinned. “Remember when she found that G-string?”

“God, I thought I was going to die. Ezra heard and he went on about it for a month.”

“Ezra?” I asked uncertainly.

“My little brother,” she explained. “The little twerp is like eleven.”

“The smaller the underwear, the less weight it takes up in your luggage. That means you can buy more,” Sarah pointed out. The look the girls exchanged would make you think they just solved world hunger with that revelation.

“You should try this on,” Tina offered, dangling a bra in front of me. “You’re what? Thirty-four?”

“Thirty-two B,” I corrected. “I think that’s a seventy?”

She hands me the relevant garment and gestures towards the changing rooms. “Go on, try it on.”

I eye the bra suspiciously, “This looks a little racy, Tina.”

The grin is something I expected to see on a cheetah, or a shark right before it bites into an innocent unsuspecting victim. “I know.”

I rolled my eyes and made my way through to the changing rooms at the rear of the store. Once securely within my little cube, I examined the diaphanous device that Tina had given me. The bra was a balconette pushup bra in a deep crimson trimmed with lace. I had to admit it; Tina had pretty good taste.

I slipped off my upper clothing and removed my own bra. Well, it was one of Chloe’s and it wasn’t a perfect fit, but it was doing the job better than the sports bras I had brought with me. I slipped into the new bra and fastened it in the back. I’ve never understood why so many people in trans fiction put them on backward and spin them around, it was never particularly hard for me to do. With a little adjusting of the girls, I stepped back to regard myself in the mirror.

Oh dear.

The girl looking back at me had a seriously weapons-grade set of tits on her. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m no Covewatch Beauty running around in her red one-piece with a set of massive floatation devices, but I looked far more stacked than I thought possible. I was sporting decent honest to god cleavage that would make any boy drool.

There was a knock at the changing room door. “You decent?”

I unlatched the door and peered through the gap, “Yep, why?”

Tina shoved the door open and slid inside.

“Hey, watch it,” I squeaked, covering my chest.

“Pft, don’t be a baby, let's see.”

I rolled my eyes and lowered my hands to rest on my hips. “Satisfied?”

“Jeeesus girl, those things will take someone’s eye out.”

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” I protested, looking back at the mirror. “Is it?”

“Oh, it’s bad,” she agreed, appearing past my shoulder. “In a good way.”

She vanished for a second and I heard feverish texting. A moment later there was another knock at the door.

“Do you want to invite the whole store in here?” I complained as she unlatched the cubicle and opened the door.

“Don’t be dramatic,” she dismissed, “we need other opinions.”

Obviously, as there’s no room for five girls to fit into a single changing room in most clothing stores, I ended up standing just outside the cubicle in the main changing area in my jeans and bra. Dignified right?

“God damn, you have got to buy that,” Chloe enthused.

Emma shook her head in disbelief, “I have no idea how anyone could have possibly seen you as a boy. Damn, I’m actually jealous.”

“Right?” Sarah agreed. “Imagine if those boys yesterday that were being dickheads saw her now? They’d be on the floor drooling.”

Yeah, I turned bright red.

“Awww look at her blushing!” Chloe giggled.

“Shut up,” I grumbled, retreating back into my hiding place and closing the door.

I changed back into my borrowed bra and redressed before coming back out to join the peanut gallery.

“So? You not getting it?” Tina prompted.

I stopped walking and looked at her like she was insane. “Of course, I’m getting it, and three more to match. This thing is a weapon.”

* * *

There are a ton of cool places in a city like Köln, but there are also a ton that are really not that special. From M&H to ShoeLocker and the Rans store, there was a LOT of American influence even here in Germany. It was safe to say that we skipped most of them as we can visit them any time we like back home.

“Why exactly are we eating Italian food when we’re here in Germany?” Sarah asked as we were seated at a little restaurant just off Brückenstraße.

“Because I don’t want to eat another damn sausage,” Tina asserted, sliding into the booth.

We all had a couple of shopping bags, myself a rather well-stuffed one from Hunkemöller. In the end, I got three matching sets with that weapons-grade Büstenhalter and a few more casual options. At least this way, I was now wearing my own well-fitting bra rather than a loaner.

“I don’t mind,” I shrugged. “Food is food and I’m starving.”

“What can I get for you, ladies?”

“One large chicken veggie, five chicken salads, and five cokes please,” Chloe answered, handing the man our menus.

“Not a problem,” he smiled, collecting our menus. “Ten minutes, ok?”

“I’ve had a really good time,” Emma offered. “I’m kinda sad that we’re going home tomorrow.”

“No kidding,” I sigh. “I feel like I only just got to start enjoying myself.”

“How are you going to handle things once we get back?” Chloe asked.

I shrugged, “I really have no idea. I didn't think that far ahead.”

Sarah frowns, “They can’t make you go back with the boys, can they? That would be insane; they couldn’t behave themselves with a girl around, and they can’t make you go back to being a… God, I can’t even say it, it just sounds wrong,” she made a face. “I can’t even picture you as that anymore.”

“How’d you think I felt on that first day at the airport?” Tina chuckled. “I’ve known this bitch for months, thinking she went to a different school. We always met at the Gym on Wednesday afternoons so I didn’t put much thought into it. Who knew that all this time she had been pulling the biggest switcheroo ever.”

“I did pee my pants a little when you recognized me,” I admitted with a sheepish grin. “I’m still sorry for lying to you.”

Tina waved her hand dismissively, “Pft, no big. I never asked and it was funny as hell to see your face when you recognized me.”

Our drinks arrived, interrupting our conversation for a moment. After the Kellner beat a hasty retreat, Sarah spoke up.

“So, what happened? When you first spotted her?”

Tina grinned and shook her head. “Oh man, it was good. Girl here was trying her hardest to do boy; you all remember from the start of the week, right?”

The others nodded their agreement and I sank down in my seat out of embarrassment. “So, I was just minding my own business waiting for Sarah to find her passport that she had managed to lose in the three minutes since she put it back in her bag and I spot this grungy-looking girl. At first, I’m not paying her any attention because I really didn’t care at that time of the morning. Then, she turns and I get this profile shot and I swear to god, I’m like Holly, wait, she doesn’t go to our school… why is she here? Coincidence?”

“I mind my own business and then she pulled out her passport and answered Frau Whistler, the boys' teacher. I recognized the voice instantly and knew sure as hell she wasn’t in our class…”

“Yeah, I suck at keeping secrets,” I sigh. “This semester has been a bit of a shitshow.”

“I can only imagine, baby girl.” Tina chuckled as our food arrived.

You know what? It might not be German cuisine, but it smelled pretty darn good all the same.

We all tucked into our lunch and the conversation flowed freely. It wasn’t about me, it wasn’t about gender, it was just five girlfriends enjoying their time together. Here we were, in a foreign country, getting lunch by ourselves, enjoying our new pretty nails, and feeling like the most sophisticated and mature young ladies you can imagine.

It was the first time that I really considered that; one day, we would all be real adult women. I might not have been born like my friends, but I was doing what I could to learn and to play catch up. We were experiencing these moments together and I could see that same trepidation and shy experimentation as we all found our place in society.

Sure, it was just shopping and sharing lunch on a day out, but it still felt pretty special to us. Here we were, seeing the sights and living life to its fullest. Every one of those girls at that table was working out how she fit into the world. Chloe, Emma, Sarah, Tina, or Holly, it didn’t matter where she started, she was on a journey to her fullest.

* * *

After lunch, we descended on the fashion emporia of Köln like meth’d-up raccoons out for their next dumpster dive. Oh, you think I’m exaggerating? Try shopping with a gang of teenage girls with spending money and no adult supervision; it is nothing like trans-fiction tends to portray. Honestly, it’s impressive how much of a swath we can cut through a population center when we try.

From shoe shops to clothing boutiques, we left no stone unturned in our quest for the cutest, most perfect, items. Few were actually bought, after all, we’re on teenage budgets and our suitcases have to make the flight back, but we made an impressive effort nonetheless.

We were finally in Pimke after that elusive leather mini. Naturally, we’re going to get there the long way, via every other isle and garment.

“Do you think this will work on me?” Chloe mused, holding a peach babydoll against herself.

“I think you need something darker,” I opine. “It kinda washes you out. Try the green instead.”

She picks up one of the other colors and poses in front of the mirror, her smile broadening as she sees the difference. “Good call, girl.”

“Eh, I can do color,” I shrug. “Style I’m still working on.”

“You seem to do ok so far,” she offers with a smile.

“Not hard with limited options.”

“We’ve got to go shopping when we get home,” she grins. “We’re friends for good now.”

We exchanged a little smile and I felt a happy little squiggle.

“Hey Hol, come try this on!”

The smile became a shared eye roll as Tina bowled in with the aforementioned leather mini.

“You’ve got to try this on, we can all get them!”

“I’ll try it on,” I conceded, “But it might be a bit much.”

“Nah,” she shook her head. “It’s perfect, we can all roll up on the first day of school in them.”

“Not a chance,” Chloe stepped in, vetoing the idea immediately. “It’s cold, even back home in Cali and we will get dresscoded before we can enter the damn building.”

“We can at least wear them to dinner tonight…” Tina frowned sadly.

You know how Tina is tiny and adorable, right? Yeah, it’s really hard to say no to tiny and adorable doing the sad routine.

“Fine,” I sighed, snatching the skirt out of her hands. “I’ll try it on, but you’re going to complain.”

“Why would I complain?”

“Because I have better legs than you.”

“Why you bitch!”

Pissed-off Tina is a lot like an angry cat with mittens over its claws… sure, it’s trying to shiv you, but it’s really more cute than effective. I’m kidding, she wasn’t really trying to kill me. I’d get to see her scrap later in my school career and she’s a fearsome little devil.

I scampered off to the changing rooms with a top I was already planning on trying and set about changing. Honestly, the leather mini needed a bit more than the t-shirt I was wearing to really sell the look.

I have to explain this to you because this outfit was truly something special. The skirt that Tina had been coveting was truly a work of art. It was a black pleated mini with a double stack belt that crossed over in the center with big silver buckles; It was seriously cute with a capital C. The top I was wearing with it was a white sparkly strappy number that contrasted nicely.

The size on the skirt Tina had picked was pretty spot on, although I had a little room to play with. If you’ve ever worn leather, you’ll know that’s pretty much a necessity. The top reached down just far enough to leave a few inches of bare tummy between the two garments.

“Are you done in there?” Tina demanded, knocking impatiently on the door.

“Yeah yeah, hang on,” I sighed. Turning back and forth in the mirror, I examined myself. I was shocked to find that I looked… fantastic. For once in my life I was genuinely impressed with what I was looking at.

Unlatching the door, I swung it open and stepped out into the main changing area with more confidence than I knew I possessed. A bit like the lingerie place, this store had a long corridor with changing booths branching off and a big mirror at the end. Tina was waiting outside when I stepped out and I am not exaggerating when I tell you that her jaw hit the floor.

“Holy, fucking, shit.”

“It’s not bad,” I conceded with a smile. “I can’t believe this is me.”

“Not bad?” she gawped, “Girl you have to buy that… it would be a crime not to.”

“Let's see!” Chloe stepped out of her own cubicle wearing the very same skirt. She looked incredible, her long lean dancer’s body really setting off the skirt to maximum effect. She turned to me and her eyes widened as much as her grin. “Girl, that is weapons-grade,” she nodded approvingly.

“You’ve got to buy that outfit,” Tina insisted. “Fuck next semester, we’re wearing these tonight.”

“Isn’t that a bit much?” I frown, admiring my reflection in the mirror.

“Yeah, but it will make an impression,” she giggled.

Emma and Sarah came out of their changing rooms wearing their matching skirts. “We’re in,” Emma grinned.

Oh dear, this is not going to end well…

* * *

Have you ever heard the expression, “She bit off more than she could chew?” There’s a picture of me right next to it, but you’ve made it this far through the book, so, do you actually expect any less?

“I don’t know guys, this feels like it’s going to backfire spectacularly.”

“Pft, quiet, this is a fantastic idea,” Sarah muttered as she did my eyeliner.

All five of us were in Tina and Sarah’s room getting ready for the evening’s stupidity. As you can well imagine, things had gotten monumentally out of control. The skirt idea had spiraled into an entire scheme involving stealing the limelight at the evening’s departure dinner and last night’s ‘party.’ I hadn’t mentioned that, had I?

The final night of the trip would culminate in a party after dinner in the hotel bar. It would be a private affair with music, drinks (sadly non-alcoholic) and snacks. If I had still been Alex, chances are I would have skipped the entire thing. The problem was that I wasn’t Alex… not to anyone. And I was now part of said scheme.

If you were imagining that our plan for the skirts was just to match for dinner and get some cute photographs, then you would have been dead wrong. The truth was that the initial idea had spiraled into the scheme, nay, conspiracy, to dress up like a gang of teenage harlots and try to outskank the Köln red light district.

“Herr Norton is going to explode when he sees us,” Chloe giggled, adjusting her shoes. “How much are you betting we get told to change?”

“We’re wearing decent clothes and there is no official school dress code,” Tina pointed out. “In theory, nothing we are doing is particularly bad.”

“Of course, she’s the dress code expert,” Emma smirked. “I’m betting more boys explode than teachers.”

I’ll admit it, I blushed.

So you’re dying to know what I’m wearing, aren’t you? I know you know I have the black leather mini and the white sparkly top. This is coupled with a pair of strappy black heels with a ten-centimeter heel. I think that’s four inches in Freedom Fractions. My hair is flowing over my shoulders in loose waves thanks to Chloe’s curling iron and I’m wearing my little snowflake necklace and a borrowed bracelet from Tina.

My makeup, which Sarah is currently finishing, is what one would safely describe as an evening look. Smokey eyes, striking blush, and a bold red lip. With my pale skin, it’s a pretty sharp pop. Right now she’s curling my lashes and applying far too much mascara.

During our hunting trip, I did pick up a few items of makeup for myself; I wasn’t willing to wear more borrowed stuff, especially eye makeup as it’s unhygienic. Between that, the clothes, shoes, and nails, I was feeling rather poor.

“Take a look,” Sarah grinned, recapping the mascara and standing up.

I stepped cautiously over to the mirror, rather aware of how likely I was to snap my ankles in these daft stilts I was now wearing. The girl looking back at me was a knockout and I was struggling to believe that she was actually me.

Now, you know I’ve been living as Holly outside school for months already, and I’m rather decent with makeup, but Sarah is honestly a mistress of the art. I certainly wasn’t the only recipient of her work either tonight as she was already getting to work on Tina.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, playing with a few strands of hair. “Not bad.”

“Great canvas,” she replied, not looking away from her war paint conveyor belt she had going.

Chloe stepped over and nodded approvingly. Her mini was coupled with a black sequined tank that really offset her gorgeous blonde hair. “Not bad at all girly.”

“Isn’t this a tad too much?” I frowned, trying to tug my top down to cover more tummy, all the while exposing more breast than I was comfortable with.

“Yup, of course it’s too much,” she grinned. “We’ll get a bit of a dressing down from the teachers, probably, but the boys won’t be able to keep their eyes off us. It’s going to be great.”

“There’s going to be more erections than a crane factory,” snickered Emma.

My eyes went wide and I blushed crimson. This, however, only served to amuse the pair of them greatly.

“Aw, Holly’s embarrassed by big throbbing dicks,” Chloe chuckled, wiggling a finger at me.

Somehow, my redness level managed to increase to a new higher setting. “Um, I…”

“Poor girl is far too innocent,” Emma added, “be kind.”

“No, she needs to know what she’s going to cause tonight,” Chloe points out, walking over and adjusting my top. “She is going to make a lot of boys horny and a lot of girls insanely jealous.”

I grimaced at the idea, “I really don’t want to make anyone mad or horny.”

Chloe waved her hand dismissively, “You won’t be doing anything that we won’t. You’re going to have to get used to the fact that you’re attractive, girl; haters gonna hate.”

I made a face and pulled my top back up to where it was exposing less of my breasts. “You’re not the one trying to get the other girls to accept you as one of them and the boys to not beat the shit out of you.”

Chloe’s expression changed and she gave me a supportive squeeze. “Girl, anyone who sees you knows that you’re obviously a girl. Any chick that has a problem tonight is just jealous that you’re hotter than she is. Honestly? Get used to it. Remember you’re dating on the football team; that’s going to make you a target regardless. The social strata of high school demand it.”

“I still don’t feel comfortable acting like I have social credit I haven’t earned yet.”

Tina snorted from the far side of the room where she was doing her hair. “No boy is going to call you a faggot after he sees you tonight, you have my word. They’ll be too busy adding you to their spank bank.”

Did I ever take the time to explain that girls are just as bad as boys? So, one of the things I learned during this time in my life was that my impression of girls as innocent and creatures of virtue and purity was incredibly wrong. Girls are just as bad, if not worse than boys at times. Take it from someone who has experienced the intimate conversations of both genders; girls are filthy sexpests when they want to be.

I turned back to the mirror and gave myself a long hard look. I like to think I looked cute, maybe, if I was stretching it, kinda pretty. For someone who has hated their appearance for so long, it was a challenge to accept.

I had to trust that my friends wouldn’t steer me wrong. I was learning and they had the experience to know what was ok, and what wasn’t. Was I worried that people would judge me more than the others? Of course. The truth was, I still felt like I had to earn the respect of the other girls before I could even begin to express my femininity this freely. Honestly, a large part of it was the dregs of boy world clinging to my mind.

I had every right, and I damn it, I was going to have fun.

Fifteen minutes later, I was in the elevator with the rest of the gang. My earlier prediction that we were going to look like a hooker’s convention was pretty accurate in the circumstances. In such a confined space, the multitude of perfumes and scents clashed like a mosh pit in a beauty parlor.

I won’t lie, I was pretty nervous. Dressing in jeans and a nice top around my classmates had been terrifying enough and it was only yesterday that boys had treated me pretty badly. Now, here I was dressing like I had a right to feel good about my body. It was a lot of brain worms to overcome if I’m honest.

The elevator arrived at the ground floor and we stepped out to face our future. Right as I did so, one of the stupid stilts I was wearing caught on the edge of the carpet. I let out a squeak of shock. Apparently it was my new shorthand for ‘look out, oh shit, help, and ‘Did I mention that I hate these shoes?’ I was being quite efficient.

Hearing my exclamation, Chloe turned just in time to catch me by the shoulders. “Woah girl,” she grinned. “The boys are meant to fall for you, not the other way around.”

“These things are going to cripple me before any of them can see me,” I grimace, crouching as delicately as possible to rub a sore ankle. In these skirts, that was a really careful process, believe me.

Chloe rolled her eyes and offered me a hand to stand up again. “Price of beauty, baby girl. It’s the price of beauty.”

“Does it take plastic?”

Humor was, as always, my great defensive mechanism to suit all situations. The truth was, I was really nervous about the whole enterprise now that it was happening. Expressing myself as female was tough enough, but now actively doing so in a way that was intentionally sexy and alluring? This was new territory for me.

Technically, there was nothing lewd about our outfits and the clothes were covering far more flesh than I really express in these pages. We had managed to hit teen hot, and certainly not adult hot. Nobody was getting arrested for public indecency, even if I know for a fact that Rob and Dad would have an aneurysm if they saw us. Mom? I was pretty sure I would be shipped off to a convent.

I caught my reflection in a mirror along the edge of the lobby as we passed. Rick on the other hand… Rick, I would need to question pretty extensively about his opinion on this critical matter. I’m sure he could provide extensive feedback to help me reach a satisfactory conclusion.

God, what am I turning into?

I did my best to hide my nerves as we stepped out into the hotel lobby and made our way confidently towards the restaurant. Every hint of bravery I had felt upstairs in the room had long since melted away like a penguin in a sauna. The only thing that kept me walking was the other four girls around me who were dressed exactly the same. Why the hell did I agree to this stupidity?

Naturally, the first person that spotted us was Frau Whistler. She was just inside the entrance to the restaurant on a phone call as we passed. As you can imagine, that phone call ended rather swiftly.

“Ladies, a moment, please.”

Tina smiled sweetly, which at her size is actually pretty endearing. “What’s wrong Frau Whistler?”

Our teacher wasn’t even close to buying her shit. “Christine Booth, you can put the sweetness routine back in your holster, and the same goes for the rest of you.”

Was I hiding in the back? You bet your bottom dollar that I was.

“What’s wrong, miss?” Chloe asked innocently.

Frau Whistler pursed her lip and gave us a good hard look. “Isn’t this a little summery for this time of year?”

“It is rather warm in the hotel, miss,” Chloe grinned. “We just wanted to look nice for the last night.”

Frau Whistler smirked in a way that suggested she knew exactly what Chloe meant. “Uh-huh, I see. Well, I had better not see anything go further than this, do I make myself abundantly clear?”

“Of course Frau Whistler,” Chloe beamed innocently, clasping her hands demurely. “We wouldn’t dream of it.”

Right at the last moment, her eyes connected with mine and she paused. “Miss Winters?”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Pull your skirt down please.”

I hadn’t noticed it riding up and I pulled it back into place rather hurriedly. God, this was mortifying.

She looked us over and sighed dramatically. “Go on, get on with you. I don’t want to hear any reports of bad behavior, and you know exactly what I mean, girls.”

Wow, my first dressing down as a girl, and it had to be for dressing like a whore. What a precedent to set eh?

Suitably chastised, we vanished before she could change her mind.

Much to my delight, there were already a fair few of our classmates in the restaurant as we headed for our table. To say that we draw people’s attention was a slight understatement; with all five of us dressed to the nines? Yeah, they were paying attention, especially the boys.

This was the first time that I had ever dressed to deliberately attract male attention. Sure, it wasn’t all my idea, but I was getting carried along on the wave of teen girl shenanigans. To tell the truth, I was feeling pretty terrified behind the mask.

These people all knew who I was; Holly or Alex, I was the same person and they knew my origins. To express myself so femininely and so deliberately was uncomfortable. Sure, it would get easier, but this first time had me terrified that all of a sudden people would point and laugh at the idiot girl with the gorgeous friends.

“I don’t know if this was smart,” I mutter to Emma while keeping my expression polite and neutral.

“Shut up, they’re all watching,” she replied, the casual smile not leaving her face. “

Our usual table was on the far side of the room and along one of the windows. Normally that wasn’t much of a bother, but today it meant walking past basically everyone. Thankfully, most people just watched, and that was bad enough. Some of them however felt the need to comment less than subtly.

“God, I could wear those thighs like earmuffs.”

I could almost feel the steam pouring out of my ears. We had just passed a table with a group of boys seated at it when I heard one of them utter the above to his buddies.

“Ignore it, girl, it’s a compliment… kinda.” Emma offered under her breath. “Just don’t react or it makes it worse for everyone.”

“How do you put up with this?” I replied, starting to master the smile ventriloquy.

“I’ll make more money than all of them one day,” she shrugs gently. “Let them look, but if they touch I’ll break their fingers.”

You know what? Fuck it. If she can do it, so can I. Momma didn’t raise no bitch.

I remembered Kara and Megan’s heels masterclass and pulled myself up on my imaginary string. Ass and tits out, head held high, and walk. Did I feel like a strategically shaved monkey in lipstick and a miniskirt? Absolutely, but that monkey had sass.

More than one table of boys was watching us as we crossed the restaurant. If I imagined them as a pack of baboons in a cage at the zoo, it was a lot easier to pass without feeling like prey. Maybe someone needs to invent high heels that have built-in cattle prods? Much, much safer.

We finally reached our table and took our seats and in these skirts that took a care. Taking my cue from the others, I did a little sit and swivel with my legs together like a proper lady.

“If looks could suntan I’d be golden brown,” Sarah chuckled, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

Tina shot a look at one boy who was looking particularly brave. He was starting to stand up, clearly encouraged by his friends. He seemed to shrivel back into his place as her eyes drilled into his soul. “They’re particularly brave tonight.”

“I feel like meat,” I complained, tugging my skirt down my thighs.

“Don’t be a baby, we didn’t raise no bitch,” Tina quipped, sipping at her water like she didn’t have the mouth of a sailor.

“Be gentle, she’s still a fawn,” Chloe grinned. “We are dropping her in at expert level; we’ve had a few years of practice.”

“This gets easier?” I query, still feeling eyes on the back of my neck.

“Sure it does,” she shrugged. “You notice it, but you also aim for it. You know boys talk amongst boys as much as we do and it’s all part of the big game.”

“Learning on the fly is a little scary,” I admit.

Emma leans over and gives me a side hug. “Ah, you’ll get the hang in no time. Cutie like you? You’ll learn to ignore them or you’ll spend the rest of your life in a convent.”

I blew a lock of hair out of my face and made a face. “They really think they’re being subtle, don’t they? God, boys are weird.”

“Now you get it.” Tina grinned. “Now once more with feeling.”

This evening’s menu was a little more special than the typical offerings that we have been enjoying all week. Not that the foot has been bad, far from it. It was good wholesome food, but it was much more akin to our lunch at school; nice, but meant for filling a hole in hungry teenagers.

Tonight however it seemed as though they had stepped things up a little for our last evening of the trip. Sure, it wasn’t earning any awards, but it was certainly having a decent go. Perhaps dressing up had been worth it after all?

Our appetizer that evening was a bowl of rather tasty French onion soup, rather ironic for Germany. Once that had been seen off, the Entrées arrived; Rinderroulade with boiled new potatoes, red cabbage, and carrots.

“What’s this thing again?” Tina asked skeptically, poking at her plate.

“Rinderroulade;” Chloe offered. “It’s bacon and onions wrapped in strips of beef.”

“Kinda like a beef burrito?” Tina asked.

Chloe cringed, “I’m impressed, I think you just insulted French, German, and Spanish cuisine.”

“I am not a chef,” Tina shrugged.

“I think operation: Hottie is working pretty well,” Emma offered, sipping her water. “I’ve seen most of the boys’ tables looking over here.”

“Probably at me,” I sighed.

“Oh, absolutely,” she giggled. “But not for the reason that you think.”

I rolled my eyes, “It’s not like they’ve forgotten. I’m still the same person.”

“If any of them can call you a boy or a fag with a straight face tonight, then they’re certifiably insane,” Sarah declared, squeezing my leg. “They’ll be too busy drooling all over themselves.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I admitted. “What happens after they get horny then remember and beat the fuck out of me?”

“Then I’ma beat them the fuck back,” Tina declared. “I may need a ladder, but I’ll do it, I swear!”

The idea of our pint-sized pixie fighting anyone set the entire table in giggles.

* * *

Before you get any wild ideas, our little ‘last night party’ was a rather gentle affair. It seems that Germans and Americans have very different ideas of what constitutes a party, especially where teenagers are involved. With our teachers present, it wasn’t ever going to get very far out of hand.

Things had been going pretty well so far. Boys had been staring at us, but nobody was being weird about things so we were at a bit of a truce. I had a sneaking suspicion that a few people had received the toenail pliers treatment from the teachers last night, so everyone was on their best behavior.

It was my turn to get a ‘round’ from the bar for everyone; calm down, it was just soda. Unfortunately despite German law and culture, we were banned from participating by our jailers. Either way, we were having our little make-believe that we were sophisticated adult ladies with our mixed drinks all the same. What can I say? We were kids.

I was leaning on a stool, waiting for the bartender to return with my drinks when I felt a presence behind me. I turned and came face to face with Kevin Patterson. You remember that particular specimen of single-cell American manhood, right?

“I don’t want any trouble Kevin,” I pointed out dryly. “If you’ve got anything smart to say, just save it.”

Kevin looked at me and I watched his eyes descend the length of my body before returning back up to my face… after a pause. Yup, I felt pretty unclean after that one.

“I uh, no trouble,” he mumbled. “Just getting a drink.”

I eyed him suspiciously and turned back toward the bar. The worst part was that I still felt his eyes roaming up and down me.

“How do you look like that?”

Oh dear, biology for fucking idiots.

I took a deep calming breath and turned back to face the idiot. “Like what?”

I once again received the long, obvious look up and down my body while his brain worked, and I was starting to run out of patience. I crossed my arms and fixed him with an irritated look. “Are you quite done?”

“Huh?”

I sighed and smiled sarcastically. “You’re the one that approached me and started asking questions, Kevin.”

“How do you have…”

“Hey, thanks for waiting for me.”

Mcpardon.

I turned around and spotted one of the boys from class. I’m pretty sure his name was Tom, but he wasn’t someone that I knew particularly well. Then again, I wasn’t exactly the social butterfly, was I?

“I’m uh… yeah.” Kevin shuffled awkwardly for a moment before disappearing down the bar to bother someone else.
“Holly, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” I admit, somewhat skeptically. “Uh, thanks.”

“He looked like he was bothering you, so I figured I’d come to say hi, I’m Tom.” he offered, extending a hand.

All systems, high alert.

Tom was about six feet tall and had sandy brown hair. He had a kind face and an easy smile that made him pretty attractive, I was surprised to realize. He was giving me space and he was only looking at my face, so he was already ten points up on the recently departed dipshit.

“Thanks,” I accepted his handshake tentatively and a little weakly. “I was just getting some drinks for my friends and Kevin kinda… appeared.”

Tom nodded and smiled, “Yeah, you didn’t look best pleased with him so I figured I’d spare you from him.”

An observant boy… what a novelty.

“You had a good trip?” I asked, unsure as to what to say to the guy.

“Pretty good,” he grinned. “It’s been eventful.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” I smiled nervously, averting my eyes. “Uh, sorry.”

Tom shrugged and smirked. Somehow, I felt at ease; that he was laughing with me, and not at me. It certainly made a change.

“I saw you had a Blitzkrieg Flop shirt, right? You into them?”

Why is he asking me about music… this feels strange.

I nodded and smiled, “Yeah; kinda into that whole skate punk thing, I guess.”

“Nice,” he grinned. “I love that stuff. Even more new shit like Thing42 or Wink183.”

He was being way too nice to me, given the circumstances. It felt far too normal; something had to be off. I crossed my arms and hesitated for a moment. “You know who I am, right?”

Tom nodded, “I know who you are Holly; I sat behind you in class all semester. Why?”

I felt a little silly and uncertain all of a sudden. “Sorry, you were just being so…”

“Normal?”

I nodded and blushed.

“Do I have to be an a-hole?”

“No,” I conceded. “It’s just… it’s been a weird few days.”

Tom shrugged, “You seem like you’ve had enough assholes for one week. I figured I’d be nice.”

I let my shoulders sag and smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I’m a little defensive.”

“Yeah, I would be too,” he admitted. “But I wouldn’t look half as good doing it.”

Ok, sure, I blushed. “Um, thanks.”

“Here, let me get those,” he offered, grabbing the three remaining drinks on the bar. “Your friends are back that way right?” he gestured with one of the drinks.

Tom walked me back to the table where the rest of the gang were chatting to a few other girls who had arrived.

“Ladies,” Tom smiled, setting the drinks down on the table before he turned back to me and gave me a wink. “Catch you around, Holly.”

With that, he turned and walked away back towards the bar. After watching him go for a moment, I slipped into my seat and took a long pull of my drink thoughtfully. “That was a little weird.”

“You two looked cozy,” Emma offered, “What was all that about?”

“He stepped in when Kevin Paterson was about to catch a slap,” I admitted.

Cleo, one of the girls from the other day grinned. “He looked like he was hitting on you. He’s a dish, you go girl.”

“Isn’t he dating Kelsey Harris?” her friend Hannah asked. “They’re in a band, right?”

That’s where I recognized him from; he plays bass…

I frown. “He wasn’t hitting on me; we were just talking. Can’t a guy just be nice? Anyway, he knows exactly who I am.”

Cleo’s friend Hannah grinned playfully. “Looking like that? Girl, you’re going to make them forget.”

“I have a boyfriend, I’m happy, thanks.”
Cleo blinked, “Wait, you do? That was fast! Who is he?”

“She’s been a girl longer than this week, dummkopf.” Tina chuckles. She grins at me and wiggles an eyebrow, “You want me to tell her?”

I rolled my eyes, “Be my guest.”

Tina’s grin broadened into that of a hyena and she turned to the others theatrically. “This girl here has magic freaking powers: Despite pretending to be a boy at school, she managed to hook a hottie. She had him so hot and bothered that the poor boy was having an identity crisis until she told him she was really a girl.”

“Tina, come on…” I blushed.

Why did I think this was a good idea?

“I’m just getting to the good bit,” she grinned. “Lil Miss Undercover managed to snag not just a hottie, not just an athlete, one of the stars of the football team, the twenty-four; Rick Taylor.”

“No way,” Cleo breathed, “seriously?”

I sighed, “Yes, seriously.”

“Girl, he’s hot as hell, I think I hate you,” Hannah shook her head. “How’d you manage that?”

I sighed, “I was trying to avoid it; I didn’t want to date anyone until I got out of school and could be myself… but like many things, the world conspired against me.”

“What does he… about… you know?” Cleo asked cautiously.

“Like Tina said, I explained. “I was trying to avoid dating anyone and I just wanted to keep a low profile but… we became friends and… I guess we both started to develop feelings. I was trying to pretend to be Alex, to hold on long enough to transfer. I guess he saw more of Holly than I wanted to let slip. One thing led to another and it turned out he was developing feelings for me.”

“Yeah, his heart saw a girl and his eyes were apparently shut,” Tina giggled.

“Something like that,” I admitted.

Cleo smiled, “That’s super sweet. Do you miss him?”

I thought about Rick, five thousand miles away back home. I thought about talking to him on the phone this week and just how excited I was to see him again. Just how excited I was to kiss him, to be held, and to be loved. I thought about what our future would hold…

Cleo grinned. “Oh yeah, you miss him alright.”

I sipped my drink and felt content with the world. “I really do.”

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Fake It Till You Make It - 33 - Homeward Bound (Finale!)

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Chapter Thirty-Three - Homeward Bound.

My final morning in Germany started out pretty weird, but what’s new these days? Despite it only being a few days since the grand whoopsie, dressing as Alex felt distinctly uncomfortable now. I knew that I had to go through security as a boy, so any Hollesque deviations were going to just add trouble and cause delays and embarrassment. Yeah, yeah, a normal day for me, I know.

Was I afraid of people finding out now? Of course not. I was more afraid of officials denying me entry back into my own country. It turns out that in the wake of the Saudi Shuffle, confirming identities and international terrorism were hot topics.

I was in full Alex that morning for the occasion: Cargo pants, t-shirt, hoodie, and sneakers. There was no makeup, jewellery or funky hair in attendance at all. I did my level best to resurrect him, but the reality was that he was long gone. The girl looking back at me in the mirror looked tired and plain, but she was undeniably a girl.

Let’s not even comment on my nails, shall we? I was rather glad that my hoodie’s sleeves were long enough for me to hide my hands inside them. There was no way on this planet that I was removing the polish or clipping the gorgeous extensions. I would rather wear mittens for the entire flight than risk damaging my precious talons.

Grungy Alex-drag was certainly quite the dramatic shift from last night’s sultry shenanigans. I had enjoyed myself, even if I hadn’t been particularly comfortable showing that much skin. Still, it had been infinitely preferable to dressing up as a boy, even if most people still didn’t believe me.

My belongings packed up, including all of my presents and wardrobe acquisitions, I slipped my snowflake necklace around my neck and slipped it inside my shirt. I could feel like Holly even if they didn’t see it. It made me happier than I felt at the moment. A much needed middle finger to the universe.

It was more than ironic to me that I got more weird looks at breakfast for dressing like a boy than when I was presenting as Holly. It was probably the old classic ‘What has been seen cannot be unseen’ adage in full action. Now that people knew who I really was, they struggled to rationalize the boy they had spent the first half of the trip with, and the mousy quiet girl in a hoodie. Even people who didn’t like me, or who didn’t agree with what I was doing, could now see the falseness in my presentation.

In honour of the festive season and that cinematic masterpiece of airducts, explosions, and dodgy German accents; welcome to the party pal.

“You look pretty ridiculous, girl,” Chloe chuckled as she came up behind me in the breakfast queue.

”It’s Alex drag or passport control will treat me like a sock puppet,” I shrug, pouring myself a coffee to go with my hearty breakfast.

”You had trouble coming out here, right?”

I nodded as we made our way over to join the others. “Yeah, TSA was a little odd, but the Germans barely believed me.”

”And now you’ve blown the boy routine apart. Do you think it’s going to be any easier?”

”Probably not,” I admitted sheepishly.

We sat down with the others and started on our breakfast. The atmosphere was admittedly rather mixed. On one hand, we were quite sad to be heading home, but equally glad to be soon returning to our families. My own situation would likely complicate matters and I hadn’t really considered the return to school afterward.

In a microcosm, this trip had gone fairly well. It had not been without speed bumps, and it had its fair share of surprises. The truth was, going back to school for a final week was going to be a whole different matter.

Whatever was to come, I would face it as the girl that I truly was. Holly Juliette Winters was in the open now and there was going to be no putting me back in the box. I had friends now; boys and girls alike. Allies that would side with me and hold me up if I stumbled. The future was mine to grasp and I wasn’t going to live in fear anymore.

Thankfully conversation diverted away from me and on to far more mundane topics. It was good to finally just blur into the background. Was it only a week ago that I had done this every single day? It felt strange now, far more than strange.

Once our breakfast was concluded, our teachers guided us through the utter chaos that was checking out and gathering our baggage to be loaded back on the bus. You truly wouldn’t believe how much people managed to forget or mislay; phones, wallets, clothes, and entire bags.

I won’t even get into how many people managed to misplace passports between their room and the lobby, it was worse than a game of charades in a dementia ward. To tell the truth, I really have concerns for the future of the free world if we are some of its brightest and boldest.

Once our idiots were corralled and our belongings loaded, we boarded the bus for the final trip of our grand Deutsch adventure; Wessling to Frankfurt south along the Autobahn. We had about three hours of driving to complete before we could check in for our flight a little after lunch.

I settled down into my seat beside Tina as we pulled away from the hotel. “You remember that first night? When we walked into town?”

“That seems like a lifetime ago,” she agreed. “I told you that you would make this trip interesting.”

“It was pretty good without my mess.”

She grinned at me and gave me a shoulder bump, “Yeah, but you did make it much more memorable.”

“I just wonder what it will be like when I get home.”

“What will be like what?” Sarah asked, leaning over the seats behind us.

I rolled my eyes. Why even bother to have a private conversation amongst this gaggle? “I wonder what school will be like when I get back.”

“The same as before probably,” she shrugs. “Ooh, for you?”

I blink, “No, Otto Von Bismarck.”

It takes her far too long to realize that I’m being sarcastic and she finally grins sheepishly. “I mean, it can’t be that bad, right?”

“No idea yet,” I admit. “Gotta make it back into the US first.”

She makes a face, “Good point… wait; if they don’t let you back in, does that mean you set off to become a pirate queen?”

As we crossed over the Rhine at Bonn, I bid a silent goodbye to the river that had baptized me in some small way. Who would have imagined that in one week I had managed to utterly balls up this entire enterprise so badly?

Who even comes out of the closet five thousand miles from home and their support network? It was so insane, so utterly brainless, and so utterly me that it felt somehow preordained. One long sequence of events that seemed to fit together like a perfect jigsaw of stupidity.

From the moment I had popped that first pill, I had ripped the brake lever off the minecart and sent myself plummeting along the tracks. Every turn, I would somehow just scrape by on two screaming sparking wheels. Every gap in the track we seemed to sail over before slamming back into the groove again. It was a rollercoaster of stupidity and it was somehow my life.

I would never change it, not for a single moment. Holly Winters was a product of this chaos. Somehow, it was my crucible, it forged me stronger and tougher, able to withstand almost anything. Sure, right now it was terrifying, but after you were done you turned to the attendant and begged to go around the ride again.

As we rolled onto the southbound Autobahn, I watched my friends bickering back and forth between their seats. These mad women had joined the Holly Express and were merrily enjoying the carnage it wrought as it plowed through the buffers. I was lucky to have them, as nuts as they all were. January couldn’t come soon enough. Choo, choo!

* * *

Standing outside on the sidewalk at Frankfurt International Airport, I took a long last gulp of German air. Sure, the air inside the terminal was still equally Deutsch, but it was the principle of the thing… it’s far more cinematic this way, get with the program.

This trip had changed me and I was almost sad to go, as excited as I was to get home. Home meant reality, and reality meant consequences. For now, I had two challenges; checkin and security. Once that was done, it was almost an entire day until I had to face anything else. I took one last look around at the grey December sky and followed the others inside.

It was almost a mirror of our departure from the US, but this time, we were a little less unruly and far easier to control now the excitement of the pending trip was behind us. Everyone gathered together and produced their documents on time and stood in an orderly line. It was almost like we had done this before.

The line progressed pretty quickly and before two shakes of a wurst, I was facing the Airline employee at the check-in desk.

“Good morning Fräulein, your passport?”

I smiled politely and handed over my documents.

The agent looks down, the agent frowns, the agent looks up… the agent looks back down. Yeah, you know where this is going, don’t you? Sadly, I Reisenpass-ed far too well.

“This is your passport…?”

“Uh, yeah, if you look at the photo? My name is Alex Winters.” I offered, deepening my voice as much as possible. Ok, that isn’t much, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

The woman raised an eyebrow. “What’s your date of birth, Junger Mann?”

“Twenty-Fifth of February, 1988,” I sighed.

The woman nodded and handed me the passport back. “Here you go Herr Winters, place your bag on the scale please.”

I followed her instructions and watched as she tagged my case before transferring it to the conveyor that whisked it way to the luggage labyrinth. She typed on the computer for a moment before handing me a boarding pass. “Enjoy your flight.”

As I took the pass from her, the woman’s expression clouded and she frowned. I followed her eyes down to our hands holding the pass and spotted the problem straight away. My nails were a LOT nicer than hers. It turns out, keeping one’s hoodie sleeve over one's fingers and using them is a lot harder than it seems. Think fast, dumbass.

“Heh, I grinned sheepishly, “Horrible accident with a glitter delivery truck, you should have seen the other guy.”

She released the pass in confusion and I vanished before she could think more clearly. Thankfully, the next student in line appeared before her and distracted her from thinking any more deeply. Crisis averted, I set off to go find the others with my precious documents in hand. One obstacle was down without too much pushback; I could only keep my fingers crossed for a smooth ride home.

I spotted Tina and the others waiting at the end of the row. Sidling up behind her I finally let my fingers poke out of my hoodie sleeves. What? Do you think I damaged my precious beautiful nails? You must be kidding.

“One down, the worst to go,” I grinned, wiggling my boarding pass.

Tina smirked, “They let you on, eh? I thought we’d have to fly home without you.”

“Not over yet,” I pointed out, eying security warily. “Then there’s customs back at home too.”

“I guess I never really think about it,” Chloe mused with a frown. “I’ve never not looked like my ID.”

I pulled out my passport and handed it to her. “Oh, I look like my ID; the photo is only a month or two old. The name and gender marker, however, not so much.”

She snickered as she handed it back, “That’s true, girl.”

Herr Norton arrived to interrupt the conversation. “Right, we’re heading for security, remove any jewelry you’ve forgotten, ladies. Anything metal, place it in your bag, ok?”

“There go my three nipple piercings,” Tina sighed dramatically. Our teacher’s eyes widened briefly before he switched to a scowl. “No need for snark Fräulein Booth, just do it, please?”

As he vanished, we broke out into giggles. “You’re awful,” Sarah grinned. “I thought he was going to pop a gasket.”

“Wait, three?” Emma frowned doing visible mental math. “Where’s the third?”

Tina rolled her eyes, “I don’t have any, blondie.”

“You’re blonde too!”

Yeah, you can’t pick your friends.

Airports aren’t fans of guns for quite obvious reasons, and in Europe, they are a little more uptight about them than we are back at home in the US. Why do I mention this? Was I packing a pistol in my petticoats? No, not quite.

It seemed that our travel had coincided with the conclusion of a European gun show (yes, they have them) in Frankfurt, and every single international visitor had decided to fly home at once. This meant that the lines at security were excruciatingly long as security gloved up to molest the attendees. You would think they might realize that bullet keyrings and novelty paraphernalia might not be carry-on suitable.

Ordinarily, a bit of a wait is no problem at all. I’m a kid, I had nowhere to go but a cramped seat on an airliner for the better part of a day; stretching my legs in the terminal didn’t bother me. The trouble was that, by the time the European rednecks had cleared security, the staff were pretty much on autopilot.

“Herren hier, Damen hier bitte!”

Uh…

I shuffled into line behind the boys and dropped into my best hunch and scowl. My hands were in my sleeves. Grunt, comply, and do what they ask and it’s all over. As annoying as it was to have to go back to Alex, at least it was really only this one time, and then I was done.

The line moved forward and nobody screamed and shouted about my presence, so I relaxed. All my belongings went into the plastic bin, my cell, my backpack, and I even remembered to remove my watch!

I handed over my passport and boarding pass to the agent and stepped through the metal detector.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.

Fuck.

“Junger….fräulein? Uh, can you step this way?”

Fiddleshits.

I followed the agent to the side and spread my arms out to get wanded. You all know the drill, don’t you? The officer proceeded to wave his wand up and down me before it started wailing once it hit my neck. As it went off, I had a sickening realization; the snowflake.

“Oh, I forgot an um…”

My brain went blank as I had to utter the word necklace. Why? Not only do boys not generally wear them, but especially not cute little snowflakes. Nor do they have to get their pretty festive nails out to unlatch the thing. I do make a hash of things, don’t I?

Resigned to a problematic explanation, I unlatched and removed the necklace and handed it to the officer. As expected, his eyes narrowed. “You were meant to go through the other line, Fräulein, this is for the Herren.”

The man turned to his colleague. “Nina, kannst du sie durchsuchen?”

The woman that I assumed was Nina wandered over and smiled robotically. “English?”

I nodded, “American.”

“Ok, hold out your arms please.”

I did as instructed and the officer patted me down in an efficient and professional manner. Was it weird when she ran the backs of her hands around my boobs while dressed as Alex? Uh, yeah… but apparently these guys were not comparing my passport to my person and I wasn’t planning to tell them. I mean, I’m not defrauding anyone if they didn’t ask, am I?

“Ok, you are clean,” she announced, handing me back my necklace and documents. “Watch this next time, eh?”

I took it back and grinned sheepishly, “tut mir Leid.”

She smiled at my apology and waved me off to join the others.

“All good?” Tina asked as I joined the group.

“Somehow,” I smiled. “It’s not as fun going this way as it was coming here.”

By the time we had finally all cleared security, it was a little after half past twelve. With our flight not departing until two, our teachers released us to roam the departures hall with threats of abandonment if we missed the gate call.

Knowing that we were going to be eating airplane food for the better part of a day, we decided to fill our faces here where there was actual legroom and fresh produce. Well, at least the burgers were fresh; to our teenage minds that was basically the same thing.

“I think even the BurgerBaron here in Germany tastes way better than back home,” Chloe declared, wiping her mouth. “It’s like, real meat and salad.”

“I’m shocked you two are eating burgers,” Sarah giggled. “I thought cheerleaders were allergic to carbs?”

Emma looked at Chloe and shrugged, “I don’t know about her, but I’ve walked more than I do in a month this week and I deserve a treat.”

“I could never eat just salad,” I opine. “I think I’d shrivel up and die.”

“She eats what she likes and still has a body like that? I’m dead,” Chloe sighs dramatically. “It’s alright for some.”

“I’m a growing girl,” I smirk. “Although I can’t eat anywhere as much as Rob. I have no idea where he puts it all.”

“Boys are weird,” she shrugs, nibbling on a fry.

Sarah leaned back in her chair and glanced over at me, “What are you going to do when you get back? You never did say.”

“Not sure,” I admitted. “They might make me go back for the last week. It could get interesting.”

“Will they transfer you early?”

I made a face, “Probably not. More likely to keep me home.”

“What about finals?”

“I didn’t really think any of this through,” I admit glumly. “I’m heading home to uncertainty, a possible ass-whupping, and a lot of drama that I could have avoided if I had just kept it together for a few more days.”

“It’s not your fault,” Chloe reassures me. “This was going to happen; it was insane to expect you to make it till Christmas. Honestly, I think you busted your ass to even make it this far. Nobody should have had to do that.”

That was a good question. It was certainly one I had been pondering ever since my tumbling out of the closet this week. Had they made me wait too long? It was a question that we never really had an answer to. The truth was, I never really knew myself.

It was certainly a problem borne directly from being at a school that was separated by gender; anyone transitioning would face that issue. Was it sensible or even safe for the student to have to wait past a point of reasonable integration for the sake of class sizes or academic adjustment? Frankly, there was no real way to know what worked best when we were so few in number.

Every trans kid ended up being a case study in themselves; all of us fit into our world differently and no one solution worked for all of us. Ideally, I would have been transferred after I came back from my time off; a perfect opportunity to transfer. Had going on this trip even been a smart choice, given the potential for issues so far from home? It didn’t matter. What was done was done and what the future held, we would find out.

It was over now; there was no more Alex. He was long gone and there was no bringing back the boy. It was all I could manage to simply pass myself off as a boy to security, and even that worked poorly. Holly was here, and she wasn’t going back in the box, even if I dressed like a lesbian (According to Tina).

* * *

“Enjoy your flight, Fräulein,” the flight attendant beamed as she returned my boarding pass.

“Thanks.”

I followed the next monkey in line along the jet bridge that connected the terminal to our waiting aircraft. Our home for the next fourteen hours was a huge Jumbo, painted in the eponymous blue, yellow, and white of the German national flag carrier. Below her cockpit, “Wolfsburg” was written in a cursive font. I’m not sure why, but I felt a little safer flying in a plane that had a name. Call me silly, but it almost gave it a personality in my headcanon.

As I stepped onboard the jet, another grinning flight attendant was waiting, “Willkommen Fräulein.”

“Uh, Danke.” I mean, what do you really say? You have to be polite or you look like an asshat.

I made my way aft and tried to find my row. According to my ticket, I was in 30A, somewhere just over the wing. I grabbed my CD Jogdude and a novel out of my backpack and reached up to slot it into the overhead locker.

“I got that,” a voice offered, taking the bag out of my hands and slotting it easily into the locker. I turned around and came face to chin with Steve Baker.

“Uh, thanks.”

Steve grinned, “Looks like we’re neighbors today, I’m middle seat.”

“Window,” I waved my ticket.

We found our way into our seats and got ourselves settled for the flight. Seat buddies were always going to be a random shot of luck as we had no control over assignments. Steve was on my neutral/nice list, so it was a win in my book. Kevin Patterson or any of his buddies would have been a distinctly unpleasant prospect.

“So you’re doing… Alex?”

I waved my passport and made a face, “Tis still my legal name, unfortunately.”

“You still look like a girl,” he offered. “Not that I mind.”

“I kinda have one setting these days.”

“You’ve only had one setting for some time,” he grinned. “That’s not offensive to say, is it?”

I shook my head, “Nah; I was surprised I made it this long.”

“When I saw transsexuals on TV, they were always in like, super short skirts and loads of makeup and shit,” he admitted. “It was kinda like, really out there. They all seemed to be trying to get laid as often as possible. I guess it made the whole ‘I always felt like a woman in a man’s body’ schtick kinda seemed a bit far-fetched.”

I glanced over at him to see where this was going. “And?”

“You’re just a girl.”

I frowned, “Yeah?”

Steve shrugged and looked a little lost, “I guess… it makes it make far more sense. Like, you’d make an awful boy.”

I glanced out of the window as we taxied towards the runway. “I did, but that wasn’t why I did it.”

“It’s because it’s who you’re meant to be, where you fit in; the position that works best for you. See, when I play soccer, I’m a striker; I’m great at it. I’m not a center back or a goalie, my best position is up at the front focusing on the attack. It’s what I understand and it’s how I can best interact with my teammates. I guess… that’s just where you fit best… “

I consider his metaphor for a moment. Sure, soccer is a little mundane in comparison to one’s entire gender identity but I can see where he’s coming from. In all reality, it’s more important than being accurate, it’s a start… he’s willing to actually try to wrap his head around it and he finds a parallel to his own existence. I can’t ask for much more.

“Thank you,” I offer, with a genuine smile. “I can see where you’re coming from and that means a lot.”

Steve grinned. “So… like, I have a question…”

Uh oh… what’s it going to be? “Are you going to have THE surgery?”, “Does it mean I’m gay if I like you?”, Do you still stand up to pee?”, or “Can you recite Cher songs from memory now?”

“Go… on?”

Steve looked a little self-conscious for a moment and seemed to hesitate. “Well, I wanted to ask… I mean… I was wondering…”

“Yeah?”

“Did any of the other chicks say they were like, into me or anything?”

The Jumbo’s engines roared, forcing us back into our seats as we began to accelerate down the runway. The nose pitched up and suddenly, we were climbing away from the ground like a rocket. I looked over at Steve’s expectant little face and rolled my eyes. “You know what, I must have missed that topic at the committee meeting.”

* * *

As the jet descended through the clouds high above the Sierra Nevada mountains, it gave me my first real glimpse of home in a little over a week. Returning felt a little strange, but at the same time, it felt liberating.

I wasn’t the same girl that left home last week, nor was I afraid of what was to come. No matter what, I would face it with my head held high and a smile on my face. Perhaps I really was a bit of a sadist; I kept putting myself in some spectacularly awful positions time and time again, despite my best efforts. What was life if not its challenges?

We descended lower and the engine note changed as the aircraft began to bank for its final approach. Down below it was already dark, but the homes and street lights lit up the landscape like an electric tapestry of civilization. It reminded me of the human body in many ways; the roads were the arteries, the headlights of traffic, the flowing blood traveling around to feed the towns and cities that formed its organs. As the landing gear clunked loudly into place, the hand of the earth reached up to take us into its arms.

We touched down on time at a little after seven in the evening, Pacific Standard Time, as expected. It was a surreal experience to consider that we had left Germany at two in the afternoon and yet, fourteen hours had passed in the no-man’s land high above the clouds.

“Thanks,” I gave Steve a small smile as he handed me my backpack from the overhead as we waited to disembark. You know what airplanes are like; it takes ten times longer to get off than getting on board.

“Man, I’m so glad to be home,” he yawned, stretching dramatically.

“Feels like a lifetime,” I agree. “I’ll sleep tonight, that’s for sure.”

Steve gave me a funny look, “You’re not coming back to school on Monday, are you?”

I shook my head and grinned, “I have no idea.”

The queue of bodies began to finally move and we made our way towards the exit. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“Auf Wiedersehen, Fräulein, Herr.”

I smiled at the flight attendants before looking back at Steve as we stepped onto American soil at long last. “If you think that I or anyone else has a plan, you’re sorely wrong. I’m flying by the seat of my pants.”

“You can come back to school if you want,” he grinned. “Would be a good change of scenery.”

I gave him an incredulous look and narrowed my eyes, “I don’t think I’d fit in that well anymore.”

“You still got that skirt from the other night, right?”

Yes, it is almost possible for your eyes to fall out if you roll them hard enough.

We traipsed along the hallways connecting the gates to the terminal proper before finally being disgorged into the customs and immigration hall. Now, TSA flying out was one thing, but actually entering the United States, one gets the distinct pleasure of dealing with Homeland Security’s Customs and Immigration officers.

If you think that TSA are annoying asshats, you’ve never had the pleasure of Homeland. These guys have zero sense of humor and almost unlimited power. You do not screw around with them, you do not joke, and you do not volunteer information unless asked. As you can imagine, I was a little apprehensive when I presented my passport at the counter.

The dour officer examined my passport and glanced back up at me, “Alexander Winters?”

Sigh, “Yes?”

“You’re Mister Alexander Winters?” he asked, almost incredulously.

I maintained my straight face and nodded, “Yes sir.”

The shaven-headed officer frowned and looked me over again. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen, sir.”

His eyebrows went up but he remained silent. I watched him regard my passport for a few seconds before looking me over a third time. He nodded slightly and stamped my passport before handing it back. “Welcome home.”

I took it and smiled, “thank you.”

To say that I felt a wave of relief as I cleared customs would be to understate matters just a little. I was home, and there was a real chance that this was one of the last times that I would ever need to officially identify myself as Alex Winters.

As we entered the baggage hall just beyond customs I spotted the girls waiting nervously to one side. When they spotted me, the nerves turned to grins.

“You made it! No problems?” Tina asked, giving me a hug.

“All clear, a bit of suspicion but he let me go without the rubber glove treatment.”

“I think we have time,” Chloe opined, checking her watch. “The bags are going to be at least another fifteen minutes.”

“For what?” I asked suspiciously. Rattus Rattus was once more pinging my shenanigans detector.

“No time, come with us,” she announced, grabbing me by the hand.

I was dragged by the girls into a bathroom just off the main baggage hall. “What are we doing? Does anyone want to tell me what’s going on?”

Tina leaned back against the sinks and spread her hands like a magician, “We couldn’t let you make your big return as Alex, could we? Now we’re through customs, you’re free to ditch him for good.”

I could feel my eyes watering, “You didn’t, did you?”

Sarah gave me a squeeze and nodded, “Yup, we all put stuff in our carry-on. We wanted to make sure when you came home to your family that you could do it as Holly.”

“I don’t deserve you guys,” I sniffed. “Thank you.”

“Less tears, more action,” Chloe declared, closing and latching the main door. “Get nekked, girl.”

I won’t bother you with all the nuance and particulars of my getting changed; we’ve been there before and changing in an airport bathroom isn’t exactly the high point of luxury. After ten minutes or so, we were done and Alex had been banished to the shadow realm for the final time.

I was wearing a baby blue cami and a white cardigan over a denim skirt with my sneakers and a couple of borrowed rings and bracelets from the others. My hair was down and brushed out, flowing around my shoulders and my makeup was subtle and cute. It was Holly Winters who strode proudly out to the baggage carousels with her friends.

Frau Whistler spotted us as we approached, her mouth opening as though she planned to chastise us for running off before she spotted me. Her frown turned into a smile instead. “Good of you to join us, girls, our bags should be next.”

“Sorry, had to leave someone behind,” I smiled.

“For the best, I think,” she agreed as the carousel whirred to life.

We walked along the corridor from baggage to arrivals with our luggage in tow. I hadn’t recalled my bag being this darn heavy when we came out here, but then, it was ram-packed with presents. To my left and my right, Chloe, Emma, Sarah and Tina were hauling their own bags, chatting happily amongst the group as we walked.

I was happy; this was the real me. This was the life I was meant to lead. Nobody was going to take this away from me, not now, not ever again. Alex’s time was over, and Holly’s was just kicking into high gear.

As we stepped out into the arrivals hall, my mind flashed back to only a few weeks prior, when I had been waiting on the far side of that very barrier to meet my sister for the first time as Holly. That moment had changed me, it had been a culmination of a healing process that I had needed more than I realized. Her love and acceptance had told me that it was ok to be me.

“Holly!”

I scanned the crowd, looking for the source of the voice. Suddenly, there they were at the end of the barrier; Mom, Dad, and Rob. I beamed happily as I ran over and launched myself into their arms.

“I’ve missed you guys so much,” I whimpered, squeezing them as hard as I could.

“We missed you too, kiddo,” Mom grinned, “Good trip?”

“It was something,” I admitted with a wry smile.

“Someone else wanted to come and see you land. I figured you might have missed him.”

They stepped to one side and there he was… Rick Taylor. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a school sweatshirt, his hair softly flopping to one side, his eyes full of warmth, and a lazy smile on his lips. “Hey,” he offered softly.

“Hey you,” I replied, walking up to him slowly. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he offered, shifting his weight nervously.

Dad rolled his eyes and sighed with exasperation. “For God’s sake boy, kiss her; I want to get out of here before Monday.”

I blushed and looked back at Rick. His eyes were focused solely on mine as we stood there, students and parents, passengers and employees flowing all around us. The world closed into just our little bubble, right there on the concourse.

Rick reached out and took me in his arms as he leaned down and gently kissed me on the lips. My world melted, stars exploded and my stomach clenched with happy little flutters. I’m pretty sure I popped a foot, but I couldn’t tell you for sure.

I pulled back to catch my breath and gazed longingly up at the boy I loved. My family was next to us, my friends not far away. Here I was, my true authentic self, seen, recognized, and loved. Holly Juliette Winters was here to stay, and not a single thing would ever change that. A little shard of ice that had dwelled within my heart since birth melted that day. A tiny fragment that had caused me untold pain and anguish ceased to exist.

In its place, lay room for hope to grow; a future in a world that I could call my own. Where once, the future only held darkness and pain, a mystery that my sadness could never hope to penetrate. Now, it held light and hope, potential and joy.

“You did it,” Rick rumbled softly. “I’m so freaking proud of you, Holly.”

I smiled and buffed my nails as I turned back toward the others. “‘Fake it till you make it’ has a new meaning in me.”

The End.

* * *

Epilogue

I suppose it’s customary when writing one of these things to summarise what transpired after the end of our story. Well, the first thing I can tell you is that this is far from the end. The end of the first book, perhaps, but not the end at all, my dear reader. No, you can join us very soon in the next installment of what happened in my dumpster fire of a transition.

This was a truly wild journey, and one that didn’t stop here. I suppose this semester of my Junior year was particularly memorable because it was such a chaotic mess. What kind of transgender girl spends so much effort on trying to be a boy only to do a 180 when visiting another continent? Yeah, this dumbass, that’s who. I’m sure that you and I both see just how moronic it all was, but that’s the benefit of twenty-twenty hindsight. At the time, it was a little more complicated.

What happened after we got home? Well, that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? I’m sure you want something so dramatic that it takes up another twenty chapters just to cover that final week of school. The truth, I’m afraid that it was far less exciting than you might have imagined. A surprise for sure, given the potential for epic fuckery that I have courted this entire journey.

To say that the school wasn’t best pleased with my inability to be a boy, was a slight understatement, but not an unexpected one. If you listened to Principal Veggie Garden, you would think I planned all of this chaos just to ruin his easy life.

With the original plan out of the window, it was down to a few remaining options. One; Put Alex back on, return to school, and pretend nothing had happened. Naturally, this was monumentally stupid and dismissed out of hand. One cannot simply shove the cat back into the bag once it has clawed its way free and sliced up your face for your trouble.

Option two was slightly more possible; attend school for the final week as Holly, cause a monumental distraction, ruin people’s finals, and generally cause more disruption than climate protesters glueing themselves to subway trains at rush hour. (Can you tell I’ve spent time living in New York?)

Option three was the decision it took them far too long to reach; I would attend school for my finals only, which I would take on my own in an unoccupied classroom on the same day and time as the other students. Otherwise, I would be at home studying and making myself useful where I couldn’t disrupt the other students with my evil transness.

I told you the outcome was boring, a little depressing, but extremely boring nonetheless. What? You thought they would give in and let me spend the final week with the girls? Don’t be daft, it’s not like they actually think I have feelings, is it?

While the chosen plan was not my personal favorite, it did at least provide the smoothest transition under the rather rocky circumstances. I wouldn’t have to face any of the boys in any regard, which saved me from the inevitable abuse I absolutely guaranteed would follow my return. On top of this, I got to complete my semester, get my grades, and move on with the intended timetable.

Other than not getting my ass kicked six ways to Sunday, the only other benefit of this plan was that they conceded to let me take my exams as Holly. Due to my legal name and records, I would still have to enter my name as Alex Winters, but it was a small price to pay. Bureaucracy huh? What a joy.

Anyway, enough talking. Do you want me to get into something juicy to make this epilogue worthwhile? Fine, have it your way…

* * *

*flowy warbling harp music transition*

* * *

Never let it be said that history teachers were not giggling sadists. Who exactly puts an entire long form essay question on the economic causes of the First World War, into a Junior history paper? Yup, they put that on our final because they hate their lives and want us to hate ours too. It’s a good job that I managed to find time to study in my busy life being an international girl of intrigue.

Doing finals on your own is quite a weird experience, but it’s certainly lacking in the usual exam distractions that niggle at all of us, whether it be scratching pens, coughs, goose-stepping invigilators; you know them all. Honestly, doing it on my own might have actually helped my grade.

Walking out into the corridor, I stretched and cracked my neck. Hunching over a desk for ninety minutes was monumentally exhausting. I reached into my bag, pulled out a bottle of soda, and relished in the sugary goodness for a moment while my brain defogged from mustaches, annexations, and brass bands.

“Alex?”

Fiddleshits, I know that voice… what fresh hell must I face now?”

“I uh…hi” Words escaped me as I turned and faced Andy, my barely bipedal buddy.

“You’ve been the subject of quite a few rumors and fanciful stories,” he offers with a sly smile. “I was beginning to believe that you really were turned into a wild temptress by an evil old witch in the Bavarian forests.”

“No witches, no Bavarian forests… I just uh… came out… I guess.”

Andy looked me up and down, “You certainly did.”

The way he looked at me didn’t feel like the other times that guys had looked me up and down. In those times, it made me feel like a cheap piece of meat. Andy’s look didn’t feel like that, it wasn’t sexual. If anything, it was more… amused.

“Something funny?”

Andy shrugged/. He walked across the corridor to a table that was holding some precarious-looking Freshman art project and leaned against it to take the weight off his leg. “There’s nothing funny about you, Alex. It’s more that I found it suddenly quite funny how obvious it all was.”

“I prefer Holly now, actually,” I offered, folding my arms across my chest. “What do you mean, obvious?”

“Oh, I had no idea beforehand, if that’s what you mean,” Andy grinned. “I never saw it coming at the time, but now? Now, it makes complete and utter sense.”

I narrow my eyes suspiciously, “and how is that, exactly?”

“Honestly? I think you’ve always been a girl,” he shrugs. “Now that I look back, you’ve never been anything at all like any of the boys. You’re insightful, emotional, sensitive, and kind. When you look past all the sadness and the whole Alex front you put up for others, there’s always been an inner lightness; someone happier, more gentle.”

Shit, who knew Hopalong had that much insight?

“Surprisingly accurate,” I concede.

“Want to talk about it?”

Huh, you know what? I actually did.

I checked my watch, a new little golden thing on a dainty strap on my wrist that Mom had bought for me while I was away. It was about twenty minutes before the lunch bell and the whole school would be full of screaming idiots. “You busy?”

“Not till after lunch,” he shrugged.

Andy and I made little more than small talk as we made our way out of the school building and out into the central quad. Unlike the spaces within both the Boys and Girls divisions that held more practical function, the central quad was intended more for visitors and decorative purposes to show off the school. To that end, it was a pretty peaceful place to have a heavy discussion during academic hours.

Finding a bench in a quiet corner, I sat myself down and waited for Andy to collect his thoughts.

“How come you didn’t tell me?”

Oof, guilt out of the gates? That one hurt.

“I didn’t tell anyone… not on purpose,” I offer, immediately cringing at how transparent it sounded. “My plan was to stick it out as Alex till college and then be me.”

“That went really poorly, didn’t it?”

“Not wrong,” I concede. “My goals… shifted. I had to try to keep this under wraps as best I could until I could transfer out. I knew that coming out earlier wouldn’t be good for me and well… Accidents happen.”

“To you, a great deal,” he chuckled.

Andy turned and faced me. His expression was clear and lacked any judgement at all. It was surprising for me, because honestly, I expected him to either be uncomfortable or feel slighted by my betrayal. Instead, he just looked calm and thoughtful. “What was it like?”

“Huh?”

“Pretending to be someone you’re not.”

I smile. It’s an expression born more out of the morbid comedy of the last semester than any real pleasure. “Complicated and painful. Isolating; mostly very very lonely.”

“This time last year when we broke up for the holidays, I was pretty sure you’d be dead before we got back in the spring.”

I cringe, “Jesus, that’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

Andy shrugged, “You were almost at rock bottom. I’ve been through depression; I recognize it. I saw someone that wasn’t going to last much longer. When you came back, you were different. It was subtle; nothing had overtly changed, but there was a peace that came only from finding an answer.”

“When did you get to be so sage?” I frown. “But you’ve always been, haven’t you?”

Andy smiles. It’s a very humble expression on his face because he’s always been this lovely and unassuming guy. Despite his challenges in life, he’s always been a deeply thoughtful human bean.

“I’m really sorry,” I offer, “I should have told you what was happening but I was terrified; afraid to say a word to anyone in case I get packed off to a convent or some military school.”

Andy chuckled, “Convent? You really are a girl, dumbass.”

I waved a hand dismissively, “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he nods. “I saw you get happier and I saw you build a wall around yourself too. When you guys got back from the trip and the news broke, it all suddenly clicked; everything about you from your behavior, temperament, the depression, and the physical changes. Suddenly, it was absolutely clear that my best friend had been a girl the entire time.”

Oh god, my heart.

“Your best friend?” I whimpered.

Andy made a dismissive gesture and shrugged, “I know I’m no ‘bff’ and that you’ve got other friends now… even a boyfriend,” he added with a sly smile. “But I want you to know that you’re my best friend.”

“I should have been better,” I sigh.

“You had a lot going on, hell; more going on than anyone ever reasonably should. The fact that you still made time for me, made my life so much better. With you here, I could come to school and not feel like the cripple loner that nobody liked. You treated me like a human being and an equal. That means even more now I know how much you were suffering.”

Andy scooched over on the bench and opened his arms, the offer clear. Without pause, I reached over and hugged him fiercely as tears began to flow. I had never hugged Andy before in my life, but in that moment, it felt utterly right and way too long coming.

“I’m glad that you’re finally who you’re meant to be Holly, because you let me feel confident enough to be myself. You gave me that strength and that courage by standing beside me. Now it’s my turn to stand beside you.”

I leaned back from the hug and sniffed, dabbing with futility at my ruined mascara that was making me look like a demented raccoon, “I don’t deserve you.”

Andy smirked and shook his head in the same way he always did; the way that suggested he knew far more than he was letting on. “No, Rapunzel, you really don’t.”

To be continued in... Don't Fuck It Up!

Dear reader, this marks the end of Fake It Till You Make It. Thank you so much for joining me on this journey, I've had as much fun as you have! While this isn't a true story, it contains a lot more truth than fiction. I had a blast trying something funnier and more entertaining and it was a real diversion to do a straight-up 'trans' story rather than throwing it into a thriller like usual.

As I said in the blog post, there are one or two shorts to come soon (Not next week) but soon enough before Don't Fuck It Up begins and... oh gosh, the chaos continues.

Until then!

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

Fake it Shorts - A Collection.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Organizational:

Title Page

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

The collected shorts of the Hollyverse.

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

A Mother Always Knows.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

17,500 < Novella < 40,000 words

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

A Mother Always Knows

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Secretly, you all wanted to know what Veronica Winters knew, right? Now's your chance... The flipside of the Hollyverse... enjoy!

One of the most frequently asked questions about my wild adventures in Genderland has always been, ‘how much did your parents know?’ We have established by now, dear reader, that I was never the smartest when it came to hiding my true self around friends and family. No matter how hard I tried, I really didn’t do fantastically well. You could argue that I was rather bad at it… pretty easily.

Well you’re lucky, because it turns out that I’m not the only writer in the Winters family. When I warned my family that I was writing my memoir, most threatened me with violence if I didn’t make them look fantastic. I thought Fake It was my novel?

My mother, renowned Cardiothoracic surgeon, mother of the year, and all around great lady, however, decided that her contribution would be her own perspective; the side you never saw, but secretly always wanted to know. You know my mother; she’s a smart lady. Not much got past her,as you can imagine.

What follows is a collection of short scenes written by my mother’s fair hand. A series of stories that tell the tale of a couple learning to accept that their child wasn’t who they imagined they might be. A tale about a couple who chose to love them regardless.

If you haven’t read ‘Fake It Till You Make It’, I highly encourage it, it will give you a great deal of context to what happens here… because you’re going to get a good giggle out of this if you have. Enjoy.

Holly Winters.

Wednesday, May 28th, 2004 - 9200, Oak Leaf Way, Sacramento, California.

Veronica Winters shut the front door behind her and finally allowed herself to feel the exhaustion that had dogged her during the drive home from the hospital. Nine hours on a coronary arterial bypass surgery was one hell of a way to spend the work day. Tossing her keys in the bowl by the front door, she rolled her shoulders as she shuffled through to the kitchen to get herself a much-needed glass of wine. Some days, she mused, just called for a little personal anesthesia.

Veronica was a Cardiothoracic Surgeon at Mercy General Hospital in Sacramento, California, and she had held the post for the last twelve years. She enjoyed working in a specialty where she could truly make a tangible difference; whether it was saving a life or giving people back their lifestyle, she felt as though her work had purpose. It certainly didn’t hurt that it paid very well indeed. With three children and three lots of college to pay for, it would take everything she and her husband could manage to put aside.

She had met her husband Michael back when she was in college in New York. It had been a little over twenty-five years ago and she had been a different woman then. She, the idealistic medical student, and he, the gruff aerospace engineer had started an unlikely romance, one that had survived college and placements, the start of careers, and moving across the entire United States. Three years later, Michael had proposed and the first of their three wonderful children had entered stage left. Well, mostly wonderful, most of the time.

“Moooooom, is that you? When are we eating?”

Veronica rolled her eyes as her eldest son Rob jogged down the stairs upon hearing her return. There never seemed to be enough food in the house to fill that boy to a point of satisfaction. Just ending his junior year in high school, he was already a good deal bigger than his father. Standing six feet two inches tall as of his last physical, she was mildly concerned that they’d need a bigger house. Where he got that from she never quite knew, perhaps her husband’s side of the family had come from giants, or the Dutch.

“Call the pizza place,” she sighed, gesturing in the vague direction of the drawer of takeout menus. “I got out of surgery an hour ago and I’m exhausted, Robert.”

“Suits me,” Rob grinned, “You want your usual?”

Veronica nodded and patted her son on the arm as she passed him. “Get your brother a double pepperoni. I’m going to get changed before I fall asleep in these scrubs.”

Hauling her tired legs up the stairs, Veronica paused first to knock on her youngest child’s door.

“Come in?”

Opening the door, she stuck her head inside and smiled at her youngest son, Alexander. The boy was sat at his desk with school books spread out before him.
“Robert is ordering pizza. I asked him to get your usual, is that ok, sweetheart?”

“Thanks, Mom,” the boy smiled. He paused as he seemed to recognize his mother’s exhaustion and his face fell. “Are you ok? You look super tired.”

“I’m fine,” she waved dismissively. “I had a long day in surgery, is all. Just you make sure you get all that homework cleared up and be downstairs in twenty minutes, ok?”

“I will, I promise” he replied, seeming more than satisfied with a chance to stop working.

In the infinite possibilities of genetic variation, her children couldn’t have been more different. The eldest, her daughter Christine, took after her father while Robert seemed to be a mixture of them both. Alex, however, was the complete opposite of his elder brother. Standing only five foot six inches tall, he was roughly the same height and build as his mother. They both also shared the same rich brunette hair and fine features; he reminded her so very much of a younger version of herself.

Veronica sometimes wondered what she might have explored, had she instead pursued a research field instead of a clinical practice; the random chances involved in human reproduction fascinated her. Regardless, she loved all of her children equally. Her work as a surgeon paled in comparison; they were her greatest achievement in life.

She had been paying far greater attention to Alex since the beginning of the year. She and her husband had noticed that he had become quieter and quiet as the years passed and by Christmas, he had seemed almost totally withdrawn. His sadness, the darkness that consumed him, had concerned her greatly. Naturally, she had her suspicions, what mother didn’t? Sadly the truth was that if he didn’t come to them himself, it was almost impossible to approach without breaching his trust.

It was a topic that she had discussed many times with her husband. Their youngest child was so very different from his older brother and yet, far closer to his elder sister. Christine was away at college for her Freshman year and that had made things far worse for Alex. The truth was, she had been the only one who really connected with their youngest child. Her absence had seemed to hasten his downward spiral.

At Christmas, things had gotten so bad that they had seriously considered confronting Alex and offering him a therapist to help him through the pain that seemed to be eating him alive. She couldn’t stand to see her child suffer. It was only a colleague in clinical psychology’s input that prevented her from doing so.

In her eyes, intervening would breach a bond of trust in a formative period for a teenager. The potential for irreparable damage was significant. Following her advice, Veronica and Michael had watched and waited with strict instructions to only intervene if they truly suspected that self harm was a probable outcome.

Something had changed after the holidays, but she couldn’t work out what. Whatever it was, it seemed to have pulled him back from the precipice. Jointly, she and Michael had agreed to press pause on any direct approaches, and instead they would wait to see what would develop. Alex seemed to be more alive again, as though he had found an answer to whatever plagued him. She just wished she knew what it was.

Closing her bedroom door behind her, Veronica stripped out of her scrubs and released her hair from the clip that had restrained it for most of the day. Her desire to curl up in bed was overruled by the growl of her empty stomach. Skipping another meal would not be particularly productive, she knew. Glancing at the mirror, she made a face as she regarded her appearance; she was erring on the side of skinny, thanks to her long hours.

Dressing comfortably in sweatpants and one of her husband’s T-shirts, she washed quickly to remove the smell of the hospital before making her way downstairs to see if either child had followed her instructions.

When she arrived, Robert was answering the door to the delivery driver and Alex was dutifully setting the table. “That was fast,” she opined, as her eldest closed the door behind him.

“Here in fifteen or free pizza.” he grinned, delivering a stack of boxes through to the kitchen. “Pepperoni, veggie, and a huge meat feast for me.”

“You are going to get fat,” Veronica chided, pulling plates out of the cupboard. “No matter how much exercise you do.”

“I run, I have football practice, and I work out at the gym, Mom. I’m good to blow out on a large pizza every now and then.”

Veronica raised an eyebrow, “Yes, and blow out my bank balance.”

Alex snickered quietly at her remark as he sat to join them. Veronica was happy to see something elicit a positive reaction now and then.

“Aren’t you hot?” she queried, raising a brow at her youngest’s bulky sweatshirt.

“I’m good Mom,” he shrugged as he reached over to grab one of the boxes. “Honestly, I’m usually pretty cold.”

The sweatshirts and bulky clothing were new; he had started doing that a month or two back and she wasn’t sure exactly why. Body confidence issues? Puberty embarrassment? It wasn’t unusual for a teen to be body conscious, but it was typically more prominent amongst the girls.

“Glad for term to be over soon?” she asked, pulling a few slices from the box.

“Yeah, but I have football camp in like three weeks, remember?” Rob mumbled past a mountain of sausage and cheese.

“Chew first, answer later.” she chided automatically. “Alex, any summer plans?”

“Read, ride my bike, play games?”

“Any plans to catch up with friends?”

Alex seemed momentarily confused by the question as though he hadn’t even considered it. Realizing that her child hadn’t even considered spending time with friends, stabbed right at Veronica’s heart.

“I don’t know, maybe.” he shrugged, almost as an afterthought.

“What about Gary or his sisters, you get on with them right?”

“Megan and Kara? Sure, they’re nice,” he shrugged.

Veronica let the topic drop as they moved their dinner conversation to lighter topics. It hadn’t escaped her that her youngest child still seemed desperately lonely. Even as he seemed to react more and feel like a part of the family again, she realized just how far away he was from really being a happy normal child.

Three children are a lot to juggle for any couple. When both parents worked high-stress jobs, it involved a lot of catching up and debriefing the other party when they had the time. When Alex, Robert, and Christine were much younger they had made time in their days to raise the children properly. They made sure to show them love and attention and to be good role models. As they had grown older, Michael had taken on more responsibility at work, and she had picked up more surgical hours. With teenagers, it had been far more manageable. Sadly it meant that they had still missed things.

“Michael, I’m worried about Alex,” Veronica murmured as she lay beside her husband in bed, later that evening.

Setting down his book and glasses, Michael Winters looked down at his wife and frowned. “No improvement? I thought you wanted to wait on the therapist?”

Veronica pulled herself up until she was snuggled into her husband’s side and idly twirled her fingers in his chest hair. “I did and I do want to wait. I suppose he has gotten better, but it’s different now; before Christmas, he seemed so lost, so sad. I could almost feel the pain and tension in him like the cold radiating off the refrigerator. Now he seems like he’s more alive but like he’s actively concealing something. What exactly, I have no idea yet.”

“Drugs?”

Veronica shook her head firmly. “No. not drugs, Mike; I’d spot that in a heartbeat. He seems to have pulled back from the few friends he has, and he’s always wearing baggy clothes. Perhaps he’s finally going through puberty and it has him all mixed up?”

Michael pondered the thought. His wife was far more astute when it came to their children’s moods, but even he had noticed the boy withdrawing more. He’d tried so often to get him involved in activities that he had used to bond with Robert; fishing, hunting, and camping weekends but none had seemed to engage him. “Bullying at school?”

“I’ll ask Robert, but I don’t think so. Maybe time away from school for the summer will help for now, if that is the case. I’ll do my best to keep a closer eye on him. I just want him to be happy,” she sighed.

Michael Winters looked down at the pleading look in his wife’s eyes and felt powerless to free her from her burden. Why was being a parent so damn difficult?

* * *

Tuesday, June 1st, 2004 - AllMart Superstore, Northern Sacramento, California.

“Are you ever going to get your hair cut?” Veronica asked her youngest son as they pushed the shopping cart through the grocery store. “That lady at the butcher’s counter just told me she thought you might have been a girl for a moment with that hair.”

“I uh, no! I just… like it.” Alex protested awkwardly, stuffing his ponytail into the back of his shirt to make it less noticeable. “Doesn’t make me look like a girl; plenty of guys at school have long hair.”

Veronica held her tongue. It wasn’t the first time someone had confused her child for a girl or used feminine pronouns by mistake, if anything it was becoming increasingly regular. The woman had actually commented on why her pretty daughter was dressed like such a tomboy, but she hadn’t wanted to repeat that remark aloud. She took a good long look at her youngest child and tried to be as analytical as she could.

For a sixteen-year-old, Alex was considerably shorter than his brother. In truth, with his long dark hair, fine features, and slim build, he looked very much like she did at the same age. She knew that the two of them shared a greater familial similarity than she did with her elder children, but was almost like looking in a mirror at her teenage self.

Children would often change so rapidly as puberty arrived, but while Robert had shot up in size relatively young, Alex still seemed to keep an almost prepubescent softness to his appearance. She allowed him to push the trolley ahead while she studied him more closely. The baggy sweatshirt, cargo shorts, and sneakers were certainly a style choice, but it was one that somehow still made him look a little girlish. No, not a little girlish, he actually looked quite feminine in spite of the masculine clothing. Veronica wasn’t sure what was going on with her youngest son, but she was becoming more convinced than ever that something was afoot.

* * *

Thursday 8th June, 2004 - Sacramento International Airport, arrivals lounge.

“Mom!”

Veronica beamed when she spotted her daughter emerging from the sea of humanity that filled the arrivals lounge at the airport. It had only been five months since she had seen Christine at Christmas but it felt like an eternity apart from her eldest child.

“Baby! How was your flight?”

The dark-haired girl squeezed her mother tightly. “Fine really; a little turbulence but all quiet once we got away from the lakes. How is everyone?”

“Great! Missing you and working myself silly. Come, let’s get you home eh?”

“Just you?” The girl asked her mother as they walked towards the exits.

Veronica shook her head. “I knew you’d be parched after your flight, so I sent Alex to get us iced coffees.”

“Ah, you do love me after all,” Christine grinned.

As they cleared the arrivals area, Veronica spotted her son across the concourse leaving the Galaxyglug branch. “Ah, right on time!”

Christine followed her mother’s eyeline and gasped. “That’s Alex?”

Veronica shot her daughter a look. “Yes? Of course it is.”

“He’s changed a lot,” the girl observed. “Wow.”

“He took your going away very hard, be nice to him.”

“I am, Mom,” Christine replied. “He just… I don’t know, It’s been a few months, he looks so different.”

“It’s a time of change for teenagers, that will happen honey.”

“He’s certainly not Rob,” her eldest giggled. “I’m pretty sure he passed six feet before he was fifteen.”

“True, but he got my genes; you and Robert got your father’s.”

“My feet agree,” Chrissie chuckled as Alex dodged the last commuter to reach them.

“Three iced mochas, no injuries, and one dollar fifty in change,” he announced, presenting the tray of beverages. “Great to see you, Chrissy, I really missed you!”
Veronica noticed how much brighter her son seemed now he was reunited with his older sister. A light seemed to return to his eyes and the smile on his face was infectious.

“You too Alex, been way too long, little bro. When were you planning on growing, huh?” Christine grinned, accepting the icy beverage. “I swear you were this tall when I went off to college.”

“Yeah well maybe I’m just meant to be this height,” Alex complained defensively, the smile leaving his face. “At least I can breathe oxygen, unlike Rob.”

“You might have a point there,” she conceded, giving her little brother a one armed hug. “Still keeping the hair, huh?”

“I already had this argument with him last week,” Veronica chimed in as they exited the arrivals terminal. “He’s adamant he’s helping to block the drains in your absence.”

“God, Dad hated that,” she laughed. “You should see the shared bathroom in our dorm with twelve girls,” she laughed. “It’s basically always blocked.”

Veronica smiled at her children. It would be nice to have the house full again for the summer. Perhaps it might even boost Alex’s flagging spirits. She did catch the strange look on his face when Christine spoke of her dorm. What was that? Jealousy?”

* * *

Friday, June 9th, 2004 - The Winters Family Home.

Veronica was reading in her office when she heard a knock at the door. “Mom, you got a second?” Christine asked, peering around the door jam.

“What’s up?”

The girl slipped inside and closed the door behind herself and dropped onto the sofa beside her mother. “It’s about Alex, Mom.”

“What about him, sweetheart?”

Christine looked uncomfortable for a moment. “I think something’s going on with him, and it might be really serious. I don’t even know if I should be theorizing here, but I’m worried.”

She sat on the sofa across from her mother and frowned, “I met a girl at college, and she made me look at Alex differently.”

Veronica replaced her bookmark and set the journal down on the side table before focusing her attention on her daughter. “What specifically?”

Christine hesitated for a moment, “Well, he might, no, I think he actually is, transgender.”

“Why do you think that? Did he say something to you?”

“Christine shook her head, looking increasingly uncomfortable. “This girl I met at college on my course, well, she’s transgender herself. She was telling me a bunch about growing up super close to her sister and not fitting in with other boys her age. She felt depressed and disconnected from life, even close to self-harm a couple of times. Doesn’t that seem almost exactly like Alex, Mom?”

“That’s quite a logical leap, darling,” Veronica replied hesitantly. “Your brother may have problems, but what evidence would support such a diagnosis?”

Christine frowned. “You’ve seen him, right? He doesn’t exactly look much like a boy these days, Mom.”

Veronica was surprised at how little the idea actually surprised her. In truth, what her daughter was saying fit almost too perfectly, but without Alex’s confession it would remain entirely theoretical. She would be lying if she hadn’t suspected something of this ilk was at least reasonably possible.

“It is possible that he’s not the most masculine boy,” she conceded hesitantly, “but that doesn’t mean…”

Christine rolled her eyes. “Mom, just look at him! I’ve been away for five months and you’ve been here every day. He has changed so much since Christmas and it’s not puberty, at least, not a boy’s one. His skin is perfectly clear, his hair is gorgeous and he has such slim soft shoulders. There’s nothing boyish about him, he’s pretty… my baby brother is actually freakin’ pretty.”

“And what makes you think he’s transgender, rather than suffering from some sort of hormonal condition?” She contested.

“Mom, this is Alex; the boy that I used to play dolls with, the boy who I had tea parties with as a kid. His hair is gorgeous, his nails are neat and he is hunching over like I did when I was twelve; he’s got boobs.”

“He does not!” Veronica protested, even as she suddenly understood exactly why her youngest son wore bulky sweaters and shirts through the hot summer months.

“I’ve seen them,” Christine pointed out more earnestly. “He was stretching to get something off a shelf earlier tonight and his shirt pulled tight; they’re small, but they’re absolutely breasts. He’s far too skinny for it to be fat, Mom.”

Her youngest son had breasts? If he was transgender, and that was still only a working theory, then it was perhaps not simply gynecomastia or another hormonal condition. It would have to be deliberate, and that meant hormones. He certainly wasn’t running around seeing therapists or endocrinologists behind their back, o if he was taking anything, it would need to be sourced elsewhere. As a doctor, that made her more nervous than anything.

“What are you thinking about Mom?” Chrissie asked quietly, watching her mother cautiously.

Veronica made a face, “I’m not sure, sweetheart. I suppose it makes more sense than I was willing to admit, but I don’t exactly know what to do about it either.”

“From what Erica said, accepting her identity was something she had to reach by herself. Coming out to her family was an even bigger step, I don’t know if going to Alex about it would actually help.”

“It would probably be met with denials and a retreat,” Veronica sighed. “We had this discussion with a colleague about his depression.”

“So we just leave it?”

Veronica shook her head, “No, I’ll talk to your father and we’ll work something out. Thank you for talking to me darling, leave this with me, ok?”

* * *

Tuesday, June 13th, 2004 - The Winters Family Home.

Michael Winters was relaxing in the backyard by the poolside, with a glass of whiskey and one of his favorite hunting magazines. Under normal circumstances, Veronica typically left him alone for an hour after dinner in the evening to give him time to decompress after work. Tonight, however, was not to be one of those nights.

“Can I join you?” She asked, dropping onto a lounger beside her husband with a tall glass of wine.

“You already did,” Michael observed over his magazine. “What’s up?”

“Alex,” Veronica sighed, taking a significant gulp of her wine. “Michael, we have a problem.”

Her husband put his magazine down, sat up, and faced his wife. “How so?”

Veronica swirled the wine around in her glass while she worked out how to phrase what she had to say to her husband. To her medical mind, it seemed almost straightforward, even if as a mother, it was far more difficult to wrap her head around. How would her husband react to the news, news she herself had been given time to begin to process?

She sighed, “I’m reasonably convinced that Alex is suffering from something called gender dysphoria.”

Michael’s expression didn’t change, but he remained silent for a moment before finally speaking. “What does that mean, exactly?”

Veronica looked at him, “That he might be transsexual.”

“Are you sure? Is it something we did?”

“No,” Veronica shook her head. “That’s not how it works honey, but yes, to answer your question; I am reasonably sure, short of asking him directly.”

“Do I need to take him fishing again? We could send him to a new school, something with some more backbone?”

Veronica moved over to sit beside her husband on his recliner and snuggled in beside him. “I don’t think that would help Mike, not really.”

“How do you know he’s this… transgender?”

“I am reasonably sure that Alex is already taking female hormones.”

Michael sat up and gave her a look, “And where the hell did he get those?”

Veronica shrugged, “I have no idea, but he appears to be going through a female puberty. That explains… a great deal of things.”

“Could it be medical, some sort of…” Michael snapped his fingers, reaching for the answer. “Endological imbalance?”

“Endocrinological imbalance,” Veronica corrected. “No, that is rather unlikely. This coincides with his depression starting to lift and it would explain the bulky sweaters and loose pants. He’s aware of and actively hiding the changes to his body. If you couple that with the social differences; childhood behavior, his closeness to his sister rather than his brother, it all points to it being deliberate.”

“So we stop him, right?”

Veronica sighed. “No, god, we can’t do that. Based on all the literature I can find, that would be the worst thing to do for a child in his position. If we tried to intervene or stop him, it would likely push him into deep repression and make him hate us. As it stands, he’s likely not spoken to us yet because he’s afraid of what we would say. If we go at this all hamfisted, we’ll prove him right.”

“Our own son is scared of us?” Michael blinked. “What the hell did we do wrong?”

“Nothing,” Veronica reassured her husband. “Nothing at all. This isn’t my specialty, but from what I know, this is just who Alex is. Some people believe that it occurs during pregnancy; a hormonal switch doesn’t flip, or does and the child simply is who they are. What matters is that we’re there for them.”

“So, we do… what exactly?”

Veronica sat up and turned to face her husband. “I think, deep down, we might need to face the reality that Alex is most likely our daughter, Mike.”

Michael looked uncertain, “So no fishing trips then?”

Veronica chuckled, “Hey, not to be a stereotype or anything, but girls aren’t usually as into that as boys are. It might explain why none of your bonding activities worked on him.”

“They worked on Robert.”

“Exactly.”

“Oh,” Michael replied, finally getting it. He downed his whiskey and stared thoughtfully at the empty glass. “I think I need another drink.”

Veronica raised an eyebrow and handed him her empty glass. “Make that two.”

* * *

Monday, June 28th, 2004 - Offices of Doctor Carol Ward, Clinical Psychiatrist.

“Thank you so much for fitting us in, Doctor Ward.” Veronica smiled as she shook the woman’s hand before joining her husband on the sofa of the psychiatrist’s office.

They were at the offices of Doctor Carol Ward, a gender specialist who practiced on the other side of Sacramento. Veronica had contacted her through a colleague at work and reached out to set up an appointment for them both to discuss what they had termed ‘the Alex issue.’

The doctor smiled in the professional manner of doctors all over the planet. It was one that Veronica knew very well indeed. It was pleasant, but it implied nothing in particular; this was work, not a social matter.

“You’re most welcome, Doctor and Mister Winters. From your phone call, you explained that the issue was with your child, Alexander, yes?”

Veronica nodded. “Yes. Our youngest, sixteen.”

“Would you like to give me a little background as to how you reached the opinion that your child is transgender?”

With that, Veronica recanted the discussion she had first had with her daughter and latterly with her husband. She recounted what she could from Alex’s earlier childhood, his infant development and more recent turns of events as he entered puberty.

Doctor Ward raised her eyebrows and removed her glasses to clean them. “That’s quite compelling evidence. You’re positive he’s taking hormone replacement therapy without a clinician’s supervision?”

Veronica nodded. “It is my best assessment as a physician that this is taking place. There is the possibility of a comorbid incidence of a gender issue alongside some sort of intersexed or endocrinological issue, but it’s less likely based on my research. Most intersex children don’t express gender difficulties unless there was natal ambiguity, correct?”

“That’s why we are starting to wait before proceeding with corrective procedures,” Ward agreed. “It’s hard to pin down how the child feels as an infant until they express more intent or direction themselves.”

“Remember, a Luddite is in the room please,” Michael interjected with a smile. “I don’t speak doctor.”

“Sorry darling,” Veronica grinned, squeezing his arm. “We’re just saying that it’s less likely this is something genetic raising its head, although it’s not impossible. From what I understand, the chances of Alex actually having some form of hormonal imbalance is not as likely. His birth was entirely normal, but that isn’t conclusive.”

Ward nodded, “the potential for it to be self-administered hormone therapy is indeed rather concerning. How long do you believe this has been happening?”

Veronica shrugged, “I can’t say for sure, but if I’m being objective, I believe it's possible as far back as January if I base my guess on observations of his moods. If I’m physically critical, there were no visible signs of male puberty from then onward.”

“You mentioned a severe depressive episode. Is it possible he’s ever attempted any form of self-harm?”

“I don’t think so,” Michael offered. There were never any signs that we observed. We were watching fairly closely back then. He was in a dark place and it had us both extremely worried.”

Doctor Ward nodded and noted something in her pad. “You mention that he attends a single-sex educational institution? Has he ever expressed concerns about that?”

Veronica hated herself in that moment. She swallowed and nodded. “When he was a Freshman, he complained a great deal that he didn’t want to go. He became quite agitated about it. We assumed it was a normal teenage thing; that he wanted to go elsewhere with friends or to be with girls for normal boy reasons. We thought it would be a better environment for him, he had struggled a lot to make friends with other boys, and he wasn’t involved in sports. After he got there, he seemed to settle in and he stopped protesting. I’m starting to believe we might have made a horrible decision there.”

Doctor Ward nodded and made another note.

“Has he ever expressed any concern or confusion about his gender?”

Veronica looked at Michael before shaking her head. “Not outwardly, at least. Could there have been signs? Yes, I believe there were and are. The problem is, he never said anything directly to us.”

Doctor Ward looked pensive for a moment before fixing both parents with a level gaze. “Is there any reason that they might have chosen to not tell you? Any political or religious belief that might conflict with their feelings?”

Veronica shook her head, “No; we’re barely religious and we’re staunch Democrats. We’ve always promoted equality and human decency in our house. I made it clear that I didn’t care if my children were gay; we would love them regardless.”

Ward pursed her lips. “Did you consider that might have sent a message that you’d prefer them to be gay instead? That it could be hidden easier than being transgender?”

“Oh god,” Veronica murmured, glancing at her husband. “What if he thought…”

* * *

Tuesday, July 7th, 2004 - Three Pines Shopping Mall, Sacramento, California.

Veronica was beginning to find it a struggle to keep her promise to both her husband and her therapist. It should have been a simple concept; treat her child the exact same way she had for the previous sixteen years and nothing would go wrong. It seems as though fate wasn’t particularly familiar with the Winters family.

With the new semester arriving, Alex would be a Junior now and that meant a new uniform at Elsworth Accademy. Rather than the shirt, tie, and sweater worn by lower grades, the Juniors and Seniors wore suits with the school tie. It looked smart and professional on the young men they were becoming, future leaders and businessmen ready to take on the world. On Alex, it looked like a young girl playing dress-up in her brother’s clothes.

They were in the menswear department at Gracies in the Three Pines Shopping Mall. This should have been a normal back to school shopping trip for a mother and child, but now, it felt like a total farce. The assistant currently helping her to outfit Alex with a smart suit certainly seemed to think so, if she was reading the side eye correctly.

“How does it fit?” She asked, knowing full well how stupid her child looked in the getup.

Alex shrugged, his face blank. “It’s fine.”

He might have managed to look neutral, but his posture told Veronica that he hated every moment of what they were doing. She adjusted the lapel of the suit jacket and made a few interested tuts as she examined him. The fit was reasonable, but it did nothing for him in terms of style. Ironically, she mused, he might have benefited from shoulder pads to give the jacket a better hang, not that any menswear came with the things, of course.

“I guess we can get this one,” she mused, nodding. “Do you like it?”

Of course Alex didn’t like it, he probably would have preferred to wear quite literally anything else. She hadn’t missed the fact that her child had barely looked at themselves in the mirror since they had arrived.

“Well, it will do for school, I suppose,” she declared. Turning to the assistant. “We’ll take it, and a second please.”

The Clerk smiled professionally and nodded, “Certainly Ma’am, I’ll have them taken through to the register as soon as… your son, gets changed.”

God, she heard the pause, even as the woman’s expression remained constant. Directing Alex through to the changing room, she ran a hand through her hair and sighed. She felt like she was killing a kitten, making her child go through something so obviously difficult for them.

What choice did she have? As long as Alex kept this secret from them, she had to continue to treat him as she always had. For sixteen years, they had assumed that this was the correct path for them; that in time, Alex would grow up just like Robert and become a man. How funny perspective was, now that she saw past that fragile lie.

She had no idea how her child would face school soon. Why had they insisted on sending Alex to a single-sex private school? While Christine and Robert had flourished in the prestigious environment, clearly it was causing their youngest child a great deal of pain. Pain she was helping to inflict, even now.

Alex returned from the changing room and handed the hangared suit to the waiting assistant. Somehow, being back in baggy cargo pants and a sweatshirt, he looked… she looked freer and happier than she had a moment earlier. She could barely look at Alex these days without seeing a teenage girl, a girl on the cusp of womanhood. How the hell would she survive being around those boys all day long?

The more she thought about it, the more utterly wrong it seemed.

* * *

The First Day of School - Monday, August 22nd, 2004 - The Winters Family Home.

Veronica stuck her head out of her study as she heard the sounds of her youngest child descending the stairs with all the delicacy of a herd of elephants.
“Did you brush your hair dear?”
Alex skidded past her and into the kitchen, “Yep mom, it’s all tidy as usual, I look vaguely presentable.”
”By your standards or mine?” she asked, eying him with suspicion as she buttered toast.

Admittedly, Alex’s hair was clean and tidy, despite being tucked into the back of a sweatshirt he was wearing under his suit jacket. She handed him a plate of toast and tugged the hood of the sweatshirt out of his collar. “I really wish you wouldn’t wear this; it’s ugly.”

“So’s the suit,” Alex countered through a mouth of toast. “Anyway, I’m cold.”
“Mhm,” she murmured, sipping her coffee. “Try to not look homeless, darling; it’s unbecoming.”

Alex rolled his eyes, “yes Mom.”

Michael walked into the kitchen, collecting his travel mug and keys. “Ready to go, sport?”

Veronica watched Alex cringe at the name, but nod regardless. “Just finishing breakfast, Dad.”

“No toast in my car or you get to clean it out,” he ordered. “Come on, I’ll be late otherwise.”

As Veronica watched her husband and youngest child drive away, she worried. What would the school year ahead bring for their family? The first day of Alex’s junior year was already upon them, and still he hadn’t said a word. How long was he planning to avoid the topic? Until he was no longer capable of hiding it? Was it really that scary to talk to her?

Michael was keeping up appearances as he always did; he was playing the father role as though nothing was wrong, but she knew that it was eating him alive inside. He did his best, but he was struggling to conceal his own worries. He could handle being the father of a boy in Robert, he could relate to that. He was an amazing father to their daughter, Christine. Alex however, poor Alex, currently somewhere in limbo; not their son, but as yet, not their daughter. Poor Michael didn’t know where to walk without stepping on a landmine.

* * *

After dinner, Veronica joined her husband in the living room. Handing him a glass of wine, she settled down beside him on the sofa and leaned into his side. “How was work?”

Michael grunted, “still working on getting that new project off the ground. Our guys are working hard, but there’s still an issue with the main gear.”

“Will you make it on time?”

Michael shrugged, “probably, though I’ll need to go down to Edwards in October for testing.”

“Did Alex seem ok to you at dinner tonight?” Veronica asked uncertainty.

“Seemed so,” Michael offered. “He was trading barbs with Rob like usual.”

Veronica snickered as she remembered the exchange. “Perhaps inferring that his brother had the IQ of a gas station corn dog was a little far.”

“It’s more pushback than he’s given to Rob in some time,” Michael pointed out. “I think it shows backbone.”

Veronica sipped her wine. It showed backbone, certainly. Though it reminded her more of the quips that Christine would level toward her brother in years past.

* * *

Wednesday, August 24th, 2004 - Mercy General Hospital - Sacramento, California.

Veronica thanked the barista as she collected her coffee from the store in the hospital lobby. She had spent the morning performing a double bypass and had only now finally managed to get away. It was two in the afternoon and the coffee shop was a far better option than the machines up on the seventh floor, especially as it gave her an excuse to get outside and take in some fresh air for a change. The recycled purity of the surgical suites always messed with her sinuses something terrible.

She was about to sip her much needed beverage when her phone rang, interrupting her brief moment of tranquility. Flipping it open one-handedly she gazed up at the sky and cursed the world for the interruption.

“Hello Mrs Winters?” the voice asked.

Veronica frowned, “yes, Doctor Winters speaking.”

The woman laughed gently, “oh, sorry Doctor, that’s perfect! I’m Judith Carter, I’m the school nurse from Elsworth Accademy, Alex’s school?”

Veronica felt a sudden moment of cold dread, “is he ok?”

“He’s fine,” she reassured her. “It’s not an emergency, but I have Alex here. He’s had an upset stomach; likely a mild case of food poisoning.”

“From the school's food? Or something he ate at home?”

“We think it was lunch,” the nurse admitted. “I have already spoken to the kitchen staff and the office about the matter. Medically speaking, I gave him a low dose of Zofran and he should be fine. There was no intestinal hardness so given that he expelled the meal, he will likely have no issues.”

“That’s good to hear,” Veronica mused. “How is he now?”

“He’s resting next door. I would like to send him home though, is that possible?”

Veronica felt a stab of guilt. “I’m sorry, both my husband and I are tied up. Could you send him home in a cab if he’s well enough? He has his own keys.”

“I can do that. Oh, one last thing, Doctor Winters.” The nurse paused for a moment. “Well, when I examined Alex, I noticed that he’s severely lacking in muscle tone. I might recommend a visit to his primary care physician? For a boy his age he’s a little on the lower end of the spectrum. If I didn’t know better I might think…”

Veronica panicked. “Oh, we’re aware, thank you nurse Carter. It’s already something that we’re managing.”

“Is it anything that the school needs to worry about?”

“No,” Veronica dismissed. “Nothing at all.”

“Well, that’s ok then,” Carter replied, seemingly unaware of Veronica’s hurried cover. “Thank you Doctor Winters, I will let Alex know.”

After the nurse hung up, Veronica stared at her phone for a moment. She felt extremely guilty that she couldn’t call off and go home to care for her sick child, what kind of mother did that make her? Regardless of the fact he was doing well, she still felt the mother’s urge to drop everything and run to his side, no matter his age.

It was a Wednesday, wasn’t it? Her eyes narrowed as she sipped her coffee. They had gym class on Wednesday afternoons according to Alex’s schedule. Her child was smart, but was he smart enough to convincingly fake food poisoning to fool a nurse?

He would have had to induce…. Of course. Her worry for her child’s health turned into fear for his safety as she realised he was in far greater trouble than she had thought. If he was having to go to these lengths to avoid gym class, how long would it be before anyone discovered his changing body?

School children could be cruel, but she shuddered at the prospect of teenage boys discovering… She barely wanted to think about it. She simply had to take steps to guide Alex towards talking, even if it held risks.

Dialing a number she held the phone to her ear. “Hey, Tony? Veronica, how are the kids?”

* * *

Veronica arrived home from the hospital shortly before six that evening. Kicking off her shoes, she ignored the smell of food in the kitchen, despite her growling stomach, and instead headed for her youngest son’s room. Climbing the stairs, she knocked before slowly opening the door.

Alex was lying on the bed reading the closed pile of school books on his desk telling her that he had already finished his work.

“Is everything ok, darling?”

When he saw her, he smiled, “I’m fine really, Mom; it was just something weird for lunch. I feel fine now, it just got me all out of shape for a while.”

Veronica crossed to the bed and sat down beside her child and stroked his hair. “Are you sure? No persistent effects or nausea?”

Alex shook his head, a few strands of hair escaping his ponytail in the process. He had absolutely no idea how pretty he looked. “I feel fine now; maybe a little sore, but that’s it.”

“Hmm,” she murmured. Despite years of medical schooling, on the job training and advanced technology at her fingertips, Veronica Winters reached over and felt her child’s forehead with the back of her hand, like mothers around the world. “Seems normal, no fever, no other reported cases of food poisoning. Now I wonder, and this is just me hypothesising, is this some grand conspiracy to get out of gym class?”

Alex started, but recovered quickly, “no, I actually threw up.”

Veronica pursed her lips for a moment before smiling slightly and brushing the loose hair out of her child’s eyes. “The nurse seems to agree with you, but she did seem a little concerned that you were a little underdeveloped… physically.”

She hesitated for a second before continuing. “I was… well, your father and I, we know you’re not the biggest boy for your age. We were worried that maybe you felt inferior to the others at school?”

Veronica watched Alex’s eyes dart nervously around for a moment before he finally looked up at her cautiously.

“Mom, I promise, I was actually sick, ok?” he insisted. For a moment, Alex’s eyes broke away and he seemed to wrestle with something in his heart. “I know I’m much smaller than most of the guys, and sure, I’m not exactly a super sports enthusiast, but I can promise you I don’t feel inadequate or less than the other boys. I’m kinda fine with being on my own path.”

Veronica eyed her child for a moment and pursed her lips. She knew that Alex had considered saying something in that moment but had chosen not to. She wept for how scared her child must be that they couldn’t even speak to her about their problems.

She sighed and nodded, “I would still like to book you in with Doctor Harris; I want to make sure nothing is wrong with you overall.”

Alex looked slightly uncomfortable for a moment but smiled and nodded. “Sure Mom, I’ll see him, but I’m okay really, I promise.”

Veronica reached over and ruffled her child’s hair. “Ok kiddo, I do worry about you though. You get some rest and I’ll bring you up something light for supper.”

As she trudged down the stairs, Veronica felt tired. It wasn’t just the work hours or the lack of food that dragged her down. Rather, it was the emotional exhaustion of being unable to help her child.

She wanted to run back upstairs and tell her that she loved her, to tell the terrified soul that hid herself away within the shell of their son that she could come out into the light. Perhaps Tony Harris could help to crack the armor. There was no way that Alex could keep the changes to her body from their family practitioner. Alex would feel safe with HIPAA protecting her.

Walking into the kitchen, she sagged down into a stool at the counter and rested her head against her arms.

“How is he?” Michael asked, placing a plate in front of his wife. “I checked on him earlier, but he wasn’t hungry.”

“Better, I think,” she admitted, sniffing at the plate before her and cracking open an eye. “You made chilli tonight?

“I made you chilli, with the extra jalapenos you like,” Michael grinned, sliding over a fork. “Eat; you’re making me tired just looking at you.

“I love you,” Veronica mumbled happily.

* * *

Saturday, August 27th, 2004 - Joe’s Home Improvement - Sacramento, California.

“What do you think of this color?” Veronica held up the paint swatches to her husband for examination.

Michael Winters squinted at the shades as though they were the formula that expressed the drag coefficient of a high tech fighter aircraft. “They look the same to me.”

“I think this is nicer, it’s brighter,” Veronica pointed out, gesturing at the barley white. “It’s going to open up the kitchen.”

“It looks like white to me,” Michael shrugged.

The man might have helped to design supersonic aircraft capable of incredible feats of agility, but he somehow managed to be oblivious to the intricacies of home decoration. Veronica rolled her eyes and selected the shade she preferred, as usual.

“I think I’m going to see if they have any…” Michael frowned, trailing off.

“What’s wrong?” Veronica looked up from the rack of paint and followed her husband’s gaze.

Alex was standing further along the isle, gazing at one of the demonstration bedroom displays. A common feature of superstores like this, they were set up to display their products and materials in a more realistic setting. This particular one was set up to replicate a version of a teenage girl’s room. It had pale birch furniture, soft pastel fabrics and a beautiful carved vanity set beside a closet that would make any teen girl salivate.

In this case, Alex was gazing wistfully at the display, a dreamy look on his face that saddened Veronica’s heart. Whatever her son usually did to maintain his more grungy, downtrodden exterior had faded away and he was standing upright, his weight on his left hip and his arms wrapped around himself as though hugging himself for comfort. His hair had escaped his collar at some point, and was hanging down over his shoulder.

Veronica glanced at her husband and leaned into his side. “You can see it, can’t you?”

Michael nodded and shook his head. “How…”

“You heard Doctor Ward,” Veronica answered softly. “It’s just who they are. Nothing we did, nothing we can do. All we can do is love our child.”

“I understood in theory,” Michael admitted. “I didn’t really want to believe it, not really. I wanted to think it would go away; a phase or something. I don’t see my son over there.”

“Me neither,” Veronica agreed.

“S… he looks just like you,” Michael pointed out quietly. “I never saw it until now.”

“Do you think Alex will ever feel comfortable enough to talk to us?” Veronica asked hesitantly. “I know what Doctor Ward said, but I can’t help but feel like I failed when she won’t talk to us.”

“You haven’t failed,” Michael soothed his wife, his eyes still firmly fixed on his youngest offspring. “You could never fail our children.”

* * *

Wednesday, September 1st, 2004 - The Winters Family Home.

Veronica knocked on Alex’s door when she arrived home the following Wednesday.

“Come in?”

Popping her head inside, she spotted her child at his desk working on a school paper. “Are you busy honey?”

“Just finishing my history paper,” he shrugged, “‘sup?”

Walking in, she sat down on his bed and smiled. “I made you an appointment with Doctor Harris for next Monday. I’ll take you, then I can drop you at school afterward, ok?”

Alex seemed to consider the prospect before shrugging. “Sure, I guess that works.”

Veronica took the opportunity while she had her son’s attention to do a little digging. “So your father was telling me you’ve been out socializing a lot more since the semester started. It sounds like you are having more fun at school?”

“I’m making some friends, I guess.” Alex conceded.

She smiled. “I’m glad, sweetie, you’ve had us a little worried for a while. I was really afraid you were struggling to get on with people…”

Alex made a face and hesitated. Veronica could clearly see that something was troubling the child even if they wouldn’t admit it. Even now as she looked at him, it was obvious that he was far more feminine than a boy ought to be. Hell, he was more feminine than some girls. She wished she could just broach the subject, but she was afraid of what Alex might do if she did.

“I’m fine, mom,” he offered. “I’m doing okay.”

“You can talk to me, about anything,” she insisted fruitlessly. “You know that, right?”

“I know,” Alex mumbled, glancing away.

Veronica looked momentarily pained and cleared her expression before Alex looked back in her direction.

“Are you happy, Alex?”

Alex managed a more convincingly authentic smile, one that showed that somehow, despite whatever he was hiding, that he loved her. “I’m good, mom.”

Veronica felt relieved, but still, Alex’s unwillingness to talk troubled her. She leaned forward and hugged her child tightly before they could protest. Something felt strange, but she couldn’t work out what. “Good night sweetie,” she murmured before detangling herself and standing.

“Night mom.”

Veronica had just closed the bedroom door behind her when it hit her; Alex was wearing a bra. She had felt the band when she hugged him a moment earlier, but her mind hadn’t processed it as out of place. Did her child’s already feminine appearance erase the fact that he shouldn’t be wearing one?

She walked back down the hallway towards her bedroom and pondered the idea. Even now, the idea that her child was wearing a bra didn’t feel wrong, it just felt surprising. She actually felt more upset that she hadn’t been able to buy it with her… him. A mother should always be there for her daugh-…. Veronica shook her head, this was getting confusing.

* * *

Monday, September 6th, 2004 - Twin Creeks Medical Center, Sacramento, California.

“Alexander Winters?”

Veronica looked up from her magazine as the nurse called Alex’s name. She noticed the flinch as the unknowing woman called out her child’s full name.

“I’ll see you soon honey,” she offered, trying to look as casual as possible.

Alex stood and reluctantly followed the nurse as she led him off to see the doctor. While normally any school child would be delighted to miss class to go to the doctor for something as trivial as a checkup, she had noticed that her youngest had been particularly quiet the entire drive over. She knew why; Alex was trying to work out how to get through the appointment without her true nature coming to light.

In that room, Alex was hopefully getting a chance to make an ally, a friend. Someone they could trust with this secret, even if it had to be nudged out of them. She knew she could trust Tony Harris. The two had attended Cornell in New York together. Both California kids, they had managed to make it out east and graduate before returning home to practice.

While she had gone into cardiology, Tony had chosen primary care. A gifted physician, he had wanted to follow his father’s footsteps as a family doctor to generations of his patients. She could see the nobility in that cause, one equal to if not more noble than her own in many ways. She certainly trusted the health of her family to him and now, in this pivotal moment, the life of her youngest child.

Veronica smiled at the memory.

“Hey Vee, what can I do for you?” Tony grinned, clasping his friend into a quick hug. “Been a minute.”

“Sure has,” Veronica agreed with a smile. “Thanks for coming to meet me.”

The two had met at a coffee shop down the street from Mercy’s Main Campus, a favorite amongst the hospital staff. Veronica had wanted to ask her old school friend this favor in person, and somehow, it hadn’t felt like dinner conversation.

“What was so important? You sounded quite unsure of yourself on the phone,” Tony asked, sitting down across from Veronica with his cappuccino.

“I told you it’s about Alex, right?”

Harris nodded, “you booked him in for a checkup with me next week, right? Something you’re worried about?”

Veronica made a face and looked away. “A little more complex than worried, Tony. There’s something going on that I need you to understand and… well, there are few I can trust with this.”

“Vee, you can tell me anything, how long have we known each other?”

Veronica frowned and glanced at her friend. “Alex is our daughter.”

It was Tony Harris’ turn to frown. “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen evidence to the contrary on more than one occasion, are you pulling my leg?”

Veronica shook her head, “No, I’m not. It’s a little more complicated than that; based on what we know and what a consulting psychiatrist that specializes in gender issues believes, Alex is transgender.”

“Wow, ok, I’ll just pull my foot out of my mouth,” he chuckled nervously, realizing the off color nature of his prior remark. “What do you need?”

“Alex needs someone to talk to. As far as we know, he’s taking hormones that he’s getting from somewhere. Doctor Ward, Michael, and I are in agreement; Alex has to come to us. If we confront him, it’s likely he’ll repress this and hide. If he’s so scared to tell us that he’s taking this into his own hands, I’m so worried that she’s so alone.” Veronica sighed. “Tony, I’m so lost; my own baby is afraid to talk to me.”

“You want me to try?”

Veronica shook her head. “Not try, but… maybe if we put Alex into a situation where the truth of what she’s doing might slip out and she’s faced with a trustworthy adult without skin in the game, there’s a chance she might confide in you.”

Tony Harris noted Veronica’s shift in pronouns and how quickly she seemed to fall into referring to her youngest child in the feminine. “How long has this been going on?”

Veronica shrugged. “Six or seven months, we think.”

“Any changes will be pretty noticeable during a physical then,” he mused. “Want me to try to put them in a spot and toss ‘em a lifeline?”

Veronica nodded uncertainly. “I guess? I don’t want to force her, but I’m afraid that she’s hurting herself. If we were to confront her over the hormones, God knows what it would do to her trust. With you, she could find someone to confide in; someone to trust that can’t hurt her.”

Tony nodded. “I can do that for you Vee, of course I can. I’ll nudge a little and try to put Alex in a spot. I’ll make sure they’re safe.”

Veronica sighed, the relief visible on her face. “God, thank you. Just make sure my baby is ok.”

Twenty minutes later, Alex reappeared. “According to Doctor Harris, I’m not dead.”

Veronica looked up from an article on winter fashions and raised an eyebrow. “I could have told you that.”

Looking at her youngest child, she realized that Alex seemed a good deal more relaxed than when they had first arrived. She had no idea what had happened in the room, but she was reasonably sure that a weight had been lifted off her child’s shoulders. She hoped they were doing the right thing.

Placing the magazine down, she shouldered her bag and stood, “Well, no wasting time; let’s get you off to school so I can get into work. I have a bypass this afternoon to prep for.”

“Never let it be said that my health came before the needs of the cardiologically infirm.” her youngest child snarked.

Veronica grinned and playfully clipped the back of her child’s head. “School, gobby one.”

* * *

Thursday, September 9th, 2004 - Mercy General Hospital - Sacramento, California.

Veronica sat in her office at the hospital staring at her telephone. It sat there on the desk taunting her, daring her to pick it up and break her child’s trust. She wanted to aleve herself of her worries but she felt incredibly guilty at the prospect of breaching Alex’s trust.

Making a face, she picked up the handset and dialed the doctor’s surgery before she could change her mind.

“Hello Veronica, how are things?”

“Tony, I’m well, How are the kids?”

“Good, but you didn’t call about my kids, did you?”

Her old friend knew her far too well and she felt a flush of guilt that even he knew she was checking up on Alex.

“Look Tony, I don’t want to know any specifics and I don’t want you to breach Hipaa, but I have to know. Well, I have one request, and I think you can answer it without either of us breaking trust.”

“I’m listening.”

Veronica sighed and tapped her pen on her desk for a moment, listening to the static on the other end of the line as she fretted about her question. If Alex truly was in danger or being hurt by what he was doing, she would be duty bound to confront him and break his trust. She doubted that he would ever speak to her again, no matter the outcome.

“Look, please, just tell me that my baby is healthy.”

“Your child is healthy,” Tony replied flatly, giving nothing away. Nothing in this case however spoke volumes.

“You’re positive? Healthy? No details, of course.”

Tony Ward chuckled over the line and clicked his tongue, “your child is healthy, Vee. You know that I won’t give you anything else and I know you wouldn’t ask me either. This much I can give you, does that take the weight off a little?”

“God, it does,” she sighed, feeling relief flood through her body. She was utterly convinced that Alex was taking hormone replacement therapy now. Her child was lost and terrified and she couldn’t do a thing about it without ruining their relationship. She felt trapped in the worst possible way.

“Look, if it’s any consolation, You’re a great Mom, Vee. Don’t beat yourself up over this.”

“How do you know…” she sighed. “Of course you know.”

“I’m a parent myself Vee, I know what it’s like.” Tony offered. “I wouldn’t tell you anything that breaches trust, but as they are a minor, I CAN tell you that they’re healthy. You and Mike have nothing to worry about in the short term.”

“And the long term?” she sighed. “What then?”

“That Vee, is on you, Mike and Alex,” he pointed out. “I’ve faith you’ll all sort it out soon enough.”

Veronica grimaced but said nothing as she stared at the family photograph on her desk. Would it be soon enough?

* * *

Saturday, September 11th, 2004 - Winters Family Home.

“I’m home!”

Veronica looked up from her magazine and smiled at her youngest child. “Did you have a good time?”

Alex nodded happily as he dropped down onto the other end of the sofa. “It was good, I even got to ride a horse.”

Veronica raised an eyebrow. “Did you know which end to sit on?”

Alex rolled his eyes, “Yeah, well… I had a quick lesson first.”

“And what are you wearing?” Veronica queried with a frown. “Those aren’t your clothes.”

The sweater was maroon and sported a churchy looking crest on the breast and the jeans didn’t look like any that she had bought for her son.

“Oh, I ah… fell in a creek?”

“Before or after the horse?” Veronica queried.

“During?” Alex admitted with a nervous grin. “I got my stuff dried, but well… Rick’s Mom lent me these.”

“This Rick, he’s one of your gamer friends, right?”

Alex blushed and looked suddenly a little guilty. Veronica wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but the look seemed unnervingly familiar. “Uh, yeah, he’s on the football team with Rob.”

While she knew that her youngest regularly attended his brother’s games at school, she was reasonably certain that he didn’t socialize with the same crowd as his elder sibling. For one, Alex had never shown the slightest inkling of being particularly sporty himself.

It wasn’t that she expected him to be a clone of his sibling, she knew that her child’s interests lay elsewhere. As long as he was happy or rather, happier, she wasn’t particularly concerned with where he found friendship. The child sitting before her in borrowed clothes talking about riding horses and falling in creeks seemed a far cry from the withdrawn youth of only six months earlier.

Veronica smiled warmly, “I’m glad you had fun darling, you should invite this Rick boy over some time in return.”

Alex suddenly looked extremely uncomfortable, “Uh, he wouldn’t want to come over here Mom; he lives on a ranch and he’s got a huge house. He’d think this place is so tiny.

Not that tiny, Veronica mused, shuddering at the memory of the mortgage. “Our house is hardly small dear, we’re not exactly impoverished.”

“I know… I mean, I suppose.”

Ah teenagers, never change.

“What did you do other than ride horses?” She asked, eying her still reddening child with growing curiosity.

“Uh, video games; stuff.”

“You can play video games here you know, I’m sure he won’t mind our provincial little home.” Veronica smirked.

“I’m gonna go to my room; I’ve got homework to finish.” Alex muttered, hopping up off the sofa and scurrying off.

Veronica watched her child go; The heart design sewn into the back pocket aside, she was beyond convinced that the jeans her youngest child was wearing were intended for a girl. No boy should fit… but then…

Veronica kneaded her temples and sighed. This entire enterprise was going to give her an aneurism if it went on for very much longer.

Alex had looked happier that evening; far happier than he had in a long time. Clearly friendships were helping her youngest child to grow and to come out of his shell. The tricky part was that the shell was beginning to look a lot less like her son and far more like her daughter. How long would they be able to keep up this limbo, this hidden existence? She wasn’t sure.

Did Alex say that this boy’s mother gave him the clothes to wear? What mother would give a boy a girl’s…?

Oh… oh dear.

* * *

Friday, September 25th, 2004 - Winters Family Home.

Veronica heard the sound of a car door closing outside on the driveway. It was a little after nine in the evening and she was relaxing in her study, taking advantage of the quiet provided while the kids were away at the game. She was perusing a new and exciting paper on a pioneering valve replacement technique that used magnetic tools to minimise tissue damage caused by traditional clamps. It was proving to be quite a fascinating read, and in typical fashion, she had lost all track of time.

Peering out of the window, she spotted her son’s car sitting on the driveway. He seemed to be talking to someone, a passenger that had just exited the vehicle that was mostly obscured by his body. Where had the evening gone? She stretched and closed the journal she was reading. Yet to hear the house door, she glanced back out of the window to see what was keeping him.

Rob moved slightly, showing a shorter slimmer figure behind him that was still somewhat obscured by the darkness. Had he brought a girl home with him? It looked that way; she was standing with her weight on one hip and gesturing at Robert while the pair spoke. After a few moments, the two hugged, the girl standing up on her toes to embrace him warmly. It was about time he got a girlfriend, she mused.

Robert handed the girl a jacket that she shrugged on, obscuring her slim but obvious curves in the darkness. However, rather than walking back down towards the street, she followed her son up toward the front door of the house. As they passed within the sphere of the porch light, she caught the girl’s side profile and realized to her horror that it was her youngest child, Alex.

Veronica ducked down, out of sight of the window and tried to rationalize what she had just seen. She knew that Alex looked feminine and that others clearly saw them as female, but it was the first time she had experienced the mental separation to see it too.

The young woman that had conversed with her brother out on the driveway was undeniably that; female. Even when she recognized Alex’s face, it still hadn’t changed her view. Her youngest child was a girl, her daughter… It blew her mind wide open.

By the look of things, at least one member of the family was overtly aware of the truth of the matter. She would have to speak with Robert soon. Whether or not he would betray his sister’s confidence however, was another matter entirely.

Veronica’s eyes grew wider; sister. Where had that come from? Somehow, she knew that it was exactly how Robert saw his sibling. The idea gave her hope and joy. Even if Alex couldn’t speak with her yet, she at least had someone to confide in and that gave Veronica hope. Her daughter, her youngest daughter. Now that she was over the initial shock of the concept, it didn’t seem wrong at all.

The door opened and closed and she heard her children enter the hallway. Taking a breath, she stepped out of her study and smiled pleasantly. “Good game?”

Rob grinned and nodded, Alex seemed a little more reserved than usual. Were her eyes red?

“Yeah, we won,” Rob offered, “tight game but we did it.”

Veronica smiled at his enthusiasm. “Did you go to West’s after? You’re back rather late.”

“No,” Rob answered rather quickly, “We just went to the park with some friends to hang out… nothing so organised.”

Veronica raised an eyebrow. “Ok, well, I hope you two had fun. Don’t let your old mother keep you.”

Her children exchanged a look and a sheepish grin before heading off their separate ways. Veronica watched Alex go; Despite the long oversized hooded sweatshirt, she was positive that she was wearing the same girls jeans she had come home in the week prior. She was choosing to wear them, and to a school game to boot? That had to mean that Alex was out to more than just her brother.

Veronica watched her supposed son ascend the stairs and vanish towards their room. It had to be Julia Byrne’s daughters; Alex was spending so much time with them that it made perfect sense. That, and it blew Michael’s dating hypothesis clean out of the water.

It couldn’t be too long until Alex said something to them. If she was comfortable now confiding in her brother, it would hopefully give her the strength to speak to her and her father. If she didn’t… god knows, it was becoming increasingly obvious to everyone that she was no boy. There was no way she would last much longer at that school.

* * *

Monday, September 28th, 2004 - Winters Family Home.

Veronica was sipping her morning coffee and checking her diary at the counter when Alex staggered into the kitchen the following morning, barely wearing her uniform. With wild hair and a tie that barely counted as being around her neck. She truly was quite a sight to behold.

“You look exhausted,” she opined, sipping her beverage. “Are you sure you’re ok to go to school today?”

“Uhuh,” Alex grumbled, dumping her bag on the table next to them. “I just had a rough night again, that’s all.”

Veronica reached over and felt her child’s forehead. “You’re not running a fever, any other symptoms?”

“Just tired, not sure why.”

“Well if you can’t think of a valid excuse, I’ll be packing you off to school… what’s this?” she asked, pulling the half-exposed form for German class from the dumped school bag.

“Uh field trip for German class.” Alex admitted, her nose already buried in a coffee mug.

“And I’m guessing it’s not to the local Christmas Market, right?”

“Uh, the actual ones in Germany, week, start of December.”

Veronica raised an eyebrow, “When were you going to tell me about this? It’s due to be handed in today?”

Alex grinned sheepishly, “Oh, I forgot.”

Veronica read through the form briefly, noting the important particulars before frowning and giving her a serious look. “Talk about last minute, Alex. I’d normally want to speak to your Father about this first but I’m sure he’d be ok with it. I’ll get the forms for your passport when I’m in town later.”

Alex looked more than a little surprised, as though this hadn’t been the outcome she had expected. “You’re sure Dad will be ok with this?” She asked skeptically. “I know I left it so late, it’s my fault that I can’t go.”

Veronica shrugged, “we spend twice this on Rob’s football needs in a school year. You never ask us for anything and you don’t play any sports so I don’t see why not. You do want to go, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, it would be quite exciting,” Alex admitted. “I’ve never been to Germany and it would make my classes way more relevant.”

“Then you shall go to the ball Cinders,” She declared, sighing the form with a dramatic flourish. She paused, noting a strange look on Alex’s face as she realized what it was she had said.

Making a show of draining her coffee, she stood and shouldered her handbag. “Do you want to drive today? If you feel awake enough, that is?”

Alex practically inhaled the remainder of her coffee and grinned, “sure Mom, I’d love to!”

Veronica raised an eyebrow, “then you might want to put your uniform on properly and look like you’re fit for public consumption first. You have five minutes.”

Ten minutes and an aggressive intervention from a hair brush later, Alex was pulling out of the driveway in Veronica’s Mercedes. Like her husband, Veronica allowed Alex to gain experience on the school run in the mornings, now that they had she had her learner’s permit. Unlike Chrissie and Robert, she was pleased to find her youngest was a lot more reserved than her siblings.

Pronouns were a struggle this morning. After her stark realisation the prior evening, Veronica was struggling to refer to her youngest child as male. She knew what they were born as, and she knew the medical mechanics of the issue, but it was quite clear that she was driving to school with her youngest daughter.

She glanced over and watched as Alex navigated a junction, focusing on the traffic moving around them. While the child beside her was wearing a suit and tie, she looked the spitting image of her teenage self. Veronica felt a strange sense of pride that finally, one of her children had taken after her. It was only ironic at how she had reached that destination.

“You should invite that friend of yours over sometime,” Veronica offered, breaking the companionable silence.

“Hmm? Who?

Veronica waved her hand, trying to seem casual, “The one you went to see last week… Ryan, no.…Rick?”

“I could,” Alex conceded slowly. “I would feel quite inferior though; we don’t have a ranch and horses. I'm sure he’d be bored just playing games.”

“It’s just polite,” Veronica countered. “Anyway, you both play games and watch TV or you can go for a walk; there’s plenty to do. We don’t exactly live in a slum, dear.”

Alex frowned, “I’ll think about it, ok?”

Veronica allowed the conversation to drop. She was reasonably sure that the boy didn’t know, but was almost positive that Alex was afraid that he might find out. What sort of tangled web was her child living within?

As they pulled into the parking lot at the school, Alex shut the engine off and gave her a weak smile. “I’ll see you later, ok, Mom?”

Veronica climbed out and walked around to the drivers side as Alex retrieved her bag. She hugged her youngest child and climbed into the driver’s seat, making absolutely zero adjustment to the seat or mirror. “Get me some passport photographs before you get home this afternoon, do you hear me? Do not dally around with this until it’s too late, Alex.”

Alex rolled her eyes and made a face, “yes, Mother.”

Veronica honked the horn and pulled away before she burst out in laughter at how much like a teenage girl her teenage son was acting.

* * *

Tuesday, September 29th, 2004 - Mercy General Hospital, Sacramento, California.

Doctor Winters was three hours into a bypass surgery when her focus was interrupted by a polite yet insistant knocking on the observation room window.

“What seems to be so urgent as to interrupt me while I’m elbow deep in Mister Jones?” She called, not looking away from the suture she was completing.

“When you’ve got a moment, Doctor Winters, I have a rather urgent message.” Nurse Brown called over the intercom.

“Let me finish with his aorta, and I’m all yours,” Veronica offered, tying off the suture on the arterial wall.

A few moments later, she completed her work and turned to give her attention to the gallery. Above her, she spotted Anita Brown, one of the nurses with a hesitant look on her face.

”What do you need?”

”Doctor Winters, ah… It’s your daughter, Ma’am. She was just brought into the ER a few minutes ago.”

Veronica frowned, her daughter was in Chicago, how was that even possible?

“I’ve paged Marcie to come and scrub in for you.” the nurse continued over the intercom.

“Thank you, Anita, let me know when she gets here.” Veronica returned her attention to the patient whose life was quite literally in her hands. Until Marcie Johnson arrived there was nothing she could do to help her child. What had happened was a mystery, but she would find out as soon as she could. Right now, this man would die if she cut and ran.

Forty minutes later, Doctor Johnson arrived to replace Veronica at the table. After briefing her colleague, she scrubbed out and was finally able to begin worrying about her child. Now her patient was in safe hands, she could be a parent again.

What the hell had happened to her? Why was she even here? Had Christine come home to surprise her? Nothing seemed to make sense to Veronica as she hurriedly set off to find answers.

”Doctor Winters!”

Veronica spotted the young doctor jogging along the corridor and paused as she was preparing to step into the elevator. “Harriet? Tell me you know what happened to Christine?”

The young brunette physician hit the door button for the elevator and escorted Veronica inside before selecting the fourth-floor wards. “She was brought in earlier after an altercation at her school. She suffered blunt-force cranial trauma and a concussion. CAT showed no bleeding and only minor swelling; she’s really lucky Doctor Winters.”

“I still don’t even know how she’s here at all,” Veronica sighed, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “Wait a second… at her school?”

Doctor Jones nodded. “She came in with her brother, Robert. He was very protective of her. He, ah, he warned me that she was a little different from other girls.” Doctor Brown added gently. “I took care to maintain her dignity, Ma’am.”

Veronica’s head spun. None of the ER Doctor’s words made sense. If not Christine… wait a moment, “Alex?”

”Yes Ma’am, she was given a mild sedative so she could get some sleep. Neuro recommended bed rest and observation. Given her results, she should be out of any real danger. We’ll keep her overnight to be safe,” Jones continued. “She’s a very brave girl, if I may say so, Doctor Winters.”

Veronica eyed the younger doctor and nodded. She still wasn’t entirely sure what was happening but she realized playing along might be the safer of the present options. From what her colleague was saying, her child was safe and that was what mattered most of all.

When they arrived on the fourth floor, Veronica found Robert sitting nervously outside of a hospital room. Spotting the intimacy of the moment, Doctor Jones excused herself to the nurses station and vanished. As soon as he spotted his mother coming down the corridor, he was on his feet, a nervous look on his face.

”Ah, Mom, I’m so sorry, I really screwed up!”

Veronica hugged her eldest son and stroked his hair. “Shush, it’s ok. What happened, baby?”

Rob let out a half sob and shook his head. “It was lunch time and this asshole, Brandon; he just started hitting Alex, I don’t know why. I got to him as soon as I could and so did the other guys.” He explained sadly. “He’d lost his mind about something and Alex wasn’t moving… there was so much blood… god, I’m sorry, I really failed her… him.”

Veronica mentally raised an eyebrow at her son’s slip but said nothing. She squeezed her son’s hand and smiled. “This isn’t your fault Robert, don’t blame yourself. From what Doctor Jones said, it looks like they’re gonna be ok, alright? You did good.”

Rob sniffed and nodded. “Look, Mom, there’s some stuff you need to know first…”

Despite her worry, Veronica chuckled, which caught her son by surprise. “Mom?”

”Doctor Jones already told me about my daughter’s condition. It didn’t take long to realize that Chrissie was still safely in Chicago.”

”Hol… Alex was really scared to tell you,” Rob blurted out defensively. “She wanted to tell you and Dad, but she was so scared that you’d hate her for it… I’m sorry for not saying something, but it wasn’t my place.”

Veronica hugged her son again, “I know honey, I don’t blame you at all. To tell the truth, your father and I have known for a while.”

Rob pulled away slightly and eyed his mother. “You do?”

Veronica wiped a tear she hadn’t realized she had shed and nodded. “Yes, we had seen Alex struggle for months and, well, we saw the signs darling. Alex never came out and said anything, but she didn’t exactly need to.”

Rob smiled slightly, “I guess not. You’re not mad at me for not telling you?”

Veronica shook her head. “I would have been more angry with you for betraying her confidence.”

"Her…” Rob asked cautiously. “So you’re… ok with all of this?”

His mother nodded, “I’ve gotten used to the idea, baby. Truth be told, Alex was always more like Chrissie than she was you. As long as all my kids are happy and healthy, then I’m happy.”

”She was so afraid that you guys would reject her,” Rob admitted quietly. “She’s been carrying this all on her own.”

”When did you find out?”

Rob grinned, “like four days ago after the game on Friday night. It kinda came out by accident and she ended up admitting everything.”

”I take it you’re ok with this too?” Veronica asked her son. “You can be honest with me.”

Rob nodded his head with certainty. “At first, she was just my kid brother. Kinda dweeby but she was just Alex… I loved her. From the moment I first saw her as herself… I can’t see her any other way, Mom. I think somehow, deep down inside, I’ve always treated Alex like she was my little sister. It just makes sense, for her to be like this.”

Veronica smiled at her son and stroked his cheek. “You’re a good boy, Robert, I’m proud of you.”

Leaving her son in the corridor, Veronica let herself into the hospital room and closed the door behind her. Only once she was completely out of sight of her son and the other hospital staff, did she finally allow herself to release the quiet sob she had been holding since she was first told that her baby was hurt.

Taking a deep breath, she centered herself and glanced up at the sleeping figure on the bed across from her. The girl, and it was undeniably a girl lying there in a hospital gown, looked serene. Veronica walked over and reached out to her child’s sleeping form. Aside from a bandage around her head and a black eye, she might have been sleeping in her room at home.

Was this how she would have chosen to confront her child’s reality? Of course not. There were far better ways, she knew. The sad reality was that there was a chance it might have been a lot longer before Alex admitted her truth. Leaning forward, she kissed her daughter on the forehead and stroked her hair.

The sleeping child was beautiful, she had to admit. How had she taken so long to see this? In that moment, she vowed to do whatever it took to protect her daughter. She would climb every mountain along the road she now found herself on, and she would do whatever it took to see her happy. She would prove to her that her fear had been unjustified, prove to her that her love was a universal constant. She would be the best mother she was capable of being.

* * *

Veronica had been dozing lightly when movement across the room caught her eye. In the early evening darkness, she caught sight of her child’s eyes as they connected with her own.

“Alex,” she murmured softly, coming out of the chair and crossing over to her child’s side. She reached up and switched on one of the reading lights and angled it away so it didn’t blind her in the dim room. “I didn’t want to wake you, honey, you were sleeping. How are you feeling now?”

Alex grimaced as she touched the dressing on the back of her head. “You didn’t have to come down, I know you were busy, Mom.”

Veronica rolled her eyes, “I found out that you had been brought in when I was three hours into a bypass surgery. As soon as they told me, I scrubbed out and let Marcie take over. There was no way I was missing my child’s time of need.” Veronica’s lip curled. “You know, I was a little surprised to find you here.”

Alex looked apprehensive, “what do you mean?”

“They told me that my daughter had been brought in after a fight at her school. On my way down here, I was wondering how the hell Chrissie managed to get attacked at her college in Chicago and then get admitted here, half a country away.”

Alex grinned nervously, “Really good AirMed?”

Veronica fought the urge to snigger at her child’s remark even as she frowned. “Would you believe my surprise when I came in here and Harriet from the ER briefed me on my youngest daughter’s injuries?”

She watched the look of fear and panic cross her child’s face as she realized what she was saying. Alex swallowed and almost whimpered, “I can explain, Mom, I promise…”

Veronica shook her head and squeezed her daughter’s hand. “You don’t need to, sweetheart. I know, and I have known for quite a long time. It wasn’t quite how I expected you to tell me though.”

Alex frowned, “hou know? How?”

She laced her fingers with her child’s and smiled kindly. “I’ve known for a while now, baby. I didn’t know how to broach it with you so we decided to wait. Your father and I, we saw how sad you were and just how much you were hurting; we didn’t know what to do to help. We saw how you spent time with Chrissie growing up, how very different you were to Robert and we saw all the behavior and the responses; we tried to pretend it wasn’t really happening.”

Veronica looked guilty, realizing what they had done to their child. Suddenly, she felt the urge to explain and apologize. “We sent you to that school to see if it might encourage you to play with other boys, to adjust, but it only seemed to make things worse. I think we realized it was too late when you withdrew yourself from us last year. By that point, it was all we could do to try and communicate somehow.”

She sighed and stroked Alex’s hair. “I saw the signs; I’m not an idiot darling. I know you started taking hormones. You do remember that you are the child of a doctor, right? If anyone had the knowledge and resources to pursue this herself, it was you. I also recognized the signs from Chrissie; a young girl entering puberty isn’t so easy to miss for a mother.”

Alex frowned. “But you kept asking me if I was ok? Why not just tell me that you knew? I thought…” she sighed and glanced away. “I thought you guys were oblivious.”

“I wanted you to open up in your own time,” she admitted, realizing now how foolish it sounded. “It was when I felt your bra the other week that I realized your father and I had to say something sooner rather than later. That I had missed so much that you were already in your first bra, it had gone on long enough.”

“You don’t hate me?” Alex asked quietly, glancing up at her mother. “You don’t want to send me off to military school or conversion therapy or something?”

“Veronica felt the tears rolling down her cheeks as she shook her head. “No darling, I’d never dream of doing that. I would never… could never hate you for who you are.”

“Oh, Mom!” Alex choked.

Veronica carefully hugged her daughter to her chest. For the first time, she felt truly connected to the child. All pretense forgotten, she hugged the sobbing girl close, realizing with some surprise that as with Christine, she felt the sensation of their breasts pressing together. Alex was well on her way to becoming a woman and she hadn’t even seen it.

“So you’re really ok with this? With me? Alex sniffed quietly.

Veronica made a face. “Yes and no,” she started before holding up her hands to pause any response. “I one hundred percent support you Alex, you are my child and I will support you. This is your life and if this is right for… god who am I kidding? Of course, this is right for you. I look at you now and I cannot see anything but my youngest daughter.”

Veronica struggled to keep a serious expression as she saw her child’s heart sing. “What I’m not ok with is that you took such dangerous risks to get here. I’m angry that you didn’t feel you could trust us, and I’m angry that you got hurt by that horrible boy.”

“I was scared, Mom,” Alex admitted sheepishly. “I felt so alone, so isolated. I was convinced you and Dad would reject me and push me off to be like Rob. I couldn’t face it and I was desperate.”

Veronica stroked Alex’s hair and smiled. “I love all of you all the same but you are nothing like your brother,” she admitted with a sardonic chuckle. “That would have been an impossible task.”

“I didn’t think I had a choice, Mom,” Alex admitted. “I couldn’t stand the idea of turning into a boy, it terrified me. I reached a dark point where it was do anything, or…”

Without her child even having to say the words, Veronica felt the sudden ice-cold realization that she had nearly lost her. She had known Alex had been suffering, but somehow, her mind hadn’t managed to quite go there.

“When I saw the signs this summer and realized what you were doing, your father and I spoke. We knew we couldn’t confront you directly, not yet. I came up with the best plan I could; to give you someone else to talk to; a trustworthy person that could keep the secret and at least keep you safe. With who else but my old college friend could I confide in that my youngest child was transgender?”

She saw the look on Alex’s face and chuckled. “Don’t blame him,” she added. “I told Tony my suspicions and he told me that he wouldn’t push, but if you chose to confide in him he would do what he could to be a neutral party. You have to believe I just wanted to keep you safe.”

“Why not just talk to me?” the girl asked, her brow furrowing.

Veronica felt awful then, realizing that her child had been waiting for a sign that she would be loved, that she would be accepted. “You needed to tell me in your own time darling. I didn’t want to force you.”

“But if you knew I was taking hormones, you had to know that I was serious?”

“Do I want you to see a specialist? Absolutely,” she admitted. “Did I want you to tell me first? Absolutely. Did you need to reach the point of acceptance first by yourself? Yes.”

“How long has Robert known?” Veronica asked, nodding back towards the door.

“He found out a couple of days ago,” Alex admitted. “It was really sudden. He didn’t do anything silly, did he?”

Veronica smiled and brushed some stray hair from her daughter’s face. “Your brother was your brother; he tried to run interference and he even tried to prepare me for the news in his own silly way.”

Alex smiles fondly, thinking about her brother, “That sounds like him, trying to be the hero.”

“He’s like his dad,” Veronica smiled.

Alex nods, “I love Dad, but I’m glad that I’m not like him.”

Veronica squeezed her daughter’s hand, “no; you’re a younger version of me.”

Alex’s eyes took on a faraway look and she smiled. “That’s all I ever wanted, Mom.”

Veronica stroked her daughter’s hair and smiled back at her. It had been a long time coming but the truth was finally out. There were no more secrets between them and at long last, she could help her child to be happy. As a mother, it was all she had ever wanted. To realize that she had contributed to her despair had broken her heart. To now embark upon the journey with her to mend it once more? It was all a mother could want.

The End

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Breast Foot Forward: A Fake It Short.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

500 < Short Story < 7500 words

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Thought Fake It was done? Think again! While I work on Don't Fuck It Up, you'll get some periodic Shorts from the life and adventures of Holly and co. Will they be every week? no, but there are a couple of weeks of Christmas vacation to cross and some formative moments to share. I hope you enjoy them! xx

Breast Foot Forward: A Fake It Short..

I’ve never really described my bedroom, have I? I’m sure it wouldn’t be a proper trans-adventure without me diving into some florid description once in a while. I warn you however, there are no four posters and flouncy chiffon curtains here. If that’s what you’re expecting, I may have to disappoint you.

It still feels strange to say, but when I still lived as Alex, my room was really quite neutral on the gender scale. I was never a fan of sports posters or activities that required tons of equipment, so my room was largely toys, clothes, and other human clutter. There were no photographs with friends, no mementos from trips. As Alex, I just… existed.

What toys, do you ask? My parents bought me the usual boy toys like action figures and construction toys, but as you already know, I spent a lot more time playing dolls and other games with Chrissie than I did having backyard wars with my Soldier Dans. Frankly, my stuff was pretty neat and often stored away.

The truth was, my Space Conflict figures were lovingly placed on a shelf and I spent most of my time with my Block-Go making little scenes rather than cool vehicles or spaceships. I didn’t really ask for other more typical boy toys because I didn’t really want them.

I’m sure a psychiatrist could make statements about how girls are more likely to use toys for narrative play whereas boys may be more likely to use them for conflict or competition. In reality, as a kid, you play with what you’ve got. Would I have preferred Chrissie’s dolls? Sure. Did I have them? No. Thus, I made do with what I had to hand, I’ll make no apologies for that.

When I first transitioned, it was a bit up and down as you’re well aware. For a good time, I was both Holly and Alex. That meant that without a particularly clean break, I never really ‘purged’ the Alex… the facade just faded away. This meant that I never really swapped out furniture or repainted. Then again, I never really wanted to; I liked my room.

As it stood, my walls remained a warm off-white in color and the furniture was still a rich pine. Mom and Dad did buy me a vanity with a mirror that now sat alongside my desk with my computer. My bedding did change from dull earth tones to more pleasant pastels, but I wasn’t diving head first into pink and lace either! Currently, it was a soft, pretty, blue that I absolutely adored; girls can like blue too!

Obviously with makeup all over my vanity and clothes not always making it back into my wardrobe and drawers, it was pretty obvious that a girl lived here. Whether it was a bra on the floor, shoes stacked up by my wardrobe, or the skirt that almost made the dresser, it wasn’t exactly a secret.

Did that give me a really awesome sense of validation and comfort? Yes, it did. What made me feel most comfortable here though, was that my Space Conflict figures still proudly sat atop my shelf. My posters for my favorite role-playing games still adorned my walls and my rack of video games was still fit to bursting.

I didn’t throw my interests away when Holly came home to live. I am still the same girl I always have been and always will be. The only difference is that I can be more openly myself now. Transition wasn’t changing who I am; I didn’t become obsessed with everything girly and needed every possible ‘boyish’ thing purged from my life to feel validated. I was me; the nerdy girl who liked manga and comic books, sci-fi, and video games. I also liked makeup and fashion and boys… quite a lot.

Why did I tell you all of this? It just felt like the right time to do so. It also happens to be where I’m lounging right now on a dark winter’s evening. I have no school work and I have no more Alex. After the last couple of weeks, I’m enjoying just relaxing and doing things that I love. At the moment, that is reading a novel.

I know I never spoke about it much, but reading and even a little creative writing are great loves of mine. Obviously, you might say, considering you’re reading an example of the latter. Maybe that’s a spoiler, but I don’t quite know how the timeline works yet.

There’s a knock at the door, ripping me from the pages of a fantastic adventure yarn. “Come in?”

The door opens and Mom’s head appears. “Busy?”

I sit up and shake my head, “No, just chilling out, sup?”

Mom enters and walks across to the bed before sitting down next to me. “Well, I wanted to have a chat, is that ok?”

Suspicion level raised; shenanigans afoot.

I raise an eyebrow, “About what?”

“We never really got a chance to sit down and… I guess I…” Mom sighs and shrugs. She looks over at me and grins. “I had this whole plan and now I’m feeling embarrassed.”

“Go on?” I ask, turning to face her more fully, my legs crossed on the comforter. “What’s embarrassing?”

“Well, I wanted to talk… about girl things with you, honey.”

It’s my turn to blush as I realize what Mother Dearest is getting at. Yes, big important Veronica Winters, MD, is getting sheepish about body topics; she is human after all. Then I start to listen to the brain worms, which is never a good idea. Suddenly, I start to realize that maybe I’m the problem; the not-quite daughter.

“It’s ok, I’m sure it would have been easier if I had been born Holly.”

“Never think that,” Mom replies firmly. She pauses and smiles softly, reaching out to squeeze my knee. “You were born Holly; it just took you time to show it. Never think that you are anything else. I’m hesitant because I feel like I let you down, and that I should have prepared my daughter better and far earlier. It’s not often a mother has to discuss these things with her baby when she’s already got her breasts.”

Brea…. Oh dear.

“What about my breasts?” Not going to lie, that still feels super odd to say to my mother.

Mom looks a little more certain now that the ice is broken and she sits up a little taller. “I need you to understand something Holly; mothers and daughters, we talk about things like you and your girlfriends do. We are much more open and honest with each other than fathers and sons and our bodies are nothing to be ashamed about, ok?”

“I’m not ashamed. Mom. I’m proud of my body.”

“You should be,” she smiles. “But you also need to learn to take care of it.”

“I eat enough fruit… sometimes,” I concede.

“I mean more… intimate,” she grins. “You don’t know about checking your breasts, do you?”

I blushed a little and shook my head. “No, I don’t.”

Mom smiles and gets a funny look on her face. She turns until she’s facing me on the bed and, before I’m able to work out what she’s getting at, she’s hauling her T-shirt over her head and is now sitting there in front of me in just her bra and sweatpants. She reaches behind her back and unclips her bra and takes it off. My own mother is sitting topless on the bed next to me; talk about embarrassing.

“I uh…”

“Your turn,” she raises an eyebrow.

I mean, I can’t be out weirded by Mom, can I? Plus she’s already seen me in my bra before so it’s not that big a step, but it is nudity, and what teenager is comfortable with that? It comes to me suddenly that my own mother is doing this because she wants me to know that she truly sees me as female; another girl and that this is not embarrassing or inappropriate.

I’m not wearing a bra myself, so I pull my camisole over my head and fight the urge to cover my boobs with my hands. It doesn’t escape me that both of our nipples react to the cool air in exactly the same way.

Mom notices my glance and giggles. I’ve not really heard her giggle much before, so it’s a little more human than I’ve ever really experienced before. “Mine do that too.”

“This isn’t weird?”

“A little at first,” she shrugs, which is super weird seeing her boobs bounce with the gesture. “We have nothing to be ashamed about; they’re breasts. Women have breasts, it’s a normal part of your development. In most girls, they start growing between around twelve and thirteen, but you were just a little later.”

“A touch,” I admit. “I was so excited when I first felt the little… bumps?”

Mom nods, “That’s normal sweetheart; the little swelling and the nub that just appears out of nowhere. That little bump starts to swell over time until suddenly there’s a little mound forming, the mound starts to swell and before you know it, you’ve got breasts.”

“I was so happy,” I admit. “I couldn’t really share it, or show how happy I was… I had to hide it.”

Mom reaches out and strokes my cheek and smiles sadly. “Not anymore, sweetheart.”

She reaches up to her own chest and cups her left breast in her hand. She directs my attention to it as she starts to move the fingertips of her right hand around the edges in a spiral pattern. “As they grow, it’s really important that you get used to how they feel; the bumps and the lumps under the surface, the shape and feel of your breasts. While they’re growing that will change and teenage breast cancer is so infinitesimally rare that it won’t matter much, but you need to get used to doing this regularly, at least once a month.”

“To check for lumps?”

She nods, “Yes, and ensure that you know what feels normal for you; breasts are different for every woman, sweetheart. They’re bigger on one side, usually above the heart and they change over your monthly cycle, as your hormones fluctuate.”

“I don’t have one of those,” I sigh, feeling incredibly inadequate suddenly.

“Are you sure about that?” Mom asks, raising an eyebrow. “I think I would be able to present evidence to the contrary.”

“I don’t have a vagina or a uterus,” I point out. “Not like I can have a period. Plus none of the literature or doctors believe I can.”

“As your mother and a doctor I’d like to disagree,” she points out. “I am well attuned to having a daughter, Holly, and as a woman myself, I can tell you that periods are far more complex than male doctors tell us. I’ve seen women with full hysterectomies still experience a monthly cycle. Sure, they don’t bleed, but the menstrual cycle is far more than just that.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know how you’re more irritable sometimes?” she smiled and shook her head. “You’re a teenager, you probably don’t notice, but I do.”

“PMS?”

She nods, “Yup, and have you noticed that at least once a month you go to the bathroom a lot more often? The same time of the cycle when we start our periods can also lead to a period of… intestinal upheaval,” she adds delicately. “You’ll feel more bloated, retain water, and your skin will change. I’ve noticed all of those things honey.”

I’m bright red by now. My semi-nudity is almost entirely forgotten, but my mother talking about poop and periods is a little… heavy.

“So I… have a period?”

“Not quite,” she shrugs. “A menstrual cycle at the very least, yes. Typically a cycle lasts around twenty-eight days, but it can vary a little. Over that time your body changes how it responds to the hormones in your blood, rather than the ovaries changing how much they release. This means that your body is trying to prepare itself for pregnancy, even if you can’t do it.”

“I wish I could,” I sigh.

“I know honey,” she smiles comfortingly. “But you can adopt one day, and you’ll even be able to stimulate lactation to feed your child if you adopt an infant.”

“I had read,” I admit sheepishly. “Not much comfort but… still.”

Mom nodded. “Right, I’m getting chilly, so let’s get back on track eh? Reach up like I’m doing and follow me, ok?”

I copy Mom and cup my breast in the same way that she was doing. Following her direction, I start to spiral my fingertips around the breast, circling in toward the nipple. We repeat the process on the other side.

If you’ve never really ‘felt’ a breast before, as an owner of said appendages; they might look smooth on the surface, but in reality, they’re quite lumpy under the surface. Beneath the fatty tissue, the mammary gland itself is covered in nodules and bumps that develop as the breast grows. These later provide the mechanism to produce milk to feed your child.

Mom is entirely correct; regular checking and truly knowing one’s body is the first step in catching cancer before it’s too late. The sooner one detects something unusual and gets it checked, the sooner you can prevent disaster. Often, lumps and bumps are benign rather than malignant, but it’s far better to be safe than sorry.

Why do I wax on about this so much? Obviously, as a doctor, I care about your health, and normalizing breasts and cancer risks helps to save lives. It also happened that Adult Holly had a brief scare that got her referred to the breast clinic for more invasive testing. Trust me, it was pretty scary.

“Thank you, Mom, I know this is still a little weird.”

Mom reached out and stroked my cheek. “You don’t need to thank me, darling and there is nothing weird about it. This is what mothers and daughters do. We share, we pass along knowledge, and help the next generation to grow.”

Standing up, she took my hand and pulled me to my feet. With a warm smile, she opened her arms and took me into her embrace. We stood there for a moment, sharing a silent moment between us. My breasts squished against my mother's in a rather unusual way.

Mom kissed my forehead. “Mother to daughter, my skin to your skin, my breasts to yours. You are my daughter, a brave and beautiful young woman. One day, you will be a mother and will share a moment like this with your own daughter. You are female, you are any man’s equal and you are fierce.”

“I love you, Mom,” I sniffed, the scent of her shampoo filling my senses.

“I love you, Holly,” she replied softly, slowly releasing the embrace. She smiled and gently poked me in the boob. “Get dressed, and get to bed, ok?”

I smiled, pulled my cami back over my head, and adjusted myself without shame; they were breasts, women have them.

Mom smiled as she casually mirrored my gesture, “I shared a moment like this with Christine when she was about thirteen years old. I told her then the very same thing that I tell you now; you can talk to me about anything. The bond between a mother and her daughters cannot be broken. It is stronger than anything on this earth. I will always be there for you, ok baby?”

Blub.

“Yes, Mom. I love you,” I replied, flinging myself into her arms again.

Mom gave me a final squeeze, “I love you too, darling. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I gave her a nod and watched Mom slip back out of my room, closing the door behind her.

I dropped back onto the bed and smiled to myself. Ever since that fateful evening in a hospital bed when my mother had first met her daughter, I had known that she loved me. That had never been in doubt for a single second along the road.

For a good time, I had felt guilty; that I had killed her little boy, that I was replacing him in her heart, but in the proceeding months I had come to understand that she too had to experience a transition all of her own. Alex had never existed, only Holly. Mom saw that and she understood. She had said goodbye to the image of the little boy in her heart and fully embraced the daughter that the broken shell had revealed.

Tonight had been proof; undeniable proof that she saw me as another female in mind, body, and spirit. I was her daughter, Holly Juliette Winters. She had taught me things about myself that only a mother could teach a daughter. She showed me tenderness in a way that strengthened my love for her and my sister beyond all possible imagination.

When I think back to that evening, it still makes me smile to this very day. The memory of that moment gave me joy when I nursed my daughter for the very first time. It told me that one day, when my own daughter was old enough, I would tell her that she too was special. That she was beautiful and powerful and I would teach her in the same way my own mother taught me.

With the women that surrounded me as I grew up, I never felt inferior to men; I never felt weaker, more fragile, or less valuable. With women like my mother and sister, there was no way that was going to happen.

I am woman, hear me roar.

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!

The Curious Case Of Holly Winters: A Fake It Short.

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

500 < Short Story < 7500 words

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Fake It Till You Make It

How Not To Transition In High School (Probably)

One teenager Vs the world, what could go wrong?

Thought Fake It was done? Think again! While I work on the sequel, you'll get some periodic shorts from the life and adventures of Holly and co. Will they be every week? no, but there are a couple of weeks of Christmas vacation to cross and some formative moments to share. I hope you enjoy them! xx

The Curious Case Of Holly Winters: A Fake It Short.

Before you stop reading, this isn’t going to be a dry, boring, courtroom procedural like the second half of every Crime & Disorder episode. Nor will it be an epic legal drama with a plucky and elegant protagonist worthy of Emma Anne Tate. Well, no, that isn’t entirely true; it will feature me, and last I checked I’m pretty darn plucky.

Enough messing around. You came to read about how I truly became Holly Juliette Winters, didn’t you? Yeah, you’re after that sweet, sweet bureaucracy fix, a good dose of systematic complexity that makes transition stories really juicy. |Yeah… I know it’s a pain in the ass, but it was once worse.

While the system in California today is pretty simple -and frankly a relative delight compared to large parts of the United States - in the early 2000s it was still possible, but it was a heck of a lot more… clunky.

Back in ye olden days, an adult might present the judge with a letter or two, answer a couple of questions, and be granted their precious little gender marker. For a minor like myself to change their details, we had far more hoops to leap through to prove we were just as serious. This can and often did include witnesses, medical testimony, and periods of assessment to judge us as worthy of making our own decisions.

Now I get it, children can have difficulty sometimes articulating what they want, and in many cases, might change their minds. Hell, it’s one of the central driving ideologies against trans teens being able to be treated with reversible medications around the world… because people are convinced that because we’re younger, we’re clueless. This is all, of course, ignoring the fact that the regret rate for teenage transition is around 1%... Yup, that low. Almost as low as Republican shame.

I could wax lyrical about that particular topic for the length of an entire novel, so I’ll spare you the preaching as I’m pretty sure if you’re reading this, you’re somewhat onboard already. Let’s just say I had to have my psychiatrist, primary care physician and a report from my endocrinologist lined up for inspection; you’d think I was a used car that they were selling, wouldn’t you?

The Superior Court building downtown looked like any generic municipal building in the United States; bland, unimaginative, and designed to remove as much of your soul as possible by the fact of its mere presence. I wish I could have compared the symbology of grand Greco-Roman architecture to the mighty pillars of American justice, but this one just looked like it housed a tax office.

I was wearing a suit today, it was the first time I had done so since the fateful Germany trip upended my entire universe. This time, however, it wasn’t from the boy’s department. This time, I was wearing a smart charcoal skirt suit with a fine grey pinstripe over a pale pink blouse and a pair of black three-inch court shoes. I looked smart and classy; my makeup was understated and my jewelry was restrained to simple stud earrings and my gold watch. My goal had been smart and serious over office fashionista, a vibe that Mother Dearest seemed to agree that I had nailed rather well.

As my petition for name and status change was a civil case, it would be held this morning in a special session with the Honorable Judge Thomas Carter. That’s what found me waiting nervously on a bench outside his courtroom at nine in the morning the first week of January. Look, you try changing your entire identity around over the Christmas vacation, it’s freaking complicated.

“You doing ok?”

I look up at Big Brother sitting beside me and shrug, “I guess so. I know a lot of it is just the process, but I can’t help but wonder what happens if he decides to say no. Is that it? Back to Alex? Screw the doctors? Or can I try again?”

Rob puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into a side hug. “Don’t fret it Hol, there’s no way a judge will ever look at you and decide you’re a boy.”

“It’s still possible.”

“And most of those horror cases are in your wild imagination,” he points out.

“Point.”

I watched deputies escorting a guy in a jumpsuit and irons past us toward an elevator at the end of the hallway. “Do I get one of those If I lose?”

“Nah,” Chrissie grinned, poking me in the ribs from the other side of me, “just a pair of boxers.”

I made a face, somewhere between disgust and fear. “I’m good, thanks.”

Yes, all three Winters siblings are united as one somewhat unstoppable force today here at the Sacramento Superior Court, but we were far from alone: obviously, our parents were here, and both Doctor Ward and Harris were in attendance. A rather surprising but not unpleasant attendee was Frau Whistler, who had been reached out to by our attorney as a character witness. I hope she’s not too honest or I’m in serious trouble. Especially if she mentions that final night in Germany…

Where was Mister love interest you ask? To tell you the truth, I didn’t want him to be here. Today was certainly important for me and for the people that I cared about, but it was important for me to say goodbye to Alex Winters by myself. That name and identity had been part of who I had to be, not who I truly was. It might sound silly, but I didn’t want to give him any more reminders that I had been Alex Winters, boy, if I didn’t need to.

Was I embarrassed about that fact? Yes. I hated giving Rick any reminder that I wasn’t all female. I knew that come the new semester there would be plenty of other reminders, so I wanted to mitigate anything I could between us. Thankfully, he respected my decision and didn’t attend, although I suspect he didn’t feel great about it.

“Case Eight Twenty Seven, Winters, Alexander, Change of Status.”

Yup… that’s me… here goes nothing I suppose. I hope that’s the final time someone calls that name out in a public setting. Let’s all hope anyone listening thinks it for Rob… yeah, that’s a thing.

We file into the courtroom and take our places while we wait for proceedings to begin. A gentleman called Mister Hartley is our attorney and he has me join him and my parents up at the plaintiff’s bench toward the front of the courtroom. You know how those look; a row of benches facing the Judge’s dais? Castle? Seaty bit? Something like that.

I smooth my suit and mess with my hair, anything to distract from the nervous flutters starting to worm their way into my tummy. Somehow, the quiet, close, still air of the courtroom is making me feel ten times more nervous than sitting outside in the corridor waiting for it all to start.

A door clicks open at the back of the room and the bailiff steps forward. "All rise! The Civil Division of the Superior Court of the State of California for the County of Sacramento is now in session, the honorable Thomas Carter, judge presiding.”

Game time!

We all spring to our feet and I’m suddenly very confused about what to do with my hands. Settling on clasping them demurely in front of me, I watch this guy a little older than my Dad walk out to the bench and take a seat before everyone around me follows suit.

“Please be seated.” The Bailiff declares.

The judge picks up a document and reads through it for a moment before glancing up and scanning the room in front of him. “Good morning everyone, The Clerk will call the first case.”

The Clerk of the court sitting just below the judge checks through some paperwork, “Case eight twenty-seven - Winters, Alexander, Change of name and legal gender status.”

The judge nods, and glances over at the counsel table, “who represents the plaintiff?”

Mister Hartley stood up, "Good morning, Your Honor. James Hartley, Wescot-Lancaster, for the Plaintiff."

“Very good,” Judge Carter nods. “The plaintiff, for the duration of today’s proceedings, identified as Mister Alexander Michael Winters, is present?”

Gulp, my turn… and yes, that is my middle name, Dad’s name… I still feel a tiny bit bad abandoning it given everything he’s done for me but I have no real choice. I stand, smooth my skirt, and clasp my hands together. “present, your honor.”

Judge Carter raises an eyebrow, “I can see why you are making a petition in this particular case.”

I resist the urge to respond sarcastically as I glance over at the Clerk taking record, remembering that anything I say gets put down in legal record. “Yes, your Honor.”

“Please don’t be afraid, young lady…” The judge pauses, smiles slightly, and chuckles. “I’m supposed to remain neutral here, but I see that is going to be a difficult task today.”

“I apologize, your Honor.”

Judge Carter glanced down at his notes and read for a moment. “Petition for change of name from Alexander Michael Winters to Holly Juliette Winters and an amendment of gender to female.” He glanced up and gave me a reassuring smile. “For the court record, and those not present here today looking at you, would you like to explain in your own words why you are seeking this petition?”

“I’m uh, I am transgender, Your Honor.” I stammer out awkwardly. I’m really not good at saying these things out loud, even if most people in the room already know. “I am in the process of transitioning from male to female under medical supervision, and in January, I’m transferring to my school’s Girls’ Division where I would like my details and official record to reflect who I really am.”

“Thank you, Mister Winters,” the judge nods, gesturing for me to sit once more. “As incongruous as it is for me to refer to the petitioner as mister in this instance, it is my legal requirement at this time. It is also my legal requirement to ensure that this minor is making a sound and medically justifiable decision. Mister Hartley, do you have supporting witnesses for the petition today?”

Our Attorney stands up, “Yes, Your Honor; “A Doctor Carol Ward, Gender attending gender specialist psychiatrist. There is Doctor Tony Harris the primary care physician, and the plaintiff’s Teacher, Jennifer Whistler. We also have written testimony from Doctor Maya Anderson the attending endocrinologist.”

“Excellent, let’s hear from the psychiatrist first, Doctor Ward?”

Carol Ward stepped up and was escorted to the witness stand and was sworn in. Yup, they swore her in to talk shit about me… they don’t mess around in real-life court.

“Good morning Doctor Ward, I’ve looked over your prepared report, but I would like you to please start at your initial contact with the patient’s parents. This was in June, long before you met with the plaintiff?”

Oh, this should be good… I haven’t heard this hot gossip before. The best part about court is that people have to tell the truth, it’s also the worst part.

Carol Ward smiled and adjusted her glasses. “I first met with Doctor and Mister Winters on June Twelfth of 2004 after initial contact with Doctor Winters herself. This was regarding potential gender issues for her youngest child, Alexander, the plaintiff.”

God, I hate hearing it phrased that way, but it’s curious to really see how it was perceived externally.

“And what were their initial concerns?”

“During our sessions, it was discussed that they believed that Alex was already firmly grounded in their internal gender identity. This was reinforced when it was disclosed that they believed that their child was sourcing their own access to hormone replacement therapy.”

Eh, yeah, remember how I was totally not as subtle or clever as I thought? Yup, that’s me; Last to flipping know.

“Was it determined that Alex was under the care of a practitioner?”

“It was not, Your Honor.” she clarified. “Alex was sourcing the medication themselves and basing their dosing on best clinical practice from the standards of care. Typically these medications are prescribed by a physician, however, they are not controlled as some are. In this case, it is legal, but not sensible.”

“This is against treatment protocols, correct?”

Now yes, this looks pretty concerning and like I might have harmed my own chances a smidge, but this session isn’t to determine whether I transitioned properly, but rather that I’m serious enough to change my government records. Not much more proof of seriousness than going at it on your own. Mister Hartley and Doctor Ward weren’t super worried that this would harm my situation.

Doctor Ward glanced in my direction before answering the judge, “While it is indeed unusual and not the traditional route, it is what helped to form my strong initial opinion that the plaintiff was mature beyond their age. They are utterly firm in their self-image and gender identity and I have no doubts that this will be the better. The plaintiff had performed their research and study, sourced the medications, and followed the best clinical protocol available to them. For a teenager, this is highly resourceful and speaks to a deep and certain need to follow this pathway. Looking at them today only further solidifies my opinion that my diagnosis of Gender Dysphoria is the correct one.”

“Your view of their future?”

“Your Honor, it is my view that with a name and gender change granted by this court and at the age of eighteen, corrective genital surgery, the plaintiff will go on to lead a fulfilling and productive life as a woman.”

Well, that’s pretty positive. I have grown to like Doctor Ward during our sessions and I was expecting as much.

Judge Carter nodded and indicated that the good Doctor could return to her seat. “I have the report here from Doctors Anderson. I will call a short recess while I retire to chambers to review the submission.”

I never mentioned that one, did I? I was a little busy with the insanity of last semester to manage to fit everything that happened.

* * *

I hate hospital waiting rooms, even today as a grown-ass Doctor. It wasn’t that they reminded me of anything, particularly bad, if anything I spent the most time in them as a child becoming who I was meant to be. No, the real reason is that they are a time paradox. When you’ve got somewhere to be, they take forever, and when you’ve nothing to do you’re in and out in no time at all. What is worse, is when you are there, if you’re listening for your name to be called, it never is. The second that you dare take a trip to the bathroom, you’ve missed it.

“Holly Winters?”

“That’s us, kiddo,” Mom nudged me from my stupor beside her.

“Huh?”

“They called us,” she prompted, gesturing at the nurse waiting down the corridor. “

I stretched and hauled myself to my feet. It was half four on a Friday and it had been a heck of a week at school. With the semester heading toward its long-awaited conclusion, and my extracurricular activities becoming more and more Rick-shaped, I was burning the candle at both ends. I swear it took more effort to pull off Alex during school hours these days than it did to get through an entire week in the past.

Don’t get me wrong, I was happier and happier with my life as it was going; I was able to spend most of my time as the real me, I had a real, honest-to-good boyfriend and I was on the countdown to full time Holly. It was pretty epic when you think about it. From a world of fear, I was emerging into a new beautiful dawn as the most derpy butterfly you can possibly imagine.

Mom had picked me up from school, so I had time to head home and change before we set off for the hospital and my date with the Endocrinologist. I’d managed a hot swap into a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a cardigan. It was far from super stylish teen fashion queen, but it was all Holly so I was more than ok with it.

Why was I doing this again? Typically, when someone began medical transition, their psychiatrist would sign them off for anti-boy-otics and ship them off to a hormone doctor; an endocrinologist. This doctor checks their baseline levels of testosterone, estrogen, and general physiological and endocrinological health to ensure they’re ready for hormone treatment. Once they are, it is jabs and pill time.

Now as you well know, in my case, I skipped that bullshit and went a little nuts… whoops, I guess. But if I hadn’t, who knows if they would have even started me on hormones by now… You should see some of the crap they put trans kids through to prove they’re serious… tests and experiments they try. It’s honestly cruel.

So yes, I did put the cart before the horse… and the entire stable block. Given I’ve had bloods with Doc Harris that came back normal, this wasn’t a typical appointment, but rather a ‘for the record’ and a bit of a work backward sort of visit.

We arrived at the office and met Doctor Maya Anderson. She was a tall and pretty woman who looked to be of Samoan descent. When we entered her office, she was writing away at her computer. Upon our arrival, she stood to greet both Mom and I with professional Doctory Handshakes. It turned out she towered over both of us at something approaching six feet tall. Honestly? I felt like a midget. Looking up at another woman that much was kinda novel.

“Doctor Winters, I’ve heard really great things! It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She turns to me and grins, “And this must be Holly, right?”

Mom gives my shoulder a squeeze as I stand there nervously, “Yes, this is my daughter, Holly, she’s your victim today.”

Doctor Anderson laughed. It was no feminine giggle, but rather a big warm belly laugh. It somewhat caught me off guard at her casual nature. “Fantastic! Well, it’s good to meet you, little lady. Let’s get down to business, shall we? There’s a gown behind the curtain on the bed, get naked girl, and give us a holler when you’re done.”

This was new. I have certainly never experienced a bedside manner this… casual. “Uh, ok,” I mutter placidly as I slink off to do as directed, feeling a little blindsided by her blunt happiness. At the time, it was super weird and uncomfortable, but I didn’t realize until much later that she was totally disarming all my fears by being as weird as she was. Her utter… disregard for the unusual nature of the situation really helped.

Behind the curtain, I found a classic paper hospital gown folded neatly on the exam table. With a resigned sigh, I set about getting out of my clothes and into the perpetually insufficient garment.

Seriously, who did they ever design these for? They fit nobody, never close properly, and are just plain embarrassing; clothing by committee. On the other side of said curtain, Mom and Anderson are having a real chucklefest as they talk shop about hospital matters. I’m glad they’re happy at least; they’re not the ones in the stupid paper frock.

Once I’m done, I slip back through the curtain and cough politely to acquire their attention.

Doctor Anderson turns around and nods approvingly, “Fantastic! Step one is done; now let's have you hop on the scales and we can get your height and weight before I steal any of your blood, eh?”

I follow instructions and step onto the scales. Doc Anderson flitters around noting down numbers and starts messing with the attached height gismo attached to the wall. “Hmm, so we’ve got one hundred and fifteen pounds and… Five feet five and a half inches tall. Little light for your height there kiddo.”

“I do eat,” I offer. “Quite a lot.”

“She does,” Mom agrees from her chair with a sly smirk. “Eats me out of house and home.”

“You’ll cherish that metabolism for as long as you have it… many girls would be jealous.”

“I think I’ve got bigger problems before they’re jealous of my metabolism.”

Doc Anderson makes a few more notes before looking up and giving me a grin, “I didn’t just mean your metabolism, I mean you’re a very pretty girl. I’m sure they’ll have a few reasons to be jealous.”

I turn to Mom, and stage whisper, “She’s aware of why I’m here, right?”

“Oh I know why you’re here,” Doctor Anderson replies. “You’re not my first transgender patient, but you are the youngest and a colleague’s daughter. I don’t think your Mother will complain if I tell her she has a very pretty daughter.”

“I won’t complain at all,” Mom agrees. “But can you make her tidy up after herself?”

Doctor Anderson’s expression suddenly becomes far more serious. “I’m afraid not, Veronica. From what we can tell, that’s a direct result of estrogen; no teenage girl is capable of actually doing what her mother asks the first time.”

Mom snorts and I huff. I will admit, I love Doctor Anderson’s bedside manner but I don’t half feel like the butt of the joke… though admittedly it’s a teenage daughter joke… so that’s good… bah, I want to be more mad but I can’t!

“Pop yourself back on the exam table and I’ll go grab my vampire kit, ok?”

I follow instructions and sit patiently on the exam table like a good girl while Doctor Weird wanders off to find her extraction pump.

“So,” she asks conversationally while digging around in a cupboard, “I hear that you’ve been going to school as a boy still? Is that right?”

“Uh, yep. Still am,” I admit somewhat sheepishly. I mean, what do you say? This woman is so utterly casual about all of this that I don’t quite know what’s normal anymore.

“Wow, I’m rather impressed you can manage that. How can they not see the stunner amongst them?” she asks, approaching with a small metal tray with vials and vampire equipment. “Right arm please.”

I hand over the appendage in question, “I’ve got no idea at all. People see what they want to see, apparently, they’re blind.”

“That they do,” she nodded sagely. “So what’s your plan, girly girl?”

She wraps up my arm and finds a vein expertly before sinking the needle in one smooth motion. I winced slightly and tried to keep my arm still as she drew samples. “I’m supposed to transfer to my school’s girls’ division in January.”

Not before time,” she agrees, smoothly withdrawing the needle and exchanging it for a cotton ball. “All done, hold that for me for a second.”

She labeled the vials and scribbled on an envelope before popping the samples inside. “I’ll have these off to the lab today, so we should get results back in a day or two. You had bloods run by your family doctor, right?”

“Yes, we did,” Mom agreed. “Her levels were reportedly normal range at the time.”

“It’s a shame we don’t have a baseline, but if her levels are still normal I can work with her existing regimen. I am rather impressed, young lady, by the way.”

Gerk, caught.

“I didn’t really feel like I had a choice,” I muttered sheepishly.

“It’s not the normal routine. You know how dangerous it is to do this without any kind of medical supervision?”

“I’m aware,” I concede humbly. “I was desperate and I was utterly convinced that nobody would help me…” I glance over at Mom, knowing that my own fear overrode my trust in the woman who had always believed in me. Overrode the trust and faith I should have had in my parents who never once showed me a reason to distrust them. “I thought I was alone and running out of time.”

“You wouldn’t be the first, honey,” Doctor Anderson smiles gently. “You are one of the very few who solved it yourself at your young age; I’m honestly rather impressed. Your dosages were bang on the numbers for what I would be using for you.”

Doctor Anderson’s face became more serious, “I need to do a quick physical exam, is that ok sweetheart? I know this is going to be difficult for you, but I do need to check you over for my notes.”

I swallowed and nodded, “I understand.”

“Do you want Mom to leave?”

I looked over at Mom and shook my head, “She can… I mean… I want her to stay.”

“Are you sure, darling?” Mom asked. Her expression was serious and I could tell that she knew how embarrassing this was for me.

“I am,” I assert seriously. “You’re my mother; I shouldn’t be embarrassed about you seeing me, you gave birth to me. Ok, sure it wasn’t in this configuration, but still…”

She stepped over and hugged me tightly, “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Glancing over at Doctor Anderson I shrugged, “Right now?”

“If you’d like to stand up and unfasten the gown and remove it, please.”

I did as instructed and unfastened the gown with shaking fingers. Mom has seen me topless, she’s seen me in my underwear… she even changed my diapers as a baby, but it doesn’t prepare me to be nude in front of her as broken as I am.

You have to understand that once I got older and had surgery, I felt fine with nudity around my mother. At that point, it was pretty unremarkable if and when it occurred. Technically, as a child, I was ok with it too, but I was too small to really feel as bad as I did. I suppose at the time I looked… normal. At this time in my life, stuck halfway between two worlds, I felt more wrong than you can possibly imagine…

I let the gown slide down my arms and collected it in one hand before placing it beside me on the exam table. Keeping my eyes fixed on a spot on the far wall, I stood, and followed Doctor Anderson’s instructions robotically; turn, lift my arms, etcetera. Once she was done, she handed me the gown with a polite and apologetic smile. Once I was finally modest again, I glanced over at my mother and for the first time, saw that she understood.

For the first time, my mother truly witnessed the pain in my eyes, the conflict in my heart and the dichotomy of my existence. We never spoke of that day, we never discussed that point, but she understood how I felt. She had long accepted that I was her daughter, but it was that very day when she realized that she had a little girl with a problem; a problem that needed to be fixed.

* * *

“All rise.”

The Judge returned to the courtroom and took his seat once more.

Judge Carter shuffled his documents and nodded. “I have reviewed the report submitted by Doctor Anderson, the Endocrinologist, next… Doctor Harris, the primary care physician, are you present?”

“Your Honor,” Harris stood.

I had known Doctor Tony Harris since I was a tiny bundle of joy in my mother’s arms. I told you that he and Mom had known each other since medical school, right? It was only logical that she trusted her family’s health to one of her oldest friends.

Being that I had such a relationship, his testimony was honestly pretty uninteresting as far as stories go; yes, I’m the plaintiff’s doctor, yep, they’re confirmed to be human, have a pulse and a normal amount of toes. He’s no gender expert, so his opinion was limited to ‘yup, looks like a chick now, wasn’t born as one, probably should be though.’

I suppose even to this day I still have a soft spot for Tony Harris; he was the first adult that I entrusted with my secret. He was the one that kept my confidence and acted with my interests in mind. I know that he had been tipped off by Mom, but it’s still the thought that counts. When I needed a doctor, he was there for me.

“Next, I would like to hear from… I believe the teacher, yes….” Carter murmured, “Jennifer Whistler?”

Honestly, even though the semester has only been over a few weeks, I already miss her a lot.

My former German teacher took the stand and was sworn in to tell die Wahrheit und nichts als die Wahrheit. Do you see what I did there? It probably doesn’t work in German.

“Mrs Whistler, you are one of the plaintiff’s teachers at Elsworth Academy, yes?”

“Former, Your Honor,” Frau Whistler corrected. “Yes, I taught the plaintiff in German language class for the past three years.”

“You are more aware of their status than the school informing you I am led to believe?”

Oh boy, understatement of the century.

“Yes, Your Honor,” Jenny Whistler agreed. “I was first made aware of the plaintiff’s status when the school informed me, however, I had some… suspicions before that point. I spoke with the plaintiff after this point and became a confidant for her… them.”

“Suspicions?”

Heh, yeah… whoops.

“Sh…they behaved differently to my other students, Your Honor. Physically and vocally she had not progressed with her…their, classmates.”

“Due to the hormones?”

“I suspect so, Your Honor.”

“Anything else?”

“I did get a chance to see them outside of a classroom environment most weeks at sporting events on campus. The plaintiff was often in the company of female friends and very little about them was different.”

I really didn’t watch myself on that one… such a dumbass.

“Has this impacted their scholastic performance?”

Frau Whistler smiled at me apologetically before returning her gaze to the judge. “Yes, Your Honor, but in a positive manner. Last year it was quite clear that she… they were experiencing major problems in their personal life, depression, I believe. Her work did suffer and I did my best to help but being unaware of the problem at the time, it didn’t help much. As she came to terms with… as they came to terms with themselves, sorry! It was clear that this reflected as an improvement in their work. After they came out to their parents and began to live outside of school as herself, her work improved significantly.”

“So academically this has not interfered?”

“Your Honor, she’s blossomed.”

“Thank you, Mrs Whistler, finally, I believe in the information here you were present on a school trip where Mister Winters… came out publicly?”

Oh boy.

“Yes, Your Honor,” Frau Whistler grinned (I’m glad I amuse her.) “She was attempting to attend the field trip to Germany as a boy, however… she… if you excuse my informality, really sucked at it.”

“She…he… sucked at it?” The judge queried.

“She barely looked like a boy and was fooling nobody,” Frau Whistler chuckled. “She made it about half the week before that all fell apart. The thing was, from the very beginning of the week she was socialising with the other girls and generally indistinguishable. She’s wasted as a boy.”

“Thank you Mrs Whistler,” The judge offered, raising his eyebrows. “You may take your seat, next, I would like to call the Mother, Doctor Winters, next please.”

Gulp.

Mom stood and made her way up to the witness stand and did the swearing-in business that they love to make everyone do. It’s not like it’s stopped perjury before, but hey, it makes them feel better.

“Doctor Veronica Winters, Alexander is your youngest child, yes?”

“My child was named Alexander Michael Winters at birth, yes.”

Oh, get ‘em, Mom, I’m already liking this angle.

Judge Carter nodded and smiled. “Would you give me your impression of your child’s situation, as both a physician and a parent, please?”

Mom smiled thinly, it was a look I recognized almost immediately, the one she reserved for stupid questions. “While legally the plaintiff, my child, is known by their birth name of Alexander Michael Winters, I only know my child as Holly Juliette Winters, my daughter as is petitioned to the court.”

“From an early age, it was clear that my youngest child had more in common with my eldest daughter Christine. She, and for the record, I can only refer to the plaintiff by these pronouns, displayed a consistent personality over her juvenile development. She never displayed signs of mental illness or other comorbid conditions in parallel. She did however suffer depression that we came to understand was caused by her gender dysphoria.”

“I see, is that viewed as a physician or a parent?”

“I am both, Your Honor,” Mom smiled politely in her ‘I already answered you’ manner.

“Your husband and you both support your child’s transition?”

“Yes, Your Honor” Mom flatly replied. “We fully support our daughter’s transition. She has the entire family’s support, without reservation.”

“Very good,” Carter nodded. “Speaking purely as a physician, I would like your opinion on the self-medication issue, it’s bothering me a little. It concerns me that it was an act of impatience and avoiding the system, no?”

Gerk.

“The very opposite, Your Honor,” Mom countered without a pause. “While it wasn’t something we knew about, I believe it was an act of desperation on the part of a child terrified by a world that opposes her very existence. Without knowledge of how we would respond, she made plans to protect herself and planned for a future where she had adult independence to make long-sighted decisions about her life. My child, in the height of depression and darkness, chose to take carefully considered action that took more courage and thought than merely coming out and hoping for the best.”

She glanced at Dad out in the gallery and smiled. “Our child was scared and alone and she took steps to protect herself. She used good judgment, excellent research, and caution beyond her years. While it was unconventional, it showed her maturity and good sense.”

“Is that as a parent or a physician, Doctor Winters?”

Mom glanced at me and smiled, “Both, Your Honor.”

“Clarify that for me?”

“I cannot give you separate statements as a physician and a parent because I am both. In this instance, however, I am speaking purely as a parent who happens to be a physician; my child is not my patient, nor should she be. My child is suffering from a medical problem, plain and simple. We have the correct treatment path and protocol and so far, it has been extremely effective. What we need is to proceed to the logical conclusion, and she can have a better quality of life.”

Aww… Mom, I love you.

“Succinctly put,” the judge nodded. “Thank you, Doctor Winters.”

After he was done with Mom, the judge called Dad up to the stand. I know my father hasn’t featured particularly heavily in this story, but that’s not a statement of his love for me. Kids typically are closer to one parent or another, and in my case, my relationship with my mother was always just a little bit closer. I wonder why that is… it just totally escapes me.

Rob was always super tight with Dad and the two did things together all the time. Dad has always been somewhat of a classic guy; reserved, quiet, and masculine. I suspect a part of that is his work; being in the Defense and Aviation industry he’s learned to be very selective with his words. I love my Dad; he’s a wonderful father and I know he loves us all so very much.

Honestly, I feel more guilty that I couldn’t be his son. I know he’s told me so many times that I am his daughter and that he loves me, but it doesn’t take the guilt away. I am not Alex… and today, in a way, is the final goodbye for his son, his son that carried his name; Michael. He might not feel guilt, but I do. In some small way, He and Mom welcomed a third child; a baby boy. A baby that they one day expected to become a man.

I don’t often feel conflicted about my journey, but it is little moments like this where I cannot help but feel a somewhat melancholy about the effect of my decisions. Naturally, who I am and the act of becoming myself were never a choice, but how, when and where absolutely were. I was limited by my ability to survive much longer, that is true. The fact is, I do feel guilty about putting this pressure on my family.

“Mister Winters, do you support what your wife has declared with regard to your child’s name and status change?”

Dad glanced over at me and winked. “Yes, Your Honor. We are both in agreement on this matter and we both support our daughter fully and without reservation.”

“Excellent,” The judge nodded. “You may return to your seat. I would request the Plaintiff stand.”

Dad returned to his spot in the gallery behind me and I stood, straightening my skirt and fidgeting somewhat nervously.

“Mister Alexander Winters, it is my pleasure to inform you that it is my judgment that your petition to change name and status be granted. From this point forward you will be legally allowed to refer to yourself as Holly Juliette Winters and be considered female in the eyes of the law.”

Wow, lump in throat, avoid screaming…

“Thank you, Your Honor,” I offered, unable to stop myself smiling broadly. “Thank you.”

Judge Carter smiled back at me, “The road ahead of you is far from simple, but I believe you are an intelligent and considerate young woman, I am sure you will navigate it well.”

“I will do my best, Your Honor.”

Hartley stood and gestured toward me as he addressed the judge. “Your Honor, we would request that these proceedings be sealed due to the plaintiff’s status as a minor.”

Carter raised an eyebrow. “I believe the plaintiff is still attending the same high school, yes? At the Elsworth Academy?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Won’t they already know?”

Hartley smiled, “Your Honor, It isn’t about the now, rather, it is about the future. The plaintiff is a high school student and will soon graduate. As such, she is going to be entering a different world in a year and a half where her past will be broadly unknown unless she chooses to divulge it. Her status will fade and as such, it would benefit her to exist without potential prejudice in a world that is as yet not entirely tolerant.”

Carter glanced over at me for a moment before looking back at our attorney. “Granted, Mister Hartley. The proceedings today will be sealed court record.”

“I would assume we can waive the requirement for publication due to age and status, Your Honor?”

Judge Carter nodded, “So waived.”

And that was that… I turned around and hugged Mom and Dad, Chrissie and Rob. I was legally me; Holly Juliette Winters. I was a girl, their sister, daughter and general female relative. I know it was a piece of paper, a court declaration that changed very little on the surface, but to me, it was a massive difference.

As far as the law was concerned, I was no longer Alexander Michael Winters, male. To me, that made all the difference in the universe. Sure, I had no intention to go to jail, but weirder things have happened in this world. Plus, if I knew Tina Booth for any length of time that potential rose rather significantly.

On the positive, however, it did mean that I could attend the Girls’ Division, graduate as a legal female student, and get my driver's license and passport changed. I could get married… to a man, as a wife; that was the truth of the matter. Ok, sure some of these like school didn’t require the paperwork per se, but it really helped to tie things up and finish off Alex.

Hugging my family in that courtroom felt like a final hurdle had been crossed in my world. Sure, I would still have to wait for surgery, but I was now able to really live. Holly was a people now, and people got to do stuff. This would just stop other randos from deciding I was worth a pounding. I was for sure expecting that at school.

Mom gripped my hand and squeezed, “Come, Daughter, let’s go home. You might be legal now, but there are still chores to do.”

Ugh, why me.

The End.

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For Old Times Sake

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Alyssa Plant

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Angels High

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"The summer of 1940 would have been a glorious time had someone mentioned to Mister Hitler that it was cricket season."

A tale of War, of love, and of friendship. (And a few Nazis)

Angels High - Chapter 1

Author:

Alyssa Plant

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Historical

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"The summer of 1940 would have been a glorious time had someone mentioned to Mister Hitler that it was cricket season."

A tale of War, of love, and of friendship. (And a few Nazis)

Chapter One

Flight lieutenant Harry Dolton stretched out under the warm midmorning sun as it played lazily over the grassy apron belonging to the squadron’s aircraft. The summer of 1940 would have been a glorious time had someone mentioned to Mister Hitler that it was cricket season. Nearly every day the men and planes of Fighter Command took to the skies to fend off the swarms of Nazi warplanes that plagued the south coast of England like gnats to a horse.

Drawing on his fourth cigarette that morning, he allowed his eyes drift up to the sky above as he watched the clouds roll past in lazy procession. This damned war had given his life some meaning for all its danger and bother. All his life Harry had been the preverbal black sheep of the well regarded Dolton family; never the sportsman his father had desired, nor the university graduate or businessman that his brothers had found great success as, he was never in favour with the old man. Washing out of public school at eighteen, Avoiding his parents insistence that he find a girl, settle down, get a job, he had dallied around for several years making the correct noises about advancing his life and career, without holding any real convictions on the subject. The arrival of war in Europe had provided him with a chance of escaping his father’s mournful disappointment and fulfilled the niggling feeling that he should make a man of himself. It was good for that much.

The shrill ring of the telephone in the operations hut caught his attention instantly just as it did every pilot on duty. The seconds ticked by slowly as the call was answered. Almost always, it was a scramble, but there were the occasional false alarms and admin phone calls that got the pilots on edge as they waited for the next call to arms. Sergeant Tomlinson’s head appearing at the ops room window however was enough of a sign for Harry and the other’s in the Duty section that this was no false alarm. The pilots were halfway to their aircraft before they heard him call the scramble: The boys of 43 Squadron were the best in the whole Royal Air Force.

Jumping into the seat of his spitfire Harry pumped the choke while fastening his flight harness about his torso. Checking the straps were secure, save those at his crotch, he eased the throttle open urging the fighter to roll forwards across the turf of the airstrip as he made his final instrument checks and lined up for takeoff. He wasn’t sure why he always made sure that he left the crotch straps loose, but it had become almost a personal pre-flight ritual to check. He remembered during training one of the instructors had joked about keeping them too tight for too long was a sure way to see off fatherhood. Like the other young, inexperienced trainee-pilots, he’d burned the advice into his memory.

“Ascot three, airborne.” He called over his radio transmitter as the heavy metallic sounds of the wheels tucking themselves into the wings of his fighter reverberated around the thin airframe. Testing the response of the controls, he settled into an intercept climb.

“Rodger that Three. Form up at Fifteen thousand feet with section, Ascot One out.”

Ascot flight formed up wing on wing at the designated attitude and cruised south from Biggin Hill towards the south coast of England.

“Hello Skipper, Ascot two, what’s on the menu today sir?”

“What have I told you about calling me Sir, Jenkins? And for god’s sake stick to radio protocol.” Squadron Commander Barton replied sharply over the radio. Harry smiled as he listened to the sweet sound of someone else suffering the Commanding Officer’s ire.

“Angels twenty, five thousand up; approaching from the south east… Just bombers lads.” Barton advised. “Don’t get bloody sloppy on me, there might be fighters lurking above that Radar can’t see.”

Confirming their mission, Ascot flight climbed above the incoming bombers and waited to spring their trap. Masked from sight by the cloudy costal skies, the incoming Luftwaffe aircrews had no way of seeing the fighters as they dove out of the cloud bank as they cut, guns blazing through their formations.

“That’s the last of ‘em boys. Jolly good work.” Barton announced triumphantly as he climbed back to join the flight after trailing the fiery plummet of a stricken bomber.

“Ascot Four, we’ve got two limping away at low altitude Ascot One. Permission to pursue?”

Audibly sighing over the radio, Barton agreed. “Rodger that Four, take Dolton with you and don’t drop your guard.”

“Wilco sir, Four out.”

“Tallyho Harry.” Andy Gold called as he rolled his Spitfire over and swooped down towards the retreating aircraft. “Here we go again.” Harry groaned to himself and rolled to give chase.

The two spitfires dropped down below the enemy bombers and began their approach, safely out of kicking range of the German aircrafts’ guns. As the two fighters closed the distance, Harry Dolton’s Spitfire began to slide into an attack position off the quarter of the damaged bomber. As he began to line up the kill, the Heinkel’s starboard engine began trailing a thick black trail of smoke that obscured Harry’s view, forcing him to pull back to regain the important visibility.

“No good Andy, I can’t get a clean shot through the smoke, take a pop at the Bosh and I’ll cover you.” He offered deferring the kill to his wingman.

“Rodger that Harry, I’ll save you the other,” Gold chuckled manoeuvring his spitfire in for the kill.

As the aircraft got closer, the Heinkel’s engine spluttered and died spraying thick black engine oil out into its wake. Lining his guns up on the sedate target, Flight Officer Andy gold never saw it coming as the thick black oil smothered his Plexiglas cockpit.

“Blast it Harry I can’t see a thing, I’m pulling out.” He called breaking off from the attack. Harry was in the process of lamenting the difficulty of downing two limping Jerry bombers when he saw his wingman’s fatal error and felt the sickening grip of dread as, instead of diving away to safety, his wingman and friend pulled back on his yoke for fear of the low altitude and brought his Spitfire directly into the tail gunner’s sights. Yanking his aircraft sharply to port, Harry barely missed being hit by the burning wreckage of Gold’s Spitfire.

“Andy!” Harry yelled uselessly into his transmitter. “You damn fool.” He added softly, “Damn fool…”

Centring his crosshairs on the bomber he jabbed angrily at the trigger feeling the airframe shudder as the Spitfire’s guns rained down on the German aircraft. Shuddering, the bomber began to come apart before rolling to starboard and diving into the ocean. “That one’s for Andy.” Harry muttered to himself as he centred his aim on the healthier of the two enemy bombers that was now diving and twisting in erratic evasive manoeuvres.

Straining his eyes to see the retreating bomber through the descending fog, Harry pressed on as he attempted to close the gap between himself and the German.

As the pair broke out of a bank of fog he saw his chance and opened fire, sending the aircraft to the waves bellow.

Gritting his teeth, he resisted the urge to celebrate the kill. “Ascot Three to Ascot Leader, Jerries down, but… sir, Andy bought it.”

Hearing no reply Harry tapped his transmitter switch and tried again, greeted only by the cold tone of static. “Ascot Three to any aircraft, do you read?” He tried again hoping that for some simple reason things would work again. Shaking his head, he unclipped his mask and muttered a curse under his breath; another repair to add to the list for the ground crew back home.

Although at that moment in time, his blinkered pursuit of the German bomber left him entirely unaware of where home was…

* * * * * *

Checking through his instruments, Harry began to spot damage throughout the aircraft. His fuel gauge, compass and radio all seemed to have faults; he presumed, the blame lay in a round through the wiring in the aircraft’s nose at some point in the previous scrap. Heaven knows, looking out at his wings showed that he had taken enough hits. Gentle tests to his flight controls showed them to be working as expected; small mercies he supposed.

Dropping down bellow the clouds left him a narrow corridor of several hundred feet above the dirty grey waves of the English Channel. He had three hundred and sixty choices to make, two hundred and seventy of which, would result in land, the remaining ninety, could land him in the middle of the Atlantic, without a radio or a prayer. Crossing his fingers inside the flying gloves he wore, he banked left and took a chance. Sailing had been one of the few interests he had shared with his father. That memory of childhood brought one fact to the forefront of his brain at that moment however: In the morning, winds predominantly blew out from or into the channel, bound either for, or coming in from the Atlantic Ocean, and judging by the wave patterns, he could estimate broadly which direction that was. Completing the bank, he levelled out till he was flying parallel to the waves bellow, and pressed on praying his fuel load held out.

Within fifteen minutes of his decision, the gamble appeared to have paid off as land became visible on the horizon below the cloud. Heartened by his discovery, Harry opened the throttle to a fighting speed, unsure which coast he was approaching. He didn’t very well want to go strolling over the French coast and become a leisurely target to the AAA the Jerries lined the cliffs with.

Dropping down to the wave tops. He pushed forwards, hoping his gamble would land him on friendly soil, by his estimation, his fuel load had to be dropping dangerously low; any port in a storm suited him just fine at that moment..

Rising up over the beach and headland, he sped inland encountering no resistance. It wasn’t a part of England he recognised, but there was no flak… Passing over a coast road, his heart sank, traffic was passing on the wrong side of the road… it was German military traffic.

His heart rate quickening, Harry climbed to a safer altitude away from potential ground fire and pondered his choices. He was over occupied France, with low fuel. The chances of making a return trip to England successfully were slim, at roughly 20-40 miles, he estimated that he would need to swim a good portion of the way home at best. His other options were less inviting still. He could bail out, or fly till he ran out of fuel, or till a fighter found him and dealt with him. It was the first time since he had joined the RAF that Harry had been required to decide his own fate with more than just guns and guts: It was not a pleasant feeling to realise one would either die, or spend the rest of the war in a prisoner of war camp. Harry was still pondering his fate when the chatter of guns behind him informed him that the decision had already been made by a higher power…

Cursing his lack of awareness, he began to evade the German fighter that had so successfully stalked its prey to within striking distance. Diving steeply he barely dodged a second burst as he used what he expected to be the last of his fuel in this fruitless dance. He jerked his head around quickly trying to catch sight of the Me109 at his rear. The fighter was close, and staying glued to his tail regardless of the manoeuvres he pulled off. That in itself worried him greatly: For a pilot to be able to match a Spitfire in the older 109, he must have been quite the flier. Harry shook himself mentally. Giving the Jerry too much credit would only help kill him. Instead, a risky manoeuvre was called for. It was a chance to turn the tables. It was risky, but offered greater odds than the certain death that waited should he kept up this fruitless game of chase. Opening the throttle fully, he began to accelerate away from his pursuer. As the 109 began to follow suit, Harry dropped his flaps and rammed open his dive brakes, causing the aircraft to shudder as it lurched up and shed speed. Unable to react in time, the 109, still fighting to match the speed of its faster prey, shot beneath Harry’s Spitfire. Closing his flaps, Harry nosed down and took advantage of the change in roles by opening fire with the six browning machine guns in his wings. The German fighter began to smoke as chunks flew off its fuselage as the bullets struck home. Harry fired bust after burst into the aircraft in a mixture of rage and relief. His guns clicking dry, Harry could only watch as the German Pilot bailed out as his aircraft accelerated downwards in its final dive.

At about three thousand feet, the German fighter gave up, its wings sheering off as the torque of the dive tore at them. Rolling to the side, Harry vainly tried to doge the flying metal to little avail. The wreckage tore clean through his port wing and stabalator, forcing the Spitfire into a vicious spin.

Harry fought the g-forces pulling his arms down as he reached for the cockpit release handle above his head. The few seconds it took felt like minutes as the aircraft plummeted. His fingers finally closing around the handle, he yanked at the catch as hard as he could. As the catch slipped free, the canopy was ripped backwards by the wind, making him catch his breath momentarily. Releasing the seat harness, he climbed upwards and dragged his torso out of the cockpit. Gasping for air as it sped past, he forced his legs to lift him into the buffeting wind. Feeling drained by the simple act of climbing out of the cockpit he lifted himself a fraction higher till the wind caught his body and dragged him from the stricken craft. As he was dragged by the slipstream, he felt his harness catch momentarily on the jagged edge of the stabalator as he tumbled away from the aircraft. Opening his arms as he was taught, he fought to stabilise himself as his Spitfire hurtled earthwards. Tugging at his harness with his gloved hands he checked for damage; everything felt in order… He might have been lucky. Pulling the ripcord on his harness, his heart skipped a beat as he waited for the drogue to deploy. After the longest moment, it caught air, dragging his main parachute from the seat base bellow him.

A jolt of pain shot through Harry’s body as the deployed parachute caught the air and filled. When his mind cleared enough to focus, he began to search for where he’d been hit. The pain was radiating out from his crotch… The damn loose jump straps on his harness were so comfortable in the cockpit, but when hanging from the canvas with a damaged waist strap taking no weight, the comfort and idiotic advice had proven costly. The strap on his waist, he realised, had been scythed clean through by the rough metal of the airframe as he was dragged past. Thankful as he was that he had not been closer to the stabalator; his body throbbed with the pain of his personal error. As the parachute had deployed, the change in speed had forced his entire body had slammed down on his crotch, causing debilitating jolts of pain to radiate through his whole being. Harry fought the pain to retain consciousness as he drifted towards the ground: It felt as though a knife was being twisted each time a gust caught the parachute. Sooner than he wished, the ground rushed up to meet him just as it had in the training exercises, but harder. Slamming into the grassy field took the wind out of him, and brought the world to a dark close.

To be continued...

From the Author:
Hello chickies, glad to see you're reading my new work this New Year's Day 2010. To start the new year, I bring you Angels High. My delve into the 40s, highly inspired by the damned dvd box set that I bought my boyfriend for christmas... He's not stopped watching the world war two films, so heres the product! I'll be updating this fairly regularly over the next few weeks, as with Focal Point and River of Shaddows Conclusion Chapter. My resolution if you haven't already guessed it, is to finish a few things I'd started. I may possibly POSSIBLY undertake a re-write of The Road to Haifa, I dont want to continue it as is, because i feel my writing back then was sub par. So perhaps expect that in early Feb, reposted, and rewritten.
Night night folks, Enjoy the bedtime reading, and if any one of you hum that theme song from a certain Mcqueen film... I'm going to throw an Ugg boot at you!
Alyssa
xx

Angels High - Chapter 2

Author:

Alyssa Plant

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Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

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"The summer of 1940 would have been a glorious time had someone mentioned to Mister Hitler that it was cricket season."

A tale of War, of love, and of friendship. (And a few Nazis)

Chapter Two

Harry woke with a bump: He was in the back of an open topped lorry. The trees lining the road flashed by between the bars that secured the canvas cover to the body. His eyes wandered slowly over the people seated around him. German Field grey uniforms and helmets lined the benches on either side.

“Englander?” Asked a man kneeling to his left, seeing that Harry was awake. “English Airman yes?”

Harry nodded weakly, raising his hand to his head. “Yes, English.” He groaned quietly, apprehensive of the response his admission would receive from his German captors.

The German nodded as if he had suspected as much. “You lie still English. You hit head, we take to Field Hospital. You are Prisoner of War now.”

Harry nodded; a Prisoner of War camp was his future from now on and there was little point resisting his fate: His best chance of escape, it was said, was during the first few hours after capture. At the moment however, he was in no shape to fight back… with a strange sense of calm, he allowed the pain in his head to reclaim his consciousness.

When Harry woke again, he was lying on a mattress under a gently rotating ceiling fan: The field hospital he presumed. Looking around, he could see nurses attending to rows of occupied beds similar to his own. Besides medical staff, he could see no guards. Raising his hand, he confirmed his suspicions; he was handcuffed firmly to the base of the bed.

Hearing the cuff rattle, a nurse turned away from a cart and approached his bed.

“Hello,” she greeted him smiling. “Can you tell me your name?” She asked in accented English. “We need it for our records.” She shrugged apologetically. “I am not military.” She offered as Harry hesitated.

“Harry Dolton,” he offered simply, not quite certain of who he could trust at the present time, military or otherwise.

“Ok Mister Dolton,” the nurse smiled again. “You are in a Military Hospital in Valognes, A German Army patrol found you and brought you in.”

“How long have I been here?” Harry asked closing his eyes and grimacing as a jab of pain shot through his body once more. “And do you know what happened to me?”

“The nurse smiled sympathetically and lowered herself into the plain chair beside Harry’s bed. “You were brought in two days ago I believe, I was not working at the time, but it must have been then. “As for what is wrong with you, I do not know, I know that physically you are healthy though. The doctor will know more about the specifics, I am just a nurse.” She shrugged apologetically. “But as far as I can see, your vitals are good, and you seem coherent enough for a head injury, so things are not so grim yes?” she smiled touching Harry’s arm.

“Apart from being in an enemy military hospital I’d be inclined to agree with you.” Harry murmured softly, “thank you nurse.”

Squeezing his arm, the nurse stood and left him to attend to another patient in the ward.

Harry lowered his head back to the pillow and tried to focus on the ceiling fan above him. He wasn’t sure about anything anymore. He’d never been this seriously injured before, even as a child, so his expectations of hospitals in general were limited. He still felt as though something was deliberately missing. The fate of the German pilot he had fought with also clawed at the back of his brain too.

Later that afternoon, Harry was woken by a stern older man with a thin moustache and glasses hovering over his bed.

“Doctor?” he asked groggily attempting to raise himself against the bed.

The doctor frowned. “You are awake I see? Good. I wished to make you aware that you were injured by your parachute landing, there have been complications… but I cannot go into this at the moment. I have been instructed by the Luftwaffe to attend to your immediate medical concerns, and then turn you over to them for transfer to a Prisoner of War camp when I deem you healthy.” He replied stiffly.

“What complications?” Harry asked, concern edging his voice.

“Those I cannot comment on.” The doctor replied firmly, although his mask of indifference slipped slightly to one of mild discomfort as he spoke. “You must wait for the Luftwaffe Officer to explain this to you.

“Hey. I have a right to know what’s bloody wrong with me.” Harry shot back. “Am I your patient or the Luftwaffe’s?”

The doctor frowned deeply. “You are not my patient by choice, Englishman; I treat you because I must, as a doctor, not because I like you.”
The man turned and left briskly.

Harry was annoyed by the German doctor’s attitude, but shrugged it off; he was after all, an enemy combatatant he reasoned; no reason to expect flowers and chocolates at his bedside. He was more concerned however, by the reference to ‘complications’, but the mention that his physical health was good confused the young officer.

Two days later, Harry woke to find a German officer seated by the foot of his bed. The man was reading a book, his eyes occasionally drifting to where Harry lay. He watched the German for a moment before the man realised that he was awake.

The German smiled broadly, and closed the book after meticulously marking his place with a leather bookmark. “Good morning Heir Dolton, My name is Hauptman Markus Bergmann, the man announced formally as he reached over and offered Harry his hand. “As you can see, I am not in action at the moment,” he grinned nodding towards a wooden crutch leaning against the window sill, “So I desired greatly to meet with the English Pilot that has awarded me this brief respite from the tireless pursuit of your brethren.”

“You were the pilot I shot down?” Harry asked, shaking the offered hand, still partially asleep.

“I was indeed,” agreed Bergmann. “I was speaking with the doctor; he mentioned that you were well enough to perhaps take a walk. Would you care to join me in for some fresh air?” he offered noncommittally. “Perhaps we could talk more about… experiences away from the formality of this place.” He added nodding in the direction of the doctor, who Harry could see was hovering just out of earshot.

Harry smiled. “I’d take you up on that offer Hauptman, but I am somewhat at a loss to personally agree,” he mentioned raising his shackled wrist.

Hauptman Bergmann shook his head and called over a nurse that promptly returned carrying a key. The nurse approached and unlocked the cuff around his wrist. Freed, Harry rubbed his naked wrist, encouraging the circulation to flow once more.

“Thank you,” he offered, looking over at the German officer. “Although what’s to stop me doing a runner?”
Bergmann chuckled. “Oh you could try, although like myself at present I believe you are no flight risk, as they say.”

* * *

Harry pulled the woollen dressing gown about his shoulders as the two walked through the small garden next to the hospital. Before the war, it had been a town clinic of some form and a few merciful vestiges of civilian life still remained. The garden itself was surrounded on three sides by the Hospital; A quiet area of flower beds, paved pathways and seating areas. It could have been anywhere in England if it hadn’t for the garish military signs on the walls in German. Tugging at the dressing gown again, Harry walked along side the German officer in silence. He felt cold, despite the summer sunshine that bathed the courtyard; he wasn’t sure if it was the doctor’s words, his predicament, or his proximity to the enemy.

Stopping by a small bench, the two sat. Bergmann opened a silver cigarette case and offered it Harry wordlessly. Gratefully accepting the cigarette, he held it to his lips as the German offered him a light before tending to his own; the two smoked for a moment in silence before talking, savouring the tobacco. Harry looked over at the German officer that was treating him so civilly. The man was about his age or perhaps slightly older. Much taller than Harry’s five foot eight, Markus Bergmann was almost the poster child for the Aryan movement; Tall, broad and blonde haired.

“You were in the Royal Air Force long before the war?” Bergmann asked curiously, looking across at the Englishman beside him.

“No,” Harry admitted bluntly. “No, I joined up as war broke out… Sort of impulsive I suppose.”

“I have been flying all my life,” explained Bergmann with a sheepish grin revealing his deeper feelings on the subject. “My father, he taught me when I was thirteen. For most of my youth I would fly for pleasure; for any reason, I almost wished I would never have to land.”

“You joined the Luftwaffe before the war then?” Harry asked.

Markus Bergman shook his head, “no, not at first. I was a naval officer of all things,” he chuckled. “My father was a Fregattenkapitá¤n, ah, sorry, Commander? in the Kreigsmarine; our navy. I had wanted to possibly fly sea planes with the navy, although I never did like the idea of being shot from a battleship into the air.” He laughed.

“So dodging bullets was preferable?” Harry asked with amusement, a crease of a smirk on his lips.

“What is it you English say? I traded one frying pan for a fire,” Bergmann smiled sardonically. “But either way, I defend the Germany of my family, and future generations. Regardless of the politics.” The Pilot said with a dismissive wave.

“Not one for the goose stepping about then?” Harry asked teasingly, feeling more comfortable in the other pilot’s presence as the man opened up to him.

Bergmann shook his head. “Why we fight, I do not wish to discuss, but fight we do, so I do. It is my job, as a soldier, nothing more: I follow the orders of those above me as an Officer should.”

“But what about Hitler and his thing with the Jews? I’m not sure I could willingly stomach that on my watch.” Harry offered. “There’s fighting because we must, and then there’s willing ignorance.”

Bergmann nodded his head. “That there is, but we are both airmen yes? Tell me this… Can you tell me of one time when you have flown a mission that was not a response to an enemy action. We intercept, we escort, we reconnoitre, we attack, but all of it is a direct response to conflict, not politics. Our jobs are far removed from the desks. We fight because we must, not because we want to…. Politics.” Bergmann shrugged. “It is largely irrelevant once the shooting starts no?”

Harry nodded more to himself than in agreement. “True enough,” he offered softly. “True enough.”

Bergman chuckled. “On the subject of shooting, I had wanted to speak with you about the manoeuvre you used when we fought, where did you learn such flying?” the German airman asked with a hint of awe, “It is not a standard tactic I think.”

“Tricks of the trade,” Harry smiled tapping his nose with his index finger. “I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you.”

Markus Bergman Laughed heartily. “I am not so sure it would be a complete loss if you did.” He grinned. “Rarely do I come up against pilots that understand the limitations of their own aircraft, never mind that of their enemy’s also. The way you forced me to commit to a chase before you sprang your trap…. It was truly inspirational.”

Harry blushed. “I think you give me too much credit,” He smiled weakly, “I could tell you were an experienced pilot, I was low on fuel, I tried something absurd to try and rattle you and keep my behind out of your gun sight.”

Bergmann nodded, “That it did, I was not prepared for such an action.”

The conversation wore on, experiences were shared, the shop talk that aviators amongst their own kind engaged in, Eventually, things began to wind down, and the pair sat in silence.. Harry however, desperately wanted to raise a subject that had been evading him since his arrival at the hospital. Stubbing out his cigarette, he turned to his German companion.

“Look,” Harry began, getting Bergman’s attention. “I’d like you to be straight with me here… flier to flier. That bloody excuse for a doctor in there won’t tell me what’s wrong with me…” Harry frowned nodding towards the hospital. “Has he told you anything? I hate being left out of the loop like this… its obviously bad, so just spit it out.” He said with mounting frustration.

Markus Bergmann’s expression fell and the man frowned. “I suppose you should be told… However, I was not quite prepared to tell you so… soon.”

“I’m going to die.” Harry stated flatly, a surprising calm washing over his body.

Bergmann shook his head. “No, ah, you are healthy; at least physically.” He said choosing his words carefully. “It is more… well, the doctors were forced to operate on you when you were brought in.” Bergmann explained. “Your, testicles… they were damaged, you were bleeding…” He trailed off. Placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder, the man smiled sympathetically. “They had to be removed.”

Harry sat quietly for a moment, unsure of how he should feel at such news. “Oh,” He finally offered quietly.

“I expected you to take this news more… badly?” Bergmann said tentatively. “You are not angry? Upset?”

Harry shrugged. “My own fault I think.” He said looking out over the garden. “Bloody macho attitudes in flight school and leaving straps on our harness looser… that and a tangle with my ship on the way out; bad luck and my own fault really… Bit annoyed that the doctor wouldn’t tell me though, Numb? of course. Though I don’t feel angry.”
“You have every right to Heir Dolton.”

“My name is Harry,” he said flatly looking at the German opposite him. “I think after dropping a bombshell like that one me; I would have thought we’d be beyond formalities.” He chuckled nervously. “What’s to become of me?” Harry asked softly, his expression becoming more serious as he watched the German airman’s face for reaction.

Bergmann interlaced his fingers. “You will be transferred to a Prisoner of War camp soon: As soon as you are able to be transported. I am sorry.”

Harry laughed. “No need to be sorry, I’m the dolt that had the bad luck to come down in your back garden. It’s the rules of the game.”

“You English have strange ways of coping with bad news.” Bergmann offered shaking his head. “I think perhaps we could share a drink after the war is over… We could learn much from each other.”

“Yes,” Harry admitted blankly. “Yes, I suppose we could.”

Angels High - Chapter 3

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Caution:

CAUTION

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

"The summer of 1940 would have been a glorious time had someone mentioned to Mister Hitler that it was cricket season."

A tale of War, of love, and of friendship. (And a few Nazis)

Chapter Three

The lorry rumbled slowly along a bumpy track somewhere deep inside Germany nearly a week after Harry Dolton’s aircraft had gone down over Northern France. Harry couldn’t begin to imagine where, exactly, he was: Although he suspected that this was the point of such an enterprise. He had been in the swelteringly warm canvas covered rear of the German Army truck for the past hour. Twenty minutes of which had been on the very un-metalled track they were currently travelling. They had been on the move for the better part of two days, and he was weary; though more from the constant movement than his healing injuries. They had left France by train, and travelled deep into the heart of Germany. They had stopped overnight in a small boarder town on the French side before boarding another train, and another day had seen them progress into the heart of the Third Reich.

The Luftwaffe guards assigned to him were a highly professional group, and had treated him surprisingly well during his journey further and further away from his home land. Quite certain that not all German troops behaved this way with Prisoners, Harry suspected it was his status as an officer, and a pilot amongst the air force soldiers was a deciding factor: Honour and warfare… strange bedfellows that were rapidly tiring of one another’s company in these uncertain times..

Harry felt the truck slowing, then turn and roll to a halt with a squeak of brakes. He could hear the doors of the cab open and close as multiple German voices exchanged words. His escort rose, and began to open the rear flap of the truck. Sunlight streamed into the dull interior, momentarily disorientating Harry as he was ordered out of the back of the Opel truck.

Looking around, he blinked in the bright sunlight and began to take in his immediate surroundings. They were deep within dense pine forest, the trail the truck had driven down cut through the pines. The clearing in which the camp was built was expansive: Several hundred feet square housing rows of wooden huts inside a tall double row of wire fence. Home, for the duration, Harry realised.

The guards with Harry escorted him across the parking area to a wooden building just outside the main camp; what appeared to be an administrative building. As they entered, Harry felt the weight of several pairs of eyes looked him over. They walked through the office, where he was escorted to the desk of a portly middle aged German officer.

“Name?” the man asked tersely, without looking up at Harry.

“Flight Lieutenant Harry R Dolton,” he offered simply.

“If I had asked for your rank, I would have said so,” the man remarked, again, without looking up.

“Flight Lieutenant.” the man muttered as he filled in the next box on the form he held.

“Your service number is what?” He asked resting his pen.

“12838844471,” Harry repeated from memory, forcing himself to remain aware of the questions he was being asked.

“Your date of birth?” The German asked looking up at him.

“You have my name, rank, and serial number.” Harry replied softly with a hint of a smile. “That’s all you get, and you know that.”

The German frowned. “Insolence is not tolerated here Flight Lieutenant Dolton. A Guard will escort you through to speak with the Komandant of the camp before you are taken through, please leave.”

Harry resisted the urge to childishly stick his tongue out at the chubby beurocrat before him. Turning to his escorts, Harry shrugged and nodded that he was ready to be taken through.

His expectations, having been built up by the snide administrations officer were rapidly dashed on entering the Komandant’s office. The man was in his late forties, early fifties, with short grey hair covering his broad head, his large aquiline nose and tanned skin fitted his tall spry frame. The man’s posture oozed command and authority.

Coming to attention, Harry Saluted the Komandant without hesitation; “Flight Lieutenant Harry Dolton, Sir,” he offered, awaiting the man’s attention.

Looking up from his desk, the Komandant rose and returned Harry’s salute with a subtle nod of appreciation. “Welcome Flight Lieutenant, Forgive my bluntness, but we will skip to the chase.” The man said curtly, remaining standing. “I run my camp with four very simple and firm rules: Follow them, and your time with us will be as pleasant as possible. However, break them, and I will do my very best to make this an unpleasant experience,” he said firmly, his eyes fixed on Harry’s.

“Firstly, Escape attempts will be punished by stays of increasing length in Isolation, you may be shot also.”

Harry nodded his understanding, and smiled sheepishly at the Komandant’s last remark.

“Secondly,” The older officer continued. “You are not to fight with the guards, or your fellow prisoners of war, we house English, American, and other European airmen at this location, I will not tolerate violence.” He said firmly, walking round in front of his desk to stand in front of Harry.

“The third rule, is that you will follow the orders of a Guard to the letter, however, you may report mistreatment through the appropriate channels. I do not tolerate bullying on either side of the wire Flight Lieutenant.” The Komandant added raising his eyebrows. “Do you have any questions?”

“What about the fourth rule?” Harry asked curiously.

The Komandant nodded. “The fourth rule you do not need to know if you follow the first three. However, break any of these consistently, and you will become familiar with it. Now,” the Officer said bluntly, “You will be escorted through to the camp, Once you are there, you will report to wing commander Berkley, he is the ranking prisoner of war, and my liaison amongst the prisoners. Any questions or complaints may be directed through him, the day to day running of the camp, and prisoners, is his responsibility, He will brief you when you arrive. He is in hut twenty one,” the Komandant explained. “I hope we do not have to see one another again Flight Lieutenant.”

Saluting, Harry was escorted from the office and out to the wire of the camp itself. Unlocking the gate in the first fence, a German guard pointed to the wire lined passageway through the no-mans land between the wire. With little choice, Harry walked forwards, until he was waiting in front of the second gate. The guard unlocked this, and opened it.

“You will go through now.” The man ordered, before pushing Harry by his shoulder through the gate, and into the camp itself.

Locking the gates behind him, the German retreated back to the outside world, leaving Harry unsure of what to do next.

Well, He supposed. He had a few years to work it out.

* * *

Eventually, those within the camp began to notice the young RAF pilot standing by the gate. He hadn’t moved since the guard has led him in. He wasn’t sure if it was fear, or the stark realisation that he was now, officially, a prisoner of war. It hadn’t felt like it in Valognes, or during the journey to the camp. It was as if passing that last wire divide had made it all so much more real in his mind.

“Just hit you aint it?” Said a large Scotsman that had walked up to Harry. “Aye, I recognise that look… You’re finally realisin’ that you’re a prisoner, and that it’s over. Took me a wee while to come to terms with it too…” the Scottish airman admitted shoving his hands into his pockets before grimacing. “Like being an animal at the zoo really. The name’s Graham Moorfield.” The big man grinned extending his hand. “Fifty seven squadron, Wellington Bombardier.”

“F, Flight Lieutenant Harry Dolton, Spit Pilot, Forty Three Squadron.” Harry offered resisting the urge to grimace as the big man vigorously shook his arm. “I don’t suppose you know where I’d find a Wing Commander Berkley do you? Head Jerry outside said to report to him…” Harry asked tentatively, hoping the Scot would release his hand.

The Scotsman grinned again. “Aye nae problem, follow me lad, I mean sir.”

Graham Moorfield led Harry though the camp, stopping on the way to introduce him to other prisoners. Harry was very aware of the stares he drew as the new boy. Moorfield led him up to a hut on the far side of the camp and rapped on the door before standing back. A few moments later, a middle aged man with dark hair and thin glasses opened the door and raised his eyebrows. “Yes Graham?”

Moorfield saluted, shortly followed by Harry. “Sir, Flight Lieutenant Dolton, he’s new sir.”

“Very well Moorfield,” the man smiled. “Come on In Flight.” The man said with a slight nod. “Come in,” he added beckoning Harry to follow him. Nodding his thanks to the large Scotsman, Harry Followed the Wing Commander.

Walking into the hut, Harry looked around slowly, waiting for the man in front of him to seat himself at the rough wooden desk that filled one half of the room.

The building was Spartan, but comfortable looking. There was a single bunk off to one side, a set of shelves, and a desk with several chairs.

“Do sit flight.” Wing Commander Berkley offered with a hint of amused exasperation. “We don’t stand on ceremony here.”

Harry walked forwards and lowered himself into one of the chairs in front of the Wing Commander’s desk. “Sir, the camp Komandant told me to report to you.”

Berkley leaned back in his chair and regarded Harry for a moment. “Yes, I would imagine he did,” the man said dismissively, “All new prisoners are to report to me on arrival. It’s a little ‘settling in thing we do; lets people work out the lay of the land faster. So to speak…”

“So what’s the deal here?” Harry asked plainly, without looking away from the Wing Commander. “Are things as black and white as the Komandant’s four simple rules? Or are things a little more grey?”

Wing Commander Berkley looked at Harry for a moment before leaning forwards and propping his forearms on the desk. “As you know Flight, there is a war on.” Berkley said stating the obvious in Harry’s view. “To follow the German’s rules would be a dereliction of our duties as fighting men.” He said more forcefully, slapping his palm down on the desk. “We have the duty to escape, and cause as much mayhem for Jerry as possible in the process; we simply must. As such, all efforts in this camp are put into subterfuge, covert action, and active escape attempts. You will be a part of this now you are under my command.”

“Sir,” Harry replied non comittally. “I will of course, do my duty.”

“Very good,” Berkley nodded slowly. “I suppose I ought to fill you in on the more mediocre aspects of life here Flight.” The man said standing and walking over to a wood burning stove in the corner and checking a kettle. “Tea?”

“Thank you sir,” Harry agreed readily. “I’ve not had a cup since the morning I went down. The Jerry coffee isn’t bad… but it’s not Tea, sir.”

“That its not.” Berkley agreed filling two mugs. “Sorry, you’ll have to take it black, no civil niceties like milk and sugar at the moment…”

“That’s fine sir.” Harry agreed taking the proffered mug. “So how do things run around here? Aside from all the secret squirrel antics?”

Berkley lent against a window frame and sipped his tea. “Like one would expect a prison camp to be run, probably the same way we do back home, to be honest. We get up in the mornings, some groups on a rota perform maintenance, and go on work parties, there’s football, gardening, some of the more worldly types teach classes, there’s a chapel, and kitchen rota for meals. All in all, it’s not too bad, but its not England.”

Harry nodded. “The Jerries seem to take good care of us.” He observed from behind his mug. “Anything dodgy happened yet?”

Berkley paused, before shaking his head. “The odd fight with a guard, the odd failed escape, typical animosities, but mostly Jerry leaves us alone, and we leave them alone till we want out.”

“Is there any communication with the outside world?” Harry asked curiously, “Red Cross, or a wireless perhaps?”

Berkley shook his head sadly. “The Red Cross deliver packages via the Germans, but its all vetted, nothing slips by, and they would never let us have a wireless.”

“Worth a thought.” Harry shrugged. “How long have you been here sir?”

Berkley sighed. “About two months I believe; Captured when my Gladiator went down in Norway during the retreat. No flack…. No air support… so undermanned.” He reminisced. “We lost so many good men… So did I…. Jerry picked me up off the side of some god forsaken Norwegian mountain and packaged me off here with the other fliers they were collecting.”

“You’ve been a prisoner since then? Harry asked with surprise. “Why it’s mid august now sir. And you have no news? Sir… Italy joined the war along side Germany, and France was invaded and fell…”

Visibly paling, Berkley sat in silence for a moment. “Bloody hell.” He whispered to himself. “Not a good show… Tell me.” He almost pleaded, the middle aged man showing true signs of age in his weariness. “How are we doing back home?”

Harry raised his palms. “It’s hard to tell sir… The Germans bomb us daily, our airfields, now our cities, we’ve bombed them back and we’re struggling in the air… There’s word Hitler might try to invade England soon sir.”

Berkley shook his head. “This damn war…”

“I know sir.” Harry added after a moment’s awkward silence.

Wing Commander Berkley shook himself and stood. “Never mind eh?” He said with false optimism. “Not much we can do about it from in here… lets get you billeted and we can begin to fight Jerry again tomorrow.” Wing Commander Berkley smiled as he held the door open followed the young airman out into the late afternoon sunshine.

* * *

Pushing open the heavy wooden door to the hut, Harry cautiously made his way inside: It was as Spartan as the Wing Commander’s, but the desk had been replaced by several rows of bunk beds. Slowly walking further into the room, Harry took time to look to see which bunks appeared occupied. From the state of them, the room seemed at least mostly occupied with eight of the ten bunks filled. Taking the lower bed of the lone unoccupied bunk, he sat down on the mattress, relishing the first brief moment of solitude he had experienced in several days.
Lying down on the bunk, Harry stared up at the slats of the bed above, and quietly wept, releasing all the stress and fear that had built up since the ordeal had begun. Eventually, he drifted off into a fitful dreamless sleep.

To be Continued...

From the Author:

Enjoy Chapter Three folks, Theres more to come soon now...
Please comment... its lovely to hear people's ideas and views of the progression.
Alyssa

Angels High - Chapter 4

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Caution:

CAUTION

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

"The summer of 1940 would have been a glorious time had someone mentioned to Mister Hitler that it was cricket season."

A tale of War, of love, and of friendship. (And a few Nazis)

Chapter Four

The sound of the hut door hitting the frame roused Harry from his slumber. Raising himself up on his elbows, he focused his still groggy vision on the source of the sound.

Three men had entered the hut and were stood by the door on the far side of the room, apparently as surprised by the new arrival as he was.

Sitting up and swinging his legs off the bunk, Harry smiled. “Hello.” He offered, “Flight Lieutenant Dolton… Harry; I’m, new, you might say.”

The men seemed to relax and began to move about the room as they had originally intended. “Flight Lieutenant Arthur Hamley,” replied a wide set Irishman, “And these chaps are Pilot Officer Daniel Maddox, and Captain Mike Down.”

“Nice to meet you,” grinned Down in a deep Texan drawl, extending his free hand to Harry as he mopped his sodden brow. “Sorry buddy, we just got off work detail.” He grinned running his hand through his damp hair.”

“Oh not a problem.” Harry replied, liking the American airman immediately. “I just took one of these empty bunks; that’s alright isn’t it?” he asked cautiously, explaining himself. “Nobody was around…. Needed to rest…” he shrugged apologetically.

“Ah it’s no problem.” Hamley replied stripping out of his work shirt. “Those four left are all empty so it’s grand.”

“So what outfit are you with?” Maddox asked turning to join the conversation. “Navy man myself.”

“RAF,” replied Harry, “Forty Three Squadron.”

“Ah a fighter jock lads.” chuckled the American. “Watch your women and your whiskey.”

Blushing at the comment, Harry didn’t reply immediately. “So I take it none of you are fighter pilots?” he asked changing the subject.

Maddox shook his head, “Hamley over there was a Wellington pilot, I flew Swordfish and Yank here… Actually Mike, Why don’t you explain it yourself?” he added grinning.

Mike Down slumped down on the edge of his bunk and rubbed his hair a second time. “Well I’m not one to boast, but it was a pretty hairy one.”

“Aye we know you are but tell the story so,” laughed Hamley.

Throwing his shirt at the Irishman, the American stifled a laugh before continuing his tale. “It’s like this right… I was a commercial pilot before the war… I flew seaplanes transatlantic. So when the war started, I joined the Us Army Air force and got involved with flying over supplies and things that the ships couldn’t handle.”

“Get to the point Down.” Maddox replied drearily stripping down to his shorts and picking up a towel. “I want a shower before those cads in thirty two use up all the water again.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Down waved dismissively. “So anyway I get knocked a little off course right? This burns up a lot of Juice and my bird is running pretty low with a full belly… I want to have water under my hull pretty soon. So I get myself back on track, and I head for the shore, I spot this port and it’s got a seaplane terminal…I think what the heck,” he shrugged. “So down I go… Turns out, I overshot a little bit.” He grinned sheepishly. “It was Norway, and a German Naval base that I landed in. Brash as you like I get out of my cockpit, and light up on the jetty. Only to get planted face down and have guns pointed at me before I realise my mistake.” The man smiled ruefully holding his hands up. “Not sure who was more surprised to see who.”

Harry laughed warmly. “I ended up over France, got lost, so don’t feel so down about it.”

“Ah see?” Mike grinned looking at the other men. “I’m not the only one that can’t read a map.”

The three men finished stripping and made their way down a corridor to what Harry presumed to be the ablutions block of the huts. So far, his billet mates were alright he thought: At least none of them were with Photographic Reconnaissance…

The men returned, and Harry went with them as they made their way over to the mess hut for their evening meal. For some strange reason, Harry felt as if this was the start of his school days all over again: He was with a new group of people, new set of rules, a new social network he was arriving into and hurriedly had to find a place or risk being the loner again. The fact it was all men too felt awkwardly familiar: School for Harry Dolton, had been a torturous experience. In part, it was the pressure of living up expectations forged unchecked in an environment of raw testosterone that stylised the public school in the England of the late 1930s. Harry was competitive enough. He knew that. He had sometimes even enjoyed the activities he took part in, but the school itself… what they wanted him to be… the mould he had to fit: It somehow made him extremely uncomfortable.

The group filed into the mess hall and along a queue that passed in front of the kitchen hatch at the far end of the building. The atmosphere was warm, and filled with the sounds of raised voices and the clank cutlery.

As the group wound its way towards the front, Harry watched the room. It certainly was school all over again, he mused. The cliques, the behaviour… grown men had been reduced to little more than schoolboys once more.

“Alright lads.” A man called as he jumped the cue to stand with their group. “How was work?”

“Grand Andrew.” Hamley replied turning to the newcomer. “Jerry likes to keep us occupied.”

Hamley turned to Harry, placing a hand on his shoulder he nodded his head towards the newcomer. “This lad, is Andrew Matheson, one of our hut; he’s Navy like Maddox.”

“Pleased to meet you sir.” Matheson grinned extending a hand. “RAF eh?”

“That would be me,” admitted Harry sheepishly, shaking the man’s hand. “Harry Dolton.”

“Joined our motley bunch of sods here then eh?” Andrew Matheson smiled. I’m sure you’ll settle in fine… not that we hope to hang around long.” he grinned. “So Dolton, how are you settling in? Just get here today yes?”

Harry shrugged. “Still pretty awkward,” he admitted. “Feels like im back in the seventh form again… “I guess its still hitting me: Where I am...” Harry replied softly, unable to meet the eyes of the other man.

Matheson shrugged. “Well I guess it’s our lot for now.” He added kicking a floorboard, his hands deep in his pockets. “We do what we can, because we must I suppose.”

The line finally ended, and the group received a bowl of simple stew from the kitchen before retreating to one of the unoccupied wooden benches to eat.

Harry sat in silence, slowly eating his stew as the others talked and laughed around him. In a sea of people, he felt quite alone. It wasn’t that he was new… he understood that. It was more that he knew that no matter how welcome he was made to feel, that he would never be one of them.

“You’re the first new face in here since Norway you know.” Matheson offered pointing his spoon at Harry. “I think the Jerries are upto something.”

Harry paused, his own spoon half way to his mouth. “What do you mean?” he asked, knitting his brow.

“Well, surely there have been more airmen down since Operation Domino and such.” Andrew Matheson thought aloud. “Mike here was the last to join us… and he arrived shortly after the British evacuated. What you told Old Berkley has gone around the camp like wildfire… We’ve had nobody new since then, and it seems a little strange… considering there’s space. Why you? Why now?” He pushed, looking at Harry with a confused expression.

Harry shrugged. “I can’t answer that.” He admitted with a shrug. “We loose a lot of boys, perhaps other camps were full?”

“No…” Matheson shook his head. “Jerry’s up to something.” He muttered impaling a lump of potato in his bowl. “Almost as if they are keeping news out of camps by separating airmen from different campaigns…. It would make sense… but why you?”

“I don’t know.” Harry shrugged, feeling the weight of every eye at the table. “I don’t know.” Harry muttered sheepishly. “I don’t know.”

* * *

The next few days were a blur to Harry. The first fresh face in months became an instant celebrity in the camp. News of loved ones, friends and the war all became his most common topics of conversation with the other prisoners. Harry felt like a human wireless service.

Camp life was difficult to adjust to after the freedom of the outside world. The guards were fair but strict, and Harry tried hard to remain on their good side. Although he had begun to feel more comfortable with the men he shared his billet with, he wasn’t sure they qualified as friends by any stretch.

The days began to turn into weeks. Harry did as he was told, and robotically went with the flow of camp life. He rarely talked with the other prisoners unless he had to. The men in his hut always tried to get him talking, but rarely revived more than one word answers. Harry began to realise that he was slipping into a deep depression.

* * *

Harry padded automatically through to the ablutions block on the morning of his second month in the camp, Stretching, he rolled his head from side to side, working out a kink in his neck: The bunks were comfortable enough, but he never slept particularly well.
Hanging his Red Cross towel on a hook set into the wooden panelling wall, he began to strip out of his shorts and tee-shirt. The morning chill was more effective than coffee at waking him: Quickly he slipped into the shower room and turned on a faucet before waiting for the temperature to rise above that of the room.

Stepping under the warm water, Harry lent against the wall for a moment, allowing the water to rain down over him while he woke up: The early mornings were hard on him, but he always preferred to shower first, or last. His accident made him self conscious: In such a masculine environment, what would they think about the one with no balls? There was already the occasional jibe about being small, but this would be the end of his life if they found out. But naturally, fate would not allow that to be the peak of his embarrassment. In the months since the accident, he had barely shaved more than twice during the entire period. Not that he had ever been the sort to grow a beard in an afternoon, but the loss still made him feel that he ought to be embarrassed. Hair across his body was finer, and paler, his skin less toned and softer. Even his chest seemed mildly irritated and flabby.

While these things were bad, he admitted, the worst part was that while he feared what people would think of him… how they would treat him. The changes themselves did not upset him nearly as much as he believed they should. Just like he had felt when news of the accident had been broken to him. In truth, he had never felt so calm and at peace in his life.

The sound of the door opening roused Harry from his thoughts. Jumping at the sound, he hurriedly turned to face the wall and began scrubbing his body.

“Morning,” yawned a wild haired Andrew Matheson, as he stumbled naked into the shower area. Slinging his towel over the waist high wall, the pilot collected his wash kit and stepped into the shower area.

“Sleep alright?”

“Uh, yes thank you.” Harry replied nervously, trying to keep his back to the man.

“First time I’ve seen you in here.” Matheson replied conversationally as he turned on the faucet. “You’re an early riser.”

“I don’t like the queues.” Harry offered without turning.

“Not my place to say this…” Matheson said looking over at the other officer as he slowly soaped his hair, “but you seem very shy around everyone; is this the same deal?”

Harry gulped, “No, no, it’s nothing.”

“I don’t think so.” Matheson announced, “No: The way you behave… It was like I was in school. You make yourself invisible, and hope to pass unnoticed; you don’t feel like one of the guys, so you just try to exist. Believe it or not,” the Navy pilot admitted. “I was one of the small lads back in school, I got treated pretty badly.”

Harry turned his head to look at the Navy airman. Andrew Matheson was six foot three at least, and built like a prop half. Nothing Harry could see lent credence to the man’s story.

Matheson saw the look and laughed. “Yes, It’s pretty hard to believe t. look at me, I hit a bit of a late growth spurt during my late teens and it all vanished,” he said turning off the shower and reaching for his towel. “Don’t worry old chap, It will hit you soon enough. What are you? Nineteen, maybe Twenty? Give it a couple of years and you’ll be fighting off the women.” He chuckled warmly, patting Harry on the shoulder.

Jumping at the touch, Harry bowed his head, feeling a strange urge to tell the man exactly why he would never be what he reassured him with, “It won’t Andy.”

“Ah that’s not true.” Matheson replied as he rubbed his hair. Sure you will.”

Harry turned off the water and still facing the wall, sighed audibly. “I won’t Andy; I’m stuck like this for ever… No muscles, no hair, no deeper voice, no height… I can’t.

Matheson shook his head and wrapping the towel around his waist, sat on a slatted wooden bench while he unfolded his wash roll. “Every man does Harry… Some just take a while.”

“No.” Harry sighed. “I didn’t tell anyone this… I’m so embarrassed…” he trailed off, reaching for his towel and wrapping it about his waist before slipping on his tee-shirt and turning to face one of the few people in the camp he had grown close to. “Andy, I haven’t got any balls.”

Matheson was silent for a moment, surprise painted on his face. Harry slowly walked over and sat at the far end of the bench from his friend, and looked over at the man. “When I went down… There was an accident, my parachute harness… it… they had to operate, they couldn’t save them, I’ll never again have testosterone in my body.” He said quietly, shaking with silent tears.

Matheson put his wash roll down and moved over till he could put his arm around the shoulder of his comrade. “It’s alright Harry.” He dismissed softly. “Nobody’s going to think any less of you… Accidents happen; A lot of rubbish has happened in this war… it doesn’t make you less of a man.”

Harry sighed and shook his head. “That’s just it Andy…” he whispered. “I never really felt like one… I was waiting for the damn stuff to kick in and make me like my brothers, and classmates, hoping even; now…now I don’t know.”

Andrew Matheson was quiet for a moment before squeezing the young Pilot’s shoulder reassuringly. “This war has done some terrible things to people Harry. Families split, loved ones lost… hell, the generation growing up during this mess have the same problem you do… Give yourself time, you’ll find who you are, and you’ll be alright… Just please… Don’t hold this sort of thing back from me and the guys in the billet alright? We’re here for you, we’ll look out for you.”

Harry nodded weakly without looking up. “Thank you.” He replied weakly. “I’m sorry.”

“Ah don’t be.” Matheson shrugged, smiling softly. “I’d have felt bad telling me too.”

To be continued...

From the Author:
Not to sound like a sour fish here folks, but I’ve received numerous comments and PMs lately asking when ‘Angels High’ Will feature transition. While I do fully intend for this to happen, (You’ll forgive me for not giving the game away yet.) Is it impossible to identify with a non transsexual or cross dressing character? Is it impossible to enjoy a tale for its merit? Not content? I apologise if this seems rude. But as a writer, I reserve the judgement to outline my plot as I desire, and bring in subject matter when I feel it appropriate. I understand you come here for TG fiction, and This is a TG story... It just requires a little more preamble than 'bob turned into sally the end.' I ask you to bear with me and I promise it will be worth your while :)
Also expect more of your favourite storires that i've been neglecting... Due to a snow sports accident, im bedridden for a couple of weeks... *sigh* fate eh?
Alyssa

Angels High - Chapter 5

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Caution:

CAUTION

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

"The summer of 1940 would have been a glorious time had someone mentioned to Mister Hitler that it was cricket season."

A tale of War, of love, and of friendship. (And a few Nazis)

Chapter Five

Harry had found it hard to interact normally with Andrew Matheson after their talk that morning. The man knew his deepest secret and most private feelings: Despite Harry’s poor ability to articulate those feelings, he had still revealed far more than he was comfortable with.

It was a Thursday morning by all accounts: Harry Dolton’s sense of time was effected by the repetitive nature of camp life and the days blurred together as they spent time detached from the world outside. He was working out in the camp garden with some of the other prisoners, tending to the vegetables that supplemented their meagre rations in the camp kitchen. The sun was weak, but pleasantly warming in the late October morning of 1940, still carrying with it memories of the summer. Harry worked quietly and efficiently, separating the weeds from the fresh growth in the damp earth. They hoped this crop would ripen in time for winter; no, they needed it to be. Despite being a recreational aid to keep the prisoners occupied, the garden acted as a much needed supply of fresh produce to their diet of army rations, maintaining their health and fitness and fighting off disease. The garden kept them alive.

Harry had slowly begun to open up more to the other men in the billet. He had discovered the grizzly and somewhat intimidating Irishman Hamley, was a friendly honest man, with an interest in American Jazz music, a wife, and two young children back in England.

For all his flash bravado, the Yank, Mike Down, was a simple Arkansas farm boy and quietly intelligent in his own way. He had a street savvy and practical adaptability that made up for what he lacked in formal education; the man was a survivor.

Matheson and Maddox were both typical Royal Navy Fliers: Public school, First XV; old boys. They were Naval officers through and through. Matheson was the most educated of the group, holding a bachelors degree in Art History. He had been planning to continue on with his education when war broke out and he joined the Royal Navy. His education was something the men seemed to enjoy mocking him about. The tall, dark haired Navy pilot was the closest friend Harry had made in the camp, and possibly one of the closest friends he had ever had. It surprised him to realise that he did indeed consider the man a friend; it was not a mantle he had needed to use often in the past. Matheson treated him like a human being. Not like the runt he knew he probably appeared to be in the eyes of most. It had taken him time, but with Matheson’s help, Harry had become more of a member of the hut than a guest, finally feeling capable of opening up to the others and joining in with their jokes and camaraderie. The men treated him as an equal, and even defended him when they could. The wire and the Jerries aside, Harry Dolton felt more at home than his own had.

“Come on Dolton,” jeered one of the other prisoners. “Hurry up, we need to get this done or we’re going to be here till the bloody war is over.”

Harry realised he’d been staring into space and shook his head clear before continuing to weed the patch of earth around him.

“What a fairy.” One of the other prisoners announced dismissively to the man that had spoken. “We should just leave her in the kitchen where women belong.” He laughed derisively.

Harry flinched at the words and the cruel laugher that followed, but said nothing. It wasn’t the first time someone had made a similar comment in his direction: He had learned the hard way that any response or reaction on his part just resulted in a confrontation that he never won. Straightening up, Harry dumped the weeds into a basket and dusted the soil off his hands. Without looking at the two men, he simply walked away in the direction of his hut.

Harry gritted his teeth as he left the vegetable garden. He didn’t need to reply, or show any sign of the words getting to him. He had been wrong when he had thought it was almost like school. It was school all over again: Bullies ruled the coop, and nothing could be done; not by him. The only possible option would be to see the Wing Commander, but that was just telling teacher… Harry had felt the ramifications of that before.

Slamming the door to the hut behind himself, Harry slumped down against the wall and wrapped his arms around his knees. Was the man right? Was that how people saw him? Nothing seemed to make sense anymore in his mind. Things flew around at breakneck speed, thoughts bouncing off one another at random: The comments made his own feelings the harder to understand…

“Ah there you are.” A voice chuckled darkly from the doorway. “Here I thought you were running off to your friends, but I see you made my job easier.”

Harry flinched at the voice and turned towards the door. “What the hell do you want?” He spat glaring up at the man from the vegetable garden.

“Now don’t talk to me like that,” growled the man. “You need to learn your bloody place you queer.”

Harry scrambled to his feet and took a step towards the larger man. “I’m not a queer,” he spat angrily. “Just because…. I’m… just stop it ok?” he trailed off at a loss for the words to defend himself, his defiance leaving him as he understood just how little any comeback meant.

The larger man laughed. Harry wasn’t even sure if he knew the man, let alone any reason that could have possibly drawn his ire. Before he could react, the man shoved Harry squarely in the chest, sending him stumbling backwards till he lost his balance and landed on the floor with a bump.

“You’re not even a queer,” the man sneered at him. “At least a queer would be man enough to fight back… A man would have thrown a punch at me… You’re not a bloody man is what I think.”

Harry crawled backwards on his hands trying to widen the gap between himself and the intruder but ran up against the solid barrier of the wall.

“I think you’re a woman,” the man laughed, making effeminate hand gestures and pouting mockingly. “You’re not fit to be a man.”

Harry blinked back the beginning of tears; he almost believed the man’s words. It was as if part of him felt he deserved whatever was to come. Why couldn’t he hit him? The most terrifying part was that he almost agreed.

“I’m going to teach you to be a proper woman you queer shit,” growled the man as he approached Harry slowly, each footstep falling like thunder on the wooden floorboards. Harry’s heart began to hammer in time with his death knell; the man’s footfalls, until he stood squarely above him.

The man began to reach down towards Harry, but froze midway as the door to the hut flew open, ricocheting off the wall.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Andrew Matheson growled from the doorway, “Unless you hadn’t realised, we’re all on the same side here.”

The man above Harry turned, grinning at Matheson, “That’s true enough, but this queer keeps eying me up; I felt it was time I taught him her place.”

“You won’t touch he..him.” Andrew said plainly, but with a finality that demanded that it not be questioned.

“Oh you want your little queer all to yourself eh?” the man growled menacingly. “Well be my guest, but you’ll have to accept seconds friend.” The man added with a chuckle.

“You won’t touch him…” Matheson replied simply, squaring up in front of the man. “I won’t tell you again.”

As if daring the Navy pilot, the man reached down and grabbed a fist full of Harry’s collar. “You’re going to make me friend?” The man enquired slowly, the challenge plain in his voice.

Before the man could close his mouth to grin at Matheson, he was slammed backwards into the cabin wall as the force of the Pilot ploughing into him. Released from the man’s grip, Harry dropped to the floor. Rolling to one side, he flattened himself against the far wall, keeping his distance from the two grappling men.

Matheson swung the man around and threw him into one of the bunks in the cabin with a tremendous crash, rocking the structure backwards with the force of the impact. Recovering his wits, the man swung a fist at Matheson: It was a violent yet uncontrolled attack, allowing the airman to sweep it away before landing his own squarely in the man’s gut. As he doubled over with a grunt, Matheson grabbed a fist full of the man’s hair before driving his knee sharply into the man’s nose with a sickening crack, the man dropped lifelessly to the cabin floor.

His chest heaving, Matheson lent forwards against his knees before turning to look towards his friend. “You ok?” he asked with concern, “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner… I overheard what that bastard was planning with his friends. I came as soon as I could.” He apologised, his face filled with concern.

Harry nodded weakly, forcing a slight smile of appreciation. “Thank you,” he offered quietly, feeling the full weight of shame descend over him. “This wasn’t your fight you know?” he added looking up at Matheson. “It was my fault.”

Andrew Matheson straightened up and walked over to Harry before squatting down before his friend. “No It wasn’t.” he said finally. “You didn’t ask for that, and he didn’t have the right to do that, or say those things. You’re my friend, and friends look out for each other right?” he smiled, patting Harry on the shoulder.

“Isn’t this lovely,” called a voice mockingly from the open doorway. Harry’s head snapped towards the sound and his eyes fell on the his would be attacker’s friends filling their only escape route. “The queers having a quiet moment eh? I should….” The man trailed off as his eyes fell upon the sight of his friend’s prostrate form. “What the hell did you do to Webb? He growled as he rushed over to check his friend.

“He’s bloody dead.” The man cried with surprise realising that his friend was beyond help.

“His own fault,” Matheson replied straightening up. “That will teach him to try to… attack, others.”

“You bastard!” the man yelled launching himself at Andrew.

Blocking the man’s fist Matheson kicked him in the stomach before deflecting the blows dealt by the man’s accomplices. He swung around to hit one of the others when he was distracted by the sudden darkness created as a Guard filled the doorway, his submachine gun raised.

“Halt! HÓ“nde Hoch!” The guard yelled, pointing the barrel menacingly at the group of men, frozen mid brawl. “HÓ“nde Hoch!” he yelled jerking the barrel between the men.

Overflowing on adrenaline one of the men turned and launched himself foolishly at the nervous German. As if signifying the final punctuation mark on his death warrant, the gun roared in the confined space of the hut and the man crumpled to the floor, his hands grasping weakly at his bloodied chest.

“You bloody Jerry bastard!” screamed the ringleader turning on the guard, and catching him across the cheek with a lucky punch. The gun went off again, bullets pinning the third attacker to the hut wall, his blood spraying Matheson in the process. The ringleader fought the guard and the two struggled before he finally turned the gun on him, firing the rest of the magazine into his stomach. The man coughed blood before dropping to his knees and collapsing to the hut floor.

Matheson struck while the surviving attacker was turned and drove his knee into the man’s back before snapping his neck with a sickening crack and allowing him to drop to the floor to join the other corpses.

Rifling quickly through the German’s webbing Matheson removed four more magazines for the captured MP40 and reloaded the weapon before slipping the remaining magazines into his jacket.

“Well this is a turn up for the books.” Matheson muttered quietly as he glanced out of the hut doorway quickly before snapping his head back inside.

“Harry, can you grab that sidearm and give me some cover? I’ve got a bit of a plan forming here.”

Nodding quickly, Harry moved away from the wall and over to the prostrate German and unfastened the man’s holster and removed his
Luger pistol, pocketing the spare clip. “What the hell are you planning to do? Shoot your way out?” He asked cautiously, half joking, his voice still wavering slightly.

“Not quite.” Matheson replied smoothly without taking his eyes off the alleyway between the huts, “Come on now.” He hissed beckoning Harry to follow him as he darted out of the door and across the alley and inside one of the opposite huts.

“No, the plan isn’t to shoot our way out,” Matheson smiled as Harry reached the hiding place. “It’s to let Jerry do that for us.”

“Did you forget about the bloody company of Luftwaffe guards outside the wire and inside?” Harry Hissed quietly at his friend, trying to work out what madness was running through his friend’s head.

Two German guards rounded the corner with weapons raised and made their way cautiously towards the scene of the carnage. Neither paid the huts to their rear any notice as they approached the door. “Rudolf?” one called as he poked his head through the doorway, stopping dead as he was confronted by the bloodbath within. “Mein Gott….” The man muttered quietly, “Alarm Heinrich, gib Alarm!” he yelled, turning to his compatriot. Matheson swung the hut door open at that moment and sprayed the pair with his submachine gun before either could react..
“Come on, help me get their weapons.” He ordered, making his way quickly out into the alley and removing the first German’s weapon and ammunition. “The more we kill and more of us we arm, the better the chance we have. This place is so isolated we’ll be long gone before they have a chance to get any reinforcements.” Matheson explained. “If we can cause enough of a ruckus, we might make it out of here.”

“That’s all well and good,” Harry replied sharply, “But what’s your plan to tiptoe past Hitler and the rest of his pals outside the camp?”

Matheson chuckled as they ducked between the huts. “I’ll work it out when we get there… or rather, out of here.”

As the pair rounded the next hut, they barely managed to avoid a collision with Hamley, Down and Maddox moving quickly in the opposite direction.

“We heard shooting? What’s going on?” Maddox panted, his eyes widening at the sight of the pair laden with weapons. “Are you two after getting yourselves killed?”

“Fight went wrong, Jerry bought it, not my hand, but it presented an opportunity. Here,” Matheson offered, gesturing at the other weapons over his shoulder as he explained quickly to the group. “Help yourselves chaps. I think our tenancy here is up.”

The men checked over the weapons and ammunition. “What’s the plan then boss?” Down asked slapping the bolt on his weapon. “We gun our way out of here and off to Paris and cocktails?”

“Stick within the lines of the huts,” Matheson commanded, “We’re out of sight of the towers and their heavy guns. Drop as many Jerries as possible, and arm as many of our lot as possible, cause a general riot… The more confusion the better. I’ll see about sorting out those towers Myself if you can buy me time.”

“You’re a mad one,” chuckled Hamley, “but this sounds like good craic, so lets have out of this place eh?”

“Go in pairs,” Matheson added sharply, his happy go lucky side slipping under the focused military exterior. “Hamley and Maddox, Down and Dolton, I’ll go alone for now, I’ve got something I need to sort out… And for god’s sake.” He added looking over his shoulder. “Try not to get bloody killed will you?”

The men split up and made their way in opposite directions amongst the maze of huts. Harry could hear the camp sirens wailing as gunfire rattled around the camp. It was clear now that other prisoners had taken the initiative and risen up against the guards. The sharp bark of the tower machine guns was a worrying bass line that accompanied the angry sounds of armed revolt.

Rounding a corner, Harry spotted a group of German guards, armed heavily, making their way between the huts hunting the rioting prisoners. The definitions of guard and detainee were now almost totally forgotten; the former lines of battle had been redrawn within the wire perimeter of the camp.

Before the Germans could get any closer, or see the pair, a group or prisoners had jumped the Guards, beating them and mercilessly dispatching them with whatever means at hand before gathering their weapons for themselves. It was clear the camp was in full scale revolt.

“Jesus this is a bit busy,” Mike Down muttered under his breath. “That silly limey’s gonna get us all killed.”

“He saved me.” Harry said quietly, but enough for down to hear, and turn towards him. “He started this to save me.” He added looking the American airman in the eye.

Down shook his head slowly. “I hope to heck he knows what he’s doing all the same.” He added quietly, his eyes scanning the alleyway. Harry could see the worry in Down’s eyes without the need for his friend to verbalise it: They all felt it.

Harry turned suddenly, hearing the crunch of running boots behind them and raised the Luger pistol in his hands. He squeezed the trigger sharply as the shape of a German helmet rounded the corner, hitting the man squarely in the throat before he had a chance to raise his weapon. With a gargle and a look of surprise the soldier dropped, his hands gripping his throat.

“Damn Harry, that was damn good shootin’,” Down grinned with admiration. “I barely heard that fella.”

Harry didn’t answer, he was still looking between the German’s body and the smoking barrel of his pistol, shocked at what he had just done. He had trained with his issued revolver, but he had only ever shot targets. Hell, he had shot down enemy aircraft… men had died. The angry impersonal outline of an enemy aircraft however was far less personal than killing a man face to face. The act seemed far more gruesome; it was hard not to see the man lying before him was a fellow human being… rather than an enemy.
Down spotted the look on his friend’s face, “Harry for gods sake! we can’t stay here.” He persisted, recognising the state the British pilot was in. “Come on.” He yelled grabbing Harry by the arm and pulling him down another alley with him. “You can worry about that Kraut later; we still need to get the hell out of here.”

A loud explosion, shortly followed by a second reverberated around the camp, deadening all other sounds for a brief second. The sound of machinegun fire had grown quieter in their aftermath. Down whooped as they ran, “Fuckin A’ man! I think he’s actually done it!” he cheered punching the air, “Come on, let’s beat it.” He insisted, making sure the English pilot was still in tow.

They reached the edge of the huts nearest the explosions and looked out on a scene of mayhem across the camp. The dead ground between the huts and the gun towers was littered with the bodies of prisoners and guards alike, there were people running to and fro, mostly allied prisoners, and mostly armed. Both of the towers had been nearly shredded by explosions that left them twisted and burning; only the crackle of burning ammunition was left where the machine guns had formerly been housed.

Matheson ran over to the pair. “Got the bastards,” he grinned broadly, clutching his submachine gun in one hand and pumping the other wildly. “I think we might just make it.”

It wasn’t long before the remaining machine gun towers surrounding the camp fell silent, and infrequent bursts of gunfire and explosions died down as prisoners began to break through the wire and make their break for freedom into the dense forest surrounding the camp.

Harry, Mike Down, and Matheson were soon rejoined by the other men from their hut as others took advantage of the confusion and anarchy.

“What’s the plan then Andrew?” Hamley enquired calmly, as he rested his captured weapon against a hut wall and lit a borrowed German cigarette. “Don’t get me wrong, this little bout of payback was great craic, but how does ye magic plan go on from here?”

Matheson smiled calmly. “Well of course, we drive home.” He offered as if it was the most logical solution in the current situation. “We take German uniforms, identification papers, and one of the vehicles outside, and drive to Switzerland.”

“That simple?” Mike Down asked sceptically. “They aren’t going to stop us? Or wonder why we don’t speak German?”

“Probably,” Matheson shrugged, “But we can cross that bridge when we come to it, and we have to act fast.”

“So what next boss?” Maddox chipped in, racking the bolt on his weapon.

“I’m the boss now am I?” Matheson chuckled. “I don’t think I deserve that.”

“Well someone’s got to be I suppose.” Maddox shrugged. “You seem to have the answers, I’ve no issue defaulting to your command, friend.”

“Yeah well we can deal with that later.” Matheson muttered, “We’re all equals in this. If you guys want to come with me, I think I can get us out of Germany alive… we may have to do some bad things, but we will survive, and make it back to England in one piece. Anyone that wants to go it alone, or stay, now’s your chance.”

“You know my answer.” Hamley grunted, “My Missus would skin my hide if I didn’t get back to her as soon as possible.” He chuckled, stubbing out his cigarette butt.

“Just as long as you limey’s buy me a pint of that English beer you keep telling me about,” grinned Down.

The group looked at Harry, who stood still fingering the pistol in his hands. Harry looked up and smiled. “Didn’t like the food here anyway”

Matheson nodded and grinned. “Good, that’s settled,” he said quietly, but with the tone of relaxed authority in his voice that outlined the true character of the man. “We need to get to the admin building outside the wire, and take whatever uniforms and documents we can to aid our escape, if we do this half arsed like most of the chaps here, we’ll be back inside, or shot inside a week. If we take a little time to prepare, and cover our tracks, we can make this work for us.”

“So what do you need us to do?” Down asked purposefully.

* * *

Maddox kicked in the door to the Administration block and swept the room with his weapon. “Clear,” he called moving forward into the room. The group made their way into the Administration building and began to rifle through papers and documents. “Damn,” Maddox muttered as he moved past a row of desks. “They’re all dead… Some bugger’s shot them to hell, we can’t use these.” He said turning to Matheson, “The uniforms are ruined. And there’s only four men here.”

The group moved through the building to join Maddox by the group of bodies on the floor.

“Damn.” Hamley muttered, “They were executed.”

“Dead kraut is a dead kraut.” Down shrugged, “few less for us to deal with.”

Hamley turned on the American and slammed him against the wall with his hand around the American’s throat. “Now listen here you…” he spat with menace. “Yes, we might be fighting the Germans, but when people are prisoners… they are prisoners. Both sides look after them… these were not armed soldiers, or a threat, yet they were murdered in cold blood. This was not a fair fight… That’s not on where I come from. Mind your damn tongue.”

Matheson put his hand on the Irishman’s arm and shook his head. “Not here,” he said quietly. “We’re on the same side, and it won’t change anything. Hamley… he’s still on our side, and Down… watch your tongue like the man says. Try to be a little bit more respectful.” He ordered turning back to the group of corpses.

“Maddox,” he ordered “These German’s must have lived in here somewhere, find their billets. They will have had more than one uniform, unlike us.”

The Navy pilot nodded before disappearing through a side doorway.

“Sort these bodies out,” Matheson said turning to Harry, “Find any papers on them and any effects and Identification material, we need it all.”

Harry nodded his understanding and set about his gruesome task.

The bodies had been riddled with bullets by escaping prisoners. It was a scene that was terribly disgusting in a war like this. That people descended to such a level… They had all been treated fairly by the Germans. It was one thing to break out as they had, but as Hamley had said, this wasn’t fair… not one had been armed as far as he had seen.

Several of the bodies yielded identification disks and papers that Harry piled on a desk by his side. The final body was that of a young German woman, an Oberleutnant. Harry stared at the woman for a moment. Her face looked calm in death, despite the horrid wounds that blossomed from her chest. Harry carefully slipped the identity disk from her neck and read the inscription. “Maria Horler,” he said quietly to himself. Clutching the disk in his palm, he said a silent prayer for the young life cut so tragically short. Harry couldn’t help but believe that it would be one prayer too few in this terrible war.

Maddox reappeared at that moment with a grin of triumph on his face. “Boss, I found their quarters… Just as you said, spare uniforms and everything we need.”

Matheson nodded, “Did you find the papers Harry?” he continued, turning to the younger pilot. Harry nodded, still clutching the disk in his hand.

“Right then, what do we have?”

Harry sorted through the stack of identity papers before him, “One Major, a Hauptman, two Oberfeldwebel, and… and Oberleutnant.”

Matheson looked strangely at Harry for a moment, “I’m sure we had only four men a moment ago?”

Harry nodded quietly, “We have five sets of identities, five sets of uniforms, and five of us…”

Matheson knelt down in front of his friend. “You’re thinking about what I think you are, aren’t you?” he asked quietly, so as not to be overheard by the others.

Harry swallowed and nodded. “It’s the only option really, and…. Well, it would lend credence to our authenticity… if they are looking for escaped prisoners, it would be a group of all men no?”

Matheson was quiet for a moment before nodding slowly, “I suppose you have a point, but do you really want to do that? Tell me you haven’t taken those bastard’s words seriously… before…” he asked softly, trying to understand his friend’s feelings.

Harry nodded again. “Yes and no, I suppose,” he said quietly. “No, I’m not suggesting this because of… before, but it’s.” Harry grimaced, “I suppose this has been something weighing on my mind for a long time… with my problems… I’ve been confused, worried about myself, I just want to know if these stilly thoughts rattling around in my brain are real or not…You can understand that can’t you? But I’d prefer if it was just for the other reason… to the others, you know? For the sake of the mission.” he asked, his eyes pleading with his friend.

Matheson was still for a moment before nodding, and straightening up. “Not a problem,” he reassured his friend, “I won’t pretend I can understand, but I need your head in the game… if this clears things up… well why not.” Matheson shrugged. “Anyway, the ‘official’ reason is actually a damn good one. It might just keep us out of trouble.”

Matheson nodded at the doorway Maddox had indicated lead to the billets of the officers. “Go on,” he gestured. “Best get on with it.”

Harry nodded quietly before leaving his friend and making his way down the corridor towards the officer’s quarters. His heart was hammering at the thought of what he had suggested and was about to do… part of it seemed right… part, he wasn’t sure. The months after the accident, he had had nothing but time to think…. The physical ramifications coupled with feelings he never expected to be able to confront were difficult to interpret, but he was positive that he had to try.

The idea seemed so… convenient. He could only hope the others could accept the ruse. If Matheson was right, then this would help them; perhaps that was all the justification the others would need.

Finding the door to Oberleutnant Horler’s room, Harry turned the knob and slipped inside. While Spartan, the room had delicate feminine touches that marked it out as a woman’s. Sitting heavily on the bed, Harry looked around slowly, wondering where to begin. Lifting the identity disk by the chain, he looked at it for a moment before slipping the chain over his head and around his neck. “Maria Horler,” he said quietly again, as if repeating the name would change anything.

Harry wasn’t sure why this had felt like such a good idea at the time… or why the idea called to him so strongly. It was an opportunity, he realised, that he would have taken, whatever form or time it arrived in. At the present time, the truth was, Harry Dolton wasn’t sure who he was; or even if he had ever felt like a complete person in his entire life.

Harry carelessly stripped out of his camp clothes, allowing them to lie where they fell. Washing quickly in the room’s basin, he dried himself off, he began his search for clothing.

In the wardrobe, he found a full Luftwaffe officers uniform and carefully laid it on the bed before adding a blouse and shoes from the same wardrobe beside it. Aware of the timeframe they were working to, he began to search the drawers for the appropriate undergarments.

Harry was unsure where to begin: Most of the items seemed extremely alien to him. Thinking back to his childhood, he began to recognise items his mother had owned and worn. He held a pair of knickers in his hands uncertainly. He knew it was only underwear… simple fabric and stitching, but there was a distinct social line sewn into the soft satin fabric of the garment he held. With a sigh, Harry shook his head and began to dress. After all, he rationalised, it was only clothes.

The underwear seemed to fit relatively well, and once he had battled with the awkward stockings and suspender clips, After several failed attempts to fasten the brassiere, he managed to secure the garment around his chest. The brassiere’s cups, Harry had planned to pad out, to his surprise and shame, were not quite as empty as he had expected. Searching the drawers for something appropriate, Harry ended up using a spare pair of stockings to pad out his faux bust, before turning to face the clothing on the bed.

The blouse turned out to be relatively simple once he had realised the location of the buttons mirrored that of his own shirts. The crisp cotton was darted at his bust waist, and fitted better than he had expected. After slipping on the skirt, and buttoning it higher at his waist, he smoothed down the clothes and checked his reflection in the mirror.

The image that returned his gaze was a shocking one. The gangly young pilot had been replaced by a somewhat skinny girl with relatively short blonde hair, and a less than plain face. Harry stepped towards the mirror and raised a hand to his cheek involuntarily, his lips parted slightly in surprise. Somehow, the image that looked back at him through the glass felt reassuring to Harry Dolton. The young woman seemed so familiar to him, but he couldn’t place her in his memory. All that Harry knew, was that at that moment, they were the same person: She was him, and he was her: His feelings and confusions aside, he chose to bury the worries for the time being and accept things as they appeared…

Harry sat down carefully at the small desk in the room and began to sort through Maria’s makeup bag looking for items she could use. She didn’t know much of anything about makeup, but supposed she would be fine if she stuck to the basics.

Carefully, she applied mascara to her lashes while trying to keep the wand from stabbing her in the eye. Once satisfied, she took a pair of tweezers to her eyebrows, carefully tidied them just enough to give them the hint of a feminine arch. She proceeded to unscrew a tube of lipstick and attempted to paint her lips. The first few attempts were pitiful and childlike in result, forcing her to wipe off the remains and left her lips bare instead. Looking in the mirror, she fingered her short hair idly. She would have loved it to be longer, but for now, it fell haphazardly to the collar of her blouse, due to the neglect it had seen In the camp. Tutting quietly to herself, Harry picked up a pair of scissors and began neatening and shaping what she had to work with into some semblance of style she had vague images and memories of seeing before she had gotten into this mess.. After a short while, and with the help of some hair crá¨me, Harry sat back and looked at her reflection in the mirror on the wall. The young woman that looked back at her was almost pretty. Her fine features and delicate brows gave her a look of childlike innocence that was at odds with her pretty but short hair tucked nearly behind her ears, and parted over her left eye. Harry couldn’t believe it was her…

Quickly stuffing the rest of the belongings into a small suitcase she had found, Harry slipped her feet into the low heeled shoes and donned the uniform. Steeling herself, she opened the door to the room, and with a last glance, stepped out into the corridor. After a wobbly few steps, she became accustomed to the shifted centre of balance the shoes forced her into, and made it to the door to the main administration area sooner than she had hoped. As confused, and yet happy as she felt about herself, there was a niggling feeling that all would not be well when she walked through that final door… Harry placed her hand on the door and pushed softly,

To be Continued...

From the Author:
Hey guys and dolls :) Sorry this took so long, I've been out of action recently... (long story, those that want to know can PM me, or already know) So i've compensated everyone with a bumper chapter to make up for it now im coherant again.
Hope you enjoy it, and please comment :) (I really apreciate the input)
Alyssa P xx

Angels High - Chapter 6

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

Other Keywords:

undefined

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Prisoners of War on the run in Nazi Germany. A journey of self discovery never had this many Panzer divisions hot on their heels...

A tale of War, of love, and of friendship. (And a few Nazis)

Chapter Six

Harry opened the door slowly, nervously inching her head forward of her body as if to catch sight of the others sooner. Andrew Matheson was stood with his back to her on the far side of the room reading a document, otherwise the room was mercifully empty.

“I’m finished,” Harry called apprehensively, uncertain of the reaction she would receive.

Andrew Matheson had used his time productively and was dressed from head to toe in the uniform of a Luftwaffe Major; the uniform fitted him smartly and made a stark contrast to the image of his scruffy, torn Navy uniform that Harry was so used to. Even his unruly black hair had been slicked back with wax sharpening his image and giving him a visible air of authority. On hearing his friend’s voice, Andrew turned crisply, and was momentarily struck dumb by the sight that befell his eyes.

“I’m not sure what I expected you know,” Matheson admitted slowly, almost with a hint of admiration. “I had a fair Idea you might pull it off somewhat but…. Jesus Harry.” He said, gesturing embarrassedly towards his friend as if to express his feelings on the subject.

Harry blushed and looked down at her feet. “I look stupid don’t I?” she asked shyly, finding it difficult to hide the obvious tone of disappointment in her voice.

Matheson blinked before shaking his head vigorously, “My god no… no, you look… Well, it’s hard to say politely,” he grinned sheepishly. “I think you look smashing, I just didn’t expect you to look so… natural I suppose,” he added, crinkling his brow. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”

Harry lifted her head and smiled weakly, “Thank you.” She offered quietly, a crimson tinge growing on her cheeks, “Please don’t be sorry; I understand, I think... Well, I’m not sure if even I understand this… or expected to look this way. I don't really know what to think,” she trailed off quietly shrugging her shoulders.

Matheson nodded. “Well it certainly solves our identification problem, and looking the way you do, It gives us another ace up our proverbial sleeve... Nobody’s going to clock we’re a group of escaping allied airmen...” he laughed nervously.

Harry flinched slightly at the last word Andrew Matheson used, but kept her mouth closed. “Where are the others?” she asked quietly in an attempt to fill the awkward silence that had descended, her eyes scanning the room for the rest of the group in almost an afterthought.

Matheson lit a liberated German cigarette and lent back against a desk, “Off collecting a few items we need. The other prisoners have mostly scarpered, so no worry of being shot for wearing these Jerry uniforms.”

Harry nodded quietly, “What’s next?”

Matheson took a drag on his cigarette and exhaled before responding, “We take the Staff Car and Jeep we've rustled up, and we make our way north, to the main road, and we take it from there. We need to put distance between ourselves and the camp as soon as possible and make best speed for neutral territory. I’ll tell you the fine details once we’re all back together.” he added tapping his nose conspiratorially.

Maddox and Down returned at that moment, “Boss, we’re ready to go when you are. Is Dolton back yet?” Apparently unnoticed in the corner, Harry decided to bite the bullet and coughed lightly, drawing Maddox's gaze to the far corner of the room causing the man to jump and raise his submachine gun sharply. “Who’s the fraulein boss?” Maddox asked narrowing his eyes and watching Harry's movements extremely carefully.

An expression of fear crossed Harry’s face and she raised her hands nervously, unable to find her voice.

“What are we going to do with her Andrew? Maddox asked lowering his weapon, but keeping his guard up. “We can't well leave her, but can we take her with us?”

“Well,” Matheson said pointedly, sighing, “I was going to suggest we take her with us and all... Give us slightly more camouflage than a group of all men in an area with a POW camp breakout... Less likely to suspect us as a group.”

Matheson nodded, “Good plan, Will she play ball?”

“Oh yes.” Matheson agreed nodding.

Hamley walked back into the room at that moment, “I don't know how these bloody Krauts manage this in the heat.” He muttered pulling at the collar of the slightly too tight grey wool tunic, “These uniforms are bloody hot.”

Heads up Paddy,” Down called, “We have a prisoner.”

Hamley looked across the room and spotted the object of discussion.

“I thought those idiots killed them all?” The Irishman asked with a hint of disgust. “What are you going to do with her?”

“That's what we're discussing old chap.” Matheson replied casually. “I think it would be a bit of an idea to use her as a distraction for any roadblocks till we reach the Swiss boarder.”

“I don't like it... What happens if she decides to drop us in it with her Kraut buddies?” Down asked, frowning sceptically.

“Won't be a problem,” Matheson said smiling. “She wants to get back to England as bad as the rest of us.”

“You what?” Maddox asked frowning. “She'd be a prisoner of war then... Ours are no better than this holiday camp if I'm honest.” The Navy pilot added raising his eyebrows.

Matheson could barely suppress a chuckle, “No she won't,” he said carefully. “She's a serving officer in the RAF.”

“Man you're confusing me.” Down sighed shaking his head. “You Limeys and your weird logic.”

“Harry, let them in on the joke won't you?” Matheson asked turning to their silent comrade.

Harry blushed scarlet as all eyes in the room focused on her.

“That's Harry?” Hamley asked incredulously. “Harry Dolton...?” He asked staring wide eyed at Harry.

Harry nodded self-consciously.

“I'll be damned.” Maddox muttered. “You bloody had me going there Andy.”

“It was my idea to use the identity papers and clothes from the dead Jerry woman.” Matheson offered holding his hands up in submission, “I figure if sh... he's good enough to fool you bunch, the Jerries won't have a clue. Which means my plan will work.”

“You think dressing him up as a Fraulein is going to help us to escape occupied Europe?” Down asked sceptically. “I mean, he looks the part... but that's a bit of an odd one isn't it?” he added looking across at Harry. “You look far too convincing like that... Was this really Matheson's idea, or are you a bit queer?”

“Stop right there...” Matheson interjected angrily. “Harry is taking the biggest risk here... If he's captured, you know what would happen...” Andrew allowed the sobering conclusion to hang for a moment before continuing. “I suggested this, Harry reluctantly agreed. If you hadn't noticed, we have only five sets of Identification documents to choose from, and He has the best chance of pulling off this little ruse. If anything, he's got a bigger pair than you Down.” Matheson added tersely.

“Too right,” Down admitted grudgingly, “But which pair are you talking about?” He added grinning at his own joke.

“Those do look rather real from this distance.” Maddox agreed peering at Harry's cleavage. “What did you do to get it to look like that?” He asked stepping forwards for a closer look. Harry backed up quickly and shrugged dismissively. “Oh, some clever make-up, I was always picked for the leading lady in school... you know how it is...” Harry waved gesturing at her height. “Remembered a few bits, and anyway, I don't fancy spending time in another POW camp in this uniform, so I. Figured I'd best make a good job of it.” she lied finally finding her voice.

“I'm certainly convinced,” Peter Maddox agreed, “I'll be damned if I can tell and I know who you are...” he added frowning slightly. “Darn good job.”

“Aye, no debate the lad looks like a lass at the moment,” Hamley shrugged, “And that's right strange enough, But how can he convince them he is one? Behave like a lady and whatnot.” Hamley added with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Its one thing to look like a lass, but if he wanders around like a scrum half, he's going to draw attention to us. The wrong sort.”

Andrew Matheson thought for a moment, “Point taken, but, as Harry said, he was a bit of a Thespian... and from the sound of it, this isn't his first cameo in skirts, I'm sure he can manage to fool a few Krauts.”

Hamley nodded and agreed.

“So are we a go?” Matheson interjected, drawing the group's attention back to himself.

“We have uniforms, weapons, transport, and money... “I suggest we make best speed for the land of Clocks and Chocolate chaps.”

* * *

While not ostentatious, the staff car Harry rode in with Matheson and Maddox was a far more comfortable and pleasurable way to travel through the winding bumpy German country lanes. Looking out of the window as they drove, Harry began to reflect on the situation she now found herself in. The minor issue of the war removed from the picture, she began to wonder just how she felt about her present circumstances. The group had been traveling for the better part of a day since leaving the ruins of the camp. During their flight, the group had treated her with thinly veiled curiosity confusion and trepidation, as though she were an unexploded bomb. On the whole, the men had been unable to stop themselves from treating her as the woman she appeared to be, despite their own knowledge to the contrary. Often, the very awareness that they were treating her that way, even in the privacy of their own company, seemed to confuse them even more.

Harry/Maria sighed to herself as she watched the hedgerows fly past from the window. This day had done more to unravel her feelings than secure them as she had so hoped. Her self-doubt brought to the forefront of her mind by her accident and the subsequent changes she had experienced, were now very much her life. She knew that before she reached England, and sanctuary, she would have to first win the battle of her heart. One part of her enjoyed the treatment, and the reflection she had seen in the mirror. Another part of her told her this was wrong and sinful, regardless of how right it felt. Though not overly religious herself, she was positive that it shouldn't feel so right. The calmness that had swept her body in the weeks following the accident, and the subsequent changes that made her the target of less than civil treatment in the camp now presented themselves in a new advantageous light. Try as she might, she could only balance the scales of her mind, unable to truly tip them in favour of either viewpoint. With a sigh, Harry tried to force the notion from her mind for a short while and simply live.

* * *

It was nine o'clock in the evening before the traces of dusk in the sky encouraged the group to seek accommodation for the night. Masquerading as they were, the option of camping out of sight, as sensible as it seemed, presented far too many risks; should they be happened upon by soldiers or civilians alike, the likelihood of explaining why German military personnel were hiding in the forests of the Fatherland. Choosing instead to hide in plain sight, the group pulled into the yard of a small tavern and sent Harry into the tavern to enquire about rooms for the night.

Walking to the door, Harry steeled herself to slip fully into the role she had chosen. For better or worse, their escape from occupied Europe would depend partly, if not entirely on her ability to throw their hunters off their scent. Nowhere was it more important than here, their first interaction with the German people. Closing the door behind her, Maria Horler removed her field cap and swept her eyes over the room before her. Mercifully, the room was mostly empty, save a handful of patrons dotted around the various booths and stools. A radio by the bar was playing a faceless swing track piped fresh from the dance halls of Berlin. The bored looking bar girl was leaning on her elbows on the bar counter and looked up from the book she was reading as she heard Harry approach.
(Italic text speech in German)
“Good evening, Do you have any rooms available?” Harry asked with a slightly exasperated smile on her lips, and nervous butterflies in her stomach.

“Uh, Ja, I think so, one moment please.” The girl offered flipping through a large leather-bound book beside her on the bar counter.

“I… Yes we do,” she confirmed looking up at Harry with a grin. “Is it just for you?”

“Nein.” Harry replied, shaking her head, “There is my Major and three other men also.”

“Yes, I think we have five rooms free.” The girl added checking her book, “There is not much tourism these days really.” She offered with a sardonic smile.

“I know what you mean.” Harry sighed wistfully as she glanced around the traditional Bavarian design of the tavern, thinking how nice it might have been to be here for another reason, in a different time. Turning back to the woman she nodded sharply, “We will take the rooms for the night, and breakfast please.”

“No problem,” replied the girl as she scribbled in the book before looking up at Harry. The girl looked at her for a moment before smiling and speaking with a playful tone “I expect you do this a lot.” she added conspiratorially, a sly smile on her lips..

Harry balked as she tried to understand what the young German woman had meant. Had she seen through her masquerade? Was she having fun at her expense? Seeing Harry’s confused expression the German girl giggled to herself before explaining; “I meant run errands for the men outside,” she added rolling her eyes. “They still find a way to make you do everything for them ja?”
Harry sighed with silent relief before effecting a regretful air, “Life does not change, even in the Luftwaffe.” she shrugged with her own smile.

“It never will.” The girl agreed shrugging and going back to her book.

Turning and making her way back to the door, Harry allowed the breath she had been holding to escape. As difficult as the situation could have been, she had made it apparently undetected, and by another woman no less. No, she mentally reminded herself, by a woman. The strange façade she presented was merely a result of circumstance and disguise: As she returned to her comrades, she tried to convince herself that she meant it.

* * *

It was late in the evening, and Harry was still very much awake. She had changed into a nightgown she had thrown into the case in her hurry to pack up the possessions of her namesake. At first, stepping into a dead woman's life felt strange and morbid to Harry, but the more she thought about it, the more she realised that She had Maria Horler to thank and celebrate. Had it not been for the woman's death, she might not have had the chance to experience life. She would find a way to pay the woman back for the opportunity, even if she was still unsure of the complete meaning at this time...

Harry put down her book, unable to recover her mindset after such deep thought. Slipping off the bed, she began to rummage through the belongings in the case at the foot of the bed. Aside from the motley collection of clothes and under garments, there were a few personal items. The make-up case she had packed, and toiletry items, along with a small Photograph album. Sitting cross-legged on the floorboards, Harry began to leaf through the pictures in the album. What she saw began to tug on her heartstrings from the first moment she realised who she was looking at: As she turned the pages, Harry watched as an infant Maria grew, amongst her family and friends, and developed into the young woman she had found bloodied and cold on the floor. The photographs showed a vibrant happy young woman, full of life and love that would never reach fruition thanks to the callous action of a spiteful prisoner. Harry felt tears rolling down her cheeks as she looked at the photographs in the small book. Such a small item, but so powerful she mused. The powerful emotions welling up inside her were overpowering, forcing her to close the book and set it to one side before she found herself in an uncontrollable fit of tears. Harry thought back to her promise to thank Maria for her gift of life and changed her mind. She would not merely thank Maria, for she owed the woman far more than mere thanks could ever compensate. She vowed instead to live the life that Maria could not, to find happiness and joy, and contentment in whatever form it was presented. If that was as a woman, so be it.

Note from the Authory person:
Well.... Its been a while hasn't it? I'm awfully sorry for leaving everyone in the lurch, but I've had a lot on my plate with that terribly distracting 'real life'. Work, work and more work... Starting a career is never simple... and Festival season isn't the easiest season of work... I hope you'll forgive me, and I hope you enjoy this chapter, (its taken about 20 edits to get myself happy with it, so I hope its satisfactory.

As for posting only complete things as people seem to want... Tough, this will come in segments, as its ongoing, however, Focal Point will not be posted till it is finished, (a few weeks now I think.) And there WILL, I say again, WILL, be a removal, revision, and reposting of The Road to Haifa, complete and unabridged, with conclusion. :)
How's that?
Love
Alyssa xxx

Born Twice

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Organizational:

Title Page

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Taxonomy upgrade extras:

Posted by author(s)

Born Twice

by Alyssa Plant

Born Twice - Chapter 1

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

Fresh Start

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Born Twice
By Alyssa Plant

Chapter one

Rebecca Juliette Anderson, a first with honours from the University of Manchester… That paper seemed so important, like something she had waited her whole life to see.

Becca read her graduation certificate over and over again as she sat in the Departure lounge at Manchester Airport. As the crowds surged around her, going to and fro, she felt like her world was a bubble, she couldn’t hear anything outside her own thoughts. She could feel her heart thumping inside her chest, this was her new start, her rebirth, that beginning again she had dreamt of since she first started to truly become herself during her first year at university. She wanted Bogart to pop out of nowhere and sweep her off her feet, ala Casablanca, but she knew her life wasn’t a movie, she giggled as she started to think about her life. It felt so cheesy to be doing that, at a time like this. It’s a stock montage in films. If her life was a movie, it would be going straight to rental she thought. The more she thought, the more feelings welled up from her past, what was being left behind.

21 years ago, a whole lifetime ago, a beautiful baby boy was born on a ward in St Mary’s maternity hospital in Manchester not 10 miles away. That beautiful baby was given the name; Charles Richard Anderson. His loving parents David and Christine Anderson raised their child with love and care. The very best School, the best chances and the best life they could offer. Little did they know what their good intentions did to little Charlie…

From the age of 2, though to his 18th birthday, Charlie suffered the all boys private school his well meaning parents sent him to. He was different to the other boys, so very different. It took him years to realise how. His pain was completely invisible to his ever so loving parents. Charlie wasn’t a boy. The shy, friendless bullied teen was a girl in boys clothing. She was the only person who truly knew what went on inside her turbulent brain. Throughout her teenage years, our heroine struggled with her identity, was she just mad? Was she really a girl? What would her parents think? Fearing the worst, she bottled it up inside her, keeping her darkest deepest secret, herself, hidden from view.

She did her time in what felt like a jail sentence. She pretended to be a boy, she acted, and she was someone else a male caricature. Her parents never noticed their child slowly withdrawing from them. Dismissing it as simply teenage angst and rebellion, after all, what young boy wants to be loving and emotional, and close to his parents? How desperately she wanted to be there, be her daddy’s little girl. To help her mother, to shop for pretty clothes, to be taken on dates by cute boys. The boys she shared her jail with. It got far too much for her. Her mother’s sleeping pills and her father’s whiskey offered her a way out of the misery. One night, she simply went to sleep. Free at last, from the torment, anguish, and pain. She very nearly succeeded. Had her caring mother not come in to kiss her goodnight, something she had never known about. Her mother’s love saved her life. Waking up in hospital gives you a different perspective. The tubes and wires, our heroine made a promise to herself, she would be herself, and it would NOT kill her. It had killed Charlie, he had left her body. She was only a girl now, no more hiding.

Her parents had been shocked to find out she was depressed, but her fear of rejection kept her from telling them why. It got worse.

When she turned 18, she left home for university, finally free of the all boys’ prison she had spent so long in. She felt so free, and began to be more herself; her hair grew longer, behaviour more natural, she flourished finally beginning to become herself. It was a long slow process, she mustn’t let her parents realise that their son was dead. It went too far after she started taking female hormones with her doctors help. She couldn’t hide the changes. And she had to face her worst fear.

Becca remembered that vividly, like it was yesterday. She remembered her stomach being so knotted and flip-flopping around like a fish out of water. She felt so vulnerable and fragile when she finally did it. She poured out her soul to her family, and instead of loving the child they raised, they threw her out in the cold to fend for herself, disgusted by their perverted child with a new attention seeking ‘hobby’. Our heroine was utterly devastated Left alone and unloved, she fought to pay for her university tuition, and to survive on her own. She vowed that the night she graduated, she would be onboard a plane somewhere, to begin again, where nobody knew her, As Rebecca, and only Rebecca.

This is how she came to be sat in the departure lounge at Manchester Airport…

Stretching, Becca slid her certificate back into her carryon bag, a small purple rucksack. Shouldering it, she walked over to a nearby caffeine dealer and purchased a large cappuccino. Holding the warm cup between her hands, she stood looking out the dark window across the airport. She couldn’t see much, but the lounge itself reflected back at her. How she had changed, her mousy brown hair fell just past her shoulders in luscious waves. Her slim toned body was perfectly feminine, nobody would ever imagine this young girl, had once been physically male. Of course part of that remained. It had taken every penny Becca could earn to stay afloat, and with a roof over her head, and the plane ticket and apartment rent hadn’t been cheap. She wasn’t going to be a complete woman just yet. Her one dark secret remained, hidden beneath her jeans and underwear. It was the last dirty smudge on her life, something she regretted not being able to resolve before beginning her new life, but something she would have to live with for the time being. It had cut short many a relationship for her, either out of whichever guy’s impatience for sex, or her revealing her past. Either way, she was a lonely young woman.

It was time to break with her past, to start fresh and aim for the future. She pulled her hoodie tight around her to keep out some of the chill of the evening. Hadn’t airports heard of heating? There was one last thing she had to do. Turning she walked over to a payphone, her fingers fell to the numbers in practiced order. Her home telephone number was something she would never forget.

The ringing was deafening. It was like a death knell chiming;

“Hello, who is it please?”

“h, hi mum, its m, me”

“I’m sorry, who?”

“It’s me, uh, Rebecca… your daughter?”

“Oh Charlie, well you are still playing this silly game are you? When are you going to come home and be out handsome boy again? Isn’t this silly game getting tired? We said we would pay for a psychiatrist to cure you of this madness…”

“Look mum, I don’t want to talk about that right now, it’s not why I called…”

Christine Anderson snorted quietly “Can’t you even talk normally? You sound ridiculous”

“Um, this is normal mum. And look, I just wanted to talk to you one last time, I’m going away… for a long time a long way away, and I, uh, I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“What are you playing at? Are you going to go through customs dressed as a woman? They will see your passport!”

“MUM, my passport says I’m a girl” Becca hissed looking around to make sure nobody was overhearing her. “I’m legally a girl; you’re the only ones who don’t see the plain damn truth. Look, I just wanted to give you a chance, and it seems some things don’t change, look, I love you, and ill always love you all so much, but I cant go on like this, your ignorance and bigotry is killing me inside, and I need to leave, to go somewhere nobody knows my name, somewhere I can move on. You took away the chance of a family. You wanted what you wanted and be damned to anyone else!” Rebecca could feel herself getting angry and tried to count to ten.

“Look, I love you, more than words can say. I always will”

“Charlie lis…..”
*Click*

With that, Becca replaced the handset onto the phone, and quietly sobbed, the tears felt like acid on her cheeks. She had known the final goodbye would come. She had always seen it as something in the future. A distant threat that would never come to fruition. But it had come, it was time, dabbing her eyes, she put on a brave face and headed across the lounge to the boarding gate for her flight.

Could it be different? Would it be? Would she find the love her parents couldn’t give?
This was her Baptism of fire; she was getting her second birth.

Born Twice - Chapter 2

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

Fresh Start

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Born Twice
By Alyssa Plant

Chapter two

“May I see your boarding pass please ma'am?” The smiling stewardess behind the little desk beamed.

Becca just grimaced back, handing over the pass feeling entirely rotten. This was some new start. Shouldn’t she be happy? Excited?

There was a pang of uncertainty in her heart, a good one, she admitted, but it was overshadowed by the loss of her parents. It had been that way for months she knew, years even, but hearing and experiencing the end didn’t make that any easier.

“Have a lovely flight and thank you for flying American” The hostess chattered, still with the superglue smile on her face

Becca walked up the boarding ramp; this would be her last footfalls on British soil for some years she admitted. Although technically she hadn’t been touching the ground for the last hour or two… Seeing the aircraft lightened her heart. This was her chariot, her vessel to another world. A spaceship taking her to an alien world, where nobody knew Charlie, where the past was just that. This wasn’t the end, this was a new beginning.

Once aboard the aircraft, she followed the other passengers to her seat, ‘was F isle or window?’ She mused. Becca had a thing for flying, even if she couldn’t see where she was going, the twinkling lights, and passing clouds still made her feel good. To her pleasure, she found that her seat was indeed a window seat, and there was a tall dark haired man sat in the isle. Excusing herself, she moved past him and took her seat. The man seemed engrossed in a newspaper, ‘The Washington Post’ Obviously an American going home she thought.

The cabin crew performed the pre-flight briefing with all the associated arm waving and superglue smiles of practiced Stewards and Stewardesses. Like most passengers, she ignored them, choosing instead to watch the airfield outside as the plane taxied to the runway. This was it, her break… turning back to the world inside the jet, she adjusted her seatbelt and stared directly forwards as the aircraft began to roll forwards. She sighed as the aircraft became airborne, visibly relaxing. She was free.

The man looked across at her; “So who are you running from?”

Becca almost jumped out of her seat, was she that easy to read? Had her nerves been that obvious?

“I um, err, nobody, just, moving, to start work.” She looked across at the man. “You’re an American aren’t you?”

“Good guess, I’m Tony, you are?”

His smile was intoxicating, she felt instantly at ease,

“Um, Becca, I mean, Rebecca, uh, Rebecca Anderson” she stammered.

Still smiling, Tony spoke; “So let me guess, your running away to America to start a new life, because….” He looked deeply and theatrically thoughtful “You got pregnant, and had a fight with your parents, and chose to emigrate after having an emergency abortion on the way to the airport?”

Feeling ever so slightly remorseful that that could never be the case, “I, erm, your half right, I had a fight with my parents, and I just graduated from university today, and I’m moving to begin my life, on my terms, why were you in England?” attempting to divert his attentions.

“I’m always right, so if it wasn’t pregnancy, a bad boy lover? Or you’re really a man, who had a sex change to hide from the law, and you’re fleeing the country post haste?”

She felt a stab of fear shoot through her heart

“Well let me tell you, if you were, I'd feel honoured to tell you that I’ve never met a cuter escaped convict”

Feeling slightly cross and relived she bantered back considering calling his bluff the best way around such a sticky topic, “Well you got me, my name was Fred, and as I’m a guy, I like girls, so you’re out of luck Mr Tony, My parents and I fought because I’m a lesbian” she said smirking, attempting to suppress a giggle.

“I’ve not met one lesbian in my 28 years, that gave me the eyes like you’ve been doing so I don’t buy you’re story Fred, or shall we just stick to Rebecca?”

She felt herself going bright red, was it possible for the human ears to steam? She felt as though she was doing a damn good job of it. Tony had this cat got the crá¨me grin on his face, ear to ear of white straight teeth, an American smile…

“You know” he smiled, “This is one of those movie things, guy meets girl, nature forces them together on a airliner for 5-6 hours, all we need now is turbulence, an you to tell me your afraid of flying…”

He hadn’t bought her story, any of them, and he seem to have dropped it, she shot him a short coy smile,
“Oh, dear, sorry, I’m going to have to deviate from the plot Mr Director, I’m just fine with flying and the more turbulence the better.” She giggled.

Slipping her headphones into her ears she thumbed through her ipod for something obnoxiously violent. She liked the guy, but that’s just what this was, he was right, one of those airplane things. She would probably never see him again after they got off the plane, their lives would fork, and never return. Meeting the right guy wasn’t this easy. She began to dose off, it had been an eventful day, and she was beginning to nod off. Sleep finally came and Becca slipped into a dream world free, and serene.

Becca woke slowly, she had been dreaming of her childhood again. How it could have been. The first thing that she noticed in her groggy near waking state, was that she wasn’t sat up, or leaning on the fuselage. It was soft, and warm, and breathing….

She sat bolt upright in her seat, and looked at where she had been lying. Nestled into the side of Tony’s chest, the owner of which was wide awake... She expected him to be uncomfortable, but he had a warm smile on his face, not the Cheshire cat grin from before, but a friendly smile. Feeling herself turn red she started to jabber about how sorry she was, and how she hoped he wasn’t offended.

He hushed her to silence; “You know, as payment for using me as a pillow, you can accompany me to dinner when we get out of this tin can.”

“But I never told you where I was going to be living?” Becca replied cautiously.

“Well we’re flying into Dulles International, and we both have connections to Norfolk, so the chances of you being in the Norfolk/Portsmouth area are high. Also, I saw the top of the printed map in your carryon, with directions to an apartment Portsmouth…”

Tony pretended to suck on a pipe, and after puffing away symbolically, he announced in a rather good parody of Basil Rathbone; “So my deductions are, that not only am I right, but you will accept my gracious offer, and agree to my escort.”

That grin was back; that big toothy cheesy grin that seemed to sum him up. Becca was quite surprised at how easily he had worked it all out. He was funny, smart, good looking, and judging by his Armani shirt, wasn’t living in poverty. Should she give him a chance? Was it right to make a friend or possible ex this soon? Did she want to start dating already?.

Pushing that to the back of her mind, she smiled back, and looking into his laughing eyes, almost whispered; “Id like that Mr Holmes.”

Born Twice - Chapter 3

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Curling up on the sofa she quietly sobbed and let out her pain. This really was it. This was the pain of childbirth; her second birth, her new life. She was grounded now, this was her place, and she wasn’t just visiting. The reality hit her hard. She could quite possibly never see her family again. And this thought rocked her very being.

Born Twice
Chapter 3
By Alyssa Plant

Chapter Three

After landing in Washington, and passing through US customs, Becca finally gave up the last of her tension. She was home now, she could feel it. The Cross state connection was almost like a bus ride; Almost as soon as she had settled in and began to relax, she was getting off again and back In the bustle of the crowd. She had grown comfortable around Tony, and enjoyed being in his presence. Having insisted on carrying her luggage for her, he saw her to the taxi rank outside the main doors of Norfolk International. Their parting was awkward; neither knowing what was appropriate, and settling for a quick friendly hug.

She had felt nervous leaving someone she had grown quite fond of. Her first and only friend in this new place was gone, and she finally had to work things out herself. Silly, she admitted, as it was little different to visiting another big city in the UK. Regardless the innocent little girl resurfaced, and she felt very aware of her surroundings. He had her number; she felt a few butterflies flit around her tummy as she wondered when he would call.

The Cab driver pulled over in front of a building she recognised by the advert, her place. After helping her with her luggage from the trunk, he was gone.

Standing on the sidewalk, Becca looked up and down the street that was now her home, her neighbourhood, her neck of town. With a sigh, she turned and headed to the door, hitting the apartment manager’s buzzer.

It crackled to live, and a middle-aged woman’s voice answered.

“Um, hi, its Rebecca Anderson, I’m the new tenant for 4C…”

The microphone clicked off and the door started buzzing. Unperturbed, Becca pushed the door open and began to heave her belongings inside the hallway.

A stout middle-aged woman appeared from an apartment near the door;

“Hello dear, you must be Rebecca, its lovely to meet you at last; I hope you had a pleasant journey?”

“Hi, yes, it was fine thank you” she replied smirking at how pleasant it indeed had been.

The Manager led Becca up the elevator to the 4th floor of the building, which was cleaner than Becca had expected, and considering the rent she was paying, surprising. Once the manager had let her in, and shown her around, Becca was left alone.

She stood there, in her new den, luggage around her, and felt a shiver shoot down her spine. She then broke down sobbing. Curling up on the sofa she quietly sobbed and let out her pain. This really was it. This was the pain of childbirth; her second birth, her new life. She was grounded now, this was her place, and she wasn’t just visiting. The reality hit her hard. She could quite possibly never see her family again. And this thought rocked her very being.

Being outcast was one thing, as much as they hated her, she couldn’t bring herself to feel the same way. She loved them with every ounce of her being and that would never change, but her leaving the country broke that tenuous denial in her heart that they still cared. For the first time in her life, she felt truly alone.

What felt like hours later she rose from her trance like depression and began to actually look around her apartment.

The den was spacious and clean looking. The furniture had been included in the rent, and the place was quite comfortable. It would still need those touches before it felt like home though.

Getting up and stretching, Becca dragged her cases into the bedroom and began to unpack her worldly possessions.

After nearly two hours, she felt moved in, and grabbing her coat, headed out of her apartment and down to the street, food wasn’t going to come to her…

Standing on the sidewalk, she tried to remember the map, everything felt so disorientating now she was on the ground. Feeling convinced that she was right, Becca headed off down the road, very wary of her surroundings. Soon, she was on a main road, and nearing a small row of shops, Becca was relived to find a grocery store. Stepping inside was another culture shock to her. Whilst she recognised a few major brands, most of the foods were alien to her by name. Becca was reminded very vividly of how she was now in a different country, just the same language.

Once she had loaded her basket, she proceeded to the checkout area, where a cute guy in his mid 20s rang up her items and packed them in bags for her. He wanted to chat, but she was so shy and overawed by the new experience that she probably came across as rude she thought to herself in hindsight as she walked back down the street.

Several blocks from her apartment, her phone began to ring, nearly causing her to drop her bags. Her heart flipped as she recognised the number, one she had input only that morning.

“Hello?” she answered anxiously.

“Hey there, how are you settling in?” His voice sounded melodic, a happy warm sound that swam around her tummy making the butterflies take flight.

“I’m ok I guess, just been out for groceries and I’m all unpacked, not much of that to do to be honest, did you get home ok?”

How stupid she thought, he was the native, of course he got home ok.

“Hey, so I thought you could do with a friendly face to show you around the city, so why don’t I pick you up tonight, and take you out to dinner?”

The flipping turned into full scale acrobatics in her tummy.

Mentally checking her sparse wardrobe she replied, “Uh ok, sure, since you’re so smart, I won’t need to tell you my address… what time?”

“Well I know I’m amazing, but telepathy isn’t one of my skills yet, so how’s about a trade, I pick you up at… 8, and you tell me where you live?

“Apartment 4C, 232 Columbia Road, ill see you then?”

“It’s a date” And he hung up.

Becca’s heart was racing, not even 24 hours in the US and she was going on a date with a gorgeous, funny, intelligent man… what had she done to deserve this? Why her? Oh god, what about when he found out? It would be good till then, but after? She promised herself that she wouldn’t let it be like the others, she would tell him before it got serious, or she would break it off. Her heart wouldn’t stand being broken again. She would be open early, and suffer the consequences.

Arriving back at her building, she headed inside. She had only brought two going out dresses with her, and only one fitted the bill for tonight.

After depositing her groceries she dove into the shower to shave her legs and do her hair, wanting to look her best.

Becca did her best not to look at her crotch. Seeing that thing between her legs upset her a great deal. It didn’t belong, she didn’t deserve this torment, her nakedness mocked her, she couldn’t be happy while it was still there; it was her skeleton in the closet, only this skeleton donned black robes and a scythe whenever she fell in love; a curse on her heart.

Becca towel dried her hair as she stepped from the shower and slipping on her robe, before padding through to her bedroom.

She selected her dress, a classic Black sheath dress with a sweeping neckline that plunged suggestively towards her cleavage, but keeping its modest distance. She looked good in it, she knew. It’s the dress she had worn to the graduate party at her University department the week before the actual graduation ceremony, she was simple, yet elegant, and she wanted that classic look tonight. Tony was a man that appreciated the finer things in life, and subtlety. The modest glamour of her dress would please him more than 6 inches more of thigh she decided.

She dried and styled her hair into luscious vibrant waves cascading down over her shoulders, and highlighted her deep slate blue eyes and high cheekbones with just the hint of makeup. She viewed her creation in the mirror, classic elegant beauty, he would love it.

As she was checking her hair for the 5th time, the buzzer rang…

To be continued...

Note from the author:
I may only be able to get one chapter produced a week now, as I've just started back to college, so please be patient and ill keep the chapters coming.
thanks
Alyssa

Born Twice - Chapter 4

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Born Twice
By Alyssa Plant

Chapter four

As Becca hung up the handset and left her apartment: She felt like she had a shoal of fish leaping and swimming around her tummy, those pre-date nerves coming back with vengeance.

She had always been this way since she started dating, crazy nerves; this first time was always the same. She knew it shouldn’t be, but it was. Her fragile heart wouldn’t survive another break. She couldn’t be hurt this time, or she might never recover.

There was something about Tony, his eyes; he had kind eyes, gorgeous dark pools of happiness. Just thinking about him made her feel better.

The lift doors swished open and her eyes immediately darted to the apartment door. Tony was stood outside by his car, a green sporty thing, Becca wasn’t sure what exactly.

His bored far away expression turned into one of those dazzling smiles as Becca opened the front door and stepped outside: He was dressed in chinos and a dress shirt; the whole casual outfit probably cost more than most formal ones she thought.

“Wow, you sure know how to make an impression…” he beamed giving her more than a subtle once over, “you look amazing.”

Becca felt herself blush and looked down at her feet, slowly raising her eyes to meet his. “Uh, I, uh, thank you, you look, ni…, very handsome.” She half mumbled feeling her ears steam with embaracement. Becca couldn’t believe that she was acting like a high school girl on her first date, mashing her words, her heart in her mouth.

That smile was intoxicating, it just destroyed her every fear and inhibition, she felt almost like this was her first date, her first REAL date, with a REAL man. Right about now the musical medley would start and one or other of them would break into song and dance she thought.

“Come on” he laughed “They will hold the table for a few hours, but days even I can’t guarantee” He held the car door for her, the perfect gentleman: As she passed him and slid into the passenger seat she shot him a coy smirk.

Tony joined her in the car and he set off towards, she guessed, the river. The drive was fairly mundane, initial difficulties gotten over, they chatted about this and that; mundane things to avoid awkward silence.

After a short while, they arrived outside a restaurant by the river. A valet rushed to open Becca’s door for her. Smiling at the young man, she anxiously looked for Tony; worried about how to behave, or what to do. This was a first for her; her previous dates weren’t quite as upmarket.

Becca took Tony’s arm as he offered it, and allowed him to escort her into the restaurant.

It was busy inside, but not completely full. Clearly one of the more popular places in the area to dine she mused. They waited by the doorway for the Maitre de to find them a table.

Once seated, and drinks ordered, that awkward silence took over, where each waited for the other to break the ice.

“So tell me about you… who is Rebecca then?” He seemed to go straight after what she wasn’t telling him. It was a fairly mundane question, but with so many answers.

“Well I don’t think there’s much to know, I’m 21, graduated from college yesterday, a first with honours In Physical Geography from the University of Manchester. I’m sat in a restaurant with a very handsome man who bugged for the entire flight and then took me to dinner. What about you?” she beamed innocently.

“Nice subject change, but I’d rather find out why you ran so far? I don’t want to press, but what did your parents do?” She looked up from the table and met his eyes, the dancing had stopped, they were sad and lonely, she couldn’t help but feel the compassion flowing from them; he seemed to genuinely care.

“We had an argument, about my life, they wanted me to be someone I’m not, do things that would make them happy, not me. I guess they saw me as a trophy child they wanted to mould as they saw fit. Not a dynamic human being, with her own feelings and desires”

She realised that she had been talking to her wine glass, and looked up at Tony. He was looking at her with compassion. No sign of confusion, realisation, or anger. He clearly hadn’t caught the clues she had dropped so carefully.

After he had so blatantly joked about the scenario on the plane, she wondered how he felt about it really.

“Well their loss is my gain it seems” he smiled. “My folks were sorta like that. My old man was all ‘Tony you’re gonna do this, do that, be this! You gonna make me and your Mama proud?’ “He joked in a thick Italian accent.

A waiter Arrived and took their orders. The restaurant specialised in Seafood, and both ended up ordering Italian dishes.

There was light chatter during the meal, and Becca really enjoyed being around Tony. He was a funny, exciting, and energising presence.

After the meal, and the coffee, they headed outside, and waving off the Valet, Tony lead Becca towards the waterfront.

They strolled down the waterfront promenade, looking out across the Potomac and seeing the twinkling lights of the naval docks on the far bank. Tony slipped his arm around Becca’s waist as the walked.

Not feeling at all inclined to remove it, Becca Snuggled into his side.

“I love coming down here after work, it’s a nice place to think, to air your troubles to the waters… Now do you want to tell me what’s really eating you? You didn’t run across an ocean because your parents didn’t like your choice of degree, career. Now you’re clearly not gay. So we can rule out sexuality clash, I hope you aren’t running from an arranged marriage?” he half grinned but somehow still maintaining that serious air he could filter through his humour.

“Tell me why” he whispered in her ear.

Becca felt the hairs standing up on the back of her neck as his words permeated her brain.

Looking up into his eyes, she felt weak, this was not something she wanted to confront so soon, but she knew that if she told a lie, she wouldn’t see him again. He could tell when she was open or closed about something. She really liked him, maybe even she could love him, she certainly felt that she was starting to fall for him.

Now was better, the fall was shorter. She might even survive.

“They threw me out….. Because…” She took a deep breath as she carefully worded her death warrant. “I, I mean they, wanted me to BE someone I’m not.”

She had told this story so many times, said these words, but it never got any easier. It had gotten harder after she transitioned, as she got more ‘so when are you having your breasts removed?’ comments from people genuinely thinking that she was coming out as a preoperative Trans guy. But the words, the action. The unknown, haunted her each time she uttered the words, and her stomach was tied in a vicious knot as she formed the words, staring into Tony’s eyes.

“They wanted me to be the son that they thought they had. I was born a boy, but I’m not one….” She tailed off, her eyes still locked on his.

A red hot tear rolled down her cheek as she spoke, leaving a trail of shame in its wake. She turned her head away from his in shame, breaking that penetrating eye contact.

She knew it was over as she looked out across the river. What a start to her new life in America, Disappointment and heartbreak.

Becca Felt a hand touch her cheek and she winced before realising it wasn’t a slap, but his hand gently turning her head till once more, she was staring into his soul.

Her eyes closed involuntarily, not wanting to see the disappointment in his eyes.

Then she felt it. His warm breath, his lips lightly brushed hers.

This wasn’t how it was meant to happen? It couldn’t be happening? But it was; she could hardly deny the lips against her own. Her aching heart soared as she returned the kiss first gently in response, then opening her eyes and seeing nothing but love in his, returned the kiss with greater passion.

Note from the Author:
Sorry guys and gals, i know its been a while longer than i anticipated, but with starting college again, and then catching flu (with which I've been out of action for the past 4 days) I've been unable to get my creative juices flowing. Truth be told, i'm still not at my best, so i apologise if this Chapter is sub par, and will get my bum moving with further chapters!
Alyssa

Born Twice - Chapter 5

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Other Keywords:

Cafine fueled writing

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Born Twice
By Alyssa Plant

Chapter five

Becca trembled in Tony’s arms, she felt so utterly weak and powerless, this man had heard her story, and still liked her, still wanted her.

Becca Closed her eyes, she was so happy. She never saw the fist coming.

She felt the fist connect with her stomach and she fell back onto the pavement winded, he towered above her with a mask of rage distorting his features.

‘This is it.’ She thought, ‘It was too good to be true’

She saw a foot come falling down towards her face and as it connected, she realised it tasted like carpet.

Becca opened her eyes; yes, it was carpet; her bedroom carpet. She had fallen out of bed, it was all a bad dream.

She rolled over and stared up at the ceiling of her room and waited for her heart to stop vibrating inside her ribcage. Casting her mind back to the night before, she remembered her fear, the talk, the kiss….

Her beating heart was replaced by the squiggly feeling in her stomach. Was this what love felt like? Was there such thing as love at first sight?

Becca picked herself up from the floor and trudged through to the kitchen to make herself a coffee. The clock on the wall read 10am.

She stretched and looked around her apartment. It somehow felt like home now. Even thought it had only been a day. She felt grounded now. Finally she had ties in a place. And her life seemed more solid. She had something to live for.

Some time later, a more human and more suitably dressed Becca left her apartment building.

She was a woman with a mission, Ever since she had been a little girl, she had wanted to be a police officer, now that she had her own life, it was time for her to fulfil her dream.

Riding the bus into downtown Portsmouth was an interesting experience for Becca, she was finally seeing the place where she lived; people going about their lives.

The bus pulled over at the stop downtown, and Becca stepped down to the pavement. The City seemed bigger. Alive now, Of course she had been in the downtown area the night before, but it was quieter then. The bustle was disorientating.

If this had been a film, time would have slowed down and the camera panned around Becca standing on the sidewalk in the midst of the flowing human sea. But its not, and standing still for any amount of time would have left her trampled and hospitalised. So Becca forged forwards, and along the sidewalk till she came to the main police precinct.

Becca felt increasingly nervous as she climbed the steps to the building, Her subconscious told her something had to go wrong as the mist of her dreams condensed into reality.

Smiling at the man holding the door for her, she stepped inside the lobby and approached the main reception.

A bored looking Sergeant was alternately filling in a form and drinking from a ‘DAD’ mug.

After standing at the desk for what felt like an age, Becca coughed lightly, and the Sergeant looked up startled

“Oh sorry Ma’am, I didn’t see you there, what can I do for you?” the man smiled

“Um, I’m not sure of the procedure, but I was wondering if you were recruiting at the moment? She asked hopefully.

The Sergeant looked a bit surprised. “ you don’t strike me as the type, still, yes, we are, I don’t think we ever stop recruiting.” He chuckled

“Let me make a phone call and ill have someone come down and see you, have a seat over there” he gestured to a row of bolted down plastic seats by the wall.

Becca thanked him, and took a seat on the hard plastic.

“Hardling? Yeah… all quiet, one of those days… Got a kid down here who wants to talk to you about getting on the force…. Yeah, ok, ill send her up… Yeah, later…”

Listening to the half a conversation, Becca approached the desk as the Sergeant hung up the receiver and waited expectantly.

“Ok Miss, take the elevator over there” He gestured to the far side of the hall, “And ride up to the 6th, Our recruiting officer will meet you there. Good luck” he smiled.

“Ah, thank you, goodbye” Becca crossed the hall to the elevator, and after waiting for a moment, stepped into the steel box.

As the elevator reached the 6th floor, the knot in Becca’s stomach returned.

As the doors of the Elevator slid smoothly open, Becca was met by a tall matronly looking woman,

“Rebecca Anderson?” the woman asked, extending her hand. “ My name is Detective Hardling, please call me Mary”

Becca shook the police woman’s hand, and followed her to a small office off the main floor.

“Please have a seat Rebecca” Mary said gesturing to a chair in front of her desk, “So, why do you want to join the Portsmouth PD?

“Because I’ve been at the hands of injustice, and I know how it feels to think you’re alone, and that nobody can help you, or will, and I want to have the chance to be there for others who cant help themselves. I want to protect and enforce the laws for honest citizens who have done nothing wrong, and bring those who break laws to their selfish knees.”

Becca felt herself getting flustered; this was something she felt passionate about. Detective Hardling seemed to be smiling at least.

“Your British aren’t you?” The detective asked.

“Yes, well, half, my mother is American, so I hold dual citizenship, so my nationality wont be a problem?”

“of course not, it might have been had you been entirely British, but considering your Resume, I don’t think there will be any issue. We have an academy class beginning in a week’s time, can I sign you up for that?”

"Oh, id assumed that class would be full now, id expected to be stuck in the application process past them..."

"Were down on recruits over recent years" Hardling said almost ruefully, "So we have plenty of space right up to the wire."
Becca couldn’t say yes fast enough.

Returning home later that afternoon, her hand sore from filling in forms, Becca unlocked her apartment door to hear her answering machine bleeping.

Her heart bubbled like a school girl as she pressed the play button, hoping for Tony’s voice.
She didn’t have to wait long.
After several Utilities calls, she heard his voice:

“Hey there, just wanted to say I had a wonderful time last night, I cant believe I’ve found someone so wonderful, I guess this is a first for me, I’m not usually this tongue-tied, but can I see you again? Please? Call me…”

As the message ended, Becca was dialling…

“Denelli”

“hey its me” Becca rolled her eyes at saying ‘me’ one of her little habits, hoping people recognised her voice.

“hey there, I was wondering when you would call, how are you?”

He knew her voice, her tummy flipped happily. “I’m wonderful, I just got accepted to go to the Police Academy I was so worried they wouldn’t want me. How are you?”

“yeah, better now you called, PD huh? That’s a surprise, wow, didn’t figure you for the type, but that’s awesome, congratulations! When can I take you out to celebrate?”

“how about when I graduate?, but I might let you take me out on Thursday… maybe.” Becca grinned and twirled the phone cable around her finger as she spoke.

“you might huh? Well Thursday it is then, hope I don’t inconvenience you milady…”

Becca giggled, “Well then good sir, don’t be late….Bye”

“Bye”

Becca clasped the phone to her breast, god she liked this guy, he made her feel so special, like the only woman in the world.

Was this how life was meant to be?

A tear rolled down Becca’s cheek as she wished that her parents could see her now. The depressed, distant boy that they rejected was long gone. She was a happy, successful, pretty girl, and they would never see that…

Life clearly wasn’t perfect.

Born Twice - Chapter 6

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

Voluntary

Other Keywords:

Students...

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Born Twice
By Alyssa Plant

Chapter 6

Becca sat on her bed with her belongings around her, she had been in the apartment a week, and she was already leaving.

She had seen Tony on Thursday night, and being in his presence had been intoxicating.

She had allowed herself to get closer to him, now that he knew all her secrets. She felt so free being with him, so relaxed and happy. She understood how she felt, but she wasn’t ready to tell him she loved him yet, it was too early in their relationship for such strong words. She didn’t want to scare him off by looking desperate.

A whole 8 months of training and exams lay ahead for Becca; it was all so daunting.
She would show them, she would prove herself…

Becca giggled to herself, pondering her future was so deep, but not a subject to be thinking about when packing underwear.

It still felt strange to be finally getting the job she wanted, after all, this was her first real job since university, she was a grown woman now…

University seemed a distant point in her life… her childhood…. Remembering back to the years when Rebecca first came to be…

She began to drift off into a daydream…

Charlie sat on his bed, reading a novel in his room in the halls of residence.

It was quiet.

He liked quiet, and he preferred to avoid his flatmates for the most part. They were mostly sporty types and big guys, he liked them, but he didn’t want to push his luck hanging around with them too often.
It was hard enough for him to become close to anyone, because they wouldn’t know who he really was.

Any friends he made now, were befriending a lie, he was a lie. He was a she. As cheesy as it sounded in his head, he really was a girl in a boy’s body. Bouncing and rattling around in a misshapen vessel.

He had grown up in a loving family. Well, at least, they loved the shell. They probably suspected he was gay, but he couldn’t allow them to know the truth. It would break their hearts, and he needed their love, at least, the love directed his way, even if it wasn’t for who he was.

Here at university he was free from the pressure of his family, and she could blossom more.

Fate had intervened.

The university Accommodation officials had placed him on a floor with all the sporty boys. As such, the testosterone in the place was sometimes unbearable for Charlie.

He felt like he was back in school, the odd one out, the girl in disguise. The disguise she couldn’t remove…

Charlie began to drift off to revolutionary France and the mysterious ‘L'Homme au Masque de Fer’.

He was brought abruptly back to the real world from his wander in dreamland by a knock at the door.
“Coming”
He glanced at the clock on his nightstand… Five twenty seven. Just past jock face stuffing o clock.

Unlocking the door and opening it a crack, he came face to face with Paul, one of the guys from his floor.

Face to face is a bit of an over generalisation, there was a good foot height difference between the two, Paul standing an impressive 6’6.
“Uh hey man, look, I’ve got a problem, well we, uh,” Andy blushed and looked down the corridor “Hey Danny can you do this? I can’t ask him this man.”
Danny appeared at Charlie’s door moments later, and grinning like an idiot explained;
“Look, what our eloquent neighbour was trying to say was can you do us a favour and come to a party tonight? Its fancy dress you see and we’re doing sports teams.” He stated as if it was the most logical thing in the world.
“ aaaand were one down… we don’t have a tennis player…”

Charlie looked confused for a moment,
“Um, ok, but why cant you use Paul?”

Danny looked at Paul and grinned.
“Well, we are, he needs a partner…”

Charlie didn’t think Paul could have gone any redder if he had tried.

He smelt a rat.
Not a nice white lab rat… not even Pinky and the brain… a huge smelly rat…

“What’s the catch guys?”

He could see Danny working out how to word the next bit most diplomatically…

“Well you’d have to go as a girl, its guys and girls pairs… we have Tom and Annie doing American football. Me and Page doing Footy, James and Megan are doing hockey, I think?” He said looking at Paul for confirmation.
The still beat red Tennis player nodded
“Yep, and Well Paul was going with Tina, but she can’t go… work due in tomorrow, you know…” he tailed off.

The two looked at each other, Paul’s colour returning to near normal, then back at Charlie.

“I, uh, let me think about it ok?”

Charlie closed the door and slid down till he was sitting with his back to the door. His heart rate was racing…

Did they know?
Was this some joke on his part?
Why had they come to him?
They must suspect!

He felt as though a hammer was being beaten against his rib cage. He so very much wanted to accept their offer, but how to do so without looking too keen?

To them, he was a man, and as such, should be outraged by such a suggestion.
But did they see him as a man?
They were men or at least societies ’vision of manliness, sporting Adonis’. What was he?
He was surprised they allowed him to hang out with them at times, he was nothing compared to them,
This suggestion almost confirmed it in his head; they see me as a girl… or at least a sissy boy…small, feminine, unmanly…
“Maybe I should say yes?” he sighed to his empty room.

Slowly, he regained his feet, and made his way to Danny’s room. He knocked, each time, wondering if this was the right thing. The boy opened his door and smiled when he saw Charlie.

“Ill do it” he almost blurted out. “Just don’t make fun of me ok? I know I’m not as big as you guys.” Charlie looked at his feet, feeling himself turning red.

What he didn’t see was Danny’s expression, the young man hadn’t realised what this would suggest to Charlie that they thought of him.

”Hey man,” he said gently. “Look we really need a hand, and you’re a total dude for doing it… you have more balls than any of us to do it…”

Charlie giggled at the irony of that statement. And cut it off realising how girlish he probably sounded.

Looking up he said, “Well ill do it, just don’t rib me for it, and no photos ok?”
Danny grinned and said he would be back with Charlie’s costume.

Charlie wandered into the kitchen and flicked the kettle on and waited for Danny to return.
He was looking forward to this, but had to act like he didn’t like it. Any sign that he enjoyed it could spell doom for him. How easy that would be, he didn’t know.

The door banged open as Danny and Tom came in with a bag and a box of beers.
Handing one of the bottles to Charlie, they dropped the bag on the table before pulling their own beers from the box, and grabbing chairs.

“Right, here’s all the stuff, she threw in some bits to make it look less silly, and it’s not like you need a wig mate.” Danny said, punctuating his gentle dig with a swig from his bottle.

“Come on then, show us what she’s given you man” piped up tom.

“Uh, nah guys ill show you in a moment, ill just go change, ok?”

Tom looked disappointed but shrugged, “ok man, we’ll keep your beer cold.”

Charlie grabbed the bag nervously and disappeared into his room. After shutting the door and making sure it was locked, he put the bag down on his bed and began to go through it.

The first thing was a tennis dress, pretty standard, white, with the little skirt.
Bellow that, was a note, and some underwear
It read:

‘Charlie, thought you might like to borrow this stuff, ill never wear it, so chuck it out when your done, thought it might go with the dress better than boxers and you’ll need someplace for the other things, I wasn’t always so full of myself
Tina x’

Charlie picked up the bra and knickers from the bag. He could see why she wouldn’t wear them, they were probably a gift from some ex, with a creepy taste… all red lace and rather provocative.

“Well, if I’m going to do this, I might as well do it right,” he said to his favorite companion, his room.

Stripping down he stepped into his shower, and began to wash and remove any body hair.
Luckily he’d missed getting most of the more disgusting effects of puberty his floormates sported.

He stepped from the shower clean and fresh, and wrapping a towel around his hair, he walked into his room to face the challenge ahead.

Despite his feelings, this was the first time he had ever dressed as a girl, at least, fully, and people were going to see him. It was a scary prospect.
He slid the disgustingly trampy knickers up his legs and tucked his pitiful excuse for manhood out of sight. The smooth front that greeted him was what he had dreamt of since he was little.

The bra proved a challenge, but fastening it at the front and spinning it seemed to work. Maybe it would come with practice he giggled to himself.

In the bag he found what Tina had meant by ‘full of herself’, a pair of silicone breast forms which seemed to fit the cups of the bra quite snugly.
His hands trembled as he ran his hands over his new contours, or where they her hands at the moment?

This felt so right, so natural; something began to click inside Charlie’s head as she stood there in the room in just her underwear. This was who she was meant to be. Just this simple action of getting dressed seemed to calm her down; her body looking female seemed to fit so well in her head.

Charlie jumped as she realised she had began to think of herself as ‘her’ in her head.

Collecting her thoughts she turned to the Dress on the bed, and after working out it was meant to be pulled over, began to fight her way into it.

After a short and bloodless battle, it was on, and standing before her bathroom mirror, still misty from the steam, she saw the image of a girl. A young, lithe tennis player, she had a cute face and long legs, and a towel encasing her wet hair.

Mindlessly, she pulled it from her head and watched as her damp hair cascaded down to her shoulders.

As she stood there gawping, she began to feel a slight fluttering in her tummy, and felt her knees weaken.
Sitting down on the bed, she felt a tear trickle from her eye. She was alive. This was who she was; she felt it more now than ever. The feelings and confusion of her childhood so far were nothing compared to this.
Here she was, in her university room, in just underwear and a dress, and she felt so comfortable, so right. And looked so much like the girl she had dreamt to be come for years.
There was a knock at the door.
“Hey man, you coming out? Just because you’re dressing like a girl doesn’t mean you have to take for fucking ever dude.”
She got up, whipping the tears from her eyes and approached the door.
She opened it fully and was met by Danny’s shocked expression.

“Holy shit man, you’re a girl.”

Note from ze Author:
Sorry for taking forever guys! Ive had so much college work, and spending a week in the lake district measuring rocks (yes i'm a geographer) has really eaten my time for writing. Anyway, im on spring break now, so ill try to catch up by putting some serious work into this... Ill aim for chapter 7 by friday, and 8 by next monday at minimum!
Sorry again.
Alyssa

Born Twice - Chapter 7

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

Contests, Deals, Bets or Dares

TG Elements:

Fancy Dress / Prom / Evening Gown

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Born Twice
By Alyssa Plant

”Don’t worry. I’d never let anyone hurt you.”

“I believe you.” She whispered, looking into his eyes, feeling almost warm in the chill night air, a squiggly feeling swimming around her stomach.

Chapter 7

Danny’s jaw must have been resting somewhere around his crotch, he was speechless…

Charlie could feel her cheeks turning red as she stood there, realising how silly she must look, at least to them.

Danny seemed to regain his composure, and yelled into the kitchen something Charlie didn’t hear, but moments later, he was joined by the other boys from the floor, all gawping similarly.

Shifting her gaze, she began to fidget uncomfortably under the pressure of their eyes.

“Man, I can’t believe it, this is so freaky.” Tom was shaking his head with a confused, amused half grin on his tight lips.

General muttering broke out amongst the boys, and before jokes and insults could start, Charlie pushed her way past them and disappeared to hide in the kitchen.

She REALLY needed that beer now to calm her nerves.

Paul was the first to return to the kitchen. He was quite sheepish, and clearly uncomfortable.

“I bet you didn’t expect this when you asked huh?” Charlie said grinning nervously.

Paul slumped into a chair and after taking a long swig from his beer, sighed.

“Not really, we figured you might pull it off better than any of us, but not like that. I mean, your just wearing the stuff she gave you, most of us would look like bad cross dressers if we tried that…” he tailed off realising what he was saying.

“I guess you won’t be embraced at the party then?” Charlie ventured. “That was what you were wondering wasn’t it?”

Paul looked away, confirming her suspicions.

”How’s this then” Charlie blurted, very conscious that she was about to go out on a very narrow, weak limb, in a very high wind. “What if I get one of the girls to do makeup on me, and stuff, and I can just go as your date? Call me something else and pretend its not me?”

”You’d do that?”

His eyes gave his relief away.

“Uh, yeah, well you think I want people to know it’s me too?”

It at least made sense to play along for now. Play like she didn’t enjoy this, if she was ‘pretending’ to be a girl, then she could do the things she wanted, act how she wanted, and not raise questions.

Downing the last of her beer, she stood purposefully, and turned to Paul.

”Ill see you later, have a good time tonight ok?”

Paul looked confused and before he could form the words.

”Well, you’re going with Rebecca aren’t you? Charlie said smiling, and left Paul sat confused in the kitchen.

Where was this confidence coming from? Charlie had never been confident, especially around his floor mates, but SHE was...

She shook her head as she climbed the stairs in the hallway up to one of the girls floors where one of her few friends stayed.

Julie was in most of Charlie’s classes, and the two had grown close in an innocent way.
It was her door she was knocking on now, fully aware that she had never raised this subject with Julie.

The door opened to reveal her friend, some unintelligible TV show still playing in the background. She wore a blank ‘can I help you?’ expression.
“Err, yes?”

“Um, Jules, I was wondering if you could help me with a little problem…” Charlie stuttered, once again feeling like an idiot.

Julie’s jaw joined the others that had hit the floor that evening. “Charlie? Is that you? Oh my….”

“It’s for a party” Charlie blurted, knowing this was not the time to tell his friend, even his best friend.
“I need someone to help with makeup and things, I’m clueless…”

Julie just grinned and opened the door wider to her friend

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Charlie knew that Julie knew. They were too close for that. But she would respect her wishes for now. Words were not important.

“So this is your floor mates isn’t it? Some sport nut party I bet, why are you going?” she called over her shoulder while she pulled some things from her bathroom.

“I don’t know, they asked, I wasn’t doing anything, it seems like a laugh” Charlie said shrugging as Julie came back into the room with a handful of cosmetics.
She directed Charlie to her desk chair, and perching on her bed, set to work with brushes and sticks of things that Charlie had very little idea about.

“Werl, I gesh if vey aren’t going to give you problemsh, it cant ‘urt” She mumbled through a mouth of brushes.

Overcome with a wave of guilt at this white lie she was feeding her friend, she began to say something, but was immediately silenced by a marauding tube of something.

Julie stood back and admired her work.

“Not bad. Not bad if I do say so myself.” She grinned. “Its scary how much like a real girl you look…” She said shaking her head slightly.

”Here, take this, and this, oh, and this might help.” She said throwing some bracelets, a necklace, and a small bag into Charlie’s hands.
After popping some essential touch-up items into the bag, she sent her friend packing.

Charlie was still numb from Julie’s comment. ‘Real girl…. You aren’t a real girl’ kept swimming around her head

Would she ever be a real girl? Would she be forever just out of reach?
Fingering the silver chain around her neck, she opened the door to her floor. There was a pre party in full swing in the kitchen at the far end, and she began her walk.

The first person she met was Page, stood in the doorway on her phone in a far from match ready version of the Chelsea football strip. Rebecca smiled at her and entered the kitchen. Feeling emboldened, she walked over to Paul and tapped him on the shoulder before standing back with a hand on her hip.

He turned as he was sipping another beer, and nearly choked.

“Holy crap, uh Rebecca, you’re hot” he said dumbly.

“Well aren’t you one with the Ladies Paul” shot a raven haired Indian girl, grinning like a devil.
“I don’t think I’ve met you… I’m Annie.” she said, extending her hand to Rebecca.

Shaking it nervously, she smiled, “Rebecca, Rebecca Thompson, I’m a friend of Paul’s from class.”

”Nice to meet you.” She smiled.

Page returned to the kitchen announcing that the Taxi’s had arrived, and after making a bee line for her Tennis partner. Rebecca joined the merry crowd heading out of the building.

The way down the stairs, she could feel Paul’s eyes on her. It made her feel special, even if nothing would happen, they could pretend tonight, and she would go back to being Mr Invisible the next day. It wouldn’t happen, so what did it matter?
In the Taxi, she felt her leg against Paul’s. She retracted hers about the same time he did, and the pair shared a nervous glance. This wasn’t an ordinary situation for either of them.

“Cheer up Becca, he might get pissed and pass out” Shot Danny from the other side of Paul.

Those words made her feel so normal, like she was meant to be there. She could be herself now, and let her hair down, metaphorically speaking. In reality, it was up in a playful sporty ponytail, with a few errant strands framing her face.
Julie had artfully accentuated her natural looks, not trampish, not overdone, but elegant, and fresh.

They arrived at the party, taking place at a house off campus. And all made their ways inside.

Music was thumping, and people were drinking and laughing, sports kit was the order of the evening, and Rebecca was hard pressed to not find a sport represented in some form or other.
She couldn’t help but giggle as she saw a pair running around and slamming into each other. One Dressed as a tennis racquet, and the other, a ball.

The party went well, Rebecca and Paul Mingled and circled, and chatted to people they knew, dancing once or twice. Rebecca felt truly comfortable with herself. Happy for once, she was finally letting her guard down. Paul was nice…. It was a pity this was a Cinderella story of sorts she thought.

The two of them had gotten over their shyness, and were acting like a couple. Holding hands, dancing together, even the others hadn’t batted an eyelid at the obvious chemistry developing between the pair.

”Do you want something to drink?” Paul asked, his shyness clearly wearing off.

”That would be nice…” She said smiling up at him

He disappeared into the crowd and left Rebecca alone.

Moments later, Rebecca felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned expecting Paul, She was faced by a rather drunk looking guy in a tracksuit.

“Hey there sweetie, you here with anyone?” he slurred.

”I uh, yes, he just went for drinks…” Rebecca said looking around desperately for any sign of Paul returning.

Pressing her back into the wall, Mr Tracksuit grinned at her and moved forwards opening his lips, before moving backwards rather quickly.

Paul had the guy by his collar and was glaring at him.
“I wus only talking to her man, chill”

“Fuck off Phil, she’s mine…” he growled shoving the guy into the seething mass of bodies.

He turned back to her, his mask of anger melting into one of concern. “Are you ok? Did he hurt you?”

Just barely keeping from hyperventilating, Rebecca just nodded and grimaced.

“You want to get some air?” he said, handing Rebecca a bottle.

Rebecca nodded, and allowed Him to put his arm around her waist and guide her out through the kitchen to some seats in the garden.

“Are you ok now?” He asked, still looking worried.

”I’m fine, he just scared me, that guy was really drunk.” She said taking a sip from her drink.

They sat for a moment in silence, the throb of the party in the background.

”Don’t worry. I’d never let anyone hurt you.”

“I believe you.” She whispered, looking into his eyes, feeling almost warm in the chill night air, a squiggly feeling swimming around her stomach.

“You know, I meant what I said in there…” He tailed off. “I, you know…”

“That I’m yours?” She half whispered, half sighed. As she said it, she felt so silly, she was a boy, pretending to be a girl, she would never be a real girl, he knew that….

He lifted her chin and stared into her eyes, cocking his head slightly,

”Yeah, if you want to be.”

She closed her eyes and parted her lips slightly, she felt his lips brush hers, tentatively, almost asking. She let her mouth open slightly and cocked her head, accepting his kiss. The squigglyness began to magnify, and she felt light headed as he wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her to him. Their tongues danced like flickering flames, and arms roamed tentatively.

Rebecca opened her eyes and sighed.
“This is all make-believe…. You know that right?” She said, trying to convince herself that this wasn’t happening, that she wasn’t falling for him. To almost remind him that she wasn’t a real girl.

“You know, after what I’ve seen tonight, and when I kissed you….” He took her hand in his, “I don think it is, do you?”

Born Twice - Chapter 8

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

Romantic

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Born Twice
By Alyssa Plant

'A slight smile came to her lips as she realised she was on her boyfriends bed where the two of them had just been making out.'

Chapter 8

Charlie awoke the next morning. She was in her room, the party had happened, she could feel the dry, carpety taste in her mouth from a night of alcohol and cigarette smoke.
Swinging her feet out of the bed, she padded to the bathroom to relive herself.
Sitting on the toilet she could see her image reflected in the mirror above the wash basin…
Bedraggled; yes, tired; yes, but she realised she still saw Rebecca staring back at her.
Touching her fingertips to her lip she recalled the kiss. Her very first kiss… and it had been with a boy. A floor mate for god’s sake.
That would lead to problems she thought as she finished her business and wandered out of her room towards the kitchen in search of caffeine.

Walking into the kitchen he was surprised to find Page and Annie sat at the table, chatting over mugs of coffee.

Charlie froze.

“Oh morning, not feeling to hung-over I hope?” Page smiled.

“I uh, no, not really, I didn’t drink that much” Charlie shrugged as she moved to the coffee maker to pour herself a mug of thick black wakeup juice.

“You girls stayed here last night?” She asked casually.

Annie giggled, “Uhuh, looks like someone else has a walk of shame later too… How long have you and Paul been seeing each other?”

Charlie turned bright red. “No no! We’re just friends, I just went as his date because another friend couldn’t make it…”
Page looked confused for a moment.
“But you’re here…. Who did you stay with?”

I stayed in my room… I live here.”

It was Annie’s turn to look confused;

”isn’t this an all guys floor?”

”uhuh” Charlie mumbled as she stretched, suddenly realising how she was dressed, and where things were going, quickly, she dropped her arms. A baggy band tee-shirt and the underwear from the night before wasn’t the most sensible outfit to wander the floor in.

“Now this might sound stupid” Page said slowly, taking a sip from her mug, “But why do you live here then?” arching her eyebrows as if to punctuate the question.
It looked like she was flat out of options.

“Uh, it’s a long story,”

Charlie told them everything. And she was in tears by the time she had finished talking.

Annie moved her chair around the table and pulled Charlie into a hug.

The Dams burst and Charlie sobbed against Annie’s shoulder.

“I promise your secret is safe sweetie” Page soothed. “We honestly had no clue, and you’ll just be Rebecca to us, hell, anyone can see you’re not a boy”

Charlie sniffed and slumped down in her chair.

“I never realised what it would do to me, how I would feel, I just know its right, like when I kissed Paul… something just seemed… right. You know?”

The girls nodded

“What are you going to do now?” Annie said collecting up their mugs to wash.

“Well I guess there’s some music to face somewhere.” I just know I can’t cope with how I was, it feels like a lie… but it’s all I have.”

The girls looked at each other, “Well were taking you shopping” announced Page, “You need clothes girl, can’t run around like a tomboy for ever.”

“You, you’d do that? For me?”

“You’re a sweet girl, and Annie and I really like you. And don’t even think about it, that’s what friends are for right?” Smiled Page,

”Come on, you have someone to talk to, and we need to head home, pick you up about lunchtime? The girls both gave Charlie a hug on their way out as she steeled her nerves to knock on Paul’s door.

“Ugh, here goes nothing” She muttered as she rapped on the door.

There was a loud thump and a “coming!” from inside.

Paul opened the door and was surprised to see her there.

“Uh, Rebecca, um, sorry Charlie, uh, sup?”

“You had it right the first time.” She blushed, “We nee to talk”

“Oh, uh, sure, come in” he said standing aside to let Rebecca into his room. She walked in, and standing with her back to him, she sighed, and tried to find the courage to say the words.

”Look, about last night, I need to know how you feel about this, because, I uh, this has changed things a great deal. I can’t go back” She said as she turned to face him.
“Did you mean it?”
The confusion on Paul’s face melted, and he pulled her to him,
“Of course, every word. I was worried that you would hate me, or avoid me, or what would happen if you had gone back, I, I, I’m not gay.” He stammered.
“But then, you’re not a boy are you? Were you ever?”

”I’m here for you, please know that, I know its only been a day, but I feel something Becca, I need you, and ill kill anyone who tries to harm you. ANYONE”

Becca felt him tighten up as he said those words. And she sobbed quietly into his chest.

Paul lifted Rebecca’s chin up to meet his eyes. “You’re mine”

His lips brushed hers ever so lightly and she willingly accepted his kiss, moving her arms to surround his neck.

Their tongues danced and played and Becca felt her knees going weak.
They sat on the edge of Paul’s bed and began kissing once more, their hands touching each others bodies almost shyly.

Becca felt at peace with the word in Paul’s arms; she felt safe, and happy.

She felt his hand reach to touch her non existent breast and she shied away slightly fearing his reaction to her flatness.

There was none, and she sighed as he lightly rubbed her nipple though the material of the tee-shirt.

Almost unconsciously she felt herself leaning back against the bed and felt Paul coming with her.
Rebecca felt beyond aroused, this was the first time she had ever felt this way, and it was intoxicating, it seemed so natural, so, right.
What Paul was doing to her chest was amazing, and she pushed him off and sat to remove her tee-shirt, leaving her lying there in just her knickers feeling extremely exposed.
She saw a warm smile spread across his lips as he lowered his head to her chest.

Becca felt her breath quicken and warmth spread around her body.
There was a knock at the door, and the pair quickly detangled from each other and Rebecca redressed in her tee and sat cross-legged on the bed.

A slight smile came to her lips as she realised she was on her boyfriends bed where the two of them had just been making out.
Tom and Danny stood at the door, and seeing Rebecca behind Paul made Danny laugh out loud.
“I won, he’s a chick, and they got it on, so pay me bitch”
Danny turned back to Paul still grinning.
“Hey look man, if you’re not too busy were going for a game in the part, you up for it?”

Paul looked back at Rebecca who just smiled and nodded.

”Sure guys. Becca, you coming?” He said turning round again.

Rebecca shook her head, “Nah. Going shopping with Annie and Page, you go have fun.”

The guys bounded off down the corridor and Becca headed back to her room.

Why had nobody made a fuss? They all acted like they knew… or at the very least suspected…
Rebecca vowed to take this opportunity to do something right with her life.

So this was what happiness felt like?

Please remember to post a comment! I really appreciate your feedback!

Born Twice - Chapter 9

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

Voluntary

TG Elements:

Shopping

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Born Twice
By Alyssa Plant

”You really need our help girl; we have to save you before tomboyitis takes a firm hold.”

Chapter 9

Rebecca wondered what she should wear to go shopping with Annie and Page. She had no girls’ clothes, and even if she did, she was unsure about going out in public, as right as she felt.
Donning a pair of androgynous jeans, and a university hoodie, she sat on her bed to wait for the girls.

This had happened so fast; she had been forced to confront the issue, and now it was carrying her along in its wake… decisions making themselves…

She began to wonder what family life would be like, as a girl. She could stop pretending to like sports to please her father, a weight off her shoulders. She prayed that he might love her.

As Rebecca drifted off into a daydream about her father giving her away at her wedding, her phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey love, its us, come down, were outside” came the voice of Annie through her phones speaker.

“Sure, 2 secs” Becca hung up and left the building to begin another leg of the bizarre journey.

As she exited the building, she saw Annie in the passenger seat of Page’s car, a cute little hatchback.

Greeting the girls, she joined them in the car, and before she could even fasten her seatbelt, she had Annie shaking her head melodramatically at her.

”You really need our help girl; we have to save you before tomboyitis takes a firm hold.” She giggled.

”I didn’t have anything else” muttered Rebecca, “And besides, I don’t think I’m comfortable with the idea of being a girl in public yet.”

“Seriously love, nobody sees a boy anyway, even dressed like that, and Annie is right, you so need saving, nobody would see anything but a tomboyish girl hiding her figure under baggy clothes.” Page said locking eyes with Rebecca through the rear-view mirror, “Are you sure you’re a boy physically?” she giggled.

Rebecca felt a tear roll down her cheek and turned to look out the window.

Page hadn’t missed it.

”oh my god, I’m sorry Becca, you know I didn’t mean that like that. I was just trying to be light-hearted, I’m sorry.”

Rebecca didn’t say another word for the rest of the journey.

Arriving at the out of town mall, the girls left the car to conduct some intensive retail therapy.

Rebecca didn’t feel nervous, after all, why should she? She was dressed how she did day in day out. But was page right?
Did people see her as a girl anyway?

Once inside the store, Annie and Page dragged Rebecca into the Lingerie department.

”If were doing this right, we’d best work from the inside outwards…” Said Annie as she flicked through a rack of bras.

“What’s your band size?” Annie looked at Rebecca who shrugged.

Sighing, Annie pulled a tape measure from her. “Page, deal with her” she announced. “Ill go get some of the other essentials.”

Taking her hand, Page dragged Rebecca into the changing rooms.

“Come on then, off with it, I need to measure you” she said impatiently while Becca stood dumbly.

Almost giving in, Rebecca removed her hoodie, and Page slipped the tape around her torso.

”34, brilliant, you’ve got the pick of styles” She said handing Becca her Hoodie back.

“You know, even without b... visible breasts” Page corrected. I still have a hard time believing you were born in a male body…”

“Don’t make me prove it,” Rebecca quipped on their way out, “I don’t think either of us would like that”. She giggled.

The trio blazed through the department stores and boutiques of the mall, and 4 hours later, sat drinking cokes in the food court.

After 20 minutes convincing and bargaining, Rebecca sat in a pair of crá¨me girls’ jeans, and a black fitted blouse, assisted in the chest department by some strategic hosiery.

“See? That wasn’t so hard was it?” Annie asked after taking a sip from her drink.

”I know your scared honey, but trust me, nobody has a clue, and they have even less chance to have a clue now your dressing like a girl too… people see a duck shaped, duck sounding, duck walking, um, duck, and they see a duck….

You look like a girl, considering you’ve never tried, you move like a girl, and you sound like a girl. I doubt any store here has in-house gynaecologists or x-ray cameras… so were safe for now…”

Rebecca sighed, she knew here fear was irrational, but it was all so new, she was sure something had to go wrong soon.
As things were going, the only person who was having a bad day was her bank manager.

“I know Annie, and I cant thank you guys enough, I wouldn’t have had the courage to do this without you, you’re the best friends ever.

Rebecca began to tear up as she smiled broadly at her friends.

Finishing their drinks, the three began to head towards the car when Page spotted a Claire’s Accessories store, and tapping Annie on the shoulder, diverted Rebecca in.

“This love, is on us” The pair announced as they directed Rebecca to the earrings section.

“I don’t have pierced ears guys; I can’t wear any of these….” Becca absent-mindedly announced as she flipped through the racks.

“We have that covered” Page grinned as Annie returned with an Assistant.

10 minutes, and a great deal of noise from Rebecca, she left with a double piercing in each ear lobe.

“Don’t worry Bex; I kicked up a worse fuss when I had mine done….”

“You weren’t 18” Rebecca muttered. She felt somewhat embraced at her performance, but it had been a very big piercing gun…

Linking arms, the 3 left the mall to return to the car.

On the way home, Rebecca couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of the little car scraping along the road with the weight of her shopping.

She had spent over £600 on clothing and accessories, and it really hadn’t felt like 4 hours either…

Rebecca wondered what damage she could do to her bank balance with a full day.

She was making friends for the first time, and she was accepted for who she was. She could feel herself floating on an emotional high.

Rebecca’s tummy did flips as she imagined what Paul was doing right now.
Probably eating, drinking, or playing video games with the guys she guessed, it would be nice to imagine he was thinking of her though.

Clouds began to drift across Rebecca’s sunshine as she thought of her parents.

Would they accept her like this? They had known she was horribly depressed in her teens, but could they accept this as why? Would they try to convince her she was still depressed? Or delusional?

What scared Rebecca the most was that she didn’t know what they would think? It scared her that she so blatantly didn’t know her parents. Almost as bad as them not knowing HER.

As the car pulled into the grounds of the Hall of residence, Rebecca was roused from her mental conflict.

As they carried the small mountain of bags up to Rebecca’s floor, she passed Danny on the stairway.

Danny raised his eyebrows when he saw her

“You just proved beyond a doubt that you’re a woman Becca…. No man could buy that much crap so fast”

Rebecca grinned up at her floor mate/

”I had a lot of catching up to do, and I had help of course….” She giggled jerking her head in the direction of Annie and Page.

Danny threw his hands up in surrender, “I give up! I don’t get you women.”

“Is pa…” Becca began before Danny broke out laughing.

“Oh yeah, he’s in his room, he’s been pining about you all afternoon. And don’t worry, he’s talked to us all, we know the score, and were cool with it, were on your side ok? I am sort of to blame…” he admitted sheepishly as he took some bags from Rebecca.
“No you didn’t Danny, you just catalysed things” She admitted shaking her head.

“It would have happened with or without you guys,” she sighed, “It’s not over yet though, this was just the beginning.”

“of your shopping?” he grinned

“no, dealing with the fallout of coming out…” she sighed. “I am glad that you guys are ok with it, I really worried that you would all hate me for it.”

“Why? You’re our friend, and we aren’t stupid, were at university, if we had closed minds, we wouldn’t have lasted here….” Danny said as he dumped the bags onto Rebecca’s bed.

“See you later lass” he called as he left the room. “Oh, lost puppy incoming” he laughed.

Rebecca spun around to see Paul stick his head around the door.

“Wow you girls were busy, god Rebecca, you look amazing.” He gasped.

“What? This old thing?” she giggled plucking at her blouse. “Glad my efforts are appreciated” she giggled as she snuggled into his arms.

“EHEM” Page cleared her throat.

”Could you two lovebirds keep off each other for a moment?

Rebecca looked back over her shoulder without detaching from Paul’s embrace,

”like I said to Danny, I have a lot of catching up to do” She giggled.

Born Twice - Chapter 10

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

School or College Life

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Born Twice
By Alyssa Plant

“Ah fair enough” She smiled. “I guess all boys’ school must have been hard.”

Charlie stopped walking and looked at Sarah panic stricken.
“Hang on; I thought you thought that….”

Chapter 10

Rebecca woke almost instantly. It was the sort of waking that occurred once your body had spent enough time resting, and the power automatically tripped back on, not the groggy awakening that occurred due to nasty things, like alarm clocks.

She looked around her room. The hazy morning sun was breaking though the cracks in the curtains, casting beams of light across the room.

Rebecca sighed at nothing in particular, a most contented sound.

Slipping out of bed, and sitting up, Rebecca rubbed her eyes and pulled her fringe out of her vision.

She had class today, several, and a seminar group meeting. It looked like it was time to return to being Charlie.

With a heavy heart, Rebecca pushed herself to the back of her mind. This was going to be hard

Half an hour later, Charlie found himself stood at the bus stop. It felt so strange to be a boy again. Surely that was weird? He mused.

If anything, he felt like this was truly the act, a fact emphasised by having to constantly check that he didn’t lapse back into more feminine mannerisms.

Stepping off the bus at the university was the first time Charlie felt nervous, a sea of people, itself a nameless faceless mass, but how could he hide things from his classmates? His lecturers? God, the university? How would they treat him?

Considering things for a moment, Charlie pulled out his mobile, and made an appointment with the University doctor. At the very least, it was time to face facts.

He would begin the process, and then deal with things when he was forced to. At least it was a stay of execution, perhaps when he started to look more feminine, he could deal with the process of coming out.

As normal, Charlie took his place towards the rear of the lecture theatre for his first class, ignoring his classmates. Being alone solved problems. He didn’t have to explain to more friends and acquaintances if he was a ghost.

4 hours of lectures later, and nothing untoward happening, Charlie made his way through the sea of human traffic to the building that hosted to his Seminar class.

Once seated in the room with around 20 other students, the class leader, Professor Elegy silenced them.

“Ok class, today were going to do group work on presentations, the subjects you can decide, but i want a good 10 minute presentation at the end of it…” he enthused.

The room descended into mayhem as people shuffled around the room to find people to work with.

“So much for a low profile” Charlie muttered to himself as he wandered over to a group of 3 girls and a boy.

“Um hi, can I join you guys? I don’t have a group” he timidly asked.

“Hey sure, pull up a chair” Smiled a slightly chubby blonde girl.

”I’m Sarah, this is Amy, Hannah, and our lone ranger is Toby.” She beamed.

This girl has far too much energy, Charlie thought. Ah well, at least I wont have to do much speaking in the presentation.

“Charlie.” He replied softly

As the group got down to work, Charlie began to open up. The people he was with weren’t so bad. Maybe some friends couldn’t hurt?

The group had decided to present a piece about popular music through the ages.

Before long, Charlie forgot how he was meant to be acting, and slowly slipped back to more feminine body language and speech patters that almost seemed natural now.

“So” announced Hannah with a finality. “Us girls will do the first 4 sections, and you can sum up Toby, how’s that work?”

Charlie did a double take. Surely they didn’t think he was a girl too? The conflict in his heart hurt. He so wanted to accept the words. But could he? It could have been a slip of the tongue he reasoned.

General mutterings of agreement circled the group, and they waited their turn to present their subject.

“Ok girls, you’re next” Announced Professor Elegy “Oh dear, Girls and boy. Sorry Toby” He corrected.

Toby blushed as the as mattering of laughter emanated from the room.

Nobody noticed Charlie blushing furiously too.

After the class, Charlie was walking out with the group chatting to the bubbly Sarah. As they crossed the road, Charlie spotted Paul walking on the opposite side of the road.

Almost at that moment he looked across and caught her eye and smiled and waved as he walked.

Charlie Sighed and waved back.

Sarah spotted the silly little grin on Charlie’s face and smiled broadly.

“Your boyfriend?”

Thinking for a moment about the class, Charlie threw caution to the wind. “Yeah, I guess he is.”

“You guess?” Sarah asked, her eyebrows rising.

“Uhuh, we only just got together, I’m still a bit new to the whole relationships thing.”

“Really? You never dated in school?” Sarah questioned, obviously looking for a reason more than confirmation.

“Uh, yeah, I was at a single sex school” Charlie replied, hoping that it would do. Well it was true she guessed, just the wrong sex.

“Ah fair enough” She smiled. “I guess all boys’ school must have been hard.”

Charlie stopped walking and looked at Sarah panic stricken.
“Hang on; I thought you thought that….”

“Relax honey” Sarah said putting her arm around Charlie and guiding her on.
“It was guesswork mostly” plus id noticed you in class once or twice. Mainly because you’re too pretty to be a boy, something I only found out when I saw the student profile photos in the office. Plus with the way you were acting today, it wasn’t like a gay guy, so I figured you were transitioning or something?”

“Well yeah, I am I guess” Charlie whispered shyly. “How do you know about trans….” Her own eyebrows rising towards her scalp.

“I had an ex back in school who became a girl, but she wasn’t as pretty as you. How long have you been on hormones? It must be horrid hiding as a boy, well ish” she giggled.

“I, uh, I’m not.” Charlie stammered.

“Wow really?” god, you look just like any other girl, except you’re a little flat up here” she said, gesturing at her bosom.

Charlie giggled. “Yeah, I can’t really help that at the moment”

“So are you going to start coming to class dressed a bit more normal?” Sarah asked.

“Um, it’s a bit soon I think, I’m still a bit worried what everyone thinks or would think…” Charlie sighed.

Sarah stopped and placing both her hands on Charlie’s shoulders, she said; “Look sweetie, you do realise half the class think you’re a tomboy and the other half, a lesbian…. So dressing a bit more girly wont make them think anything…”

Charlie was stunned.

“I, uh, i…. really?”

Sarah nodded.

“Oh” was all Charlie could manage to say in reply.

All this time, she had wondered what her classmates would think, when in reality, they already assumed….

“I guess ill make more of an effort tomorrow then.” Charlie smiled. “Ah this is me” She said pointing at the residence hall. “I guess ill see you tomorrow?”

“Ya” Sarah grinned, giving Charlie a hug. “Meet you here at like, 9.40 and we can walk down?”

”Id like that” Charlie smiled.

Waving, she turned and walked into the building, a broad grin fixed to her face.

Bouncing into her room, she stripped off the tee-shirt and jeans, and dove into her wardrobe.

Fifteen minutes later, she emerged in a pink camisole, denim ripped miniskirt, black ankle leggings, and ballet flats, her hair pulled into a bouncy ponytail.

Slowly she climbed the stairs to Julie’s floor and knocked on her door.

Julie’s eyes went wide as she opened the door. “I guess its time we had a talk huh girl friend?”

An hour later, the two friends sat hugging and crying on Julie’s bed.

“You know, I always wondered.” She said between sniffs.
“UGH” Grumbled Rebecca.

“did anyone ever think I was a boy?” she giggled.

“I thought you didn’t want to be one missy?” smiled Julie.
“That madam, is not the point” Rebecca grinned dodging a swipe from Julie.

Julie’s face got serious for a moment.

”Have you figured out what your going to say to your mum and dad?”

Born Twice - Chapter 11

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

School or College Life

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Born Twice
By Alyssa Plant

Chapter 11

It was a quarter to ten the next day as Rebecca made her way out of the Hall of Residence and headed for the main road. It felt oddly relaxing that she was here finally going to be herself.

She wondered if Sarah had been kidding about her classmates all thinking her a girl already.

Nervously, she tugged at the hem of her skirt, suddenly alarmingly aware of the brevity of it, and the reality of her situation.

This wasn’t a party, it wasn’t a bet, or even the trip to the mall. This was reality. This had consequences and reactions; she would be accountable for once.

At the back of the fear however, she felt a warm feeling. She felt complete, herself finally. It seemed so clichéd she thought, giggling to herself.

She had dressed to blend in today; wearing what was unofficially a girls’ uniform for their university. Her denim miniskirt with leggings; providing much needed warmth in the morning chill, topped off with a grey university sweatshirt. Simple, yet invisible. She had spent forever wondering what to wear to not look like a transsexual, that her clothing could out her by making an error.

There was a niggling feeling in the back of her mind that told her someone would know; someone couldn’t be fooled by her attempts. After all, she was a boy wasn’t she? Physically at least she knew she was male, granted not a very good example of it. But surely a male body couldn’t look like a girl?

Conflict wracked her brain as she considered weather she was allowed to enjoy being a girl, being herself?

A happy voice snapped her out of her thought as Sarah bounded up behind her.

“Morning! Wow you’re looking much better this morning!” she beamed.

Rebecca smiled as they set off walking side by side.

“Thanks, I’m still fairly scared though.” She whispered.

“Oh don’t be love” Sarah admonished. “I swear, if I didn’t know, I couldn’t tell, and if anyone would tell you I would, now stop being scared you silly goose”

Rebecca shrugged her shoulders and grinned sheepishly.

”Well I guess it’s still taking getting used to.”

“So you’re sticking with Charlie?” Sarah asked, lowering her voice.

“Hrm, no,” Rebecca decided. “My name’s Rebecca” She smiled, remembering where the name came from.

“Coolness” Beamed Sarah. “Well most people don’t know your name; just say Charlotte was your middle name.”

Arriving outside the department, Rebecca froze with fear in front of the door.

Sarah caught her and led her over to a bench near the entrance.

“I know this is scary honey, ok? But believe me, it’s a none-issue to them. You’re just confirming what they already believe.” She whispered hugging Rebecca tightly.

“I, I don’t know, it just seems so big, I can’t go back after this, not that I want to.” She quickly stated,

”It will just be real, and I’m scared of change, its all been so fast. But I’m so excited, and want this. Its so confusing.” She sighed.

The two girls hugged till Sarah reminded them they had a class, and shaking, she led Rebecca into the building and down to their Lecture hall.

Walking into the room, Rebecca felt like she was going to be sick, but very few people actually looked at her.

Sarah pulled her onto a row of seats and up to a group of girls chatting away merrily.

“Hey guys, this is Becca.” She announced collapsing down onto a seat.

Mutterings of greeting were exchanged and before long, Rebecca was surrounded by other girls from her class, none of whom seemed to notice anything out of order.

By the End of the first class, Rebecca had almost forgotten her past. Nobody cared, or noticed. And that normality finally grounded her. This was what she was missing?

People smiled at her, talked to her, and treated her like a human being.

The world seemed to blur around Rebecca as she realised that she was happy. That she hadn’t been before. It was a shock to her system.

“Come on dozy”

Rebecca snapped out of her trance.

“Come on” Sarah giggled, “Were going for coffee before the next class, better than hanging around here”

Rebecca shrugged and followed Sarah and her friends.

As they walked, Rebecca heard running behind them and felt a hand on her shoulder before she could turn.

“Heya” Panted Paul.

”I saw you walking and hoped you didn’t have a class next?” He smiled at Rebecca.

Sarah and her friends automatically pulled back giving the two some space.

“Not really, I was just heading to the union for coffee with my friends, you want to come?” she asked, then looked back at Sarah;
“Its ok if Paul comes isn’t it?” she questioned.

“Sure, more the merrier! We couldn’t have you sulking alone” she laughed.

Rebecca beamed and felt her tummy doing flip flops. She liked being around Paul, he was so sweet and kind and utterly gorgeous. She felt lucky to be his girlfriend.

After brief introductions, the group headed off to the union building to waste away the hours before their next class.

Once they had collected their drinks, the gang found a small seating area, and Rebecca joined Paul on one of the sofas; curling up next to him with his arm around her.

She felt so safe, so, happy. Sipping her Cappuccino, she glanced across at Sarah who was grinning at her shaking her head.

Rebecca raised her eyebrows and smiled. It felt good to have friends.

Somehow she knew the days of whiling away the time between classes in a computer room somewhere, or wandering the campus with her mp3 player were melting away.

She didn’t feel inclined to stop them either.

“Rebecca”

Becca snapped out of yet another trance hearing her name. It was Jenny, one of Sarah’s friends.

“So why the big change?”

Rebecca’s blood ran cold, did she know?

“Um, I don’t know what you mean” She stuttered, looking to Sarah for help, who just grinned and sipped her drink.

She would get her later.

“Well one day you’re dressing like a boy, and being all antisocial, and now you’ve become all girly overnight, what’s the deal?”

Rebecca felt a wave of relief wash over her, this she could handle.

“I don’t know what I was thinking quite honestly. I was really shy and was s unsure of myself.

I guess you can say my meeting Paul changed my outlook on things…” she grinned.

Jenny smiled. “Well it’s sure an improvement, plus it’s destroyed the rumours that you were gay or something.” She giggled.

“I can confirm she is NOT gay” Paul grinned dodging a playful slap from Rebecca

“Did many people think that?” asked Rebecca

“Jenny nodded. “That or you were a girl who wanted to be a boy”

Rebecca grinned inwardly at that one.

“We all make mistakes,” she mused out loud, “I’m just glad I found myself as it were.”

“Are you two coming to the end of year ball?” Amy asked.

“Are we?” Paul asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Hmm, I think so, I hadn’t planed to, to be honest, but I think we might, if you want to?” Rebecca replied.

“God their acting like a married couple already” Sarah groaned.

“Are you going to start answering for each other next?” she laughed as she ducked the newspaper Rebecca launched at her.

“Oh crap, look at the time” Amy announced. “We have hst242 in 10 minutes”

“Ugh I hate Tomkins; he drones on and on and never puts his lectures online.” Jenny grumbled.

The group extracted themselves from the coffee shop and began to walk over to the lecture theatre.

Paul deliberately slowed Rebecca down as they were walking and quietly asked her about the ball.

“You sure you’re ok with going? We don’t have to if it’s too much for you.”

“No, id love to go, its something I always dreamed of.” She replied.

“I definitely think it would be fun. Plus you’d look cute in a tux” she giggled.

“Well having you on my arm won’t hurt my reputation” Paul grinned.

“Oh, is that all I am to you? Eye candy?” she said trying to look hurt.

It didn’t work, but it did win her a rather public and very passionate kiss which answered her question.

The two parted and Rebecca caught up with her friends to continue the strange new experience of normal life.

Please comment! thier really helpful and i love reading your views.
Alyssa

Born Twice - Chapter 12 - Part 1

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

School or College Life

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Born Twice
By Alyssa Plant

'Sat on her bed in her underwear, Rebecca stared at her dress on its hanger.

Was this something she was prepared to do? She knew she wanted to, but could she compete against the real girls? Would anyone notice? '

Chapter 12

Part one — Prelude to the Ball

Rebecca woke slowly; drowsily becoming aware of her surroundings.

Had it been a month already?

She gazed lazily around the bedroom, not wanting to move and admit to the world that she had woken; around her she saw the little changes in her life that had occurred:

The vanity; makeup scattered across its surface, the little feminine trinkets that littered her personal possessions...

The ball dress that was hanging on her wardrobe; its silken material glittering in the morning sunlight.

She looked towards her bedroom wall, the photographs, the nights out, her and Paul, her and friends, a documentation of happiness.

Sitting up in bed, she felt the tears roll down her cheeks.

Shaking her head with a slight giggle, she dried her eyes; these hormones were playing with her body something chronic.

It was an amazing feeling, every day that passed; she felt more like one person. More like herself, that emerging little girl within her.

Looking down, prodded the slight bulges on her chest, tender, itchy, but still breast, her very own breasts.

“My left breast” she muttered as she felt the swelling bellow her nipple, “and my right breast” repeating the action.

That little actualization made her feel good. She was growing up. Growing into a woman.

Stretching, Rebecca crawled out of bed to find a source of caffeine that would permit her to begin the day. She would need it, today was going to be a long day.

Three classes followed by an appointment at a nearby salon for a pampering session before the ball that evening. The very thought of being on Paul’s arm made her feel gooey inside.

40 minutes later, Rebecca was on her way to class.

The sun was shining, and she felt so alive that morning. Nobody who met her would have recognised the dismal withdrawn person she had been.

The world seemed so vibrant in her eyes; smells so vibrant, colours so rich. Rebecca didn’t know if it was the hormones, or just feeling alive for the first time in her life.

Her joyous reflective mood was dampened when she arrived at her class. The gorgeous day was hidden away behind darkened rooms and PowerPoint projections. The tedium of class soon killed off any enthusiasm that had been present in the students previously.

As much as she knew she shouldn’t, every five minutes she was checking the clock.

Chewing her pen, her head on her hand she absent mindedly watched the screen, and daydreamed. Time would pass, it was inevitable.

Several hours later, she was released from the dark prison with her fellow students.

Spotting Sarah, Jenny and Amy in the crowd, Rebecca made her way through the sea of bodies towards her friends.

“Heya guys” she beamed.

“You’re in a bloody good mood, did our coursework get canceled?” Smiled Sarah

“Nupe, I just feel really good today. And I can’t stop dreaming about tonight! We going then?”

“Sure, sure” Sarah laughed, “Let’s get sexy ladies!” and arm in arm the group left the campus and headed into town.

The troop descended on ‘Les Mademoiselles Maginfiqué’ like Locust to a crop field, and soon all 4 girls were being attended to.

“Hi, I’m your stylist today! My name’s Megan! What can we do for you today?” Gushed the bubbly Hairdresser that had come to assist Rebecca.

”Well, id like something done with this” Becca Mused, running her fingers through her mousy hair, “And my nails and face done please”

“Awesome, we can do that” Replied Megan standing behind her chair.

”What can you see yourself wanting with your hair?” she chirruped fiddling with Rebecca’s mane.

Rebecca could see the funny look on Megan’s face as she saw the split ends and length.

“How long has it been?” she asked Rebecca through the mirror.

“Uh, I was sort of a tomboy, I never got my hair cut” Rebecca admitted.

“Thank god you came to us now! We may save you yet!” Beamed Megan clearly pleased to have a willing clean slate to work on.

As Megan began to work on her hair, Rebecca slipped into a daze, minutes blurring into each other. Eventually, she felt a light hand shaking her shoulder and she rose from her slumber.

Sleepily, Rebecca looked into the mirror at her reflection. Was that her?

“Is that me?” she asked a beaming Megan dumbly.

“Uhuh sweetie, you’ve been out for a while” She giggled

“Its cool I get like that when I get pampered too”

Rebecca could only nod; the girl in the mirror had a gorgeous razor cut, layered mane that fell down to lightly caress her shoulders, and a jagged fringe diagonally covering half of her right eye. Blonde highlights reflecting the light. Her makeup was sexy and subtle. Deep dark eyes, and full pouting lips, just a hint of colour oh her high cheekbones.

The girl reached up and touched her hair with deep black talons. The girl looked like she had fallen face first out of a fashion magazine.

“Wow, thank you” was all she could manage, and finally breaking contact with herself, she looked to her sides, at her friends, similarly gorgeous.
Once they had finished, the four friends paid their bills and met in the lobby of the salon; all 4 were similarly speechless…

As they walked back through town, Rebecca was conscious that every male eye gave her a good undressing, not once, but twice in most cases. She knew how she looked, but she was still terrified that their glances were realizing she was a boy underneath it all.

Sarah could see her friend’s anxiety and reached to take her hand.

Rebecca looked at Sarah, and her hand, then took it smiling a thank you. She was privileged to have someone like Sarah around for her.

Arriving back at the halls, the four parted, and went their separate ways, vowing to meet up later at the ball.

Rebecca headed inside to her floor to wait and get ready.

Sat on her bed in her underwear, Rebecca stared at her dress on its hanger.

Was this something she was prepared to do? She knew she wanted to, but could she compete against the real girls? Would anyone notice?

This would be the longest she had been with any of the others in her class; most of whom still remained nameless to her.

There was only one reason she would go tonight, and he was down the hall.

Shrugging a tee-shirt on and a pair of shorts, she left her room to find Paul. His room door was ajar, so she went to the kitchen where she found him sitting at the table with a coffee.

“Hey” she half whispered as she padded up behind him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Well hello” He smiled turning.

“Wow Becca.” He sat, mouth a gape.

“You like? She smiled twirling.

“God, wow, seriously, you look amazing, wow, uh, wow….” He tailed off.

Taking the opportunity to plonk herself down on his lap, she wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled into his chest.

He started to open his mouth to speak, when Rebecca put her finger to his lips and hushed him;

”Now if you’re going to go ‘wow oh my god’ again, ill have to tickle you” she mock scolded.

“Actually, I was going to say how proud I am of you, and how good it’s going to be to have the sexiest girl there tonight on my arm.” He smiled, leaning forwards and kissing Rebecca on the lips.

The tentative peck quickly turned into a more urgent lip lock which Becca forced herself with a heavy heart to break off, before she ruined her makeup further.

”Save it for later, ok?” she smiled.

”Later, if you want, I’m yours.” She whispered huskily staring into his eyes.

Rebecca watched Paul’s face go through a transition from confusion, to excitement, then back to confusion;

“Are you sure?” he asked, “I mean, are you ok with it? I mean, this is just because you want to… Isn’t it? Not because you feel you have to?” he spluttered.

Placing her finger on his lips once more she smiled.

“Yes, I love you Paul, Later; I want us to share that next level, ok?” she said smiling.

As she sat there, she felt a hardening beneath her and leapt off Paul’s lap.

”I said later buster…. Pass the memo on to the front lines ok?” She giggled, skipping off laughing as Paul turned Red.

This is part one of a two part chapter today. I felt it deserved breaking up, but still retained the need to be a single chapter. Part two, slightly longer, will be available this afternoon/evening. Enjoy! and please, remember to comment!

Born Twice - Chapter 12 - Part 2

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

School or College Life

TG Elements:

Fancy Dress / Prom / Evening Gown

Other Keywords:

WARNING: may trigger

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Born Twice
By Alyssa Plant

'Tonight felt weird. She couldn’t put a finger on it. It wasn’t the weather, anything that had happened; she just felt nervous.

Sighing, she realised it was just her stupid fear of being seen as a boy cropping up once more. Stupid irrational, senseless, fear... She kicked herself mentally.'

Chapter 12

Part Two — A night to remember.

“Well, you look amazing” Jules commented as she zipped the back of Rebecca’s dress up.

Becca had found the dress in a sale at a small boutique in town; it was black, and floor length, with thin spaghetti straps, and a fitted bodice. Simple elegance…

”Come on then, do a twirl for me sweetie.”

Rebecca slowly rotated around, watching anxiously for Julie’s reaction.

“Any good?” she asked nervously.

“Love, your smoking, there’s more chance that you will come out to your parents tonight, than there is of anyone realising your little defect sweetie” She replied softly hugging Rebecca.

“Knock em dead girl” She smiled crushing her friend to her.

Rebecca walked out of her room with Julie, and locking the door, went to knock on Paul’s door, the nerves from that first morning that she visited this room returned. Julie smiled and gave her a thumbs up as she left the flat.

Paul opened the door, looking so dreamy in his black tuxedo and bow tie.

‘God he’s sexy…’ Rebecca mused to herself.

“Wow you look even better than before!” he exclaimed.

“Wow, that dress is SO good on you!”

Rebecca beamed and twirled for him

“God I could eat you alive” he groaned.

“Hey save that for later” she giggled winking and taking his hand, dragging him out of the room.

Outside, their taxi was waiting, and the two climbed in to head to the ball.

As they drove through town, Rebecca reflected on how things had been, how she ended up here and now. A shiver ran down her spine, causing her to pull her shawl tight around her shoulders.

Tonight felt weird. She couldn’t put a finger on it. It wasn’t the weather, anything that had happened; she just felt nervous.

Sighing, she realised it was just her stupid fear of being seen as a boy cropping up once more. Stupid irrational, senseless, fear... She kicked herself mentally.

The Taxi pulled up outside the Hotel that was hosting the event, and Paul, having paid the taxi driver, jumped out to open Rebecca’s door for her; assisting his lady to her feet.

Arm in arm, the couple walked up the stairs to the hotel lobby. Rebecca felt majestic on Paul’s arm, like a princess. She knew she would remember tonight forever.

A waitress approached the pair with a tray of champagne glasses, which they gladly accepted.

Rebecca spotted Sarah and Amy across the room, and waved to the pair and their dates. Both girls returned the wave, and steered their partners in Paul and Rebecca’s direction.

“Hey guys” Rebecca smiled, “Are you going to introduce us?”

“This is Mark, my boyfriend beamed Sarah happily, and this,” she gestured to Amy’s date, is her brother Toby.

“Looking to go on the pull then Ames?” Rebecca grinned.

“Not while I’m still sober enough to beat whichever toe rag she tries to….” Grinned Toby; earning himself an elbow to the ribs.

“Siblings eh?” grinned Sarah.

“Come on guys, lets go, the meal is about to start” Amy chimed in.

The 6 joined the others making their way into the dining room.

Rebecca was overawed at the splendour of the room, chandeliers glistened, and silver sparkled in the candle lit room.

Finding their allotted Table, Paul held Rebecca’s chair for her, a move that put Mark in Sarah’s bad books.

The chatter at the table died down as the Starters were brought out, and the classical ensemble struck up a piece by Chopin.

The group chatted lightly throughout the meal, discussing everything from their course work, to home lives. Rebecca felt a pang of guilt at that topic, and had to avoid most of the questions when they were directed at her.

As the meal ended, the group rose, and the girls excused themselves to make use of the facilities.

Once inside, Rebecca went to check her makeup, a gaggle of girls entered behind them. And one girl, Marisa Jenkins stopped dead.

“I want you out of here” she hissed at Rebecca.

“Wha?” Rebecca turned to face her, feeling the blood drain from her face.

“You know what I mean you… you little gender bender, I’m not sharing this bathroom with you or any of your other girlyboy kind…. Get out!”

Just then, Sarah joined Rebecca at the sinks.

”Leave her alone Marisa, she’s done nothing to you” Spat Sarah with venom that Rebecca didn’t know she possessed.

“NO I WONT” screamed Marisa.
“GET OUT, you aren’t a girl, you don’t belong in here, I don’t want you perving on me freak!” she screeched.

Feeling tears coming, Rebecca pushed past her and out of the toilets, and ran into Lobby to find Paul, hearing laughter and shouting behind her.

Running into his arms she sobbed.

“What’s wrong sweetie?” he asked her, concern written on his face.

“Marisa” she sobbed, “Marissa knows about me, she’s going to tell everyone” she said, her voice cracking as she cried.

“Hush baby, nobodies gonna hurt you ok? I’m here; I’m yours no matter what. Fuck them.” He whispered into her ear.

Lifting her face to his, he whispered again, “FUCK THEM, you hear?”

Rebecca nodded softly, sadness engrained on her face.

“Now fix yourself up ok? Come on, over here, use the ladies down here, ill stop anyone else following you to cause trouble ok?” he soothed as he led her down the lobby to a different set of toilets.

Sarah came running out of the Toilets then, and spotting Paul guarding the door, ran over to him.

“Where is she? Is she ok?” she asked anxiously.

“She’s ok I hope, she’s just fixing her face, she’s been crying, what the fuck did that girl do to her?” he hissed through clenched teeth.

Sarah retold the story from the bathroom.

Marisa fully intended to tell everyone about Rebecca, vindictive backstabbing bitch that she was.

Sarah slowly slid into the toilets, and found Rebecca slumped on the floor, sitting staring into space.

“You ok sweetie?” she soothed as she knelt down beside her, wrapping the girl in her arms.

Rebecca sobbed again into her arm.

“Come on honey, let’s fix your face and help you enjoy the party. They can’t spoil it for you. Not everyone is like her; I bet most people hate HER for it….”

Rebecca nodded sadly and got to her feet.
Shakily, she repaired her makeup, and turned to Sarah.

”I, I don’t know if I can go back out there.” She said blankly. Her eyes almost glazed over.

“Yes you can, and have to, or she will have won.”

Just then, Amy and Jenny came into the bathroom.

“Oh guys I’m sorry” Rebecca wailed, “I lied to you, I’m sorry”

“Are you a boy or a girl Rebecca?” Amy asked.

“I’m, I am a girl.” Rebecca announced, with resolve she didn’t know she possessed.

Amy looked at Jenny; “Well then, what’s the bloody fuss love?” She smiled hugging Rebecca.

“We really don’t care, Jenny said smiling. “You are a girl, trust us, we know one when we see one!”

Rebecca started to feel less lost. Her friends supported her, surely others would too? Maybe they were right. She had to stand up for herself, or be trampled in the process.

“I’m ready to go back out.” She announced more to herself than the others.

“You sure?” Sarah asked,

“Not really, but hell, I wont ever be” Rebecca grinned nervously.

The 4 headed out of the toilet to meet Paul, still playing guard dog by the door.

His expression of anger softened to one of concern.

“Are you ok? He asked, reaching for Rebecca’s hand.

She nodded, still pale, but resolute.

The 5 headed back out to the Lobby, and entered the now thumping ballroom to join the others and resume the party.

One or two looked at Rebecca, she felt it was many more.

Mark and Toby rejoined the group, and pledged their support for Rebecca.

She glanced across the room to see Marisa and her cronies laughing and staring at her, whispering to one another.

Seconds later, Rebecca heard a cough behind her.

“Excuse me, um sir, um miss.” Muttered a rather confused looking Hotel manager.

”It’s been brought to the attention of the hotel that you’re a cross dresser using the ladies toilets. We must ask you to use the men’s room, or if you ask us, the disabled toilet. We have standards here.” He announced with increasing pompousness.

Rebecca stood gawping at him. She snapped out of her trance as Marisa and her cronies and their boyfriends pushed rudely past muttering things like ‘shemale’ and ‘tranny’ at her.

“Sir, I must confirm you understand this rule.” The manager pushed.

The man didn’t see Paul’s fist come out of nowhere.

“Who the fuck do you think you are you asshole?” he yelled at the manager.

“Leave my girlfriend alone, how dare you come in here insulting her like that!” he seethed.

The man got to his feet holding his jaw and glared at Paul

“Get out, and take your boyfriend with you” he sneered at Paul and with a disgusted look at Rebecca, he turned and left.

The gang exchanged looks, and they prepared to all leave.

“Guys seriously, stay, finish the night. We’ll just go; we don’t want to stay here anyway.” Rebecca said to Sarah and the gang.

“This is totally not fair!” Sarah growled. “I Swear, I’m telling my dad about this guy, he’s a lawyer and will sue his ass for gender discrimination!”

“Leave it Sarah” Rebecca begged. “I just want to forget this now”

Tugging Paul’s arm, the two exited the hotel and began to walk down the Drive towards the main road to hail a taxi.

About halfway down the drive, Rebecca felt a huge force knock Paul from her.

She tried to scream, but as before she could she was grabbed roughly around the arms by a large body.
She could see Paul on the floor, being kicked by two large boys. Boys she recognised from her class, the dates of Marisa and Karen. She felt herself being turned. And came face to face with Marisa Jenkins;

“You fucking shemale slag” screeched Marisa, punching Rebecca in the tummy.

She wanted to double over to regain her breath, but she was pinned upright, and the blows continued until she blacked out from the pain.

The last thing she remembered was crying out Paul’s name.

Born Twice - Chapter 13

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Transgender

TG Themes:

School or College Life

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Other Keywords:

Hospital

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Born Twice
By Alyssa Plant

Chapter 13

*Bleep bleep*

The first thing that Rebecca noticed was her hearing, swirling back into function. What was that sound?

*Bleep bleep*

Was she dead? Where the hell was she?

Everything seemed so white, so barren….

Ceiling tiles, that was it, and neon lights, it was noisy beyond the annoying bleeping. Rebecca felt like she had woken up in Piccadilly Station.

Rebecca blinked twice, trying to clear her vision. Her other senses began to swim back into her control.

Hospital?

It hit her like a train. It was dark, fists, angry voices. Oh god, it wasn’t a dream.

She felt the ears welling in her eyes, and sliding out of the corners of her eyes as she lay there.

Where was Paul?

Fear washed over her as she tried to sit up in the bed.

Immediately the pain made her scream out and fall back. She had just started pulling at the drip on her arm as a nurse burst through the doors.

“Stay still love, you’re in hospital, Shush, its ok.” She soothed as she held a sobbing, struggling Rebecca.

As Rebecca’s sobbing slowed to infrequent shudders. The nurse moved to lower her to the bed.

”You have to rest dear; you’ve been through a lot.”

“W… Wha” Rebecca croaked. “Wh... what happened to me?” she managed to get out as the nurse offered her a sip of water that she gladly accepted.

“You were admitted about 11 this evening. You’re in the Manchester Royal Infirmary. You were attacked love.” She soothed as she brushed some hair from Rebecca’s eyes with her hand.
“Ill go get your doctor love, he can tell you more, ok dear?”

Smiling at Rebecca, the nurse left the room to make a phone call from the nurses’ station.

About 20 minutes later, at least it seemed that long to Rebecca, a young doctor knocked on the door to her room and entered.

He was in his mid 30s, tall and handsome. His eyes were caring and soft, he was a gentle man.

“Hi there, I hear your awake now?”

Rebecca nodded slowly.

The doctor came forwards and sat down in the chair next to her bed. This could not be good she thought.

“Well, uh, First, I need to sort something out; you are a girl aren’t you?”

Rebecca nodded slowly once again, a look of panic spreading across her face.

“I understand, don’t worry, your friends that came to visit you told me everything, I understand it can’t be easy for you.”

“Firstly, your parents are driving up once they heard about you being hurt.”

Rebecca nearly passed out again; this was NOT the time for this talk.

“Ah…” said the doctor with realisation.

“They don’t know they have a daughter do they?”

“No” Rebecca mumbled in a tiny voice.

“How long have you been on hormones?” he probed gently.

“Uh, a month or so?”

The doctor looked stunned.

“Are you being honest with me?” he questioned.

“Yes, of course I am, I’ve only really known for just under 2 months, its all been sort of sudden.

“That is interesting…” the doctor admitted with a frown,

”Id like to take some blood and run some tests, but that can wait till after.”

“This isn’t easy…” He began, and she knew what was coming.

“The boy you were brought in with, Paul?”

A stone dropped into the pit of Rebecca’s stomach.

“He suffered a great deal of brain damage, and we lost him shortly after he arrived. I’m sorry.”

Rebecca felt a wave of nausea flood over her, then her mouth suddenly went dry and she felt cold.

He was dead?

Paul was dead?

This was her fault…. This was all her fault.

Rebecca burst into tears and not quite sure what to do, the young doctor placed his hand on hers and gave it a squeeze of comfort.

She didn’t know how long she had cried for, but when she finally realised she had stopped, the young doctor was still by her side, and her head hurt like hell.

The wave of guilt had been replaced by the realisation that his loss was her fault

She had become who she was, she had gotten involved in the ball, the fight, and the eventual attack was her fault entirely…

If she hadn’t existed, Paul would still be here.

Her dear, sweet beautiful, kind Paul.

He didn’t deserve this.

”WHY” she asked out loud to herself.

“They were animals.” Came the quiet reply from the doctor she had forgotten was there.

Rebecca turned to look at him with a look of confusion and shock on her face at being reminded of his presence.

“What they did to you… to Paul, and why…. It was wrong.” The doctor said quietly squeezing her hand.

“I’ve known you for short period of time, but I can see you’re an amazing person… They are evil sad people.”

“Look, I have to go, but ill send your friends in, I Know there’s several of them down in the relatives room. It will help take your mind off things….”

“Oh, and there’s a police officer who wants a word with you later, ill tell them you need some time ok?”

Rebecca nodded noncommittally.

A few moments later there was a quiet knock at the door.

Sarah was there, so was Amy and Jenny, Mark and Toby.

“Come in guys, I’m not contagious”

Sarah walked up to the bed and hugged her friend tightly.

”I’m sorry” she whispered. “I’m so sorry”

Rebecca felt the hot tears falling from her friends eyes and hugged her tight. Soon they were joined by Jenny and Amy, leaving the boys standing awkwardly by the door.

The group chatted quietly for the next hour or so. Rebecca began to feel more human again.

She had heard that Marisa had been gloating about the attack once she returned to the ball, shortly thereafter, she and Paul had been found, and the guilty had been arrested rather publicly for murder, and attempted murder.

It gave her a small satisfaction to think of that bitch in a cell. Her smug demeanour shattered.

There was a knock at the door, and looking up; Rebecca spotted 2 people in suits. The police?

“Uh hello?” she asked, her friend immediately falling silent.

“Charlie Anderson?”

“Uh, yes” Rebecca responded, already wondering if this was going to be as difficult as she feared.

“Guys, can you give us some time?” Rebecca said to Sarah and the gang.

“Sure sweetie, see you in an hour or so.” Amy whispered, giving Rebecca a hug.

The detectives stood by door looking uncomfortable as the gang made their way out.

“Uh, what can I do for you?” she asked.

“We are from the Greater Manchester Police. We are here for your statement on your assault Miss.” Announced the young woman detective; a petite blonde in a sharp suit. “I’m Detective Miller, and this is Detective Parker.” She announced, gesturing to her colleague, a tall man with greying hair and glasses.

“Ah right, I’m sorry, I don’t remember much.” Rebecca replied.

“It was all so fast. Once it happened.”

“So why did you go to the party as a woman?” the cold voice of DI Parker chipped in.

“I uh, I am one?” Rebecca struggled.

Detective Miller Gave Parker a dirty look.

“I’m sorry MISS Anderson, My Colleague is a little antiquated.” She said glaring at the older man.

“We have a rough idea of what happened from your friends and some other witnesses. Can you fill in the blanks for us?”

The police officers and Rebecca talked for about 2 hours. And by the end, Rebecca was physically and emotionally drained.

She had the faces of the 5 attackers etched in her memory now. Whether that was good or bad, she did not know.

The thought of a trial made her blood run cold. She would be the media’s plaything….

Rebecca was pondering the possibilities of the trial as there was a sharp intake of breath at the door.

“Charles?” Her mother and father stood at the door, mouths agape…..

Born Twice - Chapter 14

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

School or College Life

Other Keywords:

Hospital

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Born Twice
By Alyssa Plant (evil cow)

'“How are you feeling, ah, Rebecca?” the doctor asked consulting his chart.

“Like I was beaten up” Rebecca replied dryly.'

Chapter 14

*Bleep bleep*

“Ok, put her on a 24mg drip, I’ll check back in about an hour.”

“Yes Doctor”

*Bleep bleep*

Rebecca felt like she had been lying with her mouth open for a long time, her mouth and throat were bone dry and sore.

Everything seemed so over sensitive at the moment, pain spread though her body like a slow burn.

Clenching her fist she felt the tug of her skin against a needle in her arm.

It felt like she could feel everything. Almost as if it was easier than visually trying visually assess things. Keeping her eyes closed for now felt safe; a detachment from the reality of where she was.

Clearly a hospital bed.

Opening her eyes felt like a labour.

Bright light filtered through her barely open eyelids; it seemed almost blinding.

Maybe not yet.

“Ugh hello” she croaked.

“Doctor, she’s awake”

“Can you hear me love?”

Footfalls and detached voices, bodiless voices filled her mind.

Rebecca forced her eyes open, and a room flooded into view.

A concerned nurse and a middle-aged male doctor stood by her side.

“Where am i?”

This all seemed like a bad dream, a sadistic dream, or was it? A strong feeling of déjá vu swam around her head.

“You’re in the Royal Manchester love… Do you remember what happened?”

Nodding sorely, Rebecca checked her recollection.

”I was attacked at my End of year ball?” she whispered.

“Yes dear” Soothed the nurse. “Its ok, you’re safe now.”

“Paul?” Rebecca questioned more to herself than the nurse.

“Ill check love.” She soothed. “This is Doctor Martin; he will tell you what’s been happening.”

With a warm smile the nurse vanished.

“How are you feeling, ah, Rebecca?” the doctor asked consulting his chart.

“Like I was beaten up” Rebecca replied dryly.

“Yes, you were. You were admitted last night. He answered.

“You have several broken ribs, and a lot of bruising, but I think you’ll live to fight another day… ah sorry” Realising his sense of humour was not needed.

“Are you feeling up to visitors? We have several of your friends outside.” He asked trying to divert Rebecca’s attention from his faux pas.

Rebecca nodded and the doctor nodded, writing on his chart and left.

About 5 minutes later she was inundated by very gentle hugs from her friends. Amy, Sarah and Jenny looked like they had not been home. Their hair was messy and still in their gowns. Mark and Toby were in just their dress shirts and tuxedo trousers. That wasn’t what she thought it was on their shirts was it?

“We were so worried” gushed Amy. When we heard the commotion outside we came to find you and by the time we got there, they had run off.

“I’m so sorry we didn’t come with you, it might not have happened.” Sobbed Sarah

“Guys, I told you not to.” Scolded Rebecca, she had to remove the blame from her friends.

“Is Paul….?” She whispered glancing at the boys bloody shirts.

“No no he’s ok” Jenny soothed. “He got stabbed; there was a lot of blood.” The ambulance got there just in time they said.

Rebecca felt a massive weight lift from her chest.

“Can I sit up guys” she asked, almost smiling. Soon, with her friends’ assistance she was sitting in the bed and feeling almost her old self again.

Giggling at the irony of such a thought made her clutch her chest in pain as her ribs moved.

”What is it?” asked an anxious Toby.

”Oh nothing, when you told me he was ok, I just felt great, I had a bad dream I think. And I thought to myself ‘you know, I feel like almost my old self again’” Rebecca replied, refraining from the temptation to giggle again.

“We were so worried Bex” Frowned Amy.

“We all feel partly to blame, I know you said we aren’t, but still, I feel partly responsible for everything. We...” she glanced around the others.

“We are here for you, for good now. We’re on your side, and nothing will stop that.”

Rebecca felt a tear roll down her cheek, friends? This wasn’t exactly new, but friends who had her back? Who had and would stand up for her? This was new, and try as she might, she couldn’t keep herself from crying.

Later on, after the group were ushered out of the room by the mother hen nurse, Rebecca sat by herself. Quietly aching and reflecting on this whole mess.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the doctor’s reappearance at her bedside.

“Are you feeling better Miss Anderson?”

Rebecca nodded.

“Can I see Paul? My boyfriend? Please…” she begged.

“I’m not sure you should be walking around right now, but I can see if we can find an orderly with a wheelchair if you promise to not get too amorous, he’s still in Intensive Care.” The doctor mock scolded.

Sitting down on the end of her bed he set his clipboard down and sighed.

“Its funny, I’d have thought a girl in your position would have asked for us to contact her parents at the first opportunity…. I take it they aren’t privy to everything?” he said nodding his head towards Rebecca.

She blushed.

“Uh, yeah, I don’t think now is a good time for them to see me…” she trailed off.

“How long have you been transitioned?” Doctor Martin asked.

Rebecca studied his face for a moment. He looked genuine and caring enough.

“A few months” she whispered.

“I understand how hard it is, believe me.” He replied “Have you thought about how you’re going to tell them?”

Rebecca shook her head.

“It was something I was avoiding I guess.” She admitted, breaking eye contact with him.

“I understand.” He replied.

“I remember coming out to my parents at your age. They were sort of ok with a gay son, but never the same. It’s what pushed me into medicine”

Rebecca looked into Dr Martin’s eyes. This was a kind caring man.

“I just worry that they will think I’m some pervert” She whispered. “Like they…” she tailed off.

“I hope they catch the bastards that did this to you two. It was disgusting, and heinous.” He growled.

The anger that flared in his eyes was palpable. Rebecca could see the flames of his soul dancing in those glassy pits.

It made her feel good; human. She was a victim, not some weirdo getting her just deserts. It empowered her. What’s more, his words made sense.

“Can you call my parents” She asked.

Dr Martin didn’t look entirely surprised.

“Sure.” He said with a hint of a smile. “What should I tell them? Gender wise?”

Rebecca thought for a moment.

“Tell them their child has been attacked, and is here. They will probably mention ‘Charlie’” she mused.

Try to not drop them any hints I guess. Ill try to make myself more androgynous before they come.” She said.

Dr Martin snorted.

“Look love.” He grinned. “You don’t look remotely androgynous. I can’t imagine you looked any more male before you accepted yourself. Just go with the flow, and possibly pull the blanket over your chest. Hmm?” He grinned as Rebecca as she blushed, realising her chest was that obvious.

Patting her leg he smiled. “You’re a good kid. I hope it works out. Ill go call, then send an orderly to take you to lover boy.” He smiled and left.

As Rebecca was pushed though the hallways to the ICU, she felt acutely aware that people were looking at her.

Not confused, but pity…

As they passed a glass walled conference room, she realised why.

“Can you stop a moment.” She begged the bored looking orderly.

Looking in the darkened glass, she saw why she was the focus of so much attention.

She looked like a frightened little girl. Her face was black and blue. Bruised cheekbone, black eye, swollen lips.

She looked like she had gone 6 rounds with boxer.

As they continued down the hallway, she wondered what people must think.

A beaten up girl? Was she the sort of image people associated with pity?

She wondered if they would feel as sorry if they knew the full details.

As they Entered Paul’s room, she thanked the orderly, who went to wait outside.

Gingerly, she got to her feet, and approached Paul’s bedside.

He was sleeping peacefully. Tubes and machines bleeped away oblivious of her presence.

She crawled onto the bed next to Paul, and wrapped her arm around his chest, bellow his bandages and dressings and snuggled her head into his armpit.

She felt so safe next to him. So protected.

”You must be Rebecca” A voice said behind her.

Sitting up abruptly, she slid off the bed and turned to face the voice.

A woman was stood before her; she looked to be in her early 40s, about 5’8 with her Auburn hair up in a bun. She was by the door with a coffee in her hand looking distinctly tired.

She nodded meekly.

“I’m Mrs Harper” She explained. “Paul’s mother.”

“My you poor dear, you were there when he was attacked?” She said, looking sympathetic.

“I uh, was the reason he was attacked, I’m sorry” Rebecca answered, before sinking to one of the bedside chairs; “it’s all my fault she sobbed.

Mrs Harper Put her arm around Rebecca and pulled the girl to her bosom and allowed her to cry it out of her system.

The two talked for some time.

“Your past was no justification.” Mrs said.

“You’re a lovely young woman, and I’m glad my son is seeing someone as truly special as you. You’re true to yourself and him.”

“Can I ask you something?” she asked quietly.

Rebecca nodded.

“Do you love him?”

“Very much” Rebecca whispered.

“Good” Replied Mrs Harper. “Then I want you to know you are welcome in our home at any time dear, as if you were one of my own daughters.” She smiled, opening her arms to Rebecca

It was truly too much, and Rebecca hugged Mrs Harper as she cried tears of happiness.

Please comment!

Born Twice - Chapter 15

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

School or College Life

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Other Keywords:

Coming Out

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Born Twice
By Alyssa Plant

'There was a knock at the door and as she turned she came face to face with her mother.

Rebecca’s heart skipped a beat and her mouth began to work but no sound came out.

“Oh sorry, wrong room” Christine muttered and turned to go.

“Wait mum!” Rebecca cried, more upset now by the lack of recognition by her own mother.'

Chapter 15

It was later that day. Rebecca had been returned to her room after seeing Paul’s mother.

She felt strange.

Almost as if she had experienced this painful day so many times, so many ways.

Any way this happened, it was still her fault. That was clear. Her tired brain ran through possible scenarios again, nothing seemed different.

It was her fault.

That much was clear in her head. Whilst so many things swam around. She knew that much.

Meeting Paul’s mother had been unexpected, but not an unpleasant experience. She was a lovely woman Rebecca thought. Would her parents be able to see things the same way?

Surely people who were meant to love her unconditionally could accept something easier than the parent of a lover; a person without the blood debt of family bonding them together, making them face issues like this.

They would be ok with it?

Right?

Rebecca shook the thought from her head. Her stomach was twisting and churning enough without constantly wondering. That knot of fear gripped her belly so tightly she felt light headed with nausea.

Sliding out of her bed she gripped the IV stand tight for support, walked over to the window.

The sun was strong and bright this morning. It all seemed so pleasant, such a beautiful day.

There was a knock at the door and as she turned she came face to face with her mother.

Rebecca’s heart skipped a beat and her mouth began to work but no sound came out.

“Oh sorry, wrong room” Christine muttered and turned to go.

“Wait mum!” Rebecca cried, more upset now by the lack of recognition by her own mother.

“Charlie?” Her mother turned with a look of confusion written on her face.

“Oh dear, I didn’t recognise you, you really need a haircut.”

Her parents seemed to be ignoring the issue again.

“What happened to you son?” her father asked, standing by the end of the bed with his hands in his pockets, holding his suit jacket open.

“I was beaten dad” She said quietly.

“Why didn’t you fight them boy? What have I told you about how a man should act?” He sighed.

“I bet they thought he was Gay” David muttered to his wife.

“DAD!” Rebecca Screeched, immediately covering her mouth with her hands. “I uh, um, sorry.

“What was that?” Her mother turned looking shocked.

”Talk more like a young man should, not screaming like a teenage girl dear.”

Rebecca looked away at that comment. She felt like she had been slapped in the face by her mother.

“Mum, Dad…” She looked at each of them in turn before staring off into space to compose herself.

“I am”.

“You are what dear?” Christine asked.

“I’m a girl mum”.

Christine Anderson stood looking slightly confused for a moment.

”You are a boy dear, I gave birth to you. If anyone knows, I do.”

Feeling emboldened by saying the words, Rebecca pressed on.

“Mum, I’m not a boy; I might be one, there…” She gestured towards her crotch. “But I’m not one here.” she said, placing her hand to her heart.

Her Mother sat down rather abruptly in the chair beside her bed.

Through her teary eyes, Rebecca looked up at her father, who had remained silent throughout.

He simply stood there with a stern expression on his face. Rebecca longed for him to shout and be angry. At least then she would know how he felt.

”Daddy?” she whimpered.

“You got a real bang on the head didn’t you son?” he said matter of factly.

“They sent you to a doctor about these delusions you are having?”

“Dad…” Was all she could say... Her heart was broken.

“Don’t dad me…. Do you know what you are saying Charlie?” he continued.

“You are telling me and your mother, the two people who raised you, that you aren’t who we raised, and you don’t think you are mentally unstable? You are a not a woman…. You won’t ever be a woman, and I won’t let you be a woman. So you had better get used to being a man, and act like one.”

There was a fire in her father’s eyes she had never seen before. She was scared.

“But Dad, this isn’t because of the attack…” I’ve felt this way for a long time, please, just try and understand what I’m saying…” she pleaded

“Don’t tell me you were dressed up as a woman when you got beaten up?” her mother sighed.

“Is this why you are in hospital? Some boys didn’t like seeing a man in a dress and attacked you? Oh god, you can’t prosecute now… what will they think?”

Rebecca’s mouth fell open.

”MUM!?” she gasped.

“Well dear you don’t look like a girl, what did you expect? Really?”

“Uh mum, have you looked at me recently?” Rebecca said feeling rather hurt by her mother’s comments.

Christine cocked her head slightly and looked at Rebecca.

“You look like a boy with breasts dear.” She said simply. “Hang on, you have breasts?!” she exclaimed.

Reaching out, she touched Rebecca’s chest. What are you wearing under that gown? Stuffing a bra with tissue doesn’t make you have breasts dea…..” her voice trailed off as her hand contacted Rebecca’s chest.

“Oh my gosh.” She said simply.

“When were you going to tell us about this?” She asked.

Rebecca felt tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I don’t know” she whispered. “I was working out how to tell you before this happened…” She sighed.

Looking across at her father, he just looked angry still.

”I can’t deal with this.” He announced. “My son is a fucking fairy…” He yelled as he walked out the door.

Looking back at her mother. She was sobbing uncontrollably now. “Mum…?” she half begged.

“I don’t know Charlie, I don’t know if we can deal with this. I’m sorry.” She said solemnly.

“But Mum” Rebecca sobbed.

“Mum nothing Charlie, I don’t know if I’m comfortable with what you are doing to yourself….

All these years I’ve never seen you act remotely feminine, you were our good handsome boy.”

”MUM I'M YOUR CHILD” Rebecca hissed through clenched teeth. “How can you leave me like this?”

“Now you pull yourself together you hear?” her mother shouted. “I have to go find your father and we have things to do, I’m sorry, I cannot, no, I will not deal with this. You are our son, not our daughter. You will always be our son.” She announced with an air of finality.

She was about to speak again, when a nurse appeared at the door.

”Excuse me Mrs Anderson, But Rebecca needs to rest now.”

Christine looked scandalised. “REBECCA? Cant you see he’s a boy?” she gasped.

“Mrs Anderson, you’re child needs to rest, she’s still unwell.” The nurse repeated flatly ignoring Christine’s tirade.

“Gathering her bag and glaring at the nurse, Christine Anderson marched out of the room without a backward glance at Rebecca.

“MUM!” Rebecca shouted through her tears.

The nurse came into the room and sat down on the bed next to Rebecca.

“I’m sorry dear” She whispered. “I thought it was best I ask her to leave, you were getting very upset.”

Rebecca nodded through her sobs.

”Aw love it will work out in the end” the nurse cooed hugging Rebecca to her and letting her cry.

Her parents, the ones who were meant to love her forever were acting like she was some deviant freak.

Maybe she shouldn’t have called for them? What if she hadn’t been attacked?
What if she had been a boy for her parents? Could she be a boy for them? Would they forgive this as past?

The last thought Rebecca had before she drifted off to sleep was that there was no way she could go back now. This was her life that she was beginning to live. She would die before she went back to being that shroud of sadness they called their son.

She could, no, she would live.

From the Author: Really sorry this has taken so long guys! I’m snowed under with coursework, not sure when the next chapters will come, but ill try to get something out once a week if I can. Damn degrees, Damn Tonsillitis, and Damn Dams!

Focal Point

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Organizational:

Title Page

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Taxonomy upgrade extras:

Focal Point

By Alyssa Plant

Michael Cohen's dream was to protect and serve as a police officer.... That job didn't satisfy him until one day, when people without names came to visit. He wanted to make a difference, but he didn't expect it to make a difference to him, too...

Focal Point - Chapter 1 - 3

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

Other Keywords:

Taxonomy upgrade extras:

BigCloset Retro-Classic

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

----------=BigCloset Retro Classic!=----------

Michael Cohen's dream was to protect and serve as a police officer.... That job didn't satisfy him, until one day,
when people without names came to visit. He wanted to make a difference, but he didn't expect it to make a difference to him, too...

Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf on Sunday 03-29-2009 at 06:51:42 -0400 pm, this retro classic was pulled out of the closet, and re-presented for our newer readers.~Sephrena

Chapter 1

*CRACK* the rifle jumped into my shoulder as my finger caressed the hair trigger. Through the telescopic lens I could see a perfect circle intersecting the two already on the bulls’ eye down range.

“Awesome shooting Mike,” chuckled Sergeant Harry Thompson beside me as he observed the holed target at the 500m line through his binoculars.

“Oh it’s nothing really,” I grinned, rolling onto my side and resting my head on my hand. “Someone’s got to be this good.”

“Sure.” Harry grinned. “They need somewhere to keep that ego.”

Throwing an empty ammunition carton at him, I stood and collected my equipment. It was early evening on the second Monday of the month, and as usual we had spent the day on the ranges outside London training. The door kickers, the men in the unit who’s job it was to enter hostile buildings, were working on room clearance on the other side of the training area, according to the infrequent bursts of popping gunfire, and aside from myself and Harry, 8 other sniper teams had been practicing on the 1000 yard range. Harry and myself had spent an extra hour on the range in the growing twilight, we were perfectionists, and I always tried to practice in as adverse conditions as possible. Nut jobs with guns rarely waited till it was calm and sunny.

Zipping up my rifle bag, I slipped it over my shoulder and followed my spotter out towards the car park.

“You coming out for a beer with the off duty team later?” Harry asked looking over at me.

“Maybe,” I murmured chewing my lip. “I figured I’d just stay in tonight,” I said with a non-committal shrug.

“You never come out mate. You got a bird on the side you ain’t telling us about?” He probed jokingly. “She must be fucking hot to keep you away from us.”

“Yeah, 5’10, Swedish, blonde, great rack,” I laughed. “If only…. maybe some other time Harry.”

Harry leant against the roof of his Car and looked at me or a moment before shaking his head and slipping into the driver’s seat.

“See you tomorrow Mike,” he waved as he drove off.

I stood for a moment in the growing dark, before shaking myself mentally and slipping the gun case into the boot of my unmarked police car and slipping behind the wheel.

I made the drive back into London on autopilot; the roads were quiet after the evening rush to leave the metropolis. I arrived back at New Scotland Yard without much trouble and returned my rifle and ammo to the armoury before changing into my jeans, polo shirt and jacket and slipping out of the station and onto the streets.

I had loved the work at first. It had been a pleasure to make a difference to the community… or so I thought. Policing didn’t really involve much actual crime solving, or helping of the innocent. Looking back, I think I had imagined the force as some sort of institutionalised super hero club; protecting the innocent and hunting down the guilty… Not quite reality.

I had joined the police straight out of 6th form: Fresh faced and eighteen years old, I’d gone into the Met to protect and serve, as the saying goes. After four years on the beat, I applied to the firearms unit and after an inordinate amount of vetting, shrinks and tests, I was accepted. I had shown exceptional promise in my training. Almost immediately I had been trained to become a marksman. I wasn’t some American redneck that grew up with a gun in my cradle, but I had a natural ability: An ironic talent for the son of a green peace activist and her City Stockbroker husband.

I made my way off the dark windy streets into the hot, bright caverns of the London Underground at St James Street and fought my way down into the hive of tunnels. It was after rush hour, so there was less of a crowd in subterranean London, but it was by no means quiet. I silently made my way, ignoring those around me as they followed suit. Two changes later, I was breathing in the moist cold surface air in Battersea Park. The car fumes made a pleasant change to the warm dry air below ground. A brisk walk later, and I was climbing the stairs to my apartment.

I owned the place; my parents had bought it for me when I left school so I could ‘make a go of it’. It had been my first place away from home, and I had felt quite alone… Shortly after moving in, I had advertised for roommates to occupy the two spare bedrooms in the place. I didn’t need help with the rent… there wasn’t any, but the money certainly helped with my pitiful Officer’s salary. My roommates were quite interesting characters. I had met Becky in a bar shortly after moving in. We had got on like a house on fire, but not in the sexual way. We seemed to click as friends, much to my dismay. She had confessed that she was looking for a new place, and my offer had been readily accepted. She was a perky little brunette, the sort of girl that was perpetually on a sugar high. Her enthusiasm was infectious; making her excel in her chosen profession as fitness instructor at a swanky city health club. The depressing thing was she probably made more than me. Pete was a stockbroker like my father, considerably lower on the tree however. He had studied at Oxford and had the air of public school boy about him. He had seen my advert in the paper, and had never looked back. He was the type of City processional that was native to London; perfect suit, receding short cropped hair, late 20s and air of confidence. The three of us got on surprisingly well.

I shoved the door closed behind me with a foot, dumping my keys on the sideboard and throwing my jacket near the coat rack.

“Uh-oh, he’s home.” Becky announced poking her head above the back of the Sofa. “Fun day?”

I shrugged noncomittally as I walked past her into the kitchen to get myself a beer out of the fridge. Walking back, I slumped into one of the chairs and opened my beer, taking a long drink of the cold liquid, flushing the dusty air-conditioning taste of the tube out of my mouth.

“It was range day, of course I had fun,” I replied sarcastically. “You know I like getting paid to shoot stuff.”

Becky chuckled as she flipped the page of her book. She was dressed as usual at home, in her shorts and a vest, cross legged on the sofa. “So you keep telling me Mr Oswald,” she grinned impishly.

“Knock it off you.” I replied shaking my head. “Anything fun in endorphin land?

Becky proceeded to tell me all about the clients she had coached that day, and the different bits of celebrity gossip she had heard. I tuned out slightly, all the while nodding politely and drinking my beer.

Pete got home about an hour later and proceeded to inform me of the vital goings on in the money world. He was a nice guy, but very wrapped up in his job. As he told me about the value of the dollar relative to the euro and what it meant to potatoes, Becky feigned a suicide attempt and it was all my bodily control to not laugh. Pete still noticed, and with the practiced ease of three friends, knew exactly who to aim his cushion at. The indignant squeak that followed the impact proved the last nail in my coffin and I burst out laughing. After a series of repeats and increasingly dull quiz shows I was yawning, so dragging myself off the sofa I bid my roommates goodnight and retired to my room: Sleep was fitful.

I woke the next morning to the radio alarm blaring out some mindless poppy tune by some other clone. Blearily, I dragged my feet from under the covers and sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes: I hated mornings. Reaching out, I slapped the alarm and made my way into the bathroom. The sight that greeted me in the mirror dragged me back to the land of the living almost instantly. I looked like I’d gone 20 rounds with an assortment of garden tools and lost, my hair was beginning to make its way past my collar in terms of length; when it was tamed. At the moment however it stuck out in every direction resembling some sort of afro.

I rubbed my chin thoughtfully for a moment, screwing up my face with annoyance when I realised I was rubbing smooth skin for the 4th day in a row…. When was I going to get some damn stubble? I was 24 for god’s sake! I was sick of being considered the baby of the unit, even guys who were younger than me called me the baby!

“Oh well, at least I SHAVE ten minutes off my bathroom time.” I chuckled to myself as I climbed into the shower and turned on the water, wincing as the cold water hit my body.

Shortly after, I felt refreshed and clean, and made my way back into my room to dress. Pulling on yesterday’s jeans and a new tee shirt, I grabbed my jacket and shoved my feet into the same worn trainers before heading out to forage for breakfast.

Becky was in the Kitchen when I surfaced.

“Hey, Morning,” she beamed with incomprehensible perkiness. She was wearing her running gear, the sweat marks suggesting she had just returned.

“When am I going to get you to join me huh?” she mock scolded with a hand on her hip. “You know you could use some bulking up,” she grinned slyly.

“Lay off and pass the coffee,” I growled with as much menace as I could muster..

Chuckling, Becky shoved the coffee pot across the table towards me. “So why are you in a good mood today?”

“I didn’t sleep too well,” I murmured into my coffee.

“It happens,” Becky agreed. “Look, I gotta jet, hon, See you after work?” she called cheerily bouncing out of the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

“Sure, Becky,” I mumbled to myself as I dumped my now empty mug on the worktop; I’d wash it later. Grabbing my jacket, I collected my keys on the way out the door and jogged down the stairs out onto the street. A tube ride later, I was walking through the main doors of New Scotland Yard, the Home of the Metropolitan Police Force.

The building didn’t feel like a police station in the classical sense… I had moved around several stations in the London area during my time on the beat, but nothing quite compared to the bureaucratic grandeur of New Scotland Yard. It was a tower block by any other name, a great steel clad monstrosity in the centre of London. It didn’t feel like a police station, it didn’t even have cells! I caught the elevator up to the 3rd floor, where the firearms team head offices were. The ready teams usually stayed around the armoury in the basement or out around London in patrol cars, but off rotation officers, and supporting specialties like myself kept ourselves to ourselves in the suite assigned to the Unit.

The elevator was full of white shirted officers, not one stab vests or set of body armour here save the guard on the door … Dress uniforms and pressed shirts filled NSY’s halls. I felt rather under dressed wearing my tee shirt and jeans. We did have standards … somewhere …. But the firearms team was more relaxed in our formalities unless under inspection, or for special occasions. We did our jobs, and we did them well, there was little point in the off teams wearing their jumpsuits or dress uniforms all day.

I walked through the door into the office and after nodding to Janice, the boss’s assistant, slunk away to my desk in the far corner.

I had loved this job, but it wasn’t everything. I hated the down time when I wasn’t on rotation. It wasn’t living…

It was midmorning when Janice knocked on the divider of my cubicle, I had been reviewing a shooting the previous week. I hadn’t known the officer that pulled the trigger, but I knew of his unit.

“Sergeant Cohen, The boss wants to see you… you got your uniform handy? There’s some bloke with him…” She trailed off nodding in the direction of Chief inspector Farvey’s office.

“Sure thing Janice.” I sighed reluctantly. The boss calling you by name wasn’t ever good…. “How long have I got?” I asked hopefully.

“Minus 5 minutes.” She hissed vanishing again.

“Shit.” I swore and began to drop my pants in my cubicle, praying she didn’t come back.

Three minutes later, I was knocking on the Chief Inspector’s door.

“Come in,” came the muffled reply.

I opened the door, straightening my tie with one hand. “You asked to see me sir?”

“Come in Cohen, You aren’t in trouble, don’t look so worried. How was Bisley yesterday?” smiled Chief Inspector Farvey broadly.

He never asked how range time went … he never smiled … who the fuck was the plain looking man sat at his desk who was now regarding me intently …. 3 questions I really did not want to know the answer to.

“Fine sir, but I don’t like the new batch of lapuas, you ought to send them back.”

“Good good, I’ll make a note.” He smiled, clasping his hands in front of himself on the desk top and flexing his crossed fingers.

“This, Sergeant Cohen, is Mr Benton. He works for the foreign office … and was wondering if you could spare him a few hours for some questions?”

This had brain crippling waste of time written all over it…

“Yes sir, not a problem, ah, where?” I asked sheepishly. The man, Benton nodded at the boss and stood, turning to face me. Straightening his suit jacket, he stuck out a hand in greeting.

“Chris Benton.” He smiled politely, grasping my hand firmly. “I’ve heard a lot about you Michael.

“All good I hope.” I smiled politely, hoping this civil servant tosspot would hurry up and get to the point. “What is it you need?”

He looked at the boss, who nodded. “Get your things Sergeant, we are going for a drive.”

I shrugged, and smiled, “I’ll just get my Uniform Jacket, excuse me.” I replied, turning to the boss. “Sir,” I intoned before exiting the office.

Before the door had closed, Harry accosted me from behind.

“What was that about?” he asked.

“Some foreign office lackey wants to take up my afternoon.” I grumbled. “Can’t fucking wait … Anyway, how do you know? You probing Janice for information again?”

“Not at this moment.” Harry grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

I just rolled my eyes and collected my jacket and phone before returning to the boss’s office, where Mr Benton was waiting for me.

“Ready?” he smiled.

“Sure, can you tell me what this is about though?” I asked as we left the suite.

He hesitated for a moment. “Yes, but can it wait till we get to the car?”

I shrugged, and we boarded the lift down to the garage level.

Chapter 2

There was a green Focus parked at the end of the garage, as we existed the lift, the car purred to life and slowly pulled up in front of us.

After waiting for me to get into the car, Mr Benton circled around and took a seat next to me.

“Back to Vauxhall Cross Mr Benton?” asked the driver,

“Yes, Martins, but take a scenic route.”

That name rang a bell… but I wasn’t sure why.

“So, to the point,” announced Mr Benton with a new sternness he had previously masked. “Michael Cohen, Sergeant Met firearms team, 24 years of age, you share an apartment in Battersea with two friends, good grades in school, joined the force in 2003, 4 years rotating around inner London Stations, before finally qualifying for the firearms team in 07 where you graded Advanced marksman … need I go on or do you get the point?”

“You have read my file,” I stated bluntly.

“That I have, but we have done more than that Mr Cohen. “I work for the Secret Intelligence Service, I have been sent here today to ask you for your help, we have a situation, and your … particular skill set would be of value to us.”

The news hit me like a brick to the stomach. I had been selected by Mi6 …. To do something…. I didn’t really care what, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be involved.

“I see,” I replied, my poker face lying horrendously. “What about my skill set?”

A slight smirk crossed Mr Benton’s lips momentarily. “Your experience with long range rifles Sergeant”

I chewed this information over in my mind. What could they want me for? Well no, that seemed painfully obvious, but why seemed more pertinent, to do what? For whom?

“I’m not killing anyone,” I stated firmly. “I don’t care what they did.”

Mr Benton regarded me for a moment, before smiling slightly, “Oh no Mr Cohen, You misunderstand me. We want you to teach one of our agents …. Teach them how to do what you do.”

I sighed inwardly, this wasn’t what I was expecting, and to be honest, the idea almost tempted me.

“What would you need from me? I mean specifically?” I asked slowly, careful not to agree to anything yet.

Benton waved a hand dismissively. "They can shoot, of course, but they require some coaching in the finer aspects …. How you behave, how you would BE a sniper, so that anyone who interacted with them, in that capacity, would basically take them as they appear … Need I remind you that should you turn this down, you will be required to sign the official secrets act regarding this discussion …” he continued raising his eyebrows.

I looked out of the car window for a moment, we had just passed the Tate Modern gallery and the car was heading across Vauxhall Bridge. I turned to Benton, “I don’t get to sleep on this do I?” I asked, knowing the answer before I the question left my lips.

“Regardless, I’m in, but,” I said holding up a finger to emphasise my point, “I reserve the right to tell you if your agent doesn’t make the grade.”

Benton nodded slightly. “Perfectly amicable Mr Cohen.” He smiled. “Need I remind you that your country is proud of your effor ….”

“Don’t bother.” I chuckled. “I don’t want to know what you are doing, but I will help you to satisfy my curiosity.

Benton raised an eyebrow.

“I always wanted to see where James Bond worked.” I chuckled.

He rolled his eyes and grinned with an exasperated sigh, he knew I was yanking his chain.

“Drop us at the embankment, Martins.” Benton ordered the driver.

We were left at the side of the road by the footbridges leading towards the main doors of Vauxhall cross. Benton led me towards the visitor’s entrance and I had my photograph taken, and my face scanned by some camera before a pass was printed off and handed to me. I was given pin instructions and told how to operate the pod things we had passed. It was all going over my head, but being inside this building was almost a letdown. I expected to see super spies, semi naked girls and catsuits everywhere, but everyone looked normal… right down to the bored expression on the security guard that processed my pass…

Benton grinned knowingly at my expression of wide-eyed surprise as he escorted me through the foyer to a bank of lifts. Guiding me into a car, we ascended to the 5th floor where he led me down a corridor to a conference room overlooking the River Themes.

Ashamedly, the first thing that caught my eye on entering the room was the .308 Mini Hecate sniper rifle, perched on its spindly bipod legs in the centre of the mahogany table. Further down the table, a young woman, around my age sat quietly.

I turned to Benton with a questioning expression.

“This Is Ms Carlisle, she is the agent you will be training. Ms Carlisle, this is Sergeant Cohen from the Met,” he said by way of introductions.

The young woman had risen and approached me with her hand outstretched. “Good to meet you Sergeant, I really appreciate the help.”

“Ah, no problem,” I blushed as Ms Carlisle looked me over unashamedly.

We sat at the conference table; my eyes kept drifting to the beautiful rifle on the table.

“Is that what she will be using?” I asked, out of curiosity. “Bit flashy isn’t it?”

“Yes,” replied Benton with a roll of his eyes, “All you need to know, is that it fits with her legend …. Cover,” he added on noticing my confused expression.

“First orders of business,” he announced, reaching into his briefcase, “We require you to read and sign this,” he said, handing me a document and a pen.

I shrugged, and began to read through the document, they could be guaranteed I would read every word till I was happy I wasn’t signing up to vanish or something equally suspicious.

One part of the document made me raise my eyebrows. “I’m being paid to do this?” I asked looking between Mr Benton and the £10,000 figure on the document.

Benton nodded. “Yes, you didn’t expect us to ask you to do it for queen and country alone? Let us just say, the money is an incentive to not reveal this assistance,” he replied firmly reminding me of the secret nature of the task. I nodded, and signed the document, handing it back to him. Benton rose, slipping the document into his briefcase, and after shaking my hand, left without fanfare.

Turning back to the table, I looked Ms Carlisle over. She was medium height, around 5’6, an inch shorter than my own 5’7. She had sandy blonde hair, tied back in a bun. Her charcoal grey skirt suit fitted her form well; she looked every inch the corporate executive, nothing remotely resembling a spy…

“Ok, shall we start?” she prompted, breaking my stare.

“Sure.” I started, “But you’re going to have to tell me what your cover … legend is.”

“Didn’t Mr Benton say that was not your concern?” she replied with a hint of annoyance.

“He did.” I began, “But if I am to teach you this, I’m going to know at least what you are supposed to know, I don’t need to know everything. But give me the basics … Is your cover ex-military? Ex-law enforcement? What nationality? What country did they serve with? What related details are there? Right or left handed? It all matters.” I replied defensively. “If I don’t know that, I can’t teach you,” I said with a sigh.

Ms Carlisle looked thoughtful for a moment. “I suppose it won’t matter,” she replied with a shrug.

“Well, She’s meant to be ex-British army. Out about 5 years working freelance for a PMC company, then herself in less than entirely legal circumstances, but that’s about as much as I can tell you,” she said with a hint of an apologetic smile.

I shook my head. “That won’t work. You’re a woman.”

She was about to protest when I held my hand up. “You people don’t research things very well do you? An error like that would blow you instantly.” I snapped feeling a little annoyed at getting dumped with such a task. “The British army do not have female snipers or females in combat roles, so that would stand out. You can either be Israeli, Swedish, or Russian if you insist on being ex-military, and I’ll tell you now, you will pass for maybe one of those three,” I offered. “OR, we can use the ex-law enforcement angle, Make you a retired sharpshooter.”

Ms Carlisle looked like she wanted to argue, but sighed and nodded instead.

We got no real work done that day. Most of the afternoon was spent working on the legend details with Harriet; Ms Carlisle. By about 6pm, we decided to call it a night, and I had my first experience with the pods. She escorted me downstairs to the lobby, where she informed me that she would meet me the next day at 9am. As she returned to the lift, I made my way over to the wall of pods. It all looked awfully complicated.

There was a security guard sat behind a desk off to one side, turning to him, I waved the card and held up my hands in confusion. “I don’t suppose you could show me how to work this please?” I asked tentatively.

The guard nodded and walked over, “You put this in the slot sir, and enter your pin. New sir?”

“Ah, you could say that,” I replied with a shrug. “Good night.”

“Good night sir.” Replied the guard as the pod doors slid shut behind me. After a few seconds, the outer doors slid open and the cool night air washed over me.

After a short tube ride, I was home again, after possibly the longest day I had yet to experience. For some reason, I did not think it would hold that record long.

Chapter 3

Unlocking the door, I slipped into the apartment; it was quiet. Out of habit, I dumped my keys on the sideboard and wandered into the living room. Becky was on the Sofa reading her book. She looked up for a moment when I walked in and smiled. “You’re back late,” she stated matter of factly without looking up from her book.

“And you ain’t my muvva!” I shot back, in a fairly accurate facsimile of The Classic soap opera line.

Becky looked up and chuckled shaking her head. “You’re too good at that.” She grinned. “What’s her name anyway?” Becky asked with a sly grin.

I coloured slightly but hid it well with a look of theatrical shock. “You’re out late, and you won’t tell me why…. What’s her name?” She persisted.

“I wasn’t out with a girl, okay? I just had to work late. Some report the Boss man made me write,” I shrugged. “What can you do?”

She grinned. "Why did you blush when I asked if it was a girl? Does that embarrass you?” she asked quietly as I sat down in one of the empty chairs.

“Not really,” I mumbled, “I don’t like you taking the piss though, I don’t get a lot of dates.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled, biting her lip, “You know I’d never do it to upset you, I … I just joke with people ….” She trailed off.

“No it’s fine, it’s just me,” I shrugged. Oh well, here goes. “I guess the subject just gets to me … I never really had a girlfriend,” I shrugged, feeling myself turning red.

Becky looked at me for a moment, wondering if I was serious. “How come?” she asked curiously.

I shrugged sheepishly. “I guess in school I never really got a chance; It was a boys’ schoo.” I grinned embarrassedly. “Not many girls around. I guess when I got to the police I was too focused on getting ahead and making something of myself. I never really had chance …" I tailed off.

I couldn’t bring myself to look at her, I knew she would laugh, I felt so stupid admitting these things. Poor Mike: The baby faced virgin! The next thing I know, I felt a hand on my arm. Becky slipped onto the arm of the chair and wrapped her arms around me.

“I’m so sorry Mike,” she whispered as she held me. “I didn’t know, and believe me, there are loads of girls who will fancy you.”

“I feel pitiful, Bex.” I muttered. “I’m a shit guy, I avoid going out with the guys at work, I don’t socialise, I look like a fucking kid, and I’ve never even really wanted a girlfriend.”

“Now you stop that, mister …” Becky scolded playfully tapping me on the back of the head. “I’ll have none of that negativity from you …

“You need some feel good time,” she announced. “You work too hard, and you don’t play. Look, if you don’t want to go out, we can do it here!

I looked at her curiously for a moment before realising what she meant. “Oh, okay, sure.” I shrugged. “I guess it can’t hurt.”

“You stay here.” She grinned, wagging a finger, “You’re Doctor Becky’s patient tonight!” She chuckled as she walked out of the room.

I was running scenarios through my mind as Becky returned. “Right you.” She announced, "Get into your room, and get back here in Pjs … that’s an order.

Shaking my head, I walked off to follow her orders. It could be fun I guess. I duck into my room and pull off my uniform. I place it carefully over the chair, I’ll need it tomorrow …

I pull on my jog bottoms and a tank and head back into the living room. Becky has her duvet over the sofa, and is doing god knows what in the kitchen.

“Right, I’m here,” I announced.

“Good.” She grins, returning from the kitchen, a bottle of white wine in one hand, two glasses in the other. Now I realised what she was up to….

“You’re going to subject me to a girls night?” I ask incredulously. “Have you forgotten one big part?”

“A, yes I am, and B, they aren’t just for girls! Nobody ever said only girls can drink wine, or watch romantic comedies…. Anyway, when I’m down, it makes me feel better, so I'm sure it will work for you, too …. And if you’re so bothered by my pink duvet, you can go get yours … or ask Pete for his.” she replied with a grin.

“Fine, but I draw the line at painting my nails and fucking with my hair,” I laughed.

I decided to play along, It really couldn’t hurt. We jumped on the sofa, popped a movie in, and had a relaxing drink under the blankets and just relaxed. I have to admit it was actually fun. Somewhere in the time the movie was playing, I ended up lying against Becky’s shoulder … That was when Pete came home.

First thing I heard was the door close, and for some reason, I just sat there, under that pink blanket, sipping my wine and chatting to Becky.

“Hey Becky.” Pete called as he walked through to the kitchen to grab a beer. “Who’s your lady friend?”

I turned around at that moment and fixed Pete with a shocked expression. The look on his face was priceless.

“Woah, Mike. Sorry dude.” He stammered. “I swear you looked like a bird from behind mate.”

“Oh come on.” I snapped exasperatedly. “I don’t look anything like a girl!”

Pete raised an eyebrow. “Mate, you’re watching a chick flick, drinking wine and sat gabbing away with Becky under her GIRLY duvet, what do you expect?” he chuckled, taking a swig of his beer. “Sorry mate. I didn’t mean anything.” He shrugged apologetically before making himself scarce.

“Whatever,” I muttered, sinking down into the duvet and returning my attention to the Tv.

I didn’t look like a girl. How blind is Pete? It was just the situation … I’d get my hair cut at the weekend. That was probably it.

We watched another movie, and I had to admit, she was right. It did make me feel better. The wine relaxed me nicely, and I was able to unwind for the first time in a while. We would have to do that again I mused as we sleepily headed to our respective bedrooms and bid each other goodnight.

I slept a lot better that night. And when I woke in the morning, my alarm had not yet gone off. Seizing the initiative for a good day, I hit the off button to pre-empt the damned device, and headed for the shower.

Clean and refreshed I returned to my room. I was about to reach for my uniform shirt when a though struck me. Should I wear my uniform? I was not there on any official capacity, and they had repeatedly stressed how secretive this was … In the entire time I was there the previous day, the only person I saw in uniform was the door guard … I’d stand out a little if I returned in uniform for a second day ….

I chuckled to myself as I realised how I was thinking. One day in that place and I start thinking spy!

Dumping my uniform, I reached into my wardrobe and extracted my rarely worn suit. It was the sort of thing you bought for formal events that didn’t require a tux …

A few moments later, the suit had been combined with a shirt, tie, and my body, and I was leaving the house to make my way to Vauxhall Cross. One morning commute that I had never envisaged taking …

As I approached the footbridges that led to the banks of pods on the front of the building I was shocked by the queues leading up to those unconventional doors. I wasn’t sure if this was normal or not, but I took a place in line and waited.

There were conversations going on around me, and I felt like an intruder. I didn’t hear anything I supposed was confidential or secret; it was almost like being new again.

“I hate these bloody waits,” said a voice beside me. I turned and saw a guy in his mid 30s taking a sip from his takeaway coffee cup.

“Ah yeah,” I agreed noncomittally. “It’s a good job it isn’t raining,” I replied.

“Sure.” The guy grinned. “I’m Martin Hammersmith,” he said, offering his hand. “You new here? I’ve not seen you around.”

“I guess so.” I replied sheepishly. “Sort of my second day,” I admitted.

“Ah ok.” He smiled. “Its overwhelming isn’t it?” he chuckled. “I remember when I started I felt like I didn’t belong.”

“That about sums it up.” I admitted.

“So which department are you with?” he asked conversationally, as the lines slowly progressed.

“Ah, I’m working up on the 5th floor, I’m not sure if I can say much,” I shrugged apologetically.

He nodded knowingly. “Probably not, though that’s not unusual for here. Nobody can talk to each other about work,” he chuckled.

We chatted for a few moments till we reached the pods and swiping myself in, I entered my pin and stepped into the clear pod and onwards into the lobby.

“See you around,” Martin said with a wave as he headed off in another direction.

I met Ms Carlisle by the lifts as we had agreed, and instead of making our way back to the conference suite on the 5th floor, she told me we would be spending the day at a range outside of London for the beginning of the practical instruction. We left Vauxhall Cross in a ‘6’ car and drove out of London towards Salisbury.

We spent the day out at an MOD range, where I observed her technique and attempted to offer suggestions to improve her overall impression. I was quite disappointed to say the least.

Ms Carlisle was familiar with firearms; that much was clear, but she was no marksman. It was almost like being back at training again, watching the ham-fisted early attempts of some of our less accomplished shooters.

When we returned to MI6, or Legoland as she referred to it, I requested to speak to the agent in charge of this operation, and was escorted down to the lower 5th floor in the basement where the Controlerate leading this operation was located. From what I gathered, this was the Middle East and Far East controlerate. I was shown into an office where Ms Carlisle introduced her boss; a Mr Tornworth.

Mr Tornworth was a tall man in his late 50s, still in reasonable shape beneath his expensive Italian suit, but the grey hair and weathered skin of his face betrayed his age. Mr Tornworth seemed annoyed by my presence, an outsider.

“What is it you want?” he asked, going straight for the point with predatory haste.

“I need to know how long I have for this training assignment.” I said with as much resolve as I could muster. “I may not be ‘read in’ or whatever you call it, and I already know I’m told as little as possible: I’m an outsider, A civilian, but you need my help, and I’m a professional, I would like to be treated as such, not like a child,” I replied getting slightly angry.

Tornworth regarded me for a moment. “You have 3 weeks to teach Ms Carlisle,” he replied with little feeling.

“I’m sorry Sir; I don’t think I can do that.”

Mr Tornworth sat up in his chair and looked. “Why not?” He asked knitting his brow.

“Well you want her to be believable or you wouldn’t have recruited me for this job. Yes? You want her to be able to shoot, I’ll wager. And while I was told she can shoot, and I am very confident she is proficient with other firearms, she is not Marksman material.”

He was about to say something but I held my hand up. “Look, the British army sniper school is 10 weeks. I was sent on that with a group of other Police firearms marksmen, as advanced training.” I said, letting my ability sink in. “But I’m sure you know that. My point is, you have to be a reasonable shot to attend that school, and it still takes 10 weeks to get them from a good shot to Snipers … Even then a shooter is not as experienced as her legend dictates till they see action. There is a lot that can be faked, a lot that can be told, taught and acted, but with respect, and I’m sorry.” I said, turning to Ms Carlisle, who was sat by my side. “She can’t do it in three weeks.”

Mr Tornworth looked mildly annoyed. “What do you suggest?” he replied tersely.

I thought for a moment, I hadn’t really expected to be required to offer other solutions other than the one they had. “Find a female who is already an experienced sniper and send them on your mission. I don’t think you will find anyone able to teach any novice how to do this in that time.” I replied confidently.

Mr Tornworth nodded slightly. “I think you are right,” he said with resignation. “Thank you for your honesty,” he said smiling weakly. Hitting the button on his desk, he called his secretary and asked her to invite his deputy and a few other names I didn’t recognise into the room. Turning to Ms Carlisle, he asked her to take me up to the canteen and get me a coffee.

He stood and offered me a hand. “Thanks again Mr Cohen.” He said, and with that, we left.

I shouldn’t have been surprised that the Mi6 building had a canteen, like any other work place, but I still was. The image I had held of the Secret Intelligence Service really didn’t fit ‘work’. We sat at a table overlooking the Thames and sat in awkward silence.

“Look I’m sorry.” I said. “I didn’t mean to put you down. I had to be honest, it was purely professional.”

Harriet looked out the window for a moment and didn’t respond. “I know,” she said without looking at me.

“Look, I know I’ve been a bit short with you, and treated you like an outsider,” she admitted looking at me. “It’s just how this is,” she shrugged. “I know I’m not up to the job. And that’s what it is, just a job, so I’m not going to cry because I don’t have a specific skill. For what its worth, you were a good teacher, but you are right, I can’t shoot that well, and we didn’t have the time I guess.”

“I take it the mission parameters required a female sniper, not 6 picking it as some part of a legend for you?” I asked, realising she didn’t want to talk about her failings anymore.

Harriet shook her head. “You’ve been here two days and you sound like you belong.” She chuckled.

“Hey I’ve watched my share of spy thrillers,” I replied smiling. “The reality seems depressingly mundane though.”

She nodded taking a sip of her coffee. “Sure. At the end of the day, this is just a job like yours, only our sphere of influence is larger.”

She was right of course. It was really just police work really … Only you would work in someone else’s patch without telling them and you didn’t always have to follow the law to enforce it.

“So what happens from here?” I asked, noting the early evening tinge begin to creep across the city. “I go home and never hear from you lot again?”

Harriet shrugged. “They haven’t said. But it’s possible.”

We drank another round of coffee as the sky outside grew dark before Harriet’s phone rang. After a short conversation, we were on our way down towards the lower floors of the building once more. We arrived at the MEFE entrance, and I copied Harriet as she swiped her card and allowed her face to be scanned by what I was told, was a facial topography recognition package. I was added to the controlerate’s access list apparently … that should have bothered me.

We made our way into the now empty controlerate’s main operations area and Harriet led me straight back to Mr Tornworth’s office.

There were three men and a woman in the room with Mr Tornworth who all turned towards us as we entered; I felt all their eyes boring into me.

“Harriet, Mr Cohen, please take a seat,” he smiled more broadly, waving at two empty chairs. “Mr Cohen, May I call you Michael?” he asked without waiting for me to reply. “This is Tobias Goodwin; my deputy head here at Middle East and Far East Controlerate, This is Daniel Green, our head of systems, Mark Sanford, our chief analyst, and this,” he said gesturing at the woman. “Is Jane North, our agent handler.”

I smiled weakly at the group, all of whom were still looking at me curiously.

“We have been discussing the situation at length, this is an awkward situation for us, and it is highly unusual, but before we discuss this, we want to read you in to the operation.”

“Ok,” I said feeling as if I was missing something. “Why am I being read in? I thought my work was over?” I asked cautiously.

Mr Tornworth looked at his college Tobias Goodwin and raised his eyebrows.

“Thing is,” Mr Goodwin said with a broad Scots accent. “We aren’t exactly overflowing with qualified candidates, and to be honest, you are probably the closest we have to the required skills, and it would be much easier to give you the required field craft skills than vice versa …” he said with a lopsided grin. Of course, we will would have to modify the mission parameters to take into account other factors … he said trailing off.

My bad-feeling-o-meter was now off the charts.

The younger man, Sanford stood and walked over to a laptop on Mr Tornworth’s desk and pressed a button, projecting an image onto a screen behind the desk.

“This,” he said, “Is Omid Dujani, a radical Muslim cleric with political aspirations. He’s a Syrian national, with connections throughout the Middle East. He’s quite high on our most wanted lists, and a bit of a naughty bloke,” he said with a straight face.

I heard a few chuckles around the room, but didn’t take my eyes off the screen and Mr Sanford.

“His group has been operating out of Syria, Lebanon and the West bank for some time; they have been involved in several major incidents in Israel, and we have intelligence that something is planned soon … What. we don’t know, and that scares us most. Usually, there is a lot more chatter, but there is nothing coming out other than the usual. With his track record, it will be significant, and within the intelligence time frame, there is only one possible target, The Beirut Treaty … Our PM is going to be one of the many in attendance …. That makes it our ball game too … Security is tight, but there are always holes in that area, and they are unfortunately viable to a focused group … Thing is, Dujani isn’t stupid, and he is also quite the feminist …” He said raising his eyebrows. “He has as thing for empowering women, usually with C4 strapped to them. He has said that some tasks are not fit for males, and thus his MO of using females to do his dirty work, usually where there is little hope of coming back. The news on the wire is he is looking for female assassins on the market at the moment. Clearly the market doesn’t know his track record.” Sanford smirked. “Women are not viewed as equals around that area, and its much easier to slip a female killer into a security net than a male, and we think this is where he is going with whatever it is …” he finished flipping off the projector and taking his seat again.

“How do I fit into this?” I asked unsure weather I wanted to hear the answer. “He’s looking for a woman, no?”

“Thank you, Mark,” Mr Tornworth said clasping his hands together, “I’ll be straight with you Michael, “We received an email to the account of one of our Legends. Her name has been put around by a few of our puppets, and her name came to Dujani’s attentions. We have had a request for her to meet him.”

“So how do I fit in?” I asked again. “You have another agent with more experience that you need me to work with?”

“The thing is.” said Mr Goodwin, rubbing his chin. “You are the only person qualified enough to fit the Legend.

“But he’s a man! said Harriet incredulously. “Have you not noticed that tiny fact?”

She said what I had wanted to. At the moment, I was too rigid with shock to know what to do. So I sat there, hoping I was imagining this.

“We appreciate that Harriet,” said Mr Goodwin staring daggers at the Field Officer beside me. “But as I said, we have nobody else, and we believe it may be possible to send Mr Cohen in as Anastasia. It’s not like he’s some 14 stone rugby player ….” He snorted letting the comment hang.

That was the last straw. “HE, Is here.” I yelled standing up. “He can hear every fucking word you say. Does HE not get a say in this?” I seethed clenching my teeth.

Harriet tugged at my suit sleeve pulling me back into my seat, “Look, calm down Mike. This is as unorthodox as it sounds, and from what we just heard, it doesn’t seem personal. Those two have a shit way of putting things,” she said, glaring at The Head and deputy behind me. “I think we need to go for a walk.” She said without any hint that it was a suggestion. “John, Toby, we will talk about this in the morning,” she said giving the two men a withering look. “You realise that this man is not used to this building, never mind the work we do, Dumping all that on him then this …. Woman business…. That’s just cruel.”

“That’s enough, Harriet!” growled Mr Tornworth standing. He was about to speak again when she cut him off.

“No, that’s enough from you,” she snapped, slamming the door as she dragged me out of the office, still half numb.

The pinging of the elevator doors closing finally broke me out of the shock that I had been wallowing in.

“I don’t believe this is happening,” I murmured quietly.

Harriet squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry, we can sort this out, there has to be another way. Come on, we need some fresh air and some coffee that doesn’t taste like hot water with gravel mixed in,” she grinned weakly.

I attempted a smile at her joke, despite the feeling of dread knotting my stomach.

We made our way out of the building and across the foot bridges and onto the Albert Embankment before walking south along the river’s edge. I didn’t know what time it was, I didn’t really care. There was the occasional person travelling the opposite way, but other than that we were alone.

Harriet stopped and turned towards me as she leant against the river wall. “Tell me what you’re thinking?” she asked softly.

“I don’t know,” I sighed looking out over the Thames and the lights on the far bank. “I guess I’m wondering if this is my fault…”

Harriet scrunched up her face, “How?” she asked indignantly. “You didn’t suggest that idiocy.”

“Would they have suggested it if I was, what was it? A 14 stone rugby player?” I replied sarcastically.

“That’s not the point and you know it,” Harriet said flatly. “You have image problems don’t you?” she asked quietly, knowing the answer.

“How did you guess?” I chuckled melancholically.

“It’s my job to read people, remember?” she replied. “This is hurting you more because you think you aren’t a real man,” she stated plainly.

“I guess so,” I admitted with a sigh. I watched a boat passing along the river while I formed my thoughts; “I never felt macho, or manly. I guess I never thought of myself as a man, just a boy that grew up. I feel constantly inadequate, I work in a hyper macho environment, in a hyper macho role, and I always feel like a letdown …”

“Maybe they are right.” I laughed turning away from the river and walking on. Harriet caught up with me and stopped me, putting her hand on my arm.

“Maybe then, you need to do this,” she replied with a sly grin.

“What?” I asked. “How do you figure that?”

“Think of it as excising the fear.” She shrugged, “You do this, and what’s the worst that happens? You realise you don’t look like a girl, they are wrong and you go back to your job and feel better about yourself … its free therapy.” She chuckled.

“I don’t know.” I frowned. “What if I do? I’ll probably kill myself out of shame.” I grimaced.

“No. If you do, you get to do something not many men can claim to have done …” she said seriously.

“What? Wear high heels?” I scoffed.

“No, saved the world in the name of HMG …” she grinned.

I stuck my hands I my pockets and walked on. The scary thing was, she was sounding more and more right, and admitting that took away some of the gripping fear I felt.

“Fine.” I shrugged.

“Pardon?” she asked curiously.

“I’ll do it.” I said, before I could back out mentally. “Let’s do it. I know I don’t look like a girl and it will seal that forever.” I said resolutely. “And it’s not like I'm doing this for free.” I shrugged. I still had a £10,000 deposit from some ‘firm’ that probably didn’t exist in my bank account.

“That’s the spirit.” chuckled Harriet. “Look, are you going to be okay tonight?” she asked.

“Sure, I guess.”

Harriet hugged me, it was nice actually… there was no sexual tension, not a quick greeting hug, but a warm, comforting embrace.

“I’ve got to head back to the office and grab some things. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning OK? Come down to MEFE, and I’ll be around,” she said with a smile before turning and walking away.

I watched her go for a moment before making my way to the nearest tube station and beginning my commute home. It was gone 10pm, and I didn’t even feel hungry. Slipping into the flat, I quietly made my way to my room and to bed. Why was I going to regret this?

To Be Continued...

2009-03-29 18:51:42 -0400

Focal Point - Chapter 4 - 6

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

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TG Elements:

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Posted by author(s)

Focal Point
CHAPTERS 4 - 6

By Alyssa Plant

Michael Cohen's dream was to protect and serve as a police officer.... That job didn't satisfy him until one day, when people without names came to visit. He wanted to make a difference, but he didn't expect it to make a difference to him, too...

Chapter 4

I rose early again; I hadn’t slept well. I managed to dress and quieten my growling stomach before I set out towards Vauxhall Cross once more. Before long, I was stood in the morning pod queue again, I didn’t feel as awkward as the previous day, but that was party due to the fact I wasn’t really paying attention to anything in particular. It felt almost robotic as I reached the pod and slipped into the stale air-conditioned building. Nobody seemed to notice me as I made my way towards the MEFE area; the whole place seemed to have lost its charm to me.

The computer scanned my face and a green light flashed. The doors slid open and I walked into the controlerate, not really knowing what to expect.

Several heads looked up from the desks towards the centre of the area. I stood there, not really knowing where to go.

“Hi,” Harriet said with an apprehensive smile, appearing from one of the side offices “You’re early,” she said giving me a quick friendly hug. “Come on; let’s get this over with, huh?” she said with an optimistic smile that I did not share. Gesturing me to follow her, we made our way back towards Mr Tornworth’s office and as we entered, I saw the same four people present that had been the night before. As she closed the door behind us, I stood fidgeting sheepishly; not sure what to say.

“Mr Cohen,” said Mr Tornworth getting my attention. “We wanted to apologise for last night … Ah, we realise this is so very new to you, and this isn’t something personal … It’s just the only thing we can think of to be honest,” he said with an apologetic shrug.

“It’s okay,” I said screwing up my face, “I guess it was just a shock. Look, I’ll go along with this, but if it gets stupid, or she …” I said. gesturing Harriet, “thinks its not going to work, we pull the plug ok? I don’t want to look stupid, and those types wouldn’t laugh at me, they would kill me,” I said raising my eyebrows.

“Quite so,” said Goodwin, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Look, we have three weeks, and that’s cutting it fine, but we want to try something…. I really respect you for going for this,” he said looking awkward. “And I’m sorry about what I said, I just meant that you at least had a chance of this working, not that you weren’t a proper bloke,” he said with a shrug, offering me his hand in some act of manly reconciliation.

Grudgingly, I took it and offered a weak handshake, mumbling something noncommittal and took a seat in the room. Mr Tornworth went straight ahead in the briefing. As Goodwin had said, we had a total of 3 weeks till the meeting. That was short notice for even an experienced Field Officer but as a raw recruit, as I suppose I was, it was all very overwhelming.

I was to leave Vauxhall Cross just before lunch, and with Miss North, and Harriet’s assistance, along with a vetted salon that the service used occasionally to change the appearance of agents, we would set about seeing if it was possible, or in my mind, impossible to fit me into the life of Anastasia Zanov, the Ex-Russian army sniper turned mercenary, and my one mental sticking point … a woman.

We left Vauxhall Cross just before noon and caught a cab from the embankment. Miss North gave the driver directions before sitting back and regarding me thoughtfully.

“You know, with all the staring that’s gone on today, I think I must have sprouted another ear …” I smirked sarcastically. Miss North looked embarrassed

“I’m sorry Michael,” she said “This is most definitely a first for me, and believe me; I’ve handled a lot of weird situations with Field officers. I think you’re the first to do this,” she admitted with a shrug.

“It’s not like he chose this is it?” interjected Harriet with an air of the haughty attitude I’d started to see more of since getting to know her better. “We practically pull him off the street and thrust him into this world … Granted he’s not a civilian in the strictest sense … but still, this would be crazy to even one of my bunch, I can’t begin to imagine how this feels to Mike,” she said, biting her lip.

“Well thanks for the touching Eulogy, but I didn’t realise I’d died,” I said sarcastically. “Come on, I’m terrified about this, but it’s not going to be the end of the world.” Both the women looked a little sheepish, but thankfully they backed off with the sympathy and the rest of the journey was spent in relative quiet.

About 20 minutes later, we pulled in outside a row of rather posh looking boutiques and salons in one of those namelessly fancy parts of the city that I rarely ventured into. Getting out of the cab took the last of my reserves, and I felt utterly drained as I stood on the pavement with the two women. We entered the salon and Miss North spoke to the receptionist, I was really glad I didn’t have to try and communicate; I was sure I would scream if I opened my mouth.

We were escorted to a private waiting area. It appeared the salon had been closed for the day specially, as the receptionist collected her things and left as soon as we were seated.

We were not seated long when a slim middle aged redhead came in and introduced herself to us. Her name was Sally, and she apparently knew Miss North quite well.

“I see you have a project for me Jane. Care to tell me a little about it?” she beamed rubbing her hands together eagerly.

“Well, Sally.” Jane North began, pointing at me. “We need to see if it’s possible for you to make our colleague here pass for a woman …”

Sally looked at me and raised her eyebrows. “Quite possibly the weirdest request I’ve had from you ghosts yet.” She grinned, “Wait no … what is it?”

“Spooks, dear,” Jane North said rolling her eyes.

“That’s the one; whatever! Who are you dear?” she asked smiling at me.

“Um, My na. I’m Mike.” I said awkwardly.

“Don’t be embarrassed dear; you won’t be my first man,” she chuckled. “What’s this in aid of, Jane?” she asked, rearranging some flowers in a vase beside her absent mindedly.

“He’s taking the place of one of our agents on a mission … The mission is … requires a woman.” She said with a shrug.

“Oh, right.” Sally said slowly with a frown, “Well let's see what I can do then, If you two would like to get comfortable, Jane? I think you know where I keep the kitchen in this place.” Sally led me out of the waiting area and into one of the treatment rooms at the rear of the salon.

“Ok dear,” she smiled, “Don’t be so nervous, okay? I can see you’re all jittery…” she chuckled warmly. “There’s really nothing to be afraid about here, I’m not going to do anything permanent to you yet, so relax and you might enjoy it a little. I know I enjoy being pampered,” she smiled.

“Sorry,” I shrugged. “This is really new to me, and to be honest, it makes me feel sort of uncomfortable.”

Sally smiled sympathetically and patted me on the arm.” Look, I won’t do anything to embarrass you, and I certainly won’t laugh. If this doesn’t work, we can at least say we tried. And if it does, I guarantee you there will be nothing to be embarrassed about. Believe me dear, being a woman is no different to being a man, it's no worse, certainly not embarrassing; I know your fragile male ego can’t rationalise that yet though.” She chuckled. “Now get in there and put on the robe,” she said pointing at a changing room in a tone that suggested I had little choice.

I pulled the curtain closed behind me and tried to breathe for a moment, she was right in a strange way … this wouldn’t kill me. At worst I’d have a wasted day and a few bad memories … I decided to go for it. It couldn’t hurt, right?

Stripping off my suit, I put it on the hanger and began to slip out of my underwear and quickly grabbed the maroon silk robe hung on the wall.

The robe was cool against my skin, and extremely soft to the touch, I could see why people liked the material … I stopped admiring myself and steeling my nerve, stepped out of the changing room.

“Ah good, you’re ready,” smiled Sally. “Let's get you sat here and I’ll begin,” she said, indicating a salon chair she had positioned facing out into the room away from the mirrored wall that it obviously normally faced.

“Don’t want me to see the horror till it’s completed huh?” I joked nodding at the mirrored wall.

“No dear, I just think it will be better to see the end first, it’s easier to see the difference.” She replied sorting through various items on a shelf. “Let’s get to work shall we?” she announced with far too much enthusiasm for my liking.

Sally stood looking at me intently for a moment after she got me into the chair with her chin in her hand. “Hmmm.” She murmured aloud. “Does it matter who you look like? Or will anyone do?”

I shrugged. “I don’t think it matters, but maybe a little Russian, if there’s such thing,” I suggested.

“Okay then, “she smiled reaching for a pair of tweezers. “Now don’t worry, I’m only tidying things up, they won't look girly,” she soothed before beginning to rip my eyebrow hairs out one by excruciating one.

Thankfully, she finished quickly, and began to play around with my longish hair. “I’m not sure if we want to go for long or otherwise, but your hair is workable as it is. What do you think?” she asked.

I wasn’t sure I had an opinion. “Um, Longer I guess? But I think a wig would be hot where I’m going,” I said trying not to reveal too much.

“Well let’s try one for now, and if this goes ahead, I’ll give you extensions ok? You have enough hair to weave them in.” I nodded, and she smiled before vanishing off into some other part of the salon before returning promptly carrying a slightly wavy brunette wig with a short bouncy fringe. She combed my hair back, and covered it with a plain white skull cap and slipped the wig over my head and stood back to adjust it.

She looked at me for a moment before shaking her head and chuckling to herself. “That suits you dear.” Now let’s get some makeup on you, and then we can deal with below the neck.”

She proceeded to apply makeup to my face, telling me what each item was and how it was used, I tried to pay attention, but felt quite awkward as she moved the brushes over my face. It really made me want to scratch.

I wrinkled my nose as she applied a powder to my cheeks.

“Now stop that, you!” she scolded, “I’ll be done soon. This is turning out great,” she enthused.

“I’m not sure I share your sentiment,” I muttered under my breath. “Do I have to remind you that I didn’t sign up for this?”

“Sign up to protect your country, or to wear your first bra?” she chuckled as she painted my lips with a clear gloss. “I think we are nearly done.” She smiled. “Let’s get you dressed, shall we?

I rose out of the chair slowly, feeling the strange sensation of hair brushing against my shoulders; It felt very alien indeed.

Sally led me over to a closet in the far corner of the room and began rummaging through drawers and shelves looking for things that she threw out into my arms as she found them. I just stood stock still holding what was thrust at me without any real idea of what I was meant to do.

“Why do you have all these clothes and things?” I asked somewhat curiously. I didn’t really suppose that a swanky London salon had many of this sort of job, not enough to stock up specially.

“I often get contracts to do modelling shoots, and bits now and then,” she called as she dug through another box. “I get lots of free stuff, and I hate to throw out basically unused things … plus it comes in useful for makeovers or special jobs like yours,” she laughed playfully. “

“Annnnnddd,” she continued reaching into the depth of the cupboard. “I have these.” She grinned holding up a plain black box.

“What’s in there?” I asked curiosity peaked dangerously.

“Your two new best friends dear,” she smirked, placing the box on the side and collected the pile of clothes from my still frozen arms. “Right dear, take these and go and get them on … be back out here sharpish, too … Go on, shoo,” she chided directing me towards the changing room again.

Once I was safely behind the flimsy curtain, I opened my hand and stared at the silky white knickers in my hand with something approaching mystification. For some reason, the hair on my head, and the makeup hadn’t really been crossing that line, it was still me … it was only bits of chemicals and minerals and hair, but the knickers in my hand were a line that I could not uncross once I took that last step. There was no way back; I would have cross-dressed. I didn’t care if it was something only I would know, but 3 women? Could I? Would it really be that big a deal? Another part of my brain reasoned… 'It’s only clothing…'

“For queen and country,” I muttered to myself as I slipped the silky garment up my legs and seated it securely around my private parts. There, I had done it … It felt weird, but not in the way I imagined. I had a stupid notion that Noel Edmunds would pop out with a camera any moment, but it didn’t happen.

I slipped the robe on again and stepped out of the changing room.

“Good, I thought I was going to have to send mountain rescue in there for you,” chuckled Sally as she stopped sifting through the clothing she had extracted.

Picking up a bra and a corset from the clothing, she approached me and ordered the robe off. Reluctantly, I complied and slipped the garment from my shoulders.

“Hm, not bad,” Sally muttered to herself as she looked me up and down. “There is plenty for me to work with.”

With some struggling, she helped me into the corset which stopped below my chest, and began to lace me into the restrictive garment.

“Now breathe out and I'll fasten it okay?” she said reassuringly as I was squeezed more and more. Following her instructions, thinking it would ease the constriction; she placed her knee in my back and pulled extremely hard on the laces. I was almost snapped in two as she fastened the laces behind me.

“Oh God,” I moaned. “Is my liver meant to be trying to force itself out of my ear?”

“Stop playing silly buggers, young lady,” she scolded. “You’ll get used to it,” she chuckled playfully.

“I may, but my intestines disagree.” I moaned sarcastically.

Sally fastened the bra around my chest, and approached me ceremoniously with the black box. As she took the lid off, I got the surprise of my life.
“What are those!?” I exclaimed with shock and curiosity.

“Why, these are your breasts, dear,” Sally said with an amused grin. “Did you think I would use socks?” she smiled sweetly.

Sally hefted two large fleshy objects from the box; they were large breast forms, extremely realistic, but a shade or two lighter than my slightly tanned complexion. Even the nipples looked scarily real.

Sally slipped the two breasts into the bra cups, and I immediately felt the tug against the shoulder straps.

“You get used to this?” I asked hopefully.

Sally smiled sweetly. “Some dear, but the weight is never ignorable, you may want to be careful, your centre of balance will be different now, so no gymnastics till you’re used to them okay?” she giggled. Sally proceeded to help me into a pair of tan tights, and a silky white blouse and charcoal knee length skirt that fastened high at my new waist.

“Here’s a pair of nice safe flats for now, you can deal with heels once you are more practiced,” she said, offering me a pair of simple court shoes.

“You say that like it’s a foregone conclusion that this will work…” I stated dryly.

Sally shook her head. “Come here, hon,” she said softly taking my hand and walking me towards the mirror wall in the other half of the room. I followed, grudgingly, not sure I wanted to see the monster drag queen she had created. As I looked into the glass however, I spun around self consciously to see where the heck the pretty brunette had come from; Sally saw my reaction and chuckled.

“She’s you, hon,” she said with a hint of amusement.

I stepped back in front of the mirror and stared at the reflection in front of me. It was hard for me to look at the shocked, bemused looking girl in the glass and relate her with myself.

“I’m … I look … I look like a girl.” I stammered ignorant of the fact I was stating the bloody obvious. “How?” I asked rhetorically, reaching out a hand towards the glass and watching the attractive young woman copy my movement. “This is impossible,” I whispered.

“No hon,” Sally said softly, placing her hand on my shoulder and appearing behind me. “No its not. I didn’t want to say anything before, as I was working on you, because I didn’t want you to back out, but you looked almost perfect as soon as I put the wig on you… You’re very lucky, and this isn’t anything to be ashamed about,” She said giving my shoulder a squeeze. “How do you feel about showing your friends?”

“They aren’t really my friends,” I sniffed. “I met them both a few days ago, I’ve been dumped into this world and I’m flying by the seat of my pants,” I replied stifling a sob.

Sally turned me around and hugged me tightly. “Don’t you cry little one, this is a lot, and you are very brave, and believe me, if I know Jane, and unfortunately I do, she will look after you. Miss Carlisle seems to care for you too, so don’t worry so much okay? And damn it girl! You stop crying!” she laughed. “You’re going to ruin my makeup job!” She chuckled playfully slapping me on the shoulder. “Get on out there and show them how you look.”

I made a face, “I’m not sure I can, I mean, I know how I look. I can’t deny that, but part of me wants to run and hide and never see this again.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about. Go out there and take every moment as it comes,” Sally said with a sly grin.

I rolled my eyes, “Here goes nothing,” I shrugged and opened the door.

Harriet and Jane were sat in the waiting room chatting when they turned at the sound of the door. Jane started to turn back to her magazine not recognising me, but Harriet sat transfixed.

“Good God, Mike, is that you?” she said in a surprised whisper. Jane did a double take and just sat gawping.

“Erm, I guess this answer’s my question,” I shrugged, blushing.

Jane and Harriet just sat motionless; Harriet had a silly goofy grin on her face. “This is totally so much more awesome than I thought it could be,” she said shaking her head.

“Oh what are you? 12?” I laughed. “I guess this really decides things for us. God save the queen, etcetera?”

“This is quite amazing.” Jane said quietly, finally speaking. “I suspected that it would work, but I didn’t think he … she, would look so natural; so pretty…”

I scowled. “Did everyone see this but me? Did anyone see me as a man?”

“You know that’s rubbish Mike,” scolded Harriet. “Damn, it’s weird to call you that like you are…” Harriet shrugged apologetically getting up and walking over to me. “What do you think? Do you want to go for this?

“I don’t think I have a choice,” I said shrugging “I told myself I’d do it if I looked like a girl, I guess I called my own bluff,” I said rolling my eyes. “No, in all seriousness, I don’t know… the scary thing is, this doesn’t feel so bad now… I expected it to be so alien that I couldn’t cope, but… I don’t know, I could do it, I know that, and I have never backed down from the Job. I haven’t quit to date. There are a lot of things that are a great deal more important than me riding on this and if I can do something to change that, it will be worth it. I can take each day as it comes,”

Harriet bit her lip and looked at me intently for a moment before pulling me into a hug. I just hugged her back and we stood there for a moment. “You’re an amazing person,” she said quietly.

“Now I want to tell you that you can back out of this at any time.” Jane said slowly, as she crossed the room. “But, I spoke to John before we left,” she said. Noting my confused expression she added that this was Mr Tornworth. “Basically, he told me that if I decided that this would fly, that he thought it prudent to offer you a transfer more permanently to 6 … From an official standpoint, you’re already vetted, and read in, and it would cover us in a legal aspect. We can draw up the transfer papers when we get back to the office,” she said raising her eyebrows. “Would you be okay with that?” she asked cautiously, watching my reaction like a hawk.

“So I’d not go back to the Met?” I asked, letting the idea swim around my head. “Work with 6 permanently?” I asked curiously.

“Sure,” Jane nodded, “John has taken a liking to you. You stood up to him, and that’s a rare occurrence, normally …” she said tossing a sly grin at Harriet. “He thinks you have potential, your record certainly qualifies you, and pending completion of the Field officers Qualification Course, you would be a permanent MI6 Field Officer. Obviously that would come after this mission however…“ She said with a strange look on her face.

“Today seems to be a day of going with my instinct,” I said quietly, biting my lip thoughtfully. “Sign away my life,” I sighed reluctantly.

Harriet grinned and hugged me again. Turning to Jane, I asked. “Has she lost 10 years today? Or does she always act like a 14 year old?”

Jane smirked, “Partly,” she smiled, “but the prospect of what is soon to come is also a key motive. She knows we will have to go shopping.” She laughed as she watched the colour drain out of my cheeks.

Chapter 5

Sally had stripped me of my feminine garbs and I had returned to being a subdued and apprehensive Michael Cohen. We had gone our separate ways on leaving North Bank, Sally’s Salon. I slowly made my way home in the growing dusk, finally getting home around 6pm.

The flat was dark when I let myself in. It seemed that I was alone; something I honestly relished after so long in the company of others. I had a lot of thinking to do, and they were not sociable thoughts. I stripped off my clothing in my bedroom, and padded through to the bathroom and turned on the shower. After allowing the water to warm, I slipped under the relaxing pulsing jets, allowing the water to force the tension from my tired body.

I stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist. On impulse, I wiped the steam from the bathroom mirror, and looked at my reflection. I didn’t see anything particularly girlish looking back at me, certainly not the woman that I had seen this afternoon. I messed around with my wet hair, trying to make it appear more feminine but was unsatisfied. I realised my chest was bare and I lifted the towel around my chest, tying it above where I would have breasts and closed my eyes. As I opened them, I tried to see the girl in my reflection, and I thought I caught a glimpse but it was gone as the mirror lost the battle against the steam. Why was I doing this? I didn’t want to look like a girl I rationalised. Just thinking about it made my stomach feel weird. I stepped out of the bathroom trying to shake the thoughts running through my brain and ran straight into Pete.

“Shit, Pete, sorry! I didn’t see you.” I gushed as I bounced off his chest and landed on the floor. Pete gave me a strange look and offered me his hand to help me up.

“Sorry, do I know you?” he said slowly, furrowing his brow.

“Pete, it’s me? Mike?” I said blushing. “your flatmate?” I added wondering if he was joking. Pete’s eyes widened.

“Woah, shit. Mike! God man I didn’t recognise you, what’s with the…?” he tailed off gesturing at me in general, not quite able to put a finger on what he saw. “You going gay on me mate?” he said with a hint of an amused grin. I was at a loss for words for a moment before I remembered the towel I had tied around my chest. Blushing deeply, I untied it and slipped it down to my waist.

“Heh, I don’t know how that got there.” I laughed nervously. “And I don’t look any different. Pete. Get your god damn eyes tested.” I laughed punching him on the arm and dashing off to my room before he could say anything else. Slamming the door closed I slipped down the door and sat on my bedroom floor breathing deeply. What the hell was happening? Why did I do that? Why didn’t he recognise me? I wasn’t wearing makeup, or women’s’ clothes. It wasn’t the first time… This was getting weird…

After enough time had passed I dried myself off and slipped into a pair of sweats and a tee shirt before venturing out into the kitchen to find something to eat. With all the excitement this afternoon, we had missed lunch, and I really wasn’t a one meal a day sort of guy.

Pete was sat at the counter as I walked into the kitchen.

“Alright,” He said looking up from his paper. “Why were you acting weird before Mike?” he asked, going straight for the kill. I looked around for a moment.

“It's stress I guess.” I shrugged. “Lots going on at work at the moment, in fact I’m transferring out of the Met at the moment.” I said, trying to distract him. Thankfully, he bought it.

“Oh? You moving somewhere else?” He said looking a little crestfallen. “How come you didn’t tell us?”

“No, I’m staying in London,” I said quickly. “I’m staying within the government, but changing Department, as it were.” I said cryptically. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go around telling people I was joining MI6, regardless of whether I was actually allowed to:

Unfortunately, Pete wasn’t that easy to satisfy.“Where are you going? Surely you’d have known you were going to transfer out? They aren’t giving you a desk are they?” he asked curiously between vicious oral assaults on the food before him that passed for eating.

I shook my head. “No, It's very spur of the moment, I… I was recruited, lets say,” I said raising my eyebrows.

“Who by?” Pete asked innocently. Why did he have to be so curious? I tried to pause as I reached into the fridge for a beer and spent an inordinate amount of time opening the thing. It was as he was turning to see why I had gone quiet, I remembered the 6 man Benton’s cover… “Foreign and Commonwealth office,” I said nonchalantly. “Paper pushing, nothing fancy, I look forward to the change of pace to be honest,” I shrugged.

Pete looked at me for a moment then went back to his food. “Sure sounds boring,” he mumbled. Becky chose that moment to return home. She pushed her way into the flat with as much physical drama as such a small person could create, dumping bags in the hall and slamming the door. “Blasted tube was out on our line,” she growled. “I had to walk from bloody Victoria. And these bags aren’t light!” she scowled.

“Don’t buy so much you dozy cow,” Pete said grinning. “It would be easier on you in more ways than one,” he lectured with a chuckle.

“Oh piss off.” She laughed. “You know that will never work. How was your day?” she asked regaining some of her trademark bounce now the long fight home was over.

“Fine,” he shrugged. “It’s been much more interesting since I got home though.”

Why can’t the world swallow you up when you want it to?

“Why’s that? Becky called from the living room, groaning loudly as she pulled off her knee high stiletto boots. “AAAHHHHHH circulation!” she moaned happily.

“Mike was running around in a towel looking like a girl, and now he’s announced that he’s left the police,” he announced triumphantly, trying to make me look as bad as possible. “I think he wants to be called Michaela now!” he laughed not quite managing to dodge the well aimed spatula I launched at the back of his head.

Becky appeared at the door to the kitchen seconds later. “Really?” she asked, her head cocked to one side. “I’d confirm it.” He winced, rubbing the back of his head. “But I’m afraid SHE will try to hurt me again.” He laughed. I was just stood there with my head in my hands hoping the world would end.

I felt Becky’s hand on my arm and dropped my hands to look at her. “He’s pulling your leg about most of that,” I said weakly. She nodded knowingly.
“Oh I didn’t believe a word of his usual bullshit, especially his kinky fantasies that he inflicts on us all,” she laughed pretending to vomit. “But is he right about you quitting the Met? I thought you loved that job?” She asked with concern.

I sighed. I was going to have to be honest; it was the safest way out that I could think of. They would be fine if my housemates knew? Right?

“Look, both of you listen up; I’m going to say zis once, and only once.” I said, imitating a famous quote from an old TV show. “I have been recruited by the Secret Intelligence Service, MI6 to you lackeys. Please don’t tell anyone this, as it is quite secret,” I said seriously, glaring at the pair. “If I ever say I can’t talk about something, please respect the fact that I can’t. The same goes for any extended unannounced trips.” I finished, watching the two closely for their reactions.

Becky and Pete looked at each other for a moment; Pete started to laugh, but caught the serious expression on my face. “You’re serious aren’t you Mike?” he asked furrowing his brow. “Straight up? Mi6?”

“Yes,” I sighed, “and this is the last time we talk about it, ok? So get your curiosity out of the way now before I lose my patience.” I grimaced.

The three of us talked for nearly an hour, they were both extremely curious. I think Pete didn’t believe me till I showed him the security pass in my suit pocket. I was deliberately vague; I didn’t know how much I was allowed to say, or not as the case may be. I just hoped men in black suits wouldn’t turn up in the night and spirit me away to some dark cell for all eternity. Thankfully, in the aftermath of my honesty, Pete had forgotten about the bathroom incident. The evening wound on slowly as we returned to our usual evening routines. Before long, I was welcoming the warm embrace of sleep once more.

I woke the next morning to the annoying voice of the radio DJ; it was possibly the last voice I ever wanted to hear first thing in the morning, second to perhaps Cherie Blair. As usual it succeeded in dragging me from the warm confines of my bed. I showered quickly, and got out of the flat before my housemates woke: I wasn’t in the mood to talk to them this morning; I needed a break in the interrogation after last night.

I missed the normal morning rush at the pods, arriving slightly earlier, and entered the Vauxhall Cross for my 4th day working with MI6, although I supposed that today would become my official first day. Catching one of the lifts, I descended to the sublevels of the building, and arrived at the Middle East controlerate.

The door unlocked with a beep, and I slipped into the offices. I headed towards Mr Tornworth’s office, hoping that he would be in early, I was in luck. As I knocked, he looked up from his desk and gestured for me to enter.

“You’re in very early Michael.” He smiled. “Though I suspect you didn’t come in for an idle chat.” He said raising his eyebrows in question.
“Yes Mr Tornworth, I mean Sir. Sorry.” I stuttered not quite sure of the appropriate title.

“Ah stuff the formality down here Michael, Call me John.” He said. “What’s on your mind? How were things yesterday?”

Taking a seat in front of his desk, I pursed my lips, wondering how to phrase yesterday’s happenings. “Well, I guess it went okay, if we are talking about mission success.” I began. “But I came to speak to you about something Miss North told me afterwards; when we knew things could progress…” I said trailing off, hoping that he got the hint.

John nodded. “Yes, I asked her to offer you a more permanent position with us pending on the success of yesterday’s erm… test,” he said with an embarrassed grin.

“Look, I’ll be honest with you,” he said shrugging. “This is unorthodox, and I think this avenue honestly holds the most chance for us to field an agent successfully. It’s hard to find reasonable Field Officer candidates at the best of times and your skill-set and background offers us a unique opportunity to diversify…” he smiled conspiratorially.

“You impressed me when you told me that our initial plan would not work, even against my insistence that you try. To be honest, I suspected as much, but at the time we were short of ideas. “You’re a professional, as you said, and you aren’t willing to compromise your beliefs and work for the unrealistic or impossible: That makes you an asset as a field Officer,” he said leaning back in his chair and looking at me. “What do you say to working for us?” he asked.

“Okay,” I replied simply. “I had plenty of time to think this over last night after Miss North… Jane told me, so don’t think this is spur of the moment; but yes, I’ll do it.” I said with more confidence than I felt.

John leant forwards and offered me his hand across the desk. “Welcome to the Team, Mike,” he said with a broad smile. I took the offered hand, once again losing mine in his massive paw and vicelike grip. I felt like I had just signed a business deal …

“How do we progress from here?” I asked, cutting to the point of my coming in early. “This assignment, this mission … I don’t want to be left out of the loop on this,” I insisted.

“Well, When Jane and Harriet get in; we meet with Toby, my deputy. You met him yesterday, blunt Scottish chap,” he said reminding me with a grin. “And we will form an action plan for the next two weeks that remain before the mission begins. Of course, there will be some job training that will have to be conducted …” he said with an apologetic smile. “I can’t quite let you go into the field untrained… All Field Officers attend the Field Officer Entry Course before assignment to a controlerate, but we will have to compress the actual important parts into this period for you, the fluff can come afterwards when you get back.”

“You mean IF?” I replied grimly, saying what I really thought, and what I was sure he meant.

“No, I mean when,” John said, his face taking on a serious expression. “I never expect to lose an Officer in the field, and this mission is no different, you have the particulars for this job that no amount of legend specific training or prep could teach. If anyone would complete this successfully, it’s you.” He shrugged, “Now if you do get killed and prove me wrong. I will dig your damn body up, and kill you myself. Clear Cohen?” he said with mock sincerity.

I couldn’t help but smile. There was a different side of this man I was seeing now I had crossed the invisible divide between working with, and for.

Over the next half hour, the department began to fill up: Soon, those pertinent to the operation arrived, and were subsequently called into John’s office. There were congratulations given and knowing smiles when it was announced I was becoming a permanent member of the Controlerate. Jane gave her report on the previous day, and much to my embarrassment, she could find no reason for the operation to not go ahead. We discussed the next two weeks, and what would have to be incorporated.

Jane kept looking at me as if she was about to say something, but changing her mind at the last moment. Eventually, it got too annoying to ignore.
“What is it?” I asked turning to her.

“Well,” she said slowly, as if choosing her words carefully. “There isn’t much time to fit all that Mike has to learn in… I would like to put it past everyone that we kill two birds with one stone,” she said, glancing around the room nervously.

“What is it, woman?” Toby Goodwin asked impatiently in his broad Glaswegian accent. “You want us to come back later or are you going to tell us now?” he asked sarcastically, earning him a scowl.

“Look, I just think it would work better if we spend a few days with Mike… dealing with the more… erm, Vital aspects of the… Disguise…” she said looking at me with a worried look. “Then Mike lives as Anastasia 24/7 till the Mission… so he can get used to it, allowing him more time to focus on the other aspects...?” she offered tentatively, with an expression that suggested she expected me to explode any second with rage.

It didn’t seem as shocking or disgusting as I wanted it to in my mind. The idea, while scary, was annoyingly sensible… I didn’t want to make some major goof when it mattered and it could kill me … did I?

“I guess,” I shrugged. “I mean, I’ll have to do it at the end of these two weeks anyway. Starting a few days earlier won’t exactly change anything.”

“Sorry Mike,” Jane said softly. “I just didn’t want to seem like I was throwing more of this at you, I realise how hard yesterday was…” she said with an apologetic smile.

“I’ll just be happy when it’s all over,” I shrugged.

“This is above and beyond, lad,” said Toby seriously. “We’ll look after ye’,.” He said patting me on the back roughly. This stays within the controlerate, nobody else in Six needs to find out, okay?” he smiled reassuringly. “I Know I wouldn’t want anyone to find out,” he chuckled. I just looked at my feet and blushed.

“That’s not what we all think, you know,” Harriet said as we walked across the footbridges away from the Mi6 building.

“I know, but he, and God knows how many others are or will be in the next few days,” I said to the floor as we walked. “Facing that lot when I do this is going to be so embarrassing,” I sighed.

“There is another way,” Jane shrugged as we hailed a cab.

“I dread to find out, but go on …” I urged as we climbed aboard. “New Scotland Yard Please,” I told the cabbie, before returning my gaze to Jane. “What?” I asked.

“You start living as the legend 24/7 now …” She grinned. “Nobody gets to know you before, and when the mission is over, she goes away, and Mike goes on the Field Officer’s Entry Course before being assigned to MEFE…” She concluded looking pleased with herself.

“Would John and Toby go for that?” asked Harriet sceptically beside me. “It seems a bit deceptive. I don’t think people are that immature here…” she said making a face.

“I’d rather not be known as ‘that agent that dressed up as a girl …” I said, hoping the cabbie had his mike off. “From what Mr Goodwin said before; I can be pretty sure there would be a lot of attitudes that aren’t vocalised, and as much as I don’t want to run around in skirts, it offers me a way out with my manhood intact. It’s not quite the best way for me to start at a new job.” I grimaced.

“Keeping your manhood intact by wearing a skirt?” Harriet asked coyly, cocking an eyebrow. “That’s certainly the most roundabout way I can imagine,” she chuckled.

After paying the driver, we left the taxi and made our way into the Lobby of New Scotland Yard. The two girls decided not to come up; Jane said something cryptic about phone calls. Shrugging, I called the lift, and was soon on my way up to the 3rd floor, and my old place of work.

“Where’ve you been mate?” boomed Harry from across the room as I entered the office.

“I’ll tell you in a bit, Harry,” I replied, trying to throw him off long enough to ask Janice if the boss was around. Well, my old boss.

Knocking on Chief Inspector Farvey’s door, I entered.

“Welcome back Cohen.” He smiled as he looked up from the papers on his desk. “Have fun playing with the spooks, lad?” he chuckled.

“How did you?” I began to ask furrowing my brow, when he held up a hand and laughed deeply. “You don’t think that’s the first time some busybody from the ‘Foreign and Commonwealth’ has been around these parts? It’s one of the corniest covers in the book, but we’re British, so we keep using them because they make us feel better,” He chuckled.

It struck me as true when I thought back. Why would some Foreign office lackey come here to talk to me?

I cut to the chase; “Sir, I’m here to tender my resignation, unfortunately, it has to be effective immediately,” I shrugged apologetically.

“Stole you have they? Bastards,” he said with a wry grin, offering his hand. “Good luck in future pastures, Michael,” he said ruefully giving my hand a good squeeze. “May our loss be their gain.”

We chatted for a few more moments before I said my goodbyes and left his office for the last time. Harry was still loitering when I closed the door.

“What’s all this cloak and dagger stuff mate?” he said in his usual tactless manner.

“I’m being transferred,” I shrugged. “Position with the foreign office, diplomatic protection detail,” I shrugged. Somehow, I knew that line would work on Harry.

“Sounds boring,” he said making a face. “When you go?” he asked as I cleared the few personal items I owned from my desk and hit a few keys on my keyboard before my machine began to format its drive.

“Now, Harry,” It’s a short notice placement. Overseas, you know …” I shrugged with fake remorse. “Boring, but they pay great,” I grinned, hoping he was satisfied.

“Fair enough,” He grinned. “Been cool working with you mate,” he called as I walked out the door.

“I don’t share the sentiment,” I muttered as I walked down the corridor.

It was strange. At the time, I had thought that I enjoyed the job, or at least had been happy, but the more I thought back, the more I realised that it had been just that; a job.

Exiting the lift on the ground floor, I headed over to the seating area where the two women were waiting for me. I gave the building a last look over as we hailed a cab, and left New Scotland Yard for the last time.

Chapter 6

The cab dropped us off outside North Bank, and we made our way inside where we were greeted warmly by Sally.

“I ordered those things you requested Jane, the courier dropped them off a few moments ago,” She said grinning devilishly, “It’s funny how fast your lot’s money moves things…” she chuckled.

“What have you done?” I asked with a growing feeling of dread.

“You’ll see,” replied Jane with a coy smile.

“I really don’t trust you with surprises,” I said shaking my head. “Fine, let’s destroy my life as I know it for the next few weeks,” I sighed reluctantly. “Shall we?” I asked turning to Sally, “I don’t want to delay everyone’s plans.”

Sally led me through into the room we had used the day before and I mindlessly walked straight into the changing room and stripped. There was another pair of knickers on the side, and the same silk robe. I slipped both items on without really thinking about it. I was too far beyond being able to complain or worry.

When I returned to the main room, Sally led me to a long table and ordered me to lie face down on the padded top. I gave her a funny look, but complied.

“Now this might sting a little dear…” she said as she began to spread warm liquid wax on the backs of my legs. I wasn’t stupid; I knew what was coming from many other sources, but nothing quite prepared me for the utter agony when she ripped the first of the cloth strips from my skin.

YOOOWWCH.” I screamed in a most unmanly fashion. “Can’t you do that any less violently?” I begged squeezing my eyes shut to block out the pain as she removed more of my flesh.

“Of course not, dear,” she said in a bored tone. “Now be a good girl and grin and bear it; beauty hurts,” she giggled. I could almost swear she was enjoying this.

Before long, the backs of my legs were clear of hair, and having rolled me onto my front, she repeated the process. Thankfully the rest of my body was relatively hair free, apart from my armpits and pubic region which received similar vicious treatment.

“Do MI6 employ you to torture suspects too?” I groaned rubbing my sore body parts. “Is it always that bad?”

“No, you get used to it,” she said as she cleared some items away. “And yes, once or twice they brought in a particularly hairy terrorist for me to play with,” she grinned, before bursting into giggles when she saw the look on my face.

I was allowed the modesty of the robe once more and Sally had me sit in the salon chair again.

“Ok hon, we’re going to give you hair extensions,” she said as she played with my existing locks. “How long do you want it?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know, you decide.” I replied dismissively, not really wanting to be voluntarily involved in my emasculation.

Sally smiled and rubbed my shoulder. “It’s not so bad dear,” she soothed. “I know this isn’t easy, but you need to relax a little and go with the flow ok?”

“The flow terrifies me,” I admitted. “This whole thing is alien and strange, I came into this hoping that I’d prove them wrong and look silly, then I found myself feeling glad I didn’t look stupid … that … I don’t know; if I have to be a girl, at least I don’t look stupid… does that make sense?” I asked locking eyes with her through the mirror.

“Sure it does dear,” she said with a reassuring smile. “Nobody wants to look stupid. Look, why don’t you try to put Michael away for now, and pretend you’re someone else? You might find it easier if you stop thinking of yourself as a man dressed as a woman …” She shrugged,

“But I am,” I said, “Or I will be.” I shuddered.

Sally shook her head. “No you won’t.” she said firmly. “For your mission you will be a woman, so you’d better get into character, huh?

“I don’t see how,” I shrugged, beginning to feel stupid. “I’ll be a guy pretending to be a woman on the mission, nothing changes that.”

Sally knelt down by my side and turned to face me. “Look dear, I’m not one of your spy types, but I do know that if you go with that attitude, you will fail, and it will most probably cost you your life,” she said seriously. “My advice, is to let go of Michael for a while, let's pick you a name to use, It will make this easier for you than seeing yourself as ‘Michael in girls clothes’,” she smiled. “any ideas?” Sally prompted.

“I really never thought about it.” I shrugged screwing up my face. “I’d like something Hebrew though.” I admitted. “I won’t change everything about me.”

Sally nodded. “How about Sarah?” she offered, “That’s a Hebrew name isn’t it?”

I shook my head. “No, it’s too… girly... I really don’t quite see myself as the princess sort yet either,” I chuckled darkly.

Sally smiled ruefully and shook her head. “You really are a hard one to please aren’t you?” she said shaking her head. “Well you have a think while I do your hair okay? I will be expecting a name when I’m through.” She smiled and rubbed my arm before she got to her feet and began to work on my hair.

As she worked, I lost myself in thought. I had to admit she was right; my entire problem with this was that I saw myself as Mike cross-dressing. For Mike, being treated like this, wearing clothes like this would be wrong, or strange…. But If I thought of myself as a girl, it wouldn’t be… it would be normal. I tried to think of girl's names, but each one that popped into my head was someone I knew… I really didn’t want to be reminded of them each time someone called my name for the next few weeks. As I tried to think of names that didn’t belong to anyone I knew, I remembered something my Father had mentioned once; he had described how my Mother had vetoed my sister’s name… I had gotten a Jewish name, and my sister ought to have a Christian one… to reflect the two faiths my parents belonged to… Of course, it hadn’t mattered that Veronica had not been a Christian name either… but the name had stuck with her to this day as names tend to… I thought about the name my Father had wanted…. Sharon…. I played with it in my mind for a moment and something seemed to click. It was as if it was a name waiting for me… It was part of my family, but awaiting an owner… Sharon Cohen, Miss Sharon Cohen. ‘I am Sharon…’ I thought to myself. I smiled inwardly at the irony of the name… Plain, flat, new… a clean slate in my mind…. Yes, Sharon was perfect.

When I came round from my daydream like state I realised that Sally was practically finished. I looked at the person in the mirror… I saw no trace of Mike and the only difference I could see was that my hair was longer and a different colour… She had finished the extensions, and dyed my hair a very natural shade of blonde, almost honey coloured. It was currently cascading around my shoulders with a slight hint of waviness. I could see the girl again … she was more plain looking at the moment, but none the less still pretty, and still a girl. It was scary to see myself look like that…

“Wow,” I breathed quietly.

“See what I meant yesterday?” Sally said nodding at my reflection. “You suit this,” she smiled.

“Even flat-chested and without any makeup I look like a girl,” I said slowly. “How?” I asked dumbly, feeling increasing confusion begin to creep through my brain.

Sally finished trimming a section of hair and fluffed it lightly. “Good genes dear,” She said with a shrug. Holding a mirror behind my head, she moved it around to let me see the whole effect. “What do you think?” she asked with a proud smile on her lips.

“I … I like it,” I said without really thinking. I looked so different that it felt easier to think of myself as Sharon… as a girl. As the hypothetical Sharon, I think it suited me, or her, I wasn’t quite sure yet.

“Did you decide on a name?” she asked leaning on the back of the chair and looking over my shoulder. “If you haven’t, I’m going to name you Betty-Sue,.” she giggled, wiggling her eyebrows.

I chuckled at the thought and looked at myself in the mirror again… Nope, no Mike…
“Sharon, I think,” I said slowly “I guess looking like this it makes it easier to call myself that,” I murmured quietly.

“The name suits you,” she smiled. “It’s feisty without being sluttish, but feminine at the same time… and yes, you do look more like a Sharon at the moment.” She said with a smile.

“I’m not so sure feisty is anything I want to be,” I frowned, running my fingers through my blond locks. “This feels so real,” I said furrowing my brow. “I can’t even tell.”

Sally beamed. “That, my darling, is because I’m a pro,” she said winking and laughing before explaining what she had done… I didn’t understand most of it, but I was glad she did.

Sally spun my chair around again and proceeded to attack my eyebrows with a pair of tweezers before she set about applying cosmetics to my face. To her credit, she tried to explain what each thing was, and what they did, but I was lost.

Sally dove into the wardrobe cum cupboard again, and produced another small mountain of clothing on the floor by my feet. Once she was satisfied, she didn’t go for the corset as before, but reached onto the shelf behind me and removed a package. Ripping the paper, she extracted another box similar to the previous day.

“Jane had me order these from a supplier in the city and got them couriered over,” she said with a sly smile. “MI6 spares no expense…”

Opening the box, she lifted out one of the fleshy objects. They were more realistic than the previous pair, and the tone matched my skin much more closely. Sally placed the breast forms on the tabletop next to her, and extracted a tube from the box and began to read the label.

“What’s that?” I asked puzzled.

“It’s a skin glue.” She said, “It will adhere the forms to your chest for about two weeks, we will need to take them off and clean the underlying skin before you go away, so the timing is quite good.” She said. “This will make it much more realistic, and help you get into character.” She said it as if she was trying to convince me it was a good idea.

In all honesty, I’d given up much hope of escaping with some modicum of masculinity, so I lay back on the waxing table once more as Sally applied the glue to both my skin and the breast forms before individually positioning each one. Once they were on my skin, she added more glue around the edges, and applied a semi permanent makeup to blend them to my own skin. The effect was shocking; I sat up and immediately felt the tug of my breasts on my chest.

“This is weird,” I muttered. “too damn weird.”

Sally laughed. “You’ll get used to that,” she said with a knowing grin. “Most of us grow ours over a few years, so we don’t notice a difference,” she said with a note of amusement.

Sally retrieved the bra and the corset from the pile of clothes and ordered me to stand before imprisoning me in the blasted thing again. I was NOT pleased with the way it pushed my breasts up… I could swear they looked larger. Fastening the bra, Sally showed me how to position my breasts in the cups. I did feel more comfortable now the weight was supported more evenly, strange, but more comfortable.

Sally selected a knee length grey skirt and a pale blue blouse that exposed just the hint of cleavage without actually revealing the false breasts. While I wrestled with a pair of nude tights, she rummaged in her venerable Aladdin’s cave and returned with a pair of low black strappy heels.

“I don’t think I’m ready for those,” I said with a grimace. “What happened to walking before I run?” I asked hoping she would reconsider.

“Nonsense.” She smiled. "Consider them training. Plus, these are barely two inches,” She chided. “Grow up, girl,” she winked.

Straightening my clothes , she gathered my hair behind my head and fiddled with something before pronouncing me done; I could feel my hair tugging lightly at whatever she had pinned it with.

Leading me over to the mirror, she showed me the results of her hard work.

I was speechless. There was no doubt I appeared female now… My blonde hair was pulled into a loose bun high on the back of my head, with a few wispy strands framing my expertly made up face. My figure was undeniably female, and the young woman that looked back at me was slim and attractive. She looked ready for a business meeting and most definitely was not a Mike …

While I had been admiring myself, Sally had invited Jane and Harriet in. The two of them were as shocked as I was. “Mike, I can’t believe that’s you,” Harriet whispered, with a look closely approaching awe.

“Girls,” Sally announced, getting their attention. “We decided, for the good of her role, that she needs to be referred to in the feminine from now on … And she’s called Sharon,” she said with a broad grin.

“Whose idea was that?” Jane asked curiously, fixing Sally with an accusatory stare.

“Hey it was my idea for a name, but she picked it!” Sally giggled holding her hands up in surrender.

“How do you feel Mi … Sharon? Jane asked raising her eyebrows. “I must say you look great…

“The jury is still out,” I shrugged. “I know I look good, and I’m happy that I don’t look silly, but this still feels uncomfortable,” I shrugged. “So what’s the plan now?” I asked with trepidation.

“Well, I thought we could get a spot of lunch, and then do some shopping for you,” Jane suggested. “John authorised us to use a 6 credit card, so there’s no worry about money.”

Sally rolled her eyes, “I should have become a super spy like my sister.”

I wheeled around. “You two are sisters?” I half asked, half stated as I looked back and forth between the two. “I should have guessed,” I sighed. “Why would 6 go round vetting salons?”

Sally grinned. “I just wish you were in as safe hands this afternoon with the other North sister.” She chuckled, dodging a playful swipe from Jane.

Sally found me a handbag and a jacket to go with my outfit, and placed one of each of the cosmetics she had used in the bag. I gave her a hug as we left.

“Thank you, you made this as painless as I expect it could have been,” I said genuinely. “Apart from the waxing, of course.” I said laughing.

“My pleasure,” she smiled warmly. “I just wish I could come with you guys now, but I have to open the shop and tend to the boring normal customers,” she replied ruefully.

After a final round of goodbyes, we stepped out onto the street and waited for a cab to pass.

It was about then I realised I was standing on a London street wearing women’s clothes, makeup, and with big fake breasts glued to my chest.

To Be Continued...

Focal Point - Chapter 7 & 8

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

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Posted by author(s)

Focal Point
CHAPTERS 7 & 8

By Alyssa Plant

Michael Cohen's dream was to protect and serve as a police officer.... That job didn't satisfy him until one day, when people without names came to visit. He wanted to make a difference, but he didn't expect it to make a difference to him, too...

Chapter 7

Some part of my brain told me that I ought to be scared of what I was doing, but was overridden by an overwhelming sense of self preservation. If I broke down now, I would draw attention to myself, but if I kept going, nobody would be the wiser.

So I did just that … I followed Jane and Harriet along the street, occasionally agreeing with something, or making non committal sounds. Before long, a taxi appeared, and we flagged it down and boarded. Jane gave the driver an address , and I sank down into my seat with relief. I had never before been more self conscious of walking 50 meters in my life.

“You okay?” Harriet asked, watching my expression carefully. “It’s okay to be nervous,” she said with a friendly smile, giving my hand a light squeeze. “I know what you’re thinking … Seriously though, nobody will work it out unless you telling them; you look amazing,” she grinned.

“She’s right,” added Jane from the other side of Harriet. “Sally did a right number on you, it suits you down to the ground …”

“So everyone keeps saying,” I sighed. “I’d like to get to grips with pretending to be this first though if you don’t mind,” I muttered darkly.

“Just treat this as what it is …” Harriet said with a shrug. “An operation … you’re an undercover Intelligence agent, so act the part and earn your paycheque,” she added, making it sound like this was the simplest thing in the world.

“It may have escaped your notice,” I said darkly. “But I don’t know this role very well.”

“Coulda fooled me,” snickered Harriet. “That’s the easy part though. You look like you belong, that gives you a little leeway … We won’t have to concentrate on getting your mannerisms and behaviour to be as feminine as possible to remove suspicion … you look so …. female,” she said gesturing at me, “that nobody would begin to suspect you were undercover. So relax okay?”

“Easier said than done,” I muttered to myself.

We arrived at a small Italian Bistro in Knightsbridge and made our way inside. I tried to take what the girls had said to heart, but it was easier to understand what they meant, than it was to truly believe. It sounds silly, but I swear that I expected everyone that cast their eyes in my direction would see through my deception. It was irrational I knew; I had seen myself in the mirror at Sally’s, and I knew there was no way anyone could tell, but subconsciously, it was a hard feeling to shake.

We were seated quickly, and shared a quick light lunch. We relaxed, and I began to get to know the two girls a little better. If anything, they seemed to open up to me more as Sharon than they had as Mike. Harriet kept looking at me strangely when she thought my head was turned: My unnaturally broad field of vision was clearly not on 6’s file ….

“So what is Mr Tornworth like to work for?” I asked between bites of my salad. I had been scolded several times for how I ate, and was beginning to feel like I was 5 again.

“He’s not bad. He can get stroppy at times when the Deputy Chief rides him and the other heads of departments, but that’s normal; the guy’s an ass,” Harriet shrugged.

“Er, ’not bad’?” Jane scoffed. “He’s only not bad to you because you’re one of his precious field Officers … You don’t have to spend as much time with him as I do. He rides us pretty hard when you go off gallivanting around foreign countries,” she snickered. “All in all, he’s not TOO bad. I suppose, we could have done so much worse,” she shrugged. “Safe to say you won’t find him too bad.” Jane said to me. “You’re a man, after all.”

“Yeah, he can be a bit old school,” Harriet added screwing up her face, “But he’s not as bad as Toby can be.”

“What have I walked into?” I moaned. “Although I’ll probably get to see a different side thanks to this mission,” I said, sipping my wine, “I may not see the full brunt of his misogyny, but doubtless, my membership card for the old boys club will get lost in the post.”

“I guess that makes you an honorary girl for the duration,” Jane chuckled. “You’re going to have to learn to fend off Daniel Many Hands, so if anything, that qualifies you,” she said with something approaching glee.

“I think I get the idea,” I sighed. Men were another facet of this mission that I was as yet unwilling to even consider. Though that might be easier said than done like so many other things I was dealing with for the first time.

We chatted idly for another half an hour or so before leaving to get a cab into central London to begin the second part of my torture and education: Shopping.

The taxi dropped us off at the end of Oxford Street, and Harriet, like a true general led the attack from the front. She was clearly an experienced London shopper, possessing just the right amount of haughty confidence to keep the vulture-like sales assistants at bay. Between themselves, the girls began to compile a small mountain of clothing they thought suitable for me. Thankfully, I wasn’t exactly sure what was suitable for a female me, so I largely kept out of the discussions, occasionally vetoing a disgusting colour or style that I would have found repulsive on any woman, let alone myself.

Eventually, the mountain of clothing became too large for them to support, and I was dragged towards the changing room to begin trying on the third of the shop we had acquired. To my credit, I only balked slightly when I was guided forcefully into the women’s changing room and installed in a cubicle. I had often wondered why women took so long when shopping, and after seeing the lengthy process that took place in each shop, I had a new understanding for the process. I started to think about how much I would benefit from the experience when I got a girlfriend, but something felt extremely wrong about ‘girlfriend’ when I was stood there, a perfect representation of the sort of girl I would have fancied. The world was a weird place…
“Where next?” I asked with trepidation as we left Harvey Nicks.

“It’s a surprise.” Jane replied ominously.

I groaned; “I’m about done with your surprises.”

“There is one thing my dear sister cannot do,” Jane said as we made our way along the busy streets. “She cannot pierce.”

I swallowed heavily. “Pierce what?”

“Your ears silly … It’s going to look very funny if a 24 year old woman doesn’t have pierced ears.”

“I thought we weren’t doing anything permanent?” I asked nervously, trying desperately to find some way out of having metal shoved through my body.

“They heal if you take them out within a few weeks.” Harriet said, attempting to reassure me. “And if it doesn’t, lots of guys have them pierced…”

I sighed, “It just seems a very permanent step to take. This is moving so fast.”

Harriet was quiet for a moment before she spoke, “Think about it this way: The more we do sooner, the more dramatic the difference, and thus, easier for you to separate yourself from this … If anything, getting your ears pierced for a few weeks is going to help …” she offered. “Plus you’re such a big baby. It doesn’t hurt.” She grinned, spotting one of my reasons for hesitation.

“I’m not scared.” I said puffing out my chest, only to breathe out rapidly when I saw my breasts push forwards in a way I did NOT want to see on me. Harriet was watching the entire inner conflict with amusement, and found it hard to stifle a giggle.

“You’ll get used to those,” she whispered conspiratorially in my ear as we walked. “And for future references, you can’t pull off macho at the moment, honey.”

I scowled, but said nothing. She was right.

Jane took me to an upmarket piercing parlour where she paid for me to be impaled by a disturbingly large needle; twice. It hadn’t hurt as much as I expected, but I was still not pleased by such a permanently feminine step, whether I needed it or not. The silver studs were plain and unfeminine, but represented a strange new line I had crossed unwillingly.

Afterwards, we returned to the shopping assault with renewed vigour. I should have been pleased by the respite. Much to my embarrassment, I was subjected to Lingerie and shoe shopping before my two captors were finally satisfied. By this time, it was almost five, so they grudgingly decided to call it a day. We took a taxi back to my flat in Battersea, not wanting to chance the tube with such a mass of bags and packages. The girls offered to come up with me, but I declined, there were some things I needed to face alone.

Before I knew it, I was alone outside my flat. Hefting my packages, I climbed the stairs slowly towards the second floor. As I climbed, the stairs seemed to extend further and further. I didn’t know if it was the thought of what lay at the top, or the weight of my bags, but my feet felt like lead. How had things happened so quickly? It was only Wednesday that I had agreed to do this, and now here I was … stuck as a girl for the next few weeks. It was almost enough for me to want to be back at the Met again.

I reached my flat, and let myself in. I carried my bags through to my room and dumped them unceremoniously on the floor. I couldn’t meet my housemates looking like this….

I stripped off my skirt and blouse and pulled the pins from my hair before slipping out of my room and down the corridor to the bathroom where I cleaned off the makeup; that girl was still there …. I looked at my face from every angle, but no matter what I did, I still saw Sharon looking back at me. I cursed to myself under my breath and returned to my bedroom to find something simple and unfeminine to wear. I wasn’t quite ready to reintroduce myself to my housemates in a skirt.

I sorted through the bags, hanging the different garments in my wardrobe before I finally found what I had been looking for. We had gone to several High Street chain shops to find me some less dressy clothes for when I was around the house. I carefully slipped off the tights, and pulled on the loose jog bottoms and tee shirt. I felt much more comfortable after the restrictive garments I had spent the day in. Needless to say I still wore the damned corset, but I had grown used to it to a certain extent. I padded through into the kitchen, and got myself a beer from the fridge; I needed something to take the edge off my anxiety. Opening the bottle, I slipped onto the sofa and rubbed my aching feet. I certainly understood what girls meant about the pain of beauty now.

I sipped the beer and began to think of ways that I could phrase my predicament. I didn’t think the truth, no matter how appropriate, was possible; the nature of the Mission denied me that option. I toyed with several other ideas to little success, I opted in the end to go with a very vague version of the truth, and play the national secret trump card.

The sound of the door opening and shutting in the hallway snapped me from my reverie.

It was all the strength that I possessed to not run for my bedroom as each footfall reverberated on the polished wooden floor of the hall. I clenched my fists and waited for the inevitable.

Becky came into the room and dumped her bag on the sideboard with a sigh before turning to head towards the kitchen. As she did so, her eyes fell on me as I sat rooted to the spot on the sofa.

“Hi,” she said, a little startled. “You scared me … I’m Becky, I live here,” she said smiling warmly.

“I know Becky.” I said quietly. “Me too …”

Becky looked at me for a moment and I saw recognition flicker across her eyes.

“Mike?” she asked slowly furrowing her brow. “Is that you? What is this?”

“Ah, it’s a long story,” I sighed, trying to find the words. “This isn’t some lifestyle thing,” I hurriedly added. “It’s for work ….”

Becky looked sceptical but sat down to listen while I told her the edited version of the truth.

When I finished, Becky sat looking at me for a moment, as if wondering whether I was being honest or this was some massive fabrication to cover my queerness.

“How can they ask that of you?” she said with a frown. “Isn’t this a bit much?”

“I don’t honestly know. I originally decided to do it because I knew it wouldn’t work.” I grimaced. “But then it did … and I’m sort of flying by the seat of my pants here … well, my knickers…” I said dryly.

Stifling a laugh, she smiled warmly and moved over to sit next to me on the sofa and wrapped her arms around me.

“I don’t care what you look like, Mike,” she murmured softly as she hugged me. “You’re one of the few people in this city that actually gives a damn about me, and you deserve the same in return,” she said looking up at me with a deep far away look in her eyes. “You are very brave,” she said quietly. “Not many men would do this.”

“I’m still wondering if any have,” I snorted. “Anyway, I worked out today this is easier If I don’t see myself as a man.” I mumbled quietly. “I guess that makes me more embarrassed by this, and no amount of ‘brave’ will fix that.”

Becky looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “So you think of yourself as a girl like this?”

“I guess so.” I shrugged. “Sally thought … she … helped with this,” I said gesturing at myself. “She thought it would be a good idea to think of myself as a whole different person during this thing. I think I agree … It made shopping easier this afternoon … thought I was still scared.”

“You went out like this … in town?” Becky asked with surprise. “What was it like?”

“Well nobody pointed and laughed or shouted freak at me … so I guess okay,” I shrugged.

Becky giggled. “Well I can see that,” she said slyly raising her eyebrows. “I didn’t recognise you till you said you lived here … I noticed the similarities, I thought you might be a relative till you said,” she trailed off. “You look like your own sister,” she added flatly.

“I wouldn’t know, I don’t have one,” I shrugged.

“You know what I mean,” she sighed. “You just look like … I guess what you would have looked like if you were born like this.”

“This feels really weird Becky.” I admitted biting my lip. “Since this started, I’ve started feeling so strange, things just keep getting weirder.”

Giving me a reassuring squeeze, she said nothing for a moment. “Take your friend's advice,” she said quietly. “There is nothing weird about being a girl; I’ll vouch for that … So stop being Mike, and become Mike the girl … at least for a little while.” She shrugged.

She was right of course, so was Sally, they all were. The more I thought of myself as ‘Sharon’ the easier I found it to just exist, but the disturbing fact was, the more I did so, the more I forgot Mike. It hadn’t been a day, and I felt him slip just a little as I thought this way … This was wrong ….

“So ….” Becky pressed, forcing me from my reverie. “Do you have a name you use? For this I mean …” she added.

“Sharon,” I muttered.

“Oh, very cultural,” Becky giggled. “Sharon Cohen … Yes, I like it. It suits you.” She smiled.

“So Sharon,” she giggled playfully. “How are we going to tell that nasty man we live with that you came to your senses and joined the winning side?” she smirked devilishly.

She was taunting me, I knew her game, but I wasn’t going to rise to it as much as I wanted to. For the most part, it was because I knew she was only joking to make me feel better, not to upset me, and I guess that made a difference. The subject of Pete still cast a very large, very black shadow over my mood.

“I guess I can tell him when he gets home.” I frowned. “I guess it’s easier to get this out … I just know he won’t begin to understand this like you have.” I sighed ruefully.

“He’s going to be difficult.”

To my surprise, Pete was rather well behaved about the whole subject. Naturally, he had been utterly surprised by my appearance. He fielded many of the questions I expected. He wasn’t as convinced by my story, but gave me the benefit of the doubt. I think something in his eyes told me that he expected something like this … but I didn’t want to think about that. In his favour, he didn’t give me any hassle; that much I was glad of.

The night wound on, and we found an uneasy coexistence. I caught Pete looking at me curiously on several occasions. I think despite his own ideas, I did not meet them in a way he had envisaged. Tired from the day’s activity, I made my excuses, and retired to bed. It was almost surreal as I changed into the nightgown we had bought, and slipped beneath my familiar covers: one of the last things that remained constant. As I lay there, fear, uncertainty and confusion wracked my mind; sleep provided welcome respite.

I woke late on Saturday morning. It was unusually sunny for this time of year, but still brisk and windy. I lay in bed watching the tree outside my window blow back and forth in the spring breeze. I had woken slowly; that lazy, gentle awakening that leaves one refreshed and awake. I slipped out of my covers, and felt the weight of my breasts as I sat up, no, that wasn’t right … the false breasts; I didn’t think I’d ever get used to that feeling. I slipped out of my room, and made for the shower without looking at the mirror. I stripped off the nightdress, and stepped under the cool jets of water and tried to ease the night’s tension from my body. I reached for my body wash, but something about the men’s shower gel seemed a little weird this morning. Shaking my head to myself, I reached over and grabbed one of Becky’s many bottles and began to soap my wet hair. The whole process took much longer than normal, how did girls not find this annoying?

Stepping out of the shower, I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around myself; it took a moment for the sway of my free breasts to remind me to tie it higher. Steeling myself, I peered into the steamy mirror. That girl was still there…. She just looked a lot soggier. Even with my sodden hair plastered against my skull, I looked like a female. It was quite disconcerting to be honest. I rubbed my chin in the vain hope that I would have magically turned into a man over night but there was to be no miracle. Resigning myself to this new me, I brushed my teeth, and returned to my room.

I spent the day around the flat, doing very little; watching television, reading, and ignoring life. It felt reassuring to be doing something normal that didn’t remind me of my appearance. Becky and Pete surfaced around lunch time; Pete looked surprised that I was still dressed as a girl.

“Why don’t you take that stuff off at home, mate? Isn’t this a bit much?” he asked leaning on the kitchen counter, watching me carefully.

“I can’t really,” I said honestly. “Most of my guy clothes won’t really look right with these, will they?” I asked hefting my false breasts. “And unless I’m totally deluded, I’d look really strange, what with the hair … and stuff,” I trailed off running out of ideas.

“That’s what has me boggled, mate,” Pete said screwing up his face. "I expected that to be a wig and some water balloons, but it's you isn’t it? What did they do to you?” he asked with a faint look of unease.

I turned towards him properly and looked at him. “You think I’m having a sex change don’t you?” I asked, not really expecting an answer. “You think this is all some big story to cover up the fact I’ve turned gay and decided I want a vagina … That’s what you think isn’t it?” I asked standing up and approaching him with what I hoped was menace.

Pete recoiled as I did and held his hands up in surrender. “Wow, no, mate, seriously, I don’t think you’re gay,” he said, “I mean, even if you wanted to be a woman, that doesn’t make you gay I don’t think…” he said looking a bit taken aback by my burst of anger. “Look Mike … God, it,s weird calling you that … Look … It’s just sudden... is all.. Like the spy business … Something keeps telling me it’s a bit convenient I guess. You just look … so….” He trailed off gesturing at me.

“What?” I snapped angrily.

“Well look at yourself,” he said, sighing. “You look just like my ex when she was angry …. The huffy angry routine … the hands on the hips … You … You just … This doesn’t seem so out of place for you I guess.” He admitted. “I look at you, and I don’t see a guy. Sorry, mate, but you just come across as a girl in pretty much every way, and it’s a bit disconcerting,” he said frankly.

Automatically, my hands shot down to my sides. “I … No I don’t,” I said not even believing myself.

Pete raised his eyebrows and said nothing.

With a sigh, I slipped onto one of the breakfast bar stools and put my head in my hands. “This is weird, Pete,” I admitted. “This isn’t some sex change, I don’t think I’m a girl, I don’t want to be a girl … This is fucking me up in the head, but I just don’t think I have a choice … I can’t say what … but too much is riding on this.”

Pete reached out and took my hand and gave it a squeeze in that manly reassuring way he did …”It’s alright, mate, you said what you need to. I guess I was just being a tool as usual … you’ve got more balls than me to do this,” he admitted honestly with a lopsided grin.”

I snickered. “It takes balls to be a woman.”

After my heart to heart with Pete, I felt slightly better knowing that I had both of my housemates onside to a reasonable extent. I felt somewhat shocked that he had thought I wanted to become a woman … that I would lie to him like this … As for my behaviour, I wasn’t going to think about that. As far as I was concerned, it was appropriate, and probably a product of yesterday’s launch in at the deep end. I spent the rest of the day in my room reading, only venturing out to order takeout and retrieve it. I resolved to spend the weekend in the flat. Becky had other ideas…

On Sunday morning, I was dragged from my slumber by a persistent knocking at my door. Rolling over in bed, I rubbed my eyes and listened to see if the knock came again. As it was repeated, I swung my legs out of bed and made my way towards the door. Opening it a crack, I saw Becky looking up at me. “Come on you, we’re going out,” she grinned mischievously.

“Becky, I was asleep,” I moaned stifling a yawn.

“I know,” she said with a sly grin, “and you really should wear a dressing gown when you answer the door, what if I’d been Pete?” she asked with a leer.

Looking down, I realised just how exposed I was. The nightdress was brief, and a lot of leg and breast were on display. Blushing, I grabbed my dressing gown off the back of the door and wrapped it around myself. “Whatever,” I muttered sleepily. “Fine, I’ll get up … in about 3 hours,” I muttered closing the door and retreating to my bed. No sooner had I slipped beneath the covers again, Becky had entered my room and pulled the covers from my bed.

“No you don’t,” she laughed. “Come on girl, Up!”

“There is no girl here,” I mumbled, shoving my head under my pillow. “Go away.”

“Come on now,” she soothed, removing the pillow and sitting down on the bed beside me. “You hid all day yesterday, now I won’t let you spend the rest of the weekend in the house,” she said sternly.

I shook my head. “It scares me,” I muttered quietly into the pillow. “I’m a guy in a skirt, and it freaks me out. I’m not leaving this place in drag unless I have to,” I said resolutely.

“Now stop it,” Becky admonished. “We are going out for a walk to relax and unwind. You need to get over this freak business. You aren’t in drag if you start thinking of yourself as a girl,” she said prodding me in the back.

“So everyone says, but I’m not,” I insisted flatly.

Becky didn’t say anything for a moment. So I rolled over and looked up at her. “What?” I asked quietly, trying to read her blank expression.

“I just want to help you,” Becky said sadly. “You need some time to get used to things … I … Never mind,” she said shaking her head as she got up and left the room with a choked sob.

I sat up in the bed and felt truly awful; I took out my own idiotic anger against my friend, and I’d hurt her feelings. At that time, going out didn’t sound so bad if it would help settle the mood. Showering, with effort to keep my hair dry, I dressed simply in the plainest underwear I could find, the corset, and a pair of jeans and a cowl neck sweater before venturing out of my room and knocking on Becky’s door softly.

“Go away,” she called quietly. Ignoring her, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Becky was lying on her bed curled into a ball; she didn’t even look up when I entered.

“Becky,” I said awkwardly. “Look, I’m sorry. This is very sudden for me. I realise you wanted to help, and I will come if you still want to,” I said quietly.

Becky looked up at me with red eyes; she had been crying. It made me feel even worse. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled sadly. “This is my fault.”

“No it’s not Becky,” I sighed. “This is me. I got into this, you only wanted to help,” I said softly.

“No,” she said flatly, sitting up. “This was my fault,” she said looking away. “The other night, when we had that night in … It was … lovely, but when you came home like this…” she said gesturing at me. “I sort of hoped that I could be a part of this for you, because I saw you like a little sister, sort of…,” she said quietly. “Growing up, I had two older brothers, and more than anything in the world, I wanted a little sister,” she said with a tear rolling down her cheek. “I took advantage of you like this,” she sniffed.

I walked over and sat down by her side and put my arms around her. We had known each other for nearly 5 years, and I almost did see her as the sister I never had. Growing up an only child, one makes attachments with close friends. You find substitute siblings, and being the two people I had known longest in my life beside my parents, Becky and Pete were almost a second family to me. At that moment, this ceased to matter to me. The fear of these feelings, the fear of being discovered and the fear of being a man in a dress evaporated. If Becky needed a sister, maybe I could help her? What if I made this one person happy for a while? I could do that…

“I guess I could be her for a while,” I said softly.

Becky furrowed her brow and looked at me, trying to work out what I was saying.

“Well you are older.” I said with a shrug. “And we have known each other so long, you do feel like a sister…. and as I am at the moment … well, I guess while I’m like this, I could do with a big sister around to talk to,” I said, meaning every word.

Becky looked at me with wide eyes and a silly grin on her lips. “Do you mean that?” she asked hopefully.

“I guess so,” I said, “I suppose I could use the help and experience.” Becky hugged me tightly, squeezing the air from my lungs more effectively than the corset. “Oh thank you Mike,” she said wistfully. “I really, really wanted a sister for so long,” she grinned. “Are you sure you’re okay with coming out? I didn’t mean to press…” she asked cautiously.

“Sure,” I shrugged. “And I think we should both get used to referring to me as Sharon, don’t you think? I do need to get in character …”

Becky grinned, and ran out of the room to shower and get ready before I could change my mind.

While she was busy, I slipped back into my room and searched amongst the new footwear I had acquired. There was a pair of flat, fur boots in a light tan that caught my eye, both for comfort, and for some reason, I liked the way they looked when women wore them with jeans. So slipping them on, I found a large shoulder bag, and transferred the contents of my suit pockets into it, along with the contents of the bag from Friday’s adventures. I managed to apply a little makeup in the mirror on my wall. Nothing extravagant, just a little mascara and a clear lip gloss. I wasn’t meant to be parading around like some supermodel; my girl was down to earth. Somehow I managed to look more feminine wearing less cosmetics; that was slightly disturbing.

Feeling ready as I could possibly be, I sat on my bed and brushed my hair for a moment while I waited for Becky to finish. How had I gotten into this? I was sat in my room, having just applied cosmetics and chosen what women’s footwear went with my women’s jeans and women’s top … The more I thought about it, the weirder it felt. What if I was Sharon? As Sharon, this was getting dressed … this was making herself presentable to go for a walk and a coffee with her flatmate on a lazy Sunday. When I thought of it that way, it really wasn’t anything to even write home about; a non issue. But I wasn’t Sharon … was I? I was Mike … masquerading as a woman he invented called Sharon … I finished brushing my hair and walked over to the mirror by my door.

I didn’t look like a Mike … the harder I looked; the harder it was to see that the girl in the glass was a masquerade. I looked like a young, casually dressed girl … Right now I felt like one too … I was Sharon?

At that moment, something clicked inside my brain and I felt my identity shift, or split; I wasn’t sure which, but from that moment however, I felt different. A part of me was Mike. He wasn’t going anywhere. But for now, I was a 24 year old woman called Sharon Cohen, I worked for MI6 and I had so very much to learn … For the first time, this didn’t feel like a charade. I knew deep down, this was a job, but I felt like I could manage…. There was no way anyone could see Mike unless they investigated the contents of my knickers … and short of Angelina Jolie turning lesbian; that was never going to happen.

“Just a job,” I shrugged, as I slipped out into the hallway.

Becky and I left the flat and walked down towards the river. It was an unusually warm Sunday morning, and there were people going to and fro as we walked; I felt extremely self-conscious for the first few hundred meters, though that began to wear off as it slipped through my confused brain that nobody was seeing anything out of the ordinary.

We found a small café by the Thames that wasn’t as overflowing with tourists as the others and we ordered coffees and a pastry before finding a table outside in the weak spring sunshine.

“You alright?” Becky asked, sipping her cappuccino. “You were really quiet on the way down here.”

“I guess,” I mumbled looking out over the river. “It’s not so bad, but a little bit at the back of my mind keeps telling me that someone’s going to twig.”

Becky snickered. “You looked at yourself recently?” she asked with a sly grin. “I don’t know how, but you sound, move and act so real it’s scary … I can hardly believe that there’s Mike in there…” she said quietly.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” I said quietly. “I don’t really feel like him at the moment either.”

“How do you mean?” Becky asked, setting her coffee down and giving me her undivided attention when I wanted it least.

“I guess … well I’m not wearing anything too feminine,” I said plucking at the jumper I was wearing, “and I really haven’t got much if any makeup on, but I still feel very much like girl I guess,” I shrugged. “It sounds weird I know, but I sort of started to think of this me as a different me …” I trailed off, not knowing how to go on.

“I know you don’t want to hear it,” Becky began, raising her eyebrows. “But even in a guy’s clothes, I think you would still appear female at the moment. It’s not just the hair, or the boobs,” she chuckled, “You carry yourself differently; I don’t know how much coaching you had, but its great!” She enthused. “There’s nothing macho or masculine about you like this …” she said smiling reassuringly.

“Yeah, lots,” I said quietly taking a sip. “Lots of coaching,” I said hating the truth she had inadvertently stumbled on. I know she had intended to be supportive, but I couldn’t help but feel the rug begin to come out from beneath my feet. Things were beginning to move faster in strange directions and I had no map and the brakes were shot. It hadn’t escaped my mind that I was faring much more easily at this than I should, but perhaps it was because I was an extremely observant person. I watched people, I analysed, I studied … It was my job to watch. As a sniper with the Met, 90% of my job at an incident was to watch, interpret and relay information. I decided that this was what I was doing now … I was using what I had subconsciously collected over the years … Just a job ….

After we were finished at the little café, Becky and I walked along the Thames and into the city proper. We looked around a few shops, not really intending to buy anything. Becky asked my opinion on feminine things, clothes, shoes, etcetera, trying to gauge how I thought now. It was mildly irritating, but I humoured her. After eating lunch in a deli near Victoria, we made our way home on the tube, having had our fill of Sunday exercise. I was glad to get back to the flat. There had been a lot brought up during the day that I needed time to think over. Things were changing. I found it hard to say whether that was good or bad, but I knew that was still to come.

I had truly enjoyed our day together, and before heading to bed that evening, I made sure I told Becky so. The smile of genuine pleasure I had received was worth the worry.

Chapter 8

Monday morning arrived too quickly for my liking. I was being picked up by car at 8, so there was no rush to get out the door and on the tube this morning. Showering, I realised that I would soon have to buy my own bathroom products instead of using Becky’s; I was quite surprised by how much shampoo and conditioner my longer hair needed … Drying myself, I returned to my room, and slipped into my underwear. It was too weird now to even think of it as women’s underwear now, plus no woman had ever worn it, they were new clothes, I guess it made it easier to think of it as just a different style. I dried my hair, and brushed it out before looking through my wardrobe for something to wear. This was ten times harder than it used to be; now every day was pretty much ‘smart casual’ from my old life. There was no slumming in a tee-shirt and jeans in the office anymore…

Today was pencilled in as training … girl training … I had been told to wear a skirt by Harriet, so I began to look through what was available, finally settling on a dark grey skirt that came to my knees. Adding dark tights, and a black blouse, something dragged me to the mirror in my room to appraise my appearance. The reflection that greeted me was somewhat daunting. A slim, pretty blonde woman looked back at me. It made me feel numb, but I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She wasn’t wearing makeup, and she was stood in her stocking feet, but she looked every inch a woman. I closed my eyes and shook my head; I didn’t need this. After spending an age attempting to apply makeup, I gave up in favour of a little lip balm and mascara, like the day before; the less was more approach seemed much less clown like in my opinion. Collecting the bag from Friday, and a pair of low heeled black shoes, I pulled on a long knee length trench coat that Jane had simply insisted that I needed, I left my bedroom to make breakfast.

Pete and Becky were sat at the breakfast table when I entered, and both looked up. Pete gave me a curious look, and Becky smiled broadly, it was nice to have some constants in this world of upheaval. I muttered a good morning, and went straight for the coffee pot and toaster. Sitting down with my prizes in hand, I caught sight of Pete shaking his head, a silly grin on his face.

“What?” I asked between bites of my toast. “Did I do something?” I asked self-consciously.

“Nah,” he shrugged. “I’m still so thrown at how good you are at this, mate.” He chuckled, folding his paper. “It’s like living with another bird now.”

I rolled my eyes, “Whatever, Pete,” I muttered.

“It’s his training.” Becky added, “I mean her training …”SHE has had the best teachers, so you would expect a little authenticity,” she said gesturing with her spoon. “Plus I think you could do with more female influence Pete,” she chuckled. “Maybe you’ll stop that disgusting scratching you have a habit of doing around the place … and the mess … Maybe another female will drag you in line,” she said with a sly smile.

“Not likely, “And he’s not a female, so I’m safe.”

“Can breakfast discussions not revolve around me?” I asked sheepishly. “Its bad enough, without being flavour of the month,” I said feeling very much on show.

“Sorry,” They mumbled in unison, before awkwardly shifting the conversation in other directions.

I was the last in the flat as Pete and Becky left to make their ways to work. I felt nervous waiting, but almost on the strike of 8, my phone rang. Collecting my bag, I let myself out of the flat, flipping my phone open.

“Hello?” I said into the handset, as I locked the door.

“I’m outside,” Harriet said, “You can’t miss me,” she added closing the connection. I looked at the handset for a moment, before shaking my head and making my way downstairs and out onto the street. Between the hatchbacks and estates that were part of my road, a pristine black range rover was parked, with a sole female occupant behind the wheel. I grinned and walked around to the passenger side before climbing in.

“How subtle.” I said by way of greeting.

“Well I like to make an impression,” smiled Harriet. “Good weekend?”

“Fine I guess, I went out and picked up a few guys, nothing exciting, though I’m still walking funny, I think,” I said as she pulled out into the street. Harriet turned to look at me with a shocked expression on her face as she drove, not quite sure if I was telling the truth or not.

“At least you’re looking on the funny side of things,” she said shaking her head as we turned onto the main road. “You had me going for a minute.”

“Well don’t worry, I’m not going after men, nor do I intend to,” I said firmly. “Although I did go into town with my flatmate on Sunday, we had a good time.”

“Dressed as you are?” Harriet asked curiously, although I didn’t miss the conversational air she used to set me at ease with the question.

“Yes,” I confirmed. “We thought it would be helpful to get me used to it more, it was nothing intensive, just a walk, and a few shops.”

“I’m surprised by you,” Harriet said quietly. “On Friday, you were awkward, but your appearance made up for that, but now, you seem to be more relaxed and comfortable, even more natural I’d hazard to guess…” she added glancing my way. “Did you practice with your housemate?” she asked.

“No,” I sighed. “She noticed it too. I guess it’s like I told her … I’m an observant person, I guess I’m subconsciously copying things other women do … I mean women do…” I corrected quickly. The slight twitch in the corner of her mouth told me she had not missed it.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Harriet said as she navigated the streets of London in the 4x4. “It makes our job easier, gives us more time to focus on the agent side of things.”

“How much of this do I need to know?” I asked plucking at the blouse I was wearing. “I’m not supposed to be mincing around in high heels and stockings; I’m supposed to be a freelance killer...”

“Truth be told,” Harriet said looking over at me. “Not that much. We will do some coaching and test work today, and see how you fare, run some scenarios, practice mannerisms and behaviours, but as you say, the refinement is less important for the tomboyish character you’re portraying, Jane thinks it best if we give it a week at least.”

“And the rest of the time?” I asked, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

“We will spend some time on the ranges, you may need time to get used to shooting with…. New developments,” she said giving me a wink. “Later in the week, the formalities of working in the field, and protocol, we hope to have next week free for more mission specific work.”

I nodded, I was excited, but I didn’t want to reveal that just now. The prospect of a week’s worth of prancing around in high heels and mini skirts all week, and learning to flirt and act like a lady was not that appetising.

We arrived at Vauxhall Cross about 20 minutes later, and Harriet pulled into a bus stop just down from the Albert Embankment. I was about to ask her why we were waiting, when I caught sight of Jane North making her way across the foot bridges and towards us. We exchanged greetings as she slipped into the back seat of the Range Rover, before Harriet slipped us out into the traffic flow once more.

“Where are we going?” I asked nervously, the details of the day were conspicuous in their absence.

“We’re going to spend the next few days at my place, and work on your presentation, Miss Cohen,” said Harriet taking on a tutorial tone. “You have a few days to learn what we did in many years, so you had best be studious.

“But I thought I had enough to cope?” I asked, feeling my hope of avoiding finishing school disappearing fast.

“I must admit you do look fantastic this morning,” said Jane from the backseat. “Did you help her?” she asked, looking at Harriet.

“Not me,” Harriet replied holding up her hands, which made me wince, despite the Range Rover never changing course. “She came out this morning like that when I arrived to collect her.”

“Housemate?” prompted Jane, looking over at me.

“No, I just wore a skirt because you said so…” I shrugged. “The rest seemed to go with it, so I just did….”

“Impressive, perhaps you’ve been hiding yourself all these years?” she said with a sly chuckle.

“NO,” I said emphatically. “I’m not some transsexual, or confused, or anything, I’m just observant, and happen to look at women a lot,” I said, attempting to recapture some ounce of masculinity; difficult as that was as I straightened the hem of my skirt with my manicured nails.

We pulled up outside a house in Hampstead and Harriet let us in. The place was expensive, just like most of this part of the city.

“It was my parent's London town house,” Harriet offered by way of introduction as we hung up our coats. “After Daddy decided to move the business to the States, they let me have it; it sort of makes sense for work.” She shrugged.

“It’s nice.” I said honestly, feeling somewhat overawed, despite having been similarly given a property by my parents. This was much nicer … Harriet took us through to the living room, which like the rest of the house, was stylishly furnished, and spotlessly clean. As she left to put the kettle on, Jane wasted no time in admonishing me for how I sat. By the time Harriet returned with our drinks, I had taken a seat nearly a dozen times.

I spent the day with the two girls learning how to walk, sit, and behave in a manner befitting a young woman … I tried to remind them that I wasn’t meant to be on a catwalk, just a simple arms deal, but Jane showed annoying persistence that appeared to be a family trait, and I was cut little slack.

“Can I sit down now?” I begged after what felt like the hundredth time around the living room. “My feet are going to drop off and I’ll be no use to you,” I whined.

“You might start to appreciate how hard it is for us now,” snickered Harriet as she watched my progress from her position on the plush, comfy couch.

“Believe me,” I said, planting my hands on my hips and striking what I hoped was a superior air, “I shared that pain after Friday’s torture session.”

“You’ll grow to love shopping, dear,” Jane smiled sweetly.

“I bloody hope not,” I muttered sourly. “Look, I can mince around in high heels, and wiggle my arse with the best of them now, can I stop?” I begged with a sigh, “isn’t this a bit much?”

Apparently it wasn’t … By Thursday afternoon, I had been taught to walk, sit, move, gesture, and properly apply makeup with the natural ability of the fairer sex; although maybe that was the un-fairer sex? I had seen little of my flatmates thanks to my punishing schedule, something of which I was extremely glad. Once satisfied, Jane North released me from her clutches, pronouncing me ready or the world at large.

Dropping Jane North at Vauxhall Cross for the last time, Harriet pulled out into the traffic flow once more and aimed for my humble abode.

“You’ve been quiet,” she said, more factually than a question.

“I’m tired, mentally and physically,” I sighed giving her a weak smile. “She was very exacting.”

Harriet nodded. “The benefit of it wasn’t direct you know,” she said looking over at me as we crawled through the city.

“I know,” I said quietly. “Teach me the lot, so even if I tone it down, the undercurrents are still visible, that even relaxed and not acting the catwalk princess you two created, I will be ‘feminine’.” I said gesturing quotation marks.

“Not as dumb as you look, Blondie,” Harriet chuckled swinging the Range Rover down a side street. “We’re back at the office tomorrow okay? But bring some casual stuff for on the ranges in the afternoon.”

“Finally, something I know,” I groaned. “And Just because I’m blond doesn’t mean I’m stupid,” I insisted, with an over the top pout that made Harriet burst out laughing. “Tomorrow, this girl gets to have some fun.”

Harriet shot me a sideways glance. “Do you mean that?” she asked, suddenly quite serious. “I mean … the girl bit?”

“Well it beats referring to myself as a boy at the moment,” I shrugged non comittally. “I don’t FEEL like a girl, or want to be one, but for the purpose of this whole thing, when I am …. And after the last few days of eating, sleeping and breathing girl … I do sort of think I might feel like one, if I knew what that was like,” I shrugged. “Does that make sense?

Harriet nodded sagely. “How do you think girls … women think?” she asked softly.

“Different to guys?” I said not really knowing where to begin. “I guess more sensitive, emotionally lead, more passive and submissive…” I listed off every stereotype I could think of. “I mean, guys are meant to be the dominant violent ones, right? We think with our heads, you think with your hearts.”

“Not always the head on your shoulders,” Harriet said coyly. “So what does that make me?” she asked. “I’ve killed for my country, I’m dominant, a ‘go getter’, I’m violent, and submissive, and emotional, and decisive … what am I?” she prompted, looking for my reaction.

I shrugged. “I know it sounds clichéd but I really don’t think these things make a difference. How do women think? Just like men I guess, but we have different goals and ideals that are social things we acquire over the years. What are you? What am I?

“God knows, because right now, I think I’m starting to lose grip myself. Does what we do define our sex? No, that’s like trying to suggest women are better nurses, and men are better soldiers. I guess I failed that test right?”

“Mmm, No,” she mused quietly.

“What?” I asked, almost afraid of the punch line I was inviting. “What did I Just say wrong?”

“It’s not that, Mike,” she said quietly, “Hang on,” she added, pulling the Range over to the kerb and turning the engine off before turning to face me.

“Look, this is going to sound so out of the blue, but I’m going to burst If I don’t say this … I was attracted to you when you started to work with us,” she said blushing, “I was a snotty cow at first because I didn’t want you to see … then you were just so damn nice…,” she sniffed. “The way you took to this whole charade…. It made me respect and … care for you more,” she said quietly. “Now, the way you are … You aren’t a man pretending to be a woman, you’re not undercover. The way you think, and look, all say woman to me … and the weirdest part is; I’m not put off…. What you just said … and how things have been … I think I love you … I guess that makes me a lesbian … ” she said in a tiny voice, looking down at her hands as they gripped the steering wheel. “Please say something,” she said quietly, after an awkward silence.

“I … I don’t know what to say.” I said, stunned. It was by far and wide the last thing I expected. “You love me?” I asked dumbly.

“Sorry,” Harriet mumbled quietly. “I thought I could put my feelings aside, but this…. It’s really got me thrown.” She shrugged, turning towards me. “I don’t know how to feel about this, Mike.”

“I’m not sure either,” I said quietly, feeling my heart in my mouth. “Can we go somewhere? It doesn’t feel right discussing this in the car … and who knows what your people have in this…” I said gesturing at the vehicle around us. Harriet nodded quickly, before starting the ignition again and pulling out into the street.

“Please just tell me how you feel,” Harriet asked looking across at me as she drove. “Please tell me that I’ve not lost it.”

I swallowed and looked out of the window before I answered. “I guess.” I mumbled.

What could I tell her? Yeah, I fancied the pants off her, and I thought she was an amazing person that I’d love to get to know better? Why now? Why not a few years ago? Why does the first opportunity for a relationship come when I’m dolled up like a transvestite on Her Majesty’s Secret Service? Irony is a bitch.

Harriet drove us to a small pub just south of the river near Putney Bridge. We left the Range Rover and walked into the pub in silence. I had completely forgotten how I was dressed; it didn’t seem to matter now and I hardly even saw the other patrons as we ordered drinks and walked out onto the terrace to find a quiet spot to talk privately.

We sat at a small table overlooking the river and sat in silence, neither of us sure where to begin. The entire time, my heart was thumping in my throat and I didn’t know if I could say what I want to: This was the first time I had felt anything for someone, and the kicker was that she felt the same, but we were both stuck. I shook my head and took a gulp of the wine in my hand. I chuckled to myself and looked at the large white wine I had ordered. What happened to a pint? My manicured, painted nails gripping the glass delicately reminded me why this could not work. It didn’t make the choice any easier.

“Please tell me what you’re thinking,” Harriet asked quietly. “This silence is so bloody awkward,” she said with exasperation, the corner of her mouth twitching into an embarrassed grin. “Where do we stand?”

“Honestly?” I asked, setting the glass down on the table. “I really like you. You’re pretty, friendly, and over the last week, I’ve sort of felt I want to know you more … but I don’t see it happening realistically … do you?”

Harriet looked at me and bit her lower lip. “I … Why does it matter?” she asked with a hint of disappointment.

“It matters because we are working to a tight deadline here, then I get to go save the damn world in a frock,” I said quietly. “And didn’t this … appearance put you off?” I asked furrowing my brow.

Harriet shook her head and reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Look, Mike … Shit, I can’t call you that … I’m trying to convince myself it’s you under there, but try as I might … I only see Sharon …” she whispered softly.

Harriet sighed, and looked out over the river as dusk began to settle over London. Her hair rustled lightly in the breeze, and she looked more beautiful than ever.

I lifted my wine glass and took another sip, I didn’t want to get into this; all sense told me to wait till after the operation, but it couldn’t work, and it wouldn’t …”Harriet talk to me,” I prompted gently, breaking her daze.

“I don’t know Mi … Sharon, this is all so weird, but I do really think we have something … I don’t want to risk it by waiting, and I realised on the drive over here that I don’t really care about your outside. You are you, and the rest doesn’t matter…. I feel for the person, not the clothes, whoever that is; you said it yourself … What does gender matter? All these things are smoke and mirrors, and I want to try,” she said softly.

I raised my hand and stroked her cheek gently. Her skin was warm to the touch, and I looked into her eyes. That moment, I realised I wanted to kiss this woman, and I wasn’t going to worry about the consequences. Taking each day as it comes became my motto at the beginning of this spy rubbish, and it wasn’t about to change. Cautiously, I leant forwards not taking my eyes off Harriet’s beautiful hazel pair. She sensed what I was doing, and lent forwards till our lips met gently. The sensation was electric, I could feel a tingle spread down my body, and I heard my heart thumping in my ears. The kiss seemed to last forever. I didn’t know how long we had kissed, but when we eventually separated, she had a goofy grin on her lips.

“That was magical,” she whispered softly, squeezing my hand. “Are you sure about this?” she asked.

“I’m sure,” I replied with ragged breath. “I need you.”

“Where do we go from here?” she asked, still looking at me. “What do we do?”

“What we are supposed to do,” I shrugged. “We can’t let this interfere with work.”

Harriet nodded. “Of course … Sharon,” she said slowly. “I guess I need to get used to the fact my lover is a woman.”

“I … she is for the next month.”

“I’m going to take this as it comes,” Harriet said with a weak grin. “This is too complicated otherwise.”

“I guess,” I replied, not sure if I ought to protest. I lifted my wine glass and took a sip, feeling the sweet, cold liquid flow down my throat. “So where do we go from here?” I asked dumbly. “I’ve really never done the girlfriend thing before.”

“Me neither,” Harriet chuckled dryly. “Come back to mine? We can talk more, and it’s less … public.”

I looked at my watch, it was only 7; so I nodded, drinking the last of my wine and we left the pub. The drive back was quiet, we chatted lightly, about little things, our lives; who we were. I think we wanted to avoid the main topic till we were more settled. We pulled up outside Harriet’s house a short while later, the main rush hour traffic having died down within the city. Slipping out of the large 4x4, I followed her up the steps to the house, feeling very nervous. Following her inside, I removed my coat and placed it on the stand in the hallway before following her into the living room. Harriet turned towards me as we stood there, both feeling awkward. We stood for a moment before she moved over to the sofa and sat, patting the seat beside her. Nervously, I sat opposite her, my hands clasped in my lap, feeling extremely tongue tied.

“I don’t know how this goes.” I said stiffly. “Sorry I’m so useless.” I muttered quietly.

“Sssh,” she prompted, putting a finger to my lips. “May I kiss you again?” she asked softly. I nodded, and closed my eyes as she gently pressed her lips to mine. That electric feeling returned, and I felt a tightening in my stomach that I had never felt before. I felt her hands clasp my own as we sat kissing for what felt like an eternity.

Eventually, she broke the kiss and I forced myself to open my eyes. Her smile made my heart flip again. “That was lovely,” she whispered, reaching out to stroke a loose strand of hair from my face. “This feels so right,” she said with more feeling. “You’re so pretty,” she sighed, looking at me intently.

“Thank you,” I replied breathlessly, at this moment, not caring how she saw me, as long as that made her happy. Harriet leant in again, wrapping her arms around me and kissed me again, this time with more passion. The flipping sensation in my stomach tripled, and I caught my breath as the charge between us left me feeling weak. I reached out gently, placing my hands on her waist and pulled her to me. The passion increased, and I found her tongue pressing at my lips. Some reaction made me open them slightly in surprise and I felt her tongue slip into my mouth and dance with my own, the sensation was intoxicating. Harriet pushed me back slightly, so that I was reclining against the side of the sofa, her body pressed against mine. I felt her hands moving softly over my torso, tracing the lines of my body and gently began to caress her too. Her smell was overpowering as my fingers traced the bare skin between her blouse and trousers. It was so soft and warm that just caressing it felt wonderful. Harriet broke off for air and looked down at me. Somehow, I was now lying on the sofa, with her above me; it was perfectly ironic that I was taking the female role in things.

“That was amazing,” she purred. “I’ve wanted to do that since I met you.”

“Me too,” I smiled happily. “It’s a little traditional, no?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

“How do you?” she asked looking confused, then realised how we were positioned before sitting up and offering me her hand in a mock gentlemanly fashion. “I guess I’m a bit keen,” she shrugged. “And It’s not my fault you’re Little Miss Submissive Stereotype.”

I shrugged. “You’re the first person I ever kissed,” I admitted shyly.

“Really?” she asked softly, stroking my cheek. “I want to find that hard to believe; looking at you … But my mind plays tricks … it’s so difficult to picture you as the man I first met last week.”

“Right now, I don’t think he’s here,” I said quietly.

Harriet reached out and stroked my cheek, running her hand down the curve of my neck and coming to rest on my shoulder. “Let’s not think about that, let’s just enjoy being together.”

Nodding, I leant forwards and kissed her with passion, trying to take the lead as I felt I was meant to. Cupping her head in my hands, I felt her melt in my arms, our tongues dancing. Harriet slipped her hands down my front, and began unbuttoning the blouse I was wearing. Gingerly, I began to repeat the process on her blouse, and soon, we were lying back on the sofa, warm skin against warm skin, in our bras and knickers, running our hands over one another’s bodies, gender forgotten, and eyes only for each other.

Harriet rolled off me and lay beside me on the sofa, propped up on one elbow.

“You know, I think I really do love you,” she said quietly, stroking my belly button.

I bit my lip and looked up at her as we lay there. I felt a glow that I had never experienced before. “Me too,” I sighed.

“I think I really am a lesbian.” Harriet said with a rueful grin.

I sighed and realised she was right. Not once had I been the predatory male that so many of the guys at work seemed to be, we had made out, sure, but it had been more of a equal experience, shared passion with no rush for gratification … On top of that, I had felt strangely at home in a role that I should have found alien, and it did not limit to this encounter. The past few days, the weekend, ever sine this project had begun, I had not felt as outraged or bad about things as I expected I should. If anything, I felt more at ease for the first time in my life. “Yeah.” I said simply. “I think you are.”

Harriet reached out and slipped the bra strap from my shoulder, gently caressing my skin. Her eyes asked a question, that my lips answered. Cautiously, she unclasped my bra and slipped it from my body, till my breasts were free to her touch. She gently lowered her head till her lips covered my nipple, and I felt her tongue gently caress the hardened flesh.

I awoke with a shudder.

I was lying in my bed at home, the covers half off me, one of the straps on my nightgown had slipped down, and my fingers were cupping the silicone of my breast form. The strangest part was, I felt a surge of disappointment as I remembered not only our parting the night before, but the fact that I now had questions to ask of myself, and I had a good idea of the answer.

Note to my readers:
I'm posting this in chunks of around 10,000 words, Its my new novel I’m writing, and while I have written more, I’m trying to write more than I post by several chapters, so I can keep things flowing and make sure the plot functions without the pressure of fans begging for the next installment. As some of you have guessed, Haifa has taken a short break, I'll resume Sarah's adventures after I finish Focal Point, which at this rate... won't be long! So read, enjoy, and Don't stop commenting, I really appreciate all the suggestions and discussion. With regards to my grammar: Thanks for letting me know guys, I know I’m not perfect, but I’m a writer, not the editor type, I intend to send it via an editor before it visits the publisher, but that is a way off yet. So for now, Believe me, I know I have the grammatical ability of a dead badger.
Alyssa :) xx

To Be Continued...

Focal Point - Chapter 9 - 11

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

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Posted by author(s)

Focal Point
CHAPTERS 9 - 11

By Alyssa Plant

Michael Cohen's dream was to protect and serve as a police officer.... That job didn't satisfy him until one day, when people without names came to visit. He wanted to make a difference, but he didn't expect it to make a difference to him, too...

Chapter 9

I arrived at Vauxhall Cross at a quarter to nine and the pod party was in full swing.
It was the first day back since this aweful business had begun; I was somewhat nervous, although that was most likely an understatement; I was terrified, but this morning was clouded by the strange feelings that I had awoken to, my mind was elsewhere.

“Hello again,” said a cheery male voice.

I turned to my left, and was greeted by a tall man that had something vaguely familiar about him.

“Mmm, hello,” I smiled weakly. “Do I know you?”

“Sure, my name is Martin, I met you last week? Your first day remember?” He prompted, swigging his coffee. “Seems we are to be pod partners again.”

I felt a lead weight drop in my stomach; he recognised me!

“I ah, I can explain this….” I stammered flicking my fingers through the blonde hair that hung loose around my shoulders.

“Don’t feel you have to on my account,” smiled Martin, “you look stunning, it’s quite a change. Though I expect you’d have to kill me if you told me,”

“Ah… I don’t…” I began but was cut off by his laughter.

“Still so fresh and innocent.” He grinned. “Its 6 humour, bad as it may be. So what happened to the nervous little tomboy that started here last week? The place seems to have done you some good… quite the reverse to normal,” he said still grinning.

He thought I had been a woman then…. As glad as I was that I wasn’t having to explain cross dressing on the steps of the Secret Intelligence Service, I was baffled by his mistake.

“I guess it’s something in the water,” I smiled.

“Keep drinking it,” he said giving me a funny look.

I slipped my card into the reader, and entered my pin before stepping into the pod and entering the building.

“Hey, are you doing anything for lunch?” he asked as we made our way towards the lifts.

“She’s not going to be around Martin,” purred Harriet appearing from nowhere. “You’re not getting your grubby claws into this one.” She grinned.

“Hey can’t blame a guy for trying eh? See you around…..” He said furrowing his brow, “Sorry, I never caught your name.”

“Sharon.” I said with a flicker of a smile. “See you around.” I called as Harriet led me away towards a lift that was going down.

“What was that about?” she asked giving me a friendly hug as the door closed. “How do you know Martin Hammersmith?”

“I met him on my first day… the pod cue.” I said softly, drinking in her scent.

“Didn’t you… the first day…” she said with a frown.

“I thought so too,” I said raising my eyebrows. “Does he wear glasses?”

Harriet shook her head and chuckled to herself.

We arrived at the controlerate, and Harriet swiped herself in, and entered, waiting for me to follow. I slipped my card into the slot, and waited, but a red light flashed and denied me entry. I tried again, but received the same signal. I looked at Harriet through the Perspex door, and shrugged. Frowning, she swiped out and came back through the door. “It’s the facial topography,” she sighed. “You need a new card, your hair is so different it doesn’t read you as the same,” she explained. Turning to the machine, she entered a code, apparently a command override, and let us in to the controlerate.

“I’ll get John to sign off on another pass for you, now you’re official… It will make this less of an ear ache,” she grinned. “Come on, let’s get the briefing done and get out of here huh?”

I followed Harriet through to John Tornworth’s office, where the rest of the team were waiting.

“She had a card issue John,” Harriet said briskly, collecting two cups of coffee from a pot at the rear of the office. “She gets an official one now she’s with us yes?” she asked, turning towards her boss when he didn’t respond. He was looking at me…. They were all looking at me.

“Fucking hell,” Toby muttered.

“My word,” Mark said quietly.

Jane had a satisfied grin on her lips, and John was speechless.

“I take it from your goldfish impressions the budget expenses were justifiable?” Harriet added, poking fun at her superior over what I was sure was the amount of money we had spent. “What do you think?”

“I think the mission is a go, pending further work on field aspects.” He muttered shaking his head, his eyes fixed on me.

I stood stock still by the door, feeling extremely warm.

“Sit down Michael,” he said, realising I was immobile. “I must say I’m impressed, there’s …. Nothing permanent is there?”

“I, ah, no sir.” I mumbled.

“God he even sounds like a woman, I’m impressed Jane,” he said looking at Miss North.

“I think you should call her Sharon,” Harriet said taking a seat next to me and handing me one of the cups of coffee. “And use female pronouns,” she added. “We agreed that this would stay in this room, and I don’t think the other members of the controlerate need to know, referring to an obvious female, with a male name and pronouns is going to raise questions you don’t want to answer,” she said, letting the comment hang.

“Rightly so,” John said with a cough. “I’m still quite surprised that it’s been so… effective…” he said with reluctance.

“Did you expect Dame Edna?” Jane chuckled. “My sister is a miracle worker, and I’m not bad myself,” she said with a self satisfied grin.

“Nice to see you justify that salary for once,” interjected Toby with a hint of amusement. “I agree with Miss Carlisle. If we let this operation out below us, it’s bound to make it above us before much long… you know this place is like a sieve John.

“Of course.” He nodded. “Mark, let’s brief, erm, her shall we?” he said, handing off to the Head Analyst.

Mark stood and flipped on the projector.

“Ok, we have an agreed date for a meet in just under two weeks; the 29th at Mr Dujani’s Damascus residence. It’s not the job; it’s a consultation, if you will.” He said waving a hand. “You will meet Dujani, and discuss terms with him, Intel suggests this will be a formality, but it’s vital we get this right with you, we have an unprecedented advantage.”

“How does she fit with the Zanov legend?” Toby asked, chewing on a pen.

“Hi…sorry, her, background gives us a little leeway…” John said thoughtfully. “You spent a few years in Georgia in your teens yes?” he asked me, knowing damn well that I had.

“Yes, I speak a little Russian, but I’m not fluent, though you knew that didn’t you?”

John nodded. “Yes, but I’ll wager your accent is Georgian, that gives you a little room for manoeuvre if your language isn’t perfect for a native.

“Why Georgia?” Toby asked curiously.

“My mother,” I replied. “She worked for an NGO that was working with the schools system over there, we spent some time in the area.”

“Aren’t you the mysterious one,” he grinned.

“Well I suspect that’s why you are employing me.” I chuckled dryly.

“Aye, true enough.”

“How current is your Russian?” Mark asked as he fidgeted with some papers.

“Not very I’m afraid; I’ve not used it since we left Georgia.”

“Get her one of those language packages to brush up,” John said pointing his pen at Jane North, who nodded and made a note on her pad.

“Here is your legend brief.” Jane said, handing me a manila folder. “You need that memorised by the time you head out.”

I flipped open the folder and scanned the document. “There’s a lot.” I grimaced. “I need to know it all don’t I?”

“Yes, it’s your cover, and vital to the operation, you can’t well go forgetting your own past… That’s a fast track to winding up dead,” Toby said. “They’re going to know most of what’s on there, so you can’t be caught out.”

I nodded and flicked my eyes over the paper. “Can you get me anything I need?”

John nodded, “within reason.”

“I need a broad selection of soviet and current Russian combat gear and firearms, pistols, assault rifles, smgs, rpgs, and explosives. If I’m meant to be ex MVD, I’ll need to be familiar with the lot, If nothing else, I must be familiar with the SVD, VSS and VSSK… they are common enough in that part of the world, and I’d be expected to be familiar with them.”

“Can we?” John asked, looking at Toby.

“Aye, I’ll wander down to the rednecks in the basement and rustle it all up.”
“Splendid…” John said clasping his hands together. “Now, operational details….”

The brief continued for another hour, as minor details were ironed out, and plans made. I tried to pay attention to as much of it as possible, but a lot seemed beyond me. I hoped that the training in this side of things would come soon, I still felt very much the outsider in their world.

At 11am, Harriet and I left Vauxhall Cross and began the slow drive out of inner London.

“What did he mean about an advantage?” I asked curiously, “They never explicitly said why it’s a good think that I’m doing this…”

“It’s… partly that you’re the only one we have for the timeframe.” She said, concentrating on the unpredictable London traffic. “And you’re a cleanskin… It’s rare and useful in an agent.”

“Cleanskin?” I asked, furrowing my brow “What does that mean?”

Harriet chuckled. “Yes, sorry, It means an agent that has no official ties to the agency… generally new agents, or… recruited operatives.” She said waving her hand. “Generally disposable and deniable, but in this case, it means that there is less chance of you being flagged as 6 by Dujani… he can dig as hard as he likes, but he wont find any intelligence service links for you. It adds credibility.”

“Oh,” I said, not really sure what I had expected her to say. “I’m expendable?” I asked feeling slightly hollow.

“No sweetie,” she said reaching across to take my hand. “Look, for outside operatives, it means that, but with inside people… it rarely arises as a situation, most agents go through basic, are on official payrolls, you aren’t…. yet… So it makes you a rare situation. You’re a cleanskin, that protects you, but you ARE one of us now, and we don’t leave people behind.” She said giving my hand a squeeze.

“Look, Lets stop off at mine and get you something to wear out at the ranges, you can’t shoot in that suit.” She said smiling.

“Shit,” I swore, “I completely forgot… I was a bit distracted this morning I guess.”

“How come?”

“Didn’t sleep too well,” I mumbled vaguely. “A lot on my mind I guess.”

Harriet looked across at me and frowned. “About last night?” she asked in a small voice. “You’re having second thoughts aren’t you?” she asked nervously, her fingers tightening on the wheel.

“No.” I said softly, shaking my head. “It’s not that at all…”

I ran my fingers through my hair while I thought of the words to describe how I had felt when I woke up… what I had dreamt.

“I dreamt…. about us.” I said slowly, trying to not sound as weird as it did in my head. “I.. I was with you, and I…” I mumbled as I clamed up, unable to talk properly.

“What sweetie?” Harriet probed softly. “I love you, you can tell me anything, nothing will change that.” She said resolutely, rubbing my leg reassuringly.

“You took my bra off…” I said taking a breath, “And I had breasts… real breasts…”

I looked over at Harriet cautiously. “And when I woke up, and I didn’t have any, I was disappointed,” I said quickly, before my nerve went. “That’s why I feel weird.”

There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment. “I’m weird aren’t I?” I said quietly.

“Not weird,” Harriet mused quietly. “Unexpected, yes, but not weird. I guess you’ve been learning to be a girl so much that you’re mind is being tricked into thinking it’s meant to have things…” she offered with a shrug.

“No,” I said shaking my head. “I think it’s worse than that… Ugh,” I groaned in frustration. “This is so god damn weird.”

“Look,” Harriet suggested, “Put the weird away, Put Mike away, just complete the mission, and deal with all this after its over, ok? Just be Sharon for now, it’s going to be easier on you, and I think you want that too…” she added, looking over at me with a lopsided smile. “I’m here for you, don’t forget that.” She said softly.

Her words were a life raft of rationality. I had an escape, a get out clause… I realised that I could let go for now, but a niggling worry at the back of my mind, asked if I could go back to my life afterwards.

Harriet pulled up outside her house and let us in. I followed her upstairs and through to her bedroom. The room was modern, yet tasteful, floorlength cream linen curtains hung from the large bay window, and the dark mahogany bed was covered in a thick white and cream duvet. I didn’t know what I had expected of her room, but it was surprisingly feminine and soft for an international spy. I suppose my preconceptions for the job still showed through.

Harriet crossed to her wardrobe, and pulled out a pair of worn jeans, a white vest, and a grey check shirt which she handed to me. “Here, these ought to fit you. Get changed, and we can get off.” She said with a grin, beginning to unbutton her own blouse.

It took all the concentration I possessed to remove my clothes and change. I had seen her in her underwear the night before, but something about the way the sun light reflected off her bare midriff was intoxicating.

“Are you going to stand there ogling me all day?” Harriet asked coyly, making me blush when I realised I had been staring.

“I ah, Sorry.” I grinned sheepishly. “You’re beautiful.”

“So are you…” she whispered. “Especially when you blush like that; its so cute,” she giggled.

I stepped forwards and wrapped my arms around her waist, drawing her too me before gently bringing our lips together. I ran my hands down her back till they rested on her buttocks, cupping the warm flesh in my hands as we kissed for an eternity. It was ironic that when the kiss broke, I felt her hands in the same place.

Harriet looked at me with the same silly grin she had worn the night before. “We should stop before we waste the whole afternoon,” she said softly, nibbling my lower lip.

“Waste?” I asked, feigning shock.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” she scowled, playfully slapping my bottom. “But John and Toby would wonder why we didn’t show at the ranges…”

Unfortunately, she had a point, so I reluctantly released her from my embrace to dress herself in another pair of jeans and a pullover.

“Feels great to be out of those things.” She said with a grin. “I might be a glamour puss at work, but this is the girl you get out of it.”

“I think I prefer you out of it.” I grinned.

“Later.” She grinned grabbing a more casual bag and her keys. “You coming?” she asked, nodding towards the door.

I nodded and followed Harriet out to the Range Rover.

“Where’s the rifle?” I asked, the thought having just struck me.

“Open the boot.” She said, locking the door and following me down to the boot of the 4x4. Opening the rear of the vehicle, I was confronted by a large black metal box, bolted to the floor beneath the parcel shelf. Harriet grinned, and fished for a key in her bag, and proceeded to unlock the gun safe. Lifting the lid enough for me to see the rifle tucked away, before closing it again. “I don’t really want to have my neighbours asking questions.” She said, locking things up again. “We have these in the back of company cars.” She said, leaving the comment ominous in its ambiguity.

We arrived at the MOD facility about an hour and a half later, having stopped for lunch at a small pub just outside the main gate of the base. Harriet flashed her ID, which opened doors unquestioningly; we were expected. The gate guards were quite taken aback by the two female ‘secret agents’ they logged in.

We drove through the base, and out to the ranges, a mile into the training area. Parking the Range Rover, We got out and unlocked the rifle case. I was lifting the rifle from case, and slipping it into the drag bag when a soldier in a high visibility vest walked over and introduced himself as Sergeant Major Owens; the rangemaster.

“I got the call from the gate to expect you two.” He said in a gruff manner. “I wasn’t told it was two women.”

“Does it matter?” Harriet asked, pulling herself up to her full 5’6.

“No Ma’am,” he grinned. “It’s just I have 2 Para’s sniper platoon on the 1000yarder who wont pay a blind bit of fucking notice to their work.”

Harriet looked at me and grinned. “More training.”

The Sergeant Major gave us a funny look, before gesturing for us to follow him as we walked past several squads of young soldiers shooting on the rifle range, who all paid me more notice than I wanted.

We arrived at the 1000 yard sniper range, set off to one side from the main ranges and I could see several teams of men firing, with a few other groups waiting around and working on weapons. It all reminded me of my time at the British Army’s Sniper School: How different things were now…

“I have to get back to those muppets,” Sergeant Major Owens said, gesturing over his shoulder at the soldiers on the main ranges. “You two going to be ok?”

“Yes thanks,” I replied confidently, finally happy to be back on familiar ground. “How long we booked in?”

“Three hours Ma’am.” Owens said consulting a spiral notepad he kept in his trouser pocket. “Good shooting,” he said, turning and heading off.

The 500 yard line was occupied currently, and as I planned to shoot from further away, we had a wait till the men on the range were complete, and a lane opened up.

I sat down on the ground cross-legged, and unzipped the rifle bag. I lifted the Pgm Hecate .308 from the case, and flipped its bipod legs down, setting it on the ground.
The rifle was beautifully crafted, and I took a moment to release the bolt and apply a layer of oil around the working parts from the small bottle in the bag. I was too engrossed in my work to notice the attention myself and Harriet were attracting.

“Hey there,” said a voice. I looked up from my work to see 3 soldiers sat near us looking over.

“Hi,” I replied brightly.

“You girls civvies?” a tall ginger man asked, as he finished reassembling his own rifle.

I looked at Harriet, as I wondered how to respond, but she was talking to a man over by a Landrover.

“Um, Intelligence Services,” I said, knowing the men were all fully up to date on the official secrets act.

It was difficult to suppress a giggle as 6 eyebrows shot up in unison.

“Um, Wow,” the guy said grinning sheepishly. “What you doing out with a long then? Don’t you spies like pistols and stuff?” he asked curiously.

“Practice,” I offered vaguely, “I’m just brushing up.”

“That’s a damn nice weapon,” the shorter blonde sniper offered. “PGM right?”

I nodded and lifted the rifle to show the 3 men. “PGM Mini Hecate .308, made in France.”

“That belongs on a Paris catwalk, hell you both do,” grinned the ginger man. “Makes our old things look like peashooters.” He chuckled.

“I wouldn’t go hitting on her Dan,” laughed the 3rd man, who was of Asian origin.
“She’s a spook, she don’t have time for scum like you.”

“Hey come on, I’m not all Ice queen,” I heard myself say, cringing inwardly. “Anyway, I got my licence to kill revoked for one too many ex boyfriends.”

The guys grinned and exchanged knowing looks. The same macho bullshit that I had found so idiotic from within now seemed almost laughable. They were like school children all banding together because they felt intimidated… by me… part of me wanted to roll my eyes at the situation, another sort of liked it.

“You probably can’t tell me,” The blonde guy said as he cleaned his bolt. “You done much shooting? I mean with longs…”

I nodded. “Met firearms team for a few years, and did your sniper school too a while back. First time with this thing though,” I said gesturing at the PGM I was now loading the magazines for. “New toy.”

“You had a few firearms plod in your run didn’t you Alan?” said the ginger man, looking at the Asian.

“Yeah, no fit birds like her though,” He said with a grin. “Probably why I passed.”

“What’s your name anyway?” asked the ginger sniper. “I’m Dan, this is Chris, and our chinky friend is Alan.”

“Piss off ginge.” grinned Alan. “Ah sorry love.”

I laughed, “Its fine, I’m used to it. My name is Sharon.” I said without hesitation.

The team on the firing line rotated off, and we made our way down to the 800m line.
Harriet finished her conversation and jogged over to me with a pair of binoculars.

“Having fun?” she asked with a smile.

“Yeah, they seem nice,” I offered. “You too by the looks of things,” I grinned slyly.

Harriet rolled her eyes. “Not like that, He was and old friend from when I did my escape and evasion training on Brecon. Was just catching up.”

“Sure,” I said not paying attention. “I’m starting to feel slightly jealous.”

“You want me to kiss you in front of all these hunky soldiers?” she asked raising an eyebrow. “That’s more likely to get them to jump you than not.”

I tried to look thoughtful for a moment, but burst out in giggles when she poked me in the ribs and stuck her tongue out.

We spent the next few hours with me shooting, and her observing. It was awkward at first for me to get used to spotting for myself than working in a two man team, but I got used to it, and by the end of our time at the ranges, I was feeling quite confident that with a few more practice sessions, I would be up to speed. The sensation of lying prone on my breasts was alien at first, but I grew used to it, although the squashed sensation, regardless of the false nature of my bust, was awkward. Now I knew why this was more important. It wasn’t about shooting, it was about my feminine role; a female in that position would be used to her breasts getting in the way: I had a lot to learn.

We packed up the gear, and began the long drive back to Inner London. I dozed lightly on the drive back, and awoke to find us parked outside Harriet’s house; she was just sitting behind the wheel, with the engine off, watching me as I slept. “You looked so calm,” she smiled.” I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Mmm, it’s fine,” I said sleepily. “Why are we back here?” I asked.

“Well I live here,” she said sarcastically. “And I thought you would like to come in for dinner?” she asked hopefully.

“I’d like that,” I agreed honestly, feeling my stomach rumble. Leaving the vehicle, Harriet led me into the house, and proceeded to whip up a divine Risotto and a delicious bottle of white wine. As we sat eating at her dining table. It was hard not to reflect on the events to date as I sat here, with my girlfriend… as her girlfriend, quietly just enjoying being in each other’s presence. For once feeling truly satisfied with life. That however, was a problem.

After dinner, we moved through to the living room, and spent the evening watching television together. It wasn’t especially romantic, but I enjoyed just spending time with her out of the pressure of work. I lay back, with my head against Harriet’s shoulder, and couldn’t remember the last time I had felt so relaxed in someone else’s presence.

“How do you feel about all of this now?” she asked quietly, turning off the TV and wrapping her arm around me more snugly.

“Better,” I admitted, “although this is starting to fuck with my head.”

“Are you worrying about afterwards?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“No matter what, I love you,” Harriet whispered, kissing me on the top of my head.

“Even if I stayed a girl?” I asked, feeling the return of my mental turmoil.

Harriet was quiet for a moment. “Yes, even if you were still a girl… Is that what you want?”

“To be honest; I don’t know.” I admitted truthfully. “This has thrown me for six… I don’t know how I feel, But I do sort of like it.”

“I know.”

I bit my lip. She knew, I knew… but no matter what, I still found it difficult to talk about.

“Before all of this, I didn’t feel like I wanted to dress up, or even feel like a girl. Since this has begun, I’ve started to feel really strange, in a good way…

“How do you mean?” she prompted softly, stroking my hair gently in a loving way.

“I guess, I’ve realised that something was missing in me… Being Sharon has made me see things differently. Feel differently, reacting and thinking differently… Something about it seems right, and no matter what I do or think, I can’t get rid of the feeling.” I said, looking away.

“When we were together the other night… There was no pressure on me to be macho, no urge to satisfy myself; I just loved being with you, and making you happy made me happy.” I said frankly. “It was what happened when I went home that made it so much clearer. The dream I had… I had… real breasts. But it wasn’t that. I wasn’t disappointed when I woke up because I didn’t have breasts; it was because I wasn’t real… I wasn’t a girl.”

I looked at Harriet and tried to read her expression, but I failed. She looked at me closely for a moment before smiling slightly.

“Sharon, something in me was attracted to you that first time I saw you, this you…” she said running her finger down my cheek. “I fell in love with you, not you’re body, and there was something different about you before. But since this…. I don’t know, you just seemed more real; more whole as a person… You were more expressive, more talkative, more interesting… On top of that, I realised that I was attracted to you… like this… Its not that I wasn’t attracted to Mike, but Sharon caught my heart, and if you have to be Sharon forever, I’ll be happy either way. I love you.”

I felt tears begin to run down my cheeks as I looked into her eyes. “Really?” I half choked.

“Yes.” She whispered, kissing me lightly on my lips. “I love you, Sharon.”

Chapter 10

“Are you listening Sharon?”

“Sorry,” I replied quickly, shaking my head. “Yes, I am.”

Jane gave me a disapproving look. “You really do need to concentrate on this you know… It’s vital to your survival.”

“I know,” I sighed. “My mind just doesn’t work well at this time on a Saturday morning… and I had a long day yesterday,” I admitted. “The whole time since I joined you guys has been one long day.”

“I know,” she replied more softly. “This is a lot to expect from a beginner.”

“It’s not that that bothers me,” I said, sipping the long cold coffee on the desk in front of me. “I have always been able to lose myself in work and get the job done. This isn’t any different to going undercover with the met, I did that once or twice in lesser capacities… it’s just… so much bigger.” I shrugged. “It’s not the why, more the how.”

Jane cocked an eyebrow at me, “How do you mean?”

“The girl thing is causing some issues.” I said, in what I hoped was an offhand manner. “I won’t be too upset when it’s resolved.”

“So not when it’s over?” Jane asked.

“No, I think it might take a little longer, this is… affecting me.” I admitted. “Sorry, you were saying about radio procedure?” Hoping she took my hint to get off the subject.

We worked on, whiling away my Saturday morning with endless operational procedure. The 6 building had been quiet, but not deserted, and when I logged myself out of the pod and into the bright spring afternoon, I felt almost glad to be back amongst the world of the living, and out of the techno tomb.

I walked down the riverside path towards the Embankment tube entrance. There was a light breeze blowing off the river that ruffled my hair. As I reached up and ran my fingers through it to calm the wind’s effect, I caught myself; it was such a feminine thing to do… And the little things like it that I kept catching myself doing were strange. I lent against the balustrade and looked out over the river. I felt so very at home as Sharon that I was doing things Jane or Harriet hadn’t taught me. The self conscious way I messed with my hair, how I looked at my nails more often, even the way I curled up on the sofa was extremely feminine. On top of that, the most overbearing part was my budding romance. While it was true that we shared a far more equal relationship to present, I found myself increasingly submissive in my relation to her. We had grown together as teacher and student I told myself. She was the experienced one, I was the beginner and that rubbed off into our private life, but it was more than that. I even tried to blame my sexual inexperience but it wasn’t that. It was most likely the same reason I had never had a girlfriend, or a desire to go and find one all my life. I chuckled to myself as I realised how stereotypical it was that I was the submissive little girl. I just didn’t want to chase, or control, or win, I wanted to be won… wooed, chased. The very thought made me quite uneasy: It wasn’t how a man was meant to think. The more I tried to put the subject off, the more I realised that that too was a problem. I hadn’t cross dressed before, or felt that I might have been a girl ‘in my head’, but since this had begun, it was as if a pair of curtains had been drawn. I felt alive… human, and not just existing. As much as I tried to loathe admitting to it; I enjoyed being a girl.

Shaking my head, I left the river behind and made my way down the steps into subterranean London. Being a commuter station, Embankment was relatively quiet and free of tourist hoards as I descended to the platform levels. After a short wait, I boarded a train with very little trouble and settled into the nearly empty coach. Reaching into my handbag, I pulled out my Ipod and slipped the buds into my ears: It was always a habit of mine on tube rides or whenever I was alone and didn’t want to think. We pulled into Pimlico station and the 3 passengers in my carriage got off, leaving me alone.

As the train rattled along, I heard the carriage door open and close, but no footsteps. Ignoring the noise, I returned to the dance song I was listening to and watched the flickering tunnel lights speed past the dark window.

“Give us the Ipod and your bag love,” growled a voice in a Croydon accent. “Don’t want me cuttin’ that pretty face now do we?” he hissed pressing his face closer to mine from the seat behind.

My heart rate jumped at the unexpected sound, and I pulled the buds out of my ears, turning to face my assailant. “What?” I asked, pretending to have not heard the man.

The mugger thrust a penknife towards me over the top of the seat and leered. “Give us your Ipod and bag darlin’, or I cut yer face up,” He hissed, frustrated at having to repeat himself.

I had never been mugged as a man, and I didn’t intend to start now. As I made to slip the bag from my shoulder, I brought my other hand down against the man’s hand that held the knife, forcing his wrist against the top bar of the seat at a painful angle that made him yelp and drop the knife. Wasting no time, I slammed my other palm into the man’s nose and jumped free of the seat into the isle while he was stunned. Regaining his senses, the man spat blood and glared at me. “Fucking cunt, I’m goin’ to rip your fuckin’ head off.”

“You really mugged the wrong woman asshole.” I growled through a sly grin.

The man came at me in a totally uneducated manner, allowing me to use his momentum to slam his head into one of the vertical poles that ran from the carriage floor to the roof. As he bounced off, I swept my leg around bringing his legs out from under him and dropping him to the carriage floor. I rolled the man onto his front, and forced his hands up his back, slipping the pair of cuffs I kept in my bag around his wrists.

“You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent and anything you do say will be given in evidence.” I hissed, standing up and brushing off my charcoal pantsuit and slipping my bag on my shoulder. I pulled the man to his feet, who was now swearing and cursing me with a great deal of colourful language.

“Hey are you ok? I heard the commotion,” the driver called, sticking his head through the cab door.

I gave the man a wry grin, “Yes, Attempted mugging.” I shrugged. “Could you call for the transport plod to meet the train at the next station?”

“Um, wow, sure,” he said scratching his head. “Looks like he picked the wrong bird to rob,” he chuckled shaking his head as he retreated to his cab.

“Oh yeah.” I replied quietly to myself.

“I’ll find you and fucking knife you slag,” growled the mugger.

“Ok,” I replied, without really listening to the man, One acquired aural filters after time on the beat driving goby suspects around in the back of a panda car.

The train pulled into the next station, the one before my own, and I alighted, pushing my prisoner before me. There was a reassuring group of florescent jackets on the platform; the British Transport Police.

“We got a call about a disturbance on the train?” one of the officers, a Sergeant in his mid 50s said to me, “Who are you?”

“Sergeant Co…” I began out of habit. “Sorry, Sharon Cohen; Intelligence service.” I said, showing the man my badge. “Sorry, I already read this scrote his rights out of habit.” I smiled sheepishly, “Just transferred out of the met.”

“Oh.” He said, a little taken aback. What happened?” he said, handing the cuffed man over to one of his colleagues.

“He tried to mug me from behind with a penknife; it’s still on the floor at the rear of the carriage. Sorry, I had my hands full,” I said with an apologetic grin. “I subdued him, and asked the driver to call you in.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathed. “Met are getting more efficient. I’m not sure if your arrest can stand; you don’t have domestic Jurisdiction if I recall rightly.”

“I know,” I admitted. “As I said; force of habit. Get one of your men to formally arrest him, consider that a citizens arrest.” I replied, placing my Mi6 ID back into my bag.

The sergeant laughed. “You’re a plucky little one aren’t you? Nice to see one of these arseholes get some back for once.”

“I was just reacting,” I admitted. “When I had him down, It was almost automatic to cuff him and hand him over.”

“Good job you did,” He said as we walked towards the Transport Police office. “I swear those guys are getting more brash now… they don’t even care about the CCTV… we should have officers on the trains.”

“Maybe,” I mused. “You want a statement don’t you?” I asked as he escorted me into the office.

“Yeah, for records,” He replied looking for a pen.

“I can’t,” I replied ominously. “At least I’d appreciate it if we forgot I was even here.”

“I’d ask why, but I suspect you’d have to kill me once you told me,” he smiled setting the pen down on the desk once more.

I grinned, remembering the corniness it now held to me. “Something like that.”

“Look, I’ll run you home, is it?” he said, “You missed your stop, and you did us a favour, plus gets me out of the paperwork,” he chuckled.

I felt like protesting, but smiled instead. “Thank you.”

Sergeant Brice, as I discovered, led me up through the station to his Transport Police car on the surface. I slipped into the passenger side, and Sergeant Brice pulled out into the traffic.

“You’re so like my youngest,” he said as we drove through the streets of south London. “She just graduated onto the Thames Valley force.”

“Oh?” I replied. “And how do I remind you of her?”

“She has that same strong sense of justice I can see in you. I don’t think you decided to put that bloke down and arrest him; you just did because it was right. Doesn’t hurt that you’re small and blonde like she is,” he grinned.

“I guess,” I admitted, ignoring the last comment. “It was why I joined the force.”

“Why did you leave?” he asked curiously. “You seem like the career type to me.”

I paused for a moment to think about why I had left. “I’m not sure, I suppose I was offered a chance to protect more people, and enforce the law more effectively.” I shrugged. “It sounds cheesy, but I see myself being able to help more people.”

“Its not,” he admitted. “Was how I felt till I did me leg in chasing a car thief. Transferred to a quiet job chasing fare dodgers to see out my days.”

“I hope I see enough of my days,” I grinned darkly.

Sergeant Brice dropped me off outside my flat, and I gave him a grateful wave as he drove off until I realised it was a feminine little finger waggle, so I immediately stopped.

What I would give for a quiet weekend.

I let myself into the flat, dumping my coat on the rack and removing my suit jacket as I padded through to the living room.

“Hey Becky,” I called as I walked past my housemate’s vegetating form on the sofa, “Busy morning I see?”

“Mmmmm, horrific,” Becky smiled happily as she stretched out on the sofa with catlike grace.

I grabbed a coke from the fridge, and wandered back through to sit on the sofa opposite Becky.

“I wish I didn’t have to work Saturdays,” I complained, slipping off my shoes and kicking them unfemininely under the coffee table.

“Anything interesting in the world of spies?” she joked, marking her page and placing her book on the floor.

“Nothing much,” I shrugged, “boring lessons mostly. I had more fun on the tube ride home.”

“What like?” Becky asked, raising her eyebrows.

“I got mugged, well, he tried, I smirked It’s generally not a good idea to mug an ex police officer that was recruited by mi6.” I chuckled, “I got a ride home from a nice policeman though,” I admitted. “So it was worth it.”

“Was he cute?” Becky asked, grinning devilishly. I could swear I saw her ears visibly prick up.

“He was old enough to be my father,” I replied trying to look appalled. “What do you take me for?” I felt a sickening feeling hit my stomach. “Oh god!” I gasped. My Dad said he was going to visit this afternoon!”

“And you only remembered this now?” Becky asked incredulously.” How the hell are you going to explain that he has a daughter?” I looked at my watch. It was 2pm; my father was coming by at 4 o’clock to see how I, his son, was doing. I felt a surge of panic spread through me as I imagined scenarios that may come.

“I’m fucked,” I moaned, burying my head under a cushion.

Chapter 11

What are we going to do?” Becky asked.

“I’m going to get out of all this,” I replied uncertainly. “Try and make myself less girly.”

Becky snorted, “That’s going to be hard.”

“Oh you’re a great help,” I glared, standing up. “I’m going for a shower and to get these things off,” I announced, hefting my bosom and turning to walk out of the room.
Becky’s sniggers didn’t help matters.

Stripped off my clothes in my bedroom and managed to remove corset and my underwear. Standing naked in my room, I felt extremely strange. I lifted my hands to the two lumps on my chest and cupped them in my hands. They were warm from contact with my body, the strange thing was, I was reluctant to remove them; they felt like part of me now. Wrapping a towel around my body, I stepped out of my room and made for the bathroom.

I locked the door, and slid the towel to the floor before turning towards the mirror and appraising my appearance. The corset had left an impression on my body, and my waist dipped in more acutely than before, emphasised by the two firm mounds atop my torso. As a man, I ought to be disgusted by this, but yet I wasn’t. The last chip fell in place at that moment, as I stood looking at what I had become. I wanted this now; I liked this. For the first time in my short life I truly felt happy with how I looked. The hints I had dropped to Harriet, the comments and offhand suggestions that this was something more than a job… I had never gone out and said how I felt. Right now, I felt that I wanted to be Sharon for ever; I am Sharon.

With genuine regret, I reached for the bottle of solvent in the bathroom cupboard, and began to spread the liquid along the edges of my surrogate breasts. As the silicone began to peal away, I felt a pang of sadness spread through me. It was as if I had been reminded of the truth beneath my exterior. It seemed so sudden to admit my feelings to myself, but in truth, I had felt them for a long time. I had never liked myself growing up. I had just accepted my body as fact, and ignored things. I had never wanted to socialise with ‘the guys’; in fact I had gone out of my way to avoid it, men intimidated me…

I felt a pronounced shift in my weight as I removed my left breast, followed shortly by the right. I ran my fingers over my tender, red chest, feeling a definite sense of loss. Pushing it aside, I turned on the shower, and slipped under the jets of water.
I soaped my now unfamiliar body with some of my old shower gel, taking care to rub the residue from my chest. After rinsing my hair out, and shampooing it to remove any of the hairspray, I gently washed my face to remove the last feminine signs from my body.

Shutting off the water, I stepped out of the shower and began to wrap the towel around my chest, pausing, I tied it about my waist and slipped back to my room, cradling my now detached breasts. I returned my breasts to their box, and dried myself off. I had an hour and a half left before my father arrived; there was no time to relax. I found my mobile, and dialled Harriet’s home number. After a pause, she answered.

“Hello.”

“Hey Harriet, it’s me.”

“Hey baby,” she cooed, recognising my voice. “How are you?”

“Not good right now. Look, are you busy this afternoon?”

I proceeded to fill her in on the visit that I had somehow managed to forget up till now.

“Look, can you come over and play my doting heterosexual girlfriend for a while? I need smoke and mirrors to throw the old man off the scent,” I begged.

“Lots of skin, but not sluttish right?” she asked slyly. “I’ll be over in an hour. I love you,” she said softly, hanging up the phone.

I grabbed the bottle of nail polish remover I had bought during the week, along with my own feminine shampoos and potions in an expensive trip to Boots. Dabbing some onto a cotton pad, I began to clean the pale blue polish from my fingernails. Satisfied that I had removed the last possible trace of femininity, I grabbed a pair of knickers and slipped them on. I realised what I was doing as I settled the pale pink silk around my bottom, but felt no compulsion to change them; my father wasn’t likely to perform a strip search.

I pulled on a pair of faded jeans from my male wardrobe, and a plain white tee-shirt. Adding a pair of socks and my trainers, I felt hopeful that I could face my father after all. After drying my hair and locating my old Casio wrist watch, I returned to the bathroom to check my appearance in the larger mirror: The overall Image wasn’t so bad. I looked gawky, and had to correct how I stood, but I didn’t look especially feminine. I had tied my hair back into a low ponytail, the best I could do without incurring the wrath of Sally.

I shrugged. All I could do now was wait… So returning to my room, I moved a few things around, hoping to return some semblance of masculinity to my feminised bedroom. I couldn’t remove all trances of femininity, the makeup, the clothes, the hair dryer and shoes were as much a part of that room now as any, and I hadn’t the time to remove them all. Perhaps he would believe Harriet was living with me if asked?

At half past three, I heard the door buzzer ring, so wandered through to the living room and picked up the handset. “Hello?”

“Hey it’s me. Let me in.” Harriet replied cheerily. I returned the handset to the hook without replying and hit the entry buzzer. A few moments later, she knocked at my door.

I opened the door and let her in. Harriet looked amazing; she was wearing a short denim skirt, and a beautiful white knit jumper, her blonde hair flowed in silky waves around her face, she looked incredible.

“Will this satisfy your father?” she grinned, posing slightly.

“Him and me both.” I grinned, giving her a gentle kiss on the lips. “Thank you,” I added, giving her hand a squeeze.

“You look different.” She replied, raising her eyebrows. “Its hard to remember Mike now, even after such a short time, but I guess you could be a Mike if you squint a bit,” she giggled.

“Thanks, way to boost my confidence.” I growled. “Just hang off my arm a lot and he might be convinced I’m not gay.”

“But you are dear.” She replied coyly. “Just not the way he may think.”

I let Harriet through to the living room, and introduced her to Becky. My flatmate was surprised when I introduced my girlfriend, doubly so when I admitted we worked together.

“You look close enough for him.” Becky said cocking her head. “The boobs make a difference, but the hair he will notice…”

“I can’t really do anything about that unless I want to get skinned alive,” I grimaced. “I’ll pass it off as fashion.”

Subconsciously I raised my hand to my flat chest, Harriet noticed, and gave my knee a gentle squeeze.

Just before 4, my father rang.

“Hello my boy, I’ll be outside in a few, Pop down and wait for me, we’re going for a pint.” He fired off in his usual upbeat manner.

“Ah, Sure dad, I’m bringing my girlfriend, is that ok?”

“Wait, is this my son? A woman? Sure lad, bring her along.” He chuckled heartily.

“See you in a few Dad.” I replied apprehensively, putting the phone down.

I grabbed my neglected Jacket, and tried to fit the contents of my handbag into my pockets… It didn’t quite work. I was quite surprised by how many things I had come to need.

Five minutes after we stepped out onto the pavement, my father pulled up in his Jaguar. I don’t know why he wanted to own such a large car, never mind drive it through central London, but I supposed it bolstered his fragile male ego. I snickered to myself as I realised that I had begun to think of men as the opposite sex.

I was about to open my door and slip in when I realised that I was meant to be playing the gentleman son, so turned and opened Harriet’s door, allowing her to seat herself before closing it, and slipping into the car myself.

“Hi dad,” I smiled weakly. “This is Harriet.”

“Hello dear girl,” he smiled, turning to extend his hand to Harriet in the back seat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Michael, It’s been too long, but you have changed boy,” he said with a frown as he pulled out into the street. “You don’t eat well on a Policeman’s salary?”

“I’m doing fine,” I countered, “Just busy at the moment, lots of work on, you know how it is.”

“Your hair is a bit flouncy,” He noted with distain. “You should get that cut.”

“Can’t dad, it’s for work, I’m undercover,” I shrugged, displaying my lack of control with the situation.

“As what? Some Nancy boy metrosexual?” he replied with a hint of scorn.

“Hey fuck off dad,” I growled, Its just long hair, I’m meant to be fitting in with a rock group doing some drug trafficking using their tours as cover… so it fits ok? Leave it out.”

He gave me a long look, questioning my story, but shrugged and accepted it. “As long as you cut that when you’re done, I can’t have your mother see you looking like that, she will think you’ve become one of her hippies.”

Harriet giggled. “Your mum is a Hippie?”

“No,” I replied grinning. “She’s a NGO worker, charities and such, Dad is just stuck in the 60s.”

“I am not.” He cut in, trying to sound offended. “I merely hold a different view to my darling wife.”

“He thinks she’s mad.” I stage whispered to Harriet behind my hand.

We pulled into the car park of one of the last remaining quiet pubs in the area that had not been overrun by Pete’s sort, although its days were numbered, one could tell by the number of expensive cars next to ours.

I offered Harriet my arm as we walked into the pub and she took it with a sly grin; I think she loved the role-play, although reality would most likely have placed me on her arm.

Dad led us to the bar and we ordered our drinks before he made his excuses and departed to the men’s room.

“Here you go ladies,” grinned the barman, placing the two pints and a glass of wine before us.

I blushed, but ignored him as I handed over the £10 note and beat a hasty retreat to a quiet booth.

“Did you hear that guy? Dad is gonna smell a rat soon,” I moaned with resignation. “I should have pretended to be sick.”

“He wasn’t looking closely; it’s just your height and the hair,” she offered, trying to make me feel better.

“I doubt it, and ordinarily, I wouldn’t care.” I shrugged. “But I don’t want dad asking questions,” I hissed.

“Ordinarily?” she asked curiously.

I swallowed, “I’ve decided I’m not going back. I want to stay as Sharon.” I said quietly, looking into her eyes for a sign of reaction.

Harriet smiled and ran her fingers down my cheek. “I know,” she said simply, before kissing me softly on the lips. I wrapped my arms around her, and drew her body closer to mine as we kissed, our drinks ignored. I felt stars leaping around my heart as our tongues danced.

“I was going to suggest we order a late lunch,” my father announced with raised eyebrows, returning quietly. “But it seems like you two are already on desert.”

Detangling myself from Harriet I grinned, whipping the lipstick from my mouth. “Didn’t hear you come back Dad.”

“Ah it’s fine, you’re not a child any longer Michael, I’m glad you two get on so well. Tell me about you my dear.” He said jovially, turning to Harriet, “What do you do?”

“I’m a civil servant.” She replied demurely. “Foreign Office paper pusher, I’m afraid, nothing exciting.”

“Ah, the circles of power eh?” Dad chuckled, sipping his bitter. “How did you two meet?”

Harriet looked at me and raised her eyebrows. “How would you say it was?” she asked conversationally.

“Ah, we had a… bit of a problem, and her bosses wanted some Met assistance to… Focus, on the issues at hand.” I replied cryptically, grinning broadly. Harriet barely contained a giggle at the corniness of my line.

“Sounds interesting,” my father replied, paying little attention. We were soon called for our table, and Harriet made her excuses before heading for the toilets. My father and I were seated, and he took no time in giving me a talking to now Harriet was out of the way.

“I hope all this appearance crap is for your undercover thing.” He said with distain. “I must say you don’t look like the same man that came home for Christmas.”

“It is dad,” I sighed, “Do you think I want to do this?” I asked, avoiding the question. “Look, I have a lot on at work that I can’t talk about, and I need you to just drop it. Okay?” I replied a little too tersely.

My Father sat back in his chair and looked at me for a moment before shaking his head. “You know, as much as I don’t want to say it; you do look an aweful lot like your mother when she was your age. Of course you’re not a woman,” he laughed. “But that hair, and your face are very similar to hers. Pity you didn’t get more of me eh?” he grinned.

“I suppose.” I replied blandly.

“I’m glad you finally found yourself a woman,” he said taking a sip of his pint. “Your mother and I were beginning to wonder.”

“What?” I asked defensively. “That I was gay?” I grinned inwardly.

He shrugged. “Well you should bring her over to dinner after this is all over,” he said, gesturing at my unmanliness. “She’s a nice girl, keep hold of her.”

“Oh I intend to,” I smiled.

Harriet returned, I think she had taken her time to allow the two of us to talk. I stood and pulled out her chair for her, in the gentlemanly fashion and was rewarded with another gorgeous smile. A waiter approached and we ordered; the meal went without incident, and we talked about nothing in particular, just polite conversation. I suspected that Harriet wasn’t too comfortable around my old-fashioned father. Eventually things wound up, and my father dropped us off at my flat. I promised to phone my parents soon, and he drove off.

“That was stressful,” I admitted as we climbed the stairs back up to the flat. “Thank you for being there.”

“It was nice,” Harriet smiled. He’s a bit out of date, but his sort always are. It was nice to meet my girlfriend’s daddy,” she giggled.

“You want to come in?” I asked, as we reached my door. “Maybe stay the night?”

Harriet smiled and squeezed my hand. “Sure,” she replied softly, kissing my cheek.

I let us in, and the flat was quiet. “Do you think he twigged?” I asked, as we moved through to the living room, and I fetched a bottle of wine from the kitchen.

Harriet shook her head. “Others may have seen differently, but I suspect he sees you with rose tinted glasses, I doubt he ever would guess unless you slapped him in the face with your boobs.”

I reached up to my chest subconsciously. I was beginning to feel really messed up.

We drank the wine as we chatted quietly, and the night wound on. I had purposefully remained ‘male’ to test myself. I hoped that experiencing things differently might change my mind, or give me some food for thought. I found myself longing to be Sharon again; however I forced the thought to the back of my mind and leant over and kissed Harriet softly on the lips. She responded hungrily and we embraced tightly as we kissed. I stood quietly, and took her hand, leading her to my bedroom.

We sat at the foot of the bed and resumed our embrace. I slowly reached down, and began to remove her jumper to no resistance; before long, we sat in our underwear.

“You’re wearing knickers.” She giggled softly.

I blushed slightly. “Closest thing at hand,” I shrugged.

Harriet ran her hand over my chest sensuously. “You want to do it like this?” she asked.

“I want to try,” I replied in a small voice. “I want to make sure I’m doing the right thing.”

Harriet nodded, and reached around to remove her bra. As she did so, I found my eyes fixed on her beautiful breasts; they were not overly large, but not small by any means. They were round and full, and very beautiful. I reached out one hand and gently cupped her right breast, my eyes locked on hers. She smiled as she felt my touch, and a small moan escaped her mouth as my fingers found her nipple.

“I love you.” I said softly, kissing her gently. We lay back on the bed, kissing and fondling each other with increasing passion. Removing the last of our clothing, we lay side by side, kissing softly, “I’ll get a condom.” I said, beginning to sit up.

“Don’t bother, she replied huskily. “I was on the pill before I met you, I figured I’d stay on it as this girlfriend can still get me pregnant.” I grinned and rolled over on top of her, and we melted into a joint passion.

Several hours later, we lay side by side on the bed, glowing in the aftermath of our love.

“That was amazing,” Harriet whispered softly, stroking my face. “I love you so much.”

I smiled, “I’m glad you enjoyed it, but I think I know what I have to do now.”

“That was awkward for you, I’m sorry.” She said, biting her lip.

“Don’t be,” I replied. “It wasn’t you. I just know that I’m not meant to be Mike. I guess that was the final nail in his coffin, the one part of being a man that I can’t deal with.”

“Ok,” Harriet replied simply. “I guess I won’t need the pill anymore.” She giggled.

“No.” I whispered, resting my head against her breast. “I’m afraid you’re stuck a lesbian.”

“I guess I am,” she giggled.

As I drifted off to sleep, I wondered just what I was letting myself in for, and just what the future would hold.

To Be Continued...

Focal Point - Chapter 12 & 13

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

Other Keywords:

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Posted by author(s)

Focal Point
CHAPTERS 12 & 13

By Alyssa Plant

Michael Cohen's dream was to protect and serve as a police officer.... That job didn't satisfy him until one day, when people without names came to visit. He wanted to make a difference, but he didn't expect it to make a difference to him, too...

Chapter 12

I woke early on Sunday morning, the activities of the night before fresh on my mind: We had made love, and I had reached the most important decision in my life so far; although, I suspect I had never really made a decision, only an admission.

After experiencing even such a short time as a woman, I had woken up to who I really wanted to be… no… was. I knew some would say that I could never possibly be so sure after such a short period of time, but how does one know that one is awake? You just do. The barrier between consciousness and unconsciousness is invisible but definate, and I had crossed a very similar divide; Mike was not coming back after this operation.
Wriggling out from under Harriet’s arm, I slipped out of the bed, and quietly made my way towards the door. I was naked, and not in a way that I liked. I quietly grabbed my robe and the box containing my proxy femaleness, and slipped out into the silent hallway and into the bathroom.

I lifted my breasts from the box, and placed them on the counter while I applied a coating of glue to both them, and my chest. I lifted the breasts, one at a time, and carefully lined them up on my chest in the bathroom mirror. The act felt strange, and a sense of fraud clouded my mind for a moment. I ignored it, and finished affixing my bosom. Once I was reasonably sure I was all secure, I sat on the closed toilet seat lid, my hands cupping the breasts to my chest, to ensure the glue held. I giggled at the crazy image I must have presented. The dishevelled yawning girl sat on the toilet groping herself; if someone had told me a month ago that I would find myself in this situation, I would have had them committed.

Happy that my assets were accounted for, I turned on the shower, and allowed the water to caress my body. After I was finished, I dried myself and my hair as best as I could manage without waking Harriet, and slipped on my underwear. As I clasped my bra closed on the second attempt, I looked down at my sleeping lover. She lay in the covers; an angel at rest, her sleeping lips pouting ever so slightly. I sat on the edge of the bed and gently lay down facing her. I could feel her warm breath against my cheek. I wanted so badly to kiss her, to tell her how much I loved her, but I left her to her slumber. It was three hours later when she woke me.

“Hey,” Harriet smiled softly after waking me with a kiss. “Mike’s gone?” she asked quietly.

“Mike’s gone,” I confirmed.

“Thank you for last night.” She whispered. “It was hard for you.” She said knowing the truth. “You tried for me, don’t think I didn’t notice that.”

I frowned, “I just wanted you to be happy, to see if I could be what you wanted.”

“You are what I want, and what I need you silly woman.” She replied lovingly, kissing my forehead.

It was nearing mid morning, so we both dressed, and made our way through to the kitchen and breakfast. I had just finished making our toast and coffee when Pete surfaced.
“Mike-ette,” he muted wandering past me to the kettle rubbing his eyes. He did a double take, catching sight of Harriet at the table.

“Um, hello,” he said with a sheepish grin, brushing his hand through his hair.

“Don’t bother Pete,” I grinned. “She’s mine.”

“I thought you were mine?” Harriet asked coyly.

“Ok fine we share,” I shrugged, enjoying the mix of confusion, lust and that were visibly flying around Pete’s brain creating a wonderful collage of expressions.

Pete broke at that point. “Too early,” he groaned sinking into a kitchen chair. “You two are an item? With him like this?” he asked, looking at me with a mixture of admiration and curiosity. “You never ONCE score a bird in 5 years, yet you grow a pair of tits and suddenly you land a Hottie? That’s fucking unfair mate,” he grinned ruefully, shaking his head.

Harriet stuck out her hand to Pete. “Hottie at your service, but my friends call me Harriet.”

“Pete,” he mumbled shaking the proffered hand.

“Do you have a problem with lesbians?” Harriet asked coyly.

“I ah, god, no!” Pete spat, “Of course not, erm, what?”

“She’s just teasing you Pete,” I smiled glaring sidelong at Harriet, hoping she got the message. It was one thing to come out to myself, but I wasn’t ready for the party.

“Man this keeps getting stranger,” he chuckled, sipping his scalding black coffee.

Becky joined us after a short while, and Harriet visibly began to relax as she became more accepted amongst my friends. I think it meant a great deal to her that she fitted in. We spent the day around the flat, just enjoying one another’s presence. We nuzzled and kissed from time to time, and eventually Pete retreated to his room. My education in the male world told me just why he had vanished, and it caused all of us girls no end of amusement at the poor man’s expense. It seemed awkward to refer my myself outwardly as a girl, but it seemed to come so easily in my mind, far too easily.

Before long, Monday morning rolled around, and it was back into the breech once more. Harriet had left on Sunday evening, and I made my way alone to Vauxhall Cross on the tube. The number of times I had travelled on the underground was uncountable, but today things felt very different. I was comfortable finally. It was as if accepting who I was had removed my fear of being seen as a man in a dress… I was a woman in the grey skirt suit and knee length designer trench coat… just like so many others in this city, and I finally had my slot; although admittedly, on the crowded morning tube, that was more like a slit I was crushed into.
I waited for the obligatory Pod cue to progress and made my way down to the Middle East Controlerate. This week would contain tradecraft classes for me, all the things I needed to know about staying alive, condensed into one week… I was sceptical of the timeframe, but wiling to put in the hours.

I spent the next five days learning operational procedure, running through numerous key faces, profiles and the finer details of my legend. I immersed myself in Anastasia Zanov, and felt that I had almost begun to become that woman with the knowledge I held of her. I spent Wednesday familiarising myself with the equipment and weapons that I had been given to further deepen my cover. It felt reassuring to be in these final stages; Harriet understood that, but a lot of the others did not. I had been involved in minor undercover operations with the Met, and All the planning meant nothing in the lead up to an op, the final stages, feeling prepared and ready to go were when I felt most secure, the most confident. I just hoped that I could pull this off. Friday morning approached too quickly for my liking, and before I knew it, I was swiping into the Middle East Controlerate’s area in the dark recesses of Vauxhall Cross.

I slowly stepped into the controlerate, setting my wheeled suitcase down. I had dressed that morning as per Anastasia… I wore a pair of high heeled ankle boots with a wedge heel that I was reasonably secure in, a pair of tight fitted jeans, a white tee-shirt, and a black leather jacket that I had spotted one night on the way home from work. My blonde hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, and my Oakley sunglasses rested casually atop my head. Simple stud earrings, a thin watch and a woven gold bracelet were the only Items of jewellery I wore. Naturally, Jane and Harriet had wanted me to dress differently, but the more I learned about Anastasia, the more I realised their viewpoints fell short. She was a soldier, a gun for hire; she was not the sort to turn up to meet a client in a business suit, or a dress. My outfit was simple, functional, yet stylish; It was also by far the most subtle outfit.

“Hi Sharon.” Jane smiled approaching from one of the side offices. “Ready?”

I grinned nervously “I’m going either way aren’t I? But yeah, I think so… I just want to get it done now.”

Jane nodded. “Yeah, I think we all do. Come on, lets go for the brief.” She offered leading me back to John’s office.

“Welcome… Sharon.” John smiled. The entire team was present; this was the send off after all.

“Jane; is he… is she ready?”

Jane nodded. “Her understanding of procedure is good, she will have a team on her for as much as we can, so yes, I’d say she’s ready, Its not like she’s a raw recruit after all.”

“Quite.” John nodded, turning to me. “Sharon, are you ok with this?

“Yes s, Boss, I just want to do my job.” I nodded curtly, trying to blank out the pre game nerves.

“Daniel?” John prompted, do you have the items?” he asked the wiry haired Tech.

“Yes sir, its all here,” he nodded patting the tray on his lap.

John waited for a second before raising his eyebrows. “Are you going to give them to her?” he asked with a hint of annoyance.

“Oh, yes, sorry sir,” the man gushed, moving over to me with the tray. He proceeded to give me an audio receiver, and tracking device come microphone that doubled as a pendant beset with Anastasia’s birth stone.

“Do I get the laser watch?” I asked coyly as he finished fitting the pendant.

Daniel looked confused for a moment, “I ah, erm,” he began looking over at John, “I wasn’t asked to produce one,” he admitted with surprise.

“This isn’t bloody bond Sharon,” chided Toby. “Daniel, she’s pulling your leg you simpleton.”

“I know.” I admitted with a sheepish grin “I guess I had to get it out of my system.”

“We all did it at some point,” smirked Harriet.

“You more than others,” Toby groaned theatrically. “Regular fucking comedian.”

“You line them up for me Toby dear.” She grinned devilishly.

“Enough.” John said sharply. “This is not the playground, can you act like professionals?”

There were muttered apologies and the focus returned to me again.

“Now I must stress that this is not an intelligence gathering op, or target removal, you are to do exactly as Dujani expects from you till you are in position to take the shot, that is the only time you will deviate from what he expects, we cannot afford him to become suspicious.” He said looking at me with a most serious expression. “It is down to you to make sure this goes our way… we cannot visibly step up security and let him know we suspect something.”

I nodded. “Yes sir.” I replied curtly, we had passed the joking and planning, and it was game time. Everything from this point onwards was serious.

John pointed at the pendant around my neck, “You will be contacted by our Damascus team on arrival, but there will be no transmission after you are picked up by Dujani’s men, We can be sure they will be monitoring communications, so you will arrange an extract word, and the only time you will communicate with Damascus station, is when all hell breaks loose, are we clear?

“Perfectly sir.”

“Then I will see you when you get back Miss Cohen,” he smiled as he stood and offered me his hand. “Good luck.”

I shook the proffered hand and smiled nervously. “I hope it isn’t required sir.”

My flight was scheduled to leave in 5 hours from Heathrow, so I had some time to kill. After the goodbyes with the team, Harriet and I left Vauxhall Cross, The atmosphere was too tense for my liking; it made me nervous. It was near lunch time, so we drove to a small Pub just out of town for a quiet lunch, and a more personal goodbye.

I picked at my lasagne, as we sat quietly in the pub garden. I knew this would be hard for us, but that it had to come eventually. She was a Field Officer, and I suppose I was to… We would part, and return to each other, but this was the first time, and no matter how I rationalised things, It was going to be the hardest. Our romance was still blossoming. We had been an item scarcely two weeks, and I was going out of the country on her majesty’s service, I could die… It was a strange thought to have, sat eating lunch outside a quiet surrey pub with the one I loved, but it was real. I hadn’t thought about it so much in the past. I supposed that the times I had done it with the met were no comparison, I had backup, I was in England, in my turf… This was abroad, in their territory, alone. It sounds so selfish to think that the one thing that worried me the most was that I had something to lose now. I had always expected my parents would be devastated if I died, but this was different, a different love… I didn’t want to hurt Harriet by dying. I was surprised when I realised that this girl business had not factored once in my mental battle, the idea made me giggle aloud.

“What’s so funny?” Harriet asked softly, cocking her head to one side.

“Nothing really,” I shrugged. “I was just running through all the horrid things that could happen, and I realised that I didn’t Include the female part anymore.”

Harriet smiled. “It’s scary I know, I’ve been there,” she said squeezing my hand. “This is the worst bit, believe me, but you will come home, and you will come back to me.”

“I know,” I replied quietly, unable to meet her eyes. “The thought of losing you is…” I began, unable to find the words.

Harriet leant forwards across the table and kissed me gently on the lips. We sat for a moment, just kissing softly, holding hands till she broke the kiss. “You will come home,” she said softly yet firmly. “I wouldn’t let them send you if I didn’t think you were ready you know,” she smiled. “You can do this.”

I bit my lip and nodded. “I will.”

Chapter 13

As the airliner soared through the afternoon sky, I watched the clouds float past like leaves on water. I couldn’t help but think about my life up to now. It seemed so narcissistic to be flying along in first class, sipping my wine and wondering about who I really was. My departure from Harriet had been tearful, I’m sure we created quite a scene as we kissed goodbye in the bustling terminal. I didn’t care, and neither did she. I swore I would return to her, I didn’t intend to break that promise.

Who was I? It seemed an innocuous enough question, but I wasn’t sure I knew the answer. I knew right now who I was meant to be, but I was quite unsure who me was exactly.
It wasn’t a question of my gender; that much I had cleared in my head. I was a girl but I couldn’t describe myself as a woman yet, only that I was female. That was a part of me, but not the keystone of my life, a defining feature. I was Sharon Cohen, but who was she?
I had spent my life playing a role, being who I was expected to be; it wasn’t my life.
I knew what music I liked, what foods I loved, but it wasn’t enough. The realisation that I wasn’t as I had thought was akin to a form of amnesia: I had woken up and I didn’t really know who I was beyond the obvious. There was more depth to Anastasia Zanov, an imaginary character than my own personality. I loved Harriet, but I wasn’t sure the label of lesbian fitted me very well; it wasn’t something I held to my breast as a personal identification. There would be time to investigate myself once we returned. Right now, I had a job to do, and my job was to protect the country… That much I was sure of.

After several tense hours of in flight movies, and mediocre food, the plane began its decent into Damascus International Airport, Syria. We landed shortly after 6pm, local time. Once the plane was secured and the rigmarole taxiing about complete, I was allowed to alight with the other first class passengers and joined the International line at immigration. As the line grew shorter and I approached the desk, I felt a surge of adrenaline rush through me and I fingered my Russian passport nervously.
Finally, I reached the window, and handed my passport to the bored looking guard with a weak smile.

“What is the purpose of your visit?” he asked, flipping through my passport.

“Business,” I replied dismissively, turning the corner of my mouth upwards in a half grin.

“You have return ticket?” he asked holding the stamp above my passport.

I lifted the ticket from my bag and showed the guard. He nodded and stamped my passport. “Enjoy your stay in Syria Miss,” he smiled mechanically, waving me through.

I had expected more, but to him, I had just been another passenger on another day; I don’t know how I expected him to see through me, but I knew it wouldn’t be the last feeling like that on this mission.

Collecting my bag from the carousel, I walked slowly through to the arrivals area, and made for the exit to the airport. Our contact had told me that I would be met by one of Dujani’s men and escorted to his residence. I purposefully held back from exiting the airport.

I turned on my transmitter, and bit my lip. “I’ve landed.” I said quietly, to myself, hoping I didn’t appear to be a madwoman, after a moment, I was answered.

“Welcome to Syria Miss Cohen,” announced a voice in my ear. It was unnerving to hear it so loudly, but I maintained my calm. “What is the plan?” I asked the poster I was looking at.

“You leave the airport, and meet your contact,” the voice came, “He’s waiting by the coffee stand in the main terminal building, Our men have him flagged, he’s alone, so we are safe to talk here.”

“We?” I asked with surprise.

“Yes, we.” Came a voice from my opposite ear, I spun to face a businessman in his early 40s, briefcase in hand, grin on his lips. “The boys at home do keep producing more attractive Field Officers don’t they?” he grinned.

I grinned slightly, feeling playful, I looked him up and down obviously, “Pity the Damascus team has not got the update yet.” I replied coyly.

“Ouch,” he chuckled, “Not bad. Look, I’m Terry Anderson, I’m Damascus station chief, I just wanted to meet you before you go under. We have your back, and we can pull you out if the shit hits the proverbial.”

I nodded. “I’m glad, what’s the exit word?”

Terry grinned lecherously. “I think ‘sex kitten’ will do, don’t you?”

I groaned, “You guys don’t get out much do you?” I asked over my shoulder as I walked towards the arrivals door. “I hope I don’t have to use that, goodbye Terry.” I called, as I slipped through the door.
Clearing my mind of the humorous exchange, I fixed a mask of nonchalance on my face, and walked through the door into the bustling terminal.

I had made it past the arrivals area, and was beginning to wonder what I would do if the person was not here, or did not recognise me; I purposefully ignored the Coffee stand.

“Ms Zanov?”

I turned and looked up at an extremely large Syrian man He was around 6’4, and broad; the hired muscle sort.

“Yes,” I replied blankly.

“I am here to take you to meet a mutual friend.”

I nodded, and followed the man as he walked out towards the main exit. I drew level with him as we walked, “You have me at a disadvantage.” I offered innocently. “You know my name…” I added, hoping he took the hint.
“I am Hafiz,” he offered in a demure tone, “Mr Dujani has told me to see to your every need and then bring you to him.”

I glanced across at the man as we stepped out into the scorching sun and lowered my shades. “My every need?” I asked coyly.

“Ah, Ms Zanov, I am not…” he began, confusion evident on his bearded face.

My sly chuckle seemed to put him at ease.

I looked up at Hafiz and smiled. “My needs are to finish this job, shall we go directly?”

“Ms Zanov,” he replied, leading me over to a sleek black Mercedes. He opened the rear door for me and I slipped into the cool air conditioned interior. Hafiz lifted my case into the boot, and took his place behind the wheel. His size was not deceptive, as the car visibly sank as he took his seat.
Hafiz pilled out into the busy traffic and began to head into the city proper. We didn’t talk during the journey. I could see Hafiz occasionally watch me through the mirror as I pretended to ignore him.

“You would tell me if I had something on my face, no?” I asked after he looked for what must have been the hundredth time in the space of 10 minutes.

“No Ms Zanov, I mean of course. Sorry,” he muttered looking away.

“What is it?” I asked, now more curious than ever.

“Are you really the mercenary Mr Dujani has hired?” He asked, looking at me as we crawled through the traffic near the Damascus tower. “It is just… you do not look like a soldier,” he added sheepishly.

I narrowed my eyes, wondering if he was mocking me. “Yes I am,” I replied softly, with no emotion. “He has hired me to do a job, I am a professional, if you cannot accept that, maybe it is a good thing he called me after all.”

Hafiz chuckled. “I mean no disrespect. You just do not look like a soldier; you are a little woman…”

“And just what does that mean?” I asked feeling my anger rise. “I’m not upto the job because I don’t have a cock?” I asked in an accusing tone, immediately aware how ironic that question had been.
Hafiz Laughed openly. “Do not get angry little one. I do not think less of you, It is just… you are far more attractive than most females that I have come across in this line of work.”

“Oh,” I blushed, not really sure how to follow such a statement. “Thanks, I guess.”

“And I do not doubt your skill, I have heard of some of your previous work, you are quite the professional.”

I nodded, looking out the window. A funny thought struck me, why was the gopher sent to collect me privy to my employment history, fake or otherwise? I was positive that things were not as they appeared on the surface; I would need to watch things more closely.

We pulled in to a compound in the old quarter of the city. There was heavy security. The men were quite innocuous to the untrained eye; leaning against a wall smoking a cigarette, or reading in a chair, they appeared casual, but I could see the compound was under tight guard, just what was I walking into?

Hafiz left the car, and made his way around to open my door. As he did so, I felt the oppressive heat slap me in the face; this would be a long trip. I wanted to remove my jacket as the oppressive heat caused me to sweat more profusely, but I was very aware of my bare arms bellow, it was not done…. The thought reminded me of the scarf I had placed in my bag before leaving which I now removed and wrapped about my hair.

Hafiz retrieved my suitcase, and I followed him into the house where I was met by a middle-aged woman that introduced herself as Fatima.

“Mr Dujani is expecting you Ms Zanov, would you like to freshen up before meeting him? You must have had a long journey?”

I nodded and smiled, following Fatima up to a room she informed me, was mine.

“Is there anything you need?” she asked.

“No thank you,” I smiled, “Wait, excuse me?” I called as she turned closing the door.

“Yes child?”

“I ah, I am not sure about the social behaviour expected of me,” I asked, indicating the headscarf. “Is there anything I should know? I have never been to a Muslim country before.”

Fatima chuckled. “You are Mr Dujani’s guest, he would not ask you to do so when In his residence, although you should cover your body and hair when outside,” she smiled. “Please come down to the main hall in half an hour.”

I thanked her, and she left.

I sat down on the large bed in the room and took in my surroundings. The walls were white, and the furniture a soft mahogany. The linen curtains fluttering in the breeze from the open windows that looked out over the city. I pulled the scarf from my hair and let it fall to the bed beside me. I was in deep now; I was in the house of a known terrorist, alone, in a foreign country. I gritted my teeth as I felt myself begin to shake. “Pull yourself together.” I growled to myself out loud. I shook my head, clearing the thoughts that kept creeping in, and stood, pulling the jacket from my body. I began to strip before slipping gratefully under the cool jets of the shower in the ensuite bathroom.

Half an hour later, I descended the stairs of the house feeling refreshed. I wore sandals, beige loose linen trousers, and a simple white blouse. I felt clean and cool for the first time in this country. I had carefully applied just a little makeup to befit my professional image.

Fatima appeared from an archway as I reached the base of the stairs, “Ms Zanov.” She asked submissively. “I trust you are refreshed?”

“Thank you.” I smiled honestly. “I feel human again.”

Fatima’s lips twitched, before she turned, leading me through into a central open courtyard where several men were sat around a table, under the shade of the building.

I recognised Dujani immediately.

The man rose, clasping his hands together. “Miss Zanov, you are well?” he asked dramatically as he approached. I offered him my hand, which he theatrically kissed before turning towards the men at the table. “Gentlemen, this is Miss Anastasia Zanov, She is here to… streamline certain concerns.”

The 5 men stood, offering my various hands to shake before Dujani offered me a seat. “A drink my dear?” He asked politely. His accent was a curious mix; there was a hint of Midwestern US, and European accents coupled with his Syrian accent that I couldn’t understand, his appearance and behaviour was not in keeping with my brief: The rat I smelt earlier obviously had friends over for wine and cheese...

I nodded appreciatively, “Water would be fine.”

“Come now,” he smiled, “a glass of champagne with us?” he offered, indicating the men’s glasses.

“I thought it was not done to drink alcohol?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dujani looked at me curiously. “This may be a Muslim country, but I like to believe this,” he said gesturing at the compound around us, “Is our little enclave of civilisation.”

It clicked… “You are not a Muslim?” I asked, with too much shock to escape suspicion.

“No.” he chuckled. “I am a Syrian Jew.”

I looked at the men around the table, I hadn’t noticed before, but every one of them was drinking alcohol… They were not Muslim… Things began to rattle around in my brain at light speed. “My mistake,” I smiled, accepting the glass that a waiter offered.

I think we should perhaps walk and talk?” Dujani announced, his eyes fixed on mine, in such a way to let me know that it was not an offer, but a command.

“Gentlemen,” he acknowledged, getting up from the table.

I excused myself, and walked over to Dujani, and followed him as we walked out of the courtyard and through an archway into the gardens of the residence.

“I believe we are on different wavelengths,” he announced more fact than question. “I wonder why that is.”

“I presumed incorrectly,” I stated flatly, “My apologies.”

“You got an offer of employment in this part of the world, from someone with my name, it is simple to presume my dear,” he smiled dismissively.

“Of course, you’re employers could have told you this, along with your legend as the mysterious but false Anastasia Zanov,” he added in an offhand manner, with no hint of emotion: My blood ran cold.

“Er, what are you saying? Of course my name is Anastasia Zanov.” I spat with as much indignation as I could muster. “And I work for myself thank you.”

He turned to me and chuckled. “Maintaining your cover is naturally your job. I would expect little else from you, allow me my musings?”

I nodded weakly.

“When you entered the car at the airport, my man Hafiz scanned you, of course, your equipment is state of the art, and does not emit a very visible signature. It is not traceable with commercial or… accessible equipment.” He added, raising his eyebrows.

It clicked; He was with some Intelligence service also, I had been found out by those in my own game.

“Your legend is deep, and comprehensive, but if such a woman existed, believe me, we would have her on our radar.” Dujani smiled conspiratorially. “I have had enough of smoke and mirrors, we expected an agent to attempt to infiltrate this cell, and we allowed it, yes. I do however, require some level of honesty from you my girl. While I abhor the methods of some of my contemporaries, they will help us discover the truth if you choose to remain silent.”

I felt truly sick as I slumped down on the edge of the ornamental fountain we were stood by. I had been discovered, he was toying with me, and I was dead. So much for my super spy career, my new ambition in life was a swift painless death.

“MI6.” I said quietly, looking at the floor. “Get it over with please, give me that much?” I asked, looking up at Dujani with a pleading expression. The fear was gone, I looked back at the ground and waited to die. As numb as I felt, and as scared as I was, the tears rolling down my cheeks were for Harriet, not me. I was going to let her down.

To Be Continued...

Focal Point - Chapter 14-16

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

Other Keywords:

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Posted by author(s)

Focal Point

CHAPTERS 14 - 16

By Alyssa Plant

Michael Cohen's dream was to protect and serve as a police officer.... That job didn't satisfy him until one

day, when people without names came to visit. He wanted to make a difference, but he didn't expect it to make a

difference to him, too...

Chapter 14

Dujani chuckled. “Why would I wish to kill you child? I suspect my superiors would have a diplomatic crisis if we killed an agent of a friendly Intelligence Service; especially one as pretty as yourself.”

I looked up and tried to focus on Omid Dujani, the man had a look of mild amusement on his face. “You’re not going to kill me?” I croaked; partly in disbelief, part relief.

Dujani frowned, and crouched down on his haunches so he was looking into my eyes as I sat on the edge of the fountain. The man cocked his head to one side and looked at me intently. “This is your first assignment, isn’t it?” he asked softly. “You are lucky we are on your side, or you would be dead now.”

“Who are you? CIA?” I asked. “No,” I narrowed my eyes, “You’re a Jew… You’re Mossad.”

Omi Dujani laughed. “Yes, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, even If I do not know your name.”

I smirked and stuck out my hand. “Sharon Cohen, Mi6.”

Dujani raised his eyebrows. “You are a Jew also?”

I shrugged. “On my father’s side, I… I was never very religious.”

Dujani looked at me again, “Why are you here?”

I frowned, “I don’t really know.” I admitted. “Everything in my brief is wrong… I was sent here to stop you…” I nodded at Dujani, “A radical Muslim you… from assassinating the British Primeminister at the Beirut treaty… Nothing has fitted…”

Dujani looked puzzled. “Intelligence can get crossed, but I doubt that is the case here.”

“I don’t know what to think.” I shrugged. “I’m very new to this.”

“I can tell.” Dujani smiled, sitting down beside me at the fountain. “That also bothers me, why did they send one so unprepared into a perceived hornets nest?”

“That is a long story.” I half chuckled.

Naturally, the long story that I told Omid Dujani, was not the full honest truth. I carefully omitted certain facts pertaining to my gender, while presenting him with the honest facts. Needless to say, he was more than unimpressed with my employers.

Dujani stood and walked towards the archway we had come from before turning to me, “Come with me child, I think we may be able to make use of you yet.”

Grudgingly, I followed the man back into the central courtyard where the other men were still waiting; the conversation stopped as they noticed his return.

I hovered by the edge of the lit area as Dujani approached and called for the attention of the men.

“Gentlemen, Sorry for the delay, but I believe our little problem has been solved.”

“She is dead?” One man asked, “Did you find out who she was working for?”

“Dead? What? No,” Dujani chuckled looking over at me and beckoning for me to come closer. “I think our friend here would like to reintroduce herself.”

I blushed as the attention of the men seated turned towards me. “Sharon Cohen, Mi6,” I smiled apologetically. “As Mister Dujani says, there seems to be a little confusion from our end.”

There were exchanged looks at the table. One man leant back in his chair and let out a quick laugh. “The British do it again.”

“I’m afraid we had bad Intelligence.” I offered, trying to believe that myself. I turned to Dujani, “You said my services would still be useful? Want to tell me why that’s a good idea?”

“You really are an assassin for Mi6?” One of the men asked.

“British Army trained sniper actually, I was recruited for this.”

Dujani looked thoughtful. “I put it to you,” He started slowly, addressing the men around the table, “That we use Miss Cohen’s services for the operation as planned, and give her the choice to assist us or not.”

There were a smattering of agreements and non committal replies from around the table and Dujani looked across at me. “Let us offer you the full facts Miss Cohen?”

“Why should we read a foreign operative in?” An older greying man asked. “It is clear that she was sent to interrupt this operation, further involvement could not guarantee its security.”

“Because,” I offered turning to the man, “The reason you hired out in the first place still stands, I’m all you have, and I’m an ally, we made a mistake, we didn’t even know you were Mossad.”

The man muttered something in Hebrew before turning to Dujani, “I’m not happy about this Peter, but do it.”

The man I knew as Omid Dujani nodded curtly before pulling a folder from a pile on the table and sliding it across to me. I flipped the folder open and leafed through the documents and photographs, trying to absorb what I could. “This is a narcotics op.” I mumbled. “Afghanistan? What does this have to do with the treaty?”

Dujani nodded again. “An international ring has been running Heroin from factories within Taliban controlled areas of the Afghani Mountains; pockets that the Americans have yet to uncover.” Dujani pointed at one of the photographs, “This man, is Mohamed Hasizi, he is the Syrian Oil minister, and only part of the organisation. This group,” he indicated the document, “Are using the oil networks of the Middle East to traffic Heroin around the world, It is a new network of unprecedented size, Forget the Columbians and their unmanned submarines… this is practically a postal service…”

I sat, taking in the information for a moment, and flipped through the documents in the brief, “I’m going to take it, by your colleague’s reaction; you have not deemed this worthy of Mi6’s ears?”

The lack of reaction told me all I needed to hear. “You try to blame me, when you run a covert operation to assassinate a politician at a summit, and accuse us of not doing our job when we send someone to investigate?”

Dujani looked, to his credit, somewhat embarrassed. “The problem is, we do not know how far this extends… The corruption is deep. We hoped to maintain this… In house… till a greater picture was found.”

I looked at my forgotten glass of champagne on the table, and frowned. Dujani’s words had terrifying meaning to me. The misdirection could point at a corrupt influence operating within mi6… but who? And where? I kept my mouth shut about my concerns, but began to realise that if it was true that I was sent to disrupt Mossad, the enemy already knew that we knew… If I officially reported back to 6… It would tie the traitor’s hands. “You do realise, that beyond my decision to assist you, I am required to inform my superiors of the change in threat…” I replied dryly looking at Peter Dujani

“I do not think that…” the grey man began indignantly, only to be waved to silence by Dujani. “That is a good idea.” He said, glaring at the grey man. “It is about time we share this information with a sister agency, and we cannot afford any further confusion as to our purpose…

“Why kill him though?” I added, “He is not more use to you as a prisoner?”

Dujani shook his head. “We take him down at a political event, and the reason for the assassination is unclear, we spread misdirection, one or two shadow organisations claim responsibility for political reasons, there is a significant loss to the drugs ring, yet no direct proof that anyone is on to the operation.”

As dubious of the Israeli’s methods as I was, I couldn’t help but see logic in their blunt force approach. Several unfortunate accidents, political deaths, etcetera, of key members of the ring would expose others through increased security and rash acts. I’m sure Dujani and his colleagues were followers of the ‘Remove the head, and the body will wither’ philosophy too.

We had agreed that I would contact Mi6 in the morning, and Dujani insisted that I remain in the residence for our mutual convenience: As nice as he was, I suspected the Mossad Officers wished to keep close tabs on me. I bade the men goodnight, as loath as I was to leave, but it had been a long day. Quietly, I left the courtyard and made my way back inside the house to return to my room.

Hafiz, the muscle that had retrieved me from the airport was loitering in the Foyer when I entered.

“Ms Zanov.” He smiled, looking up. “You are going to bed?”

I nodded, my hand on banister of the wide stairway, “Yes, It has been a… revealing evening.” I replied with a half grin. “I had an enlightening discussion with your superiors.”

Hafiz looked sheepish. “Look, I was waiting for you I guess.” He admitted sheepishly, his heavy Syrian accented English dropping seamlessly into that of his native Israel. “I wanted to talk to you.”

I smiled, “I’m flattered,” I smiled coyly. “Do you make a point of waiting for every foreign intelligence agent, or just the female ones?” I asked with a cocked eyebrow.

Hafiz blushed, “No, its not that… Sorry for what I said in the car.” He offered. “I’m really not such a misogynistic pig, you know?”

“We were both playing roles, I did bait you though.” I shrugged. “And I made you by the way.” I chuckled, watching the confusion spread across his face.
“How?” he asked.

“You knew too much about my background, you were hired muscle, they do not get told the time of day.”

Hafiz grinned embarrassedly and shook his head. “Amateur of me, but you are somewhat distracting,” he smiled. “According to some of the guys, you are Mi6, so I guess I should count myself lucky.”

I nodded. “Yes, Mi-6,” I agreed, “Sharon Cohen.” I said, offering my hand.

Hafiz lent forwards and took my hand in his paw. “Daniel Gefen, Mossad.”

I smiled, noticing he had not let go of my hand. “Pleased to meet you Daniel.”

He eventually let go of my hand, and we stood in awkward silence for a moment. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” I asked, beginning to climb the stairs, “Good night.” I offered.

“Night.” He called, as he stood unmoving at the foot of the stairs. Knowing what he was waiting for, and how stupid walking upstairs backwards would be, I turned and departed. I had never felt a pair of eyes on me so definitely. I shook my head and smiled to myself. Men….

Securely inside my rooms, I stopped and ran my fingers through my hair and looked at my right palm. That man had the serious hots for me… Yuck! I could still feel his huge bloody paw on my hand… In his favour, the man apologised, but I wasn’t about to jump into his bed… not now or ever. I wasn’t interested in men, and I had Harriet…. I was faithful to my love. However, as hard as I tried to ignore it, a worm of doubt burrowed into my head on the subject of men.

I undressed slowly and changed into my nightie before slipping a carbon polymer divers knife I had secreted amongst my luggage beneath the pillow; It never hurt to be cautious. Drifting to sleep on my first night in Syria, I wondered what the hell I had gotten myself wrapped up in. The following days would prove most interesting….

Chapter 15

The sound of the morning prayer horns ringing out over the city roused me from my slumber. It took a moment before I remembered where I was, why I was here, and occurrences of the night before. My first mission was an utter failure…. It had, however, raised questions that I found hard to ignore… How had we so badly interpreted the Intelligence? It seemed the sort of tabloid wet dream of a mix-up… I rubbed my eyes sleepily and yawned. I shouldn’t think so deeply at this time of the morning.

Slipping from the bed, I wrapped my dressing gown about me; to my delight, I had found the guest room equipped in similar fashion to a hotel room; the coffee pot and kettle in the corner was my first port of call before retreating into the bathroom and doing my business. Collecting my sweet caffeine, I walked across to the window overlooking the city and gazed out as I sipped. Feeling human enough for light conversation, I activated my microphone and contacted the Damascus station.

“Miss Cohen, is something wrong?” asked a male voice that I didn’t recognise.

I shook my head before realising that the owner of the voice wasn’t in the same room. “No. But my cover is blown, and we fucked up in a fairly spectacular manner.”

“Ah, let me get the Chief.” The man replied nervously before the earpiece went quiet.

I sipped my coffee while I waited. I wasn’t sure this was the best idea, but I had nobody else to turn to… I didn’t want to start thinking conspiracy, but the options were few and far between, besides, it could be a simple mistake…
“Sharon, talk, do you need an out?” came the breathless rapid-fire reply of our man in Damascus, Terry Anderson.

“Calm down Terry.” I replied sipping my coffee, “Look, we messed up here… the players aren’t players after all… they’re Israeli Mossad.”

“What?” he spat. I was glad he sounded shocked; my paranoia lobe was going 10 to the dozen and his response at least confirmed that this might be an innocent mistake.

“Mossad?” he continued, sounding more subdued. “The Head shed’s Intel was very specific… we got the wrong guys?”

“No, I don’t think so.” I mused. “I think we screwed up…. OR….” I emphasised with a pause. “Or someone planted that very specific Intel.”

“Hang on.” Terry muttered, “Right, I’m alone. Explain,” he said quite gruffly.

The confusing thoughts that had filtered through my waking mind returned with the awkward clarity of morning. “Look, there’s too much wrong here … I know im only a new field officer… but … I’m not stupid or blind.” I admitted defensively. “It just seems far too convenient and obvious a mistake. I mean… Even Dujani isn’t who he apparently is, he’s not even Muslim.”

“I’m not going to tell you you’re stupid Sharon.” Terry said in a reassuring tone, “Look, I know this is hard on you, tell me everything…”
Over the next half hour, I explained everything from the night before in minute detail. He wasn’t pleased, but he came to the same conclusion as me. We were being played by someone at home. And it seemed someone high up...

“What do you want me to do?” I asked, wondering just how far I was getting into something beyond my experience.

“Nothing,” Terry responded after a pause. “Do nothing, I’ll call a mate back home who I know is squeaky and check on the Intel, I want you to report in as normal to six.”

“Are you sure?” I asked cautiously.

There was an awkward silence for a moment before he responded. “You’re a newbie Sharon, no offence, but they will expect this to come back from you. You’re not allowed to be a paranoid old cynic yet.”

I chuckled dryly setting my coffee mug down on the window sill. “I can play the innocent little girl for a while, but keep me in the loop.”

“I will, Bye.”

I turned off my mike and set about getting ready to face my new friends.

I showered and dressed in a knee length linen skirt and a sleeveless vest now my worries of offending delicate cultural sensibilities were lost, and set to brushing my hair out before clipping it back into a ponytail. Feeling ready to face the Israeli’s, I left the room and made my way downstairs.

Fatima was hovering at the bottom of the stairs when I descended.

“Miss Cohen,” she smiled with hostly warmth. Not the housekeeper either…. “You slept well?”

I smiled and nodded before following Fatima through to the same courtyard as the day before where the men were eating breakfast.

“Miss Cohen,” smiled Dujani when he noticed me approaching. “Good morning my dear, join us please,” he offered waving at an empty chair.

I sat, and to poured myself a cup of steaming coffee. I was of the belief that one is never enough to start the day.

I took a moment as I sipped the boiling liquid to look at the men around the table; it seemed the activity was mutual. “As you can see we are still here, I’ve not called in a cruise missile on the compound.” I grinned weakly.

The man that challenged me the previous night frowned, but the others seemed to smile at the joke. The conversation began to circulate once more, and I allowed myself a backseat role to observe the dynamics of the group.

Dujani… Peter, seemed to be the man in charge on the ground from the way the men interacted with him, the man from Jerusalem was clearly the only one not local to the operation and quite dry in his approach. I got the impression that most of the men interacted with him if they had to. He reminded me of the spook that first recruited me.

“So you have considered my offer?” Dujani asked after taking a sip of his own coffee. “I suspect you will wish to contact your employers?”

“You haven’t made me an offer yet.” I replied dryly. “As it stands, I’ve been read in, but nothing formal put on the table.”

Dujani smiled. “I see you are as mercenary as your legend. I think we chose well... Of course, Jerusalem will… compensate you off the books regardless of your official or unofficial involvement.” He gestured raising his eyebrows conspiratorially. The unspoken offer was plain.

I nodded. “I’m willing to be involved if six give me the go-ahead; I can’t go behind their back on this. The beurocrat looked as if he wanted to speak, but remained silent. I could only imagine the conversation between him and Dujani after I had left.

“I understand.” Dujani replied nodding.

After finishing breakfast, the group split up to attend to various tasks, and Peter led me to a communications room in the house.

Dujani handed me a satellite phone, “You may use this, it is encrypted, and we will not listen in. I believe we must have some trust,” he smiled.

I nodded and smiled back, things felt less awkward now. He made a point to leave, closing the door behind me… I lifted the satellite phone and entered the number for the Operations desk at Vauxhall Cross.

The Phone connected, and there were several bleeps before it began to ring.

“West Thames Fish and Chips.”

It took me a second to remember this was a code….

“Hi, do you deliver to Aberdeen?”

“Certainly, let me connect you.”

There was a flat waiting tone before someone finally picked up…

“Operations.”

“Sharon Cohen, Middle East Controlerate, I’m reporting in.”

“One moment Miss Cohen.”

I was beginning to wonder if Mi6 took its telephone protocol lessons from British Gas when I finally heard a voice I recognised…

“Sharon? Why are you reporting in so soon? Is something wrong?” asked the worried sounding voice of Jane North, my handler back home.

“Jane, I’m fine, there’s been a problem…..”

As I explained the situation to Jane, I became more satisfied that she too was on my side. She didn’t know protocol for this situation, and told me to remain in position till I could be given new orders… It sounded like a bust to me, being fobbed off for now, but it gave me time to think over the shadowy offer I had on the table.

Jane seemed distracted for a moment. “Sharon, hang on one moment, Harriet wants to speak to you.”

I felt my heart jump at the mention of Harriet’s name. After my experiences , I really needed to hear her voice.

“Sharon?” came the quiet voice from the ear piece.

“Hey,” I replied dumbly, lost for any other intelligent greeting.

“I listened in baby, are you ok?”

“Yes, I suppose. They are good men here, I’ll be ok.”

“I’m flying over.” Harriet added with deliberate slowness

“No don’t,” I blurted. “I mean, no, I want to see you, but don’t come, this is something I need to do.”

“Baby, you’re out of your depth now,” Harriet replied soothingly. “I’m going to fly out later… They will want someone else on the ground now.”

I sighed to myself, realising she was right. “Fine. It would be good to see you.”

“You too baby,” she cooed, “Look, I’ll be over as soon as I can get away… I love you.”

“I love you too.” I replied feeling my eyes moisten and hit the call end button on the Phone.
I slumped down into one of the chairs in the room to compose myself. I didn’t need Dujani seeing me crying. On one hand, I was annoyed with her for wanting to fly in…. This was my first mission… I wanted to complete it myself… to prove myself… But on the other hand, I knew I’d need her to help me… I was so very out of my depth, convincing myself I could cope. Realising just how very alone and isolated I really was brought another tear to my eye. I was not alone…
Hugging myself tightly, I wept quietly with frustration and fear. I was a part of something beyond my control… and the lack of control terrified me. I was so used to being the one in the position to control a situation, a place…. Even being Michael had afforded me the shadow of an act… the protection of his masculinity… He wasn’t really me… so damage to his self esteem, his self worth, his fears didn’t really matter… I could add more layers to hide them, and they were gone now…

Sharon was me, she was all I had, and if she was hurt.. it was permanent, and it was painful. As much as my idiot pride wanted to do this myself… I couldn’t wait to see Harriet again. To hold, to be held…. Her image in my mind’s eye silenced my tears as if she was here holding me.

Drying my eyes, I got to my feet and attempted to sort out my messy hair. I must look a sight, but there was no avoiding that. Composing myself as best I could, I left the communications room.

Omid Dujani or Peter… I had a hard time deciding, was waiting for me when I returned to the courtyard. He was sat alone at the table as I approached.

“What have you decided?” he asked, without looking up from the document he was reading.

I pulled out a chair and sat before answering.

“They cannot give me an answer yet. Can I see further Intel on this guy… the target? Even if Six make their minds up… I still have to?” I asked tentatively, gauging him for a reaction. “I want to be sure this is for a greater good… I can’t just kill people.”

Peter Dujani looked up from his papers. “I would not ask you to do this blindly, and certainly not expect you to kill without a need. Do not think I am ignorant of the art you practice… In war… orders are orders, but in something like this…” he shrugged leaving the comment open. I smiled appreciatively.

“Look, I’d like to go out into the city today? If that’s ok? I have some thinking to do… and I need to speak to my local Station Chief about some things at home…”

Peter Dujani nodded. “Reasonable enough… I will collect a dossier on the target for your eyes,” He muttered, looking up from his paper at me. He studied me for a moment. “Why don’t you wash up and go for a walk to clear your head child?” he offered with a slight curve of his mouth. He had noticed….

Chapter 16

Leaving the compound, I wandered around the city playing the role of the western tourist, loosing myself in the crowd. It felt good to be anonymous after the last 24 hours. After several hours walking, I decided to find a quiet place to sit and think. I wasn’t ready to return to the compound yet and it was near impossible to concentrate in the oppressive heat and noise of downtown Damascus. Three blocks over, a small park provided the harbour I sought. Walking through the gate, I left the sandy metallic city and entered a desert oasis. The park was well tended; green and full of life. As I stood in the gateway to the park, my eyes fell upon a bench amongst a grove of palm trees; it looked perfect. I sat down on the bench and wrapped my legs under me. The palms swayed lazily in the light breeze. The tranquillity was complete; the bustle of the city felt a million miles away.

Instead of reflecting on how I had reached this point in my life, something I had done little else but consider over the last few days it seemed, I pondered where I would go from here. What would become of my life? Could I live through this? As much as I knew it was reality, it felt like a surreal twisted thriller with the moments of solitude occupied by deep philosophical thought. As hard as I tried, I really couldn’t see much beyond the job at hand. Could I kill a man in cold blood? Well the answer was yes. I had trained to do it for years, I had done it. Could I kill someone in a time of peace? A politician? Murder someone? Mr Dujani had been open with me, the man was corrupt.. evil… a sponsor of death and violence... But did someone’s life choices mean it was ok to kill them? Would his death solve anything? Or would the unstoppable tide of corruption in the world fill the gap before we could do anything with that victory? That wasn’t my choice to make. This was a call from higher up, and I was to answer it. Indirectly he was murdering thousands a year with the product he helped to move, that made him the equal of any enemy combatant. There was no smoking gun, but no firearm has killed without the person pulling the trigger. Humans kill, this man killed, method was irrelevant.

Part of me wanted to run and hide from this choice, but the logical part of me told me that it was necessary. I was trained for this. I had taken lives, when faced with the target in my crosshairs I would not hesitate at the moment. Choosing to progress as far as that moment was my present crisis.

The ringing of my mobile phone dragged me from my thoughts. Harriet’s number on the screen made my heart jump.

“Hello.” I said unable to stop myself smiling despite the dark mood. “You landed?”

“Yes, I just got off the plane, where can I meet you?”

“I think its best if you don’t come to the compound… Check into one of the city centre hotels, and give me your room number, I’ll find you.”

Harriet chuckled. “My little girl is all grown up,” she cooed. “Wise choice. I’ll be at the Damascus Hilton, I’ve used it before when I’ve been working.”

“I’ll head there now, text me your room number once you check in. I love you.” I added.

“I love you too baby, see you soon.”

I ended the call and slipped the mobile back into my bag. Knowing she was near felt good, but I also wondered how I could trust myself should things go bad, knowing she was in harms way. It was out of my hands now; we were both professionals, and we had told ourselves we wouldn’t let our relationship get in the way of the mission… one day at a time, I told myself… just one day at a time…
I walked out of the park and back to the busy street. I hailed a cab, and told the driver where to take me.

On the ride over, I found it hard to think about the situation we were in now. I just wanted to see my Harriet. That seeing her… That being in her presence would make this nightmare go away.

I earned a quizzical look from the cab driver when I laughed out loud at myself. Could I have predicted a month ago that I’d be in this situation? That I would know these things, feel this way? It was easier in some respects, I was starting from scratch in all things, I wasn’t adjusting. My whole being was up in the air. Collecting the pieces once this was over would be the true test. As thing stood, I could get by as I was required… The soul searching agony could wait.

My phone bleeped as the cab arrived in front of the Hilton hotel. ‘Room 2331, 28th floor.’

I flipped the phone closed and paid the driver before leaving the cab and walking up the steps to the front door of the Hotel.

A doorman opened the ornate door for me as I approached and I entered the cool air conditioned lobby. The marble and mahogany furnishings seemed more suited to Wall Street than Syria, but It was clearly what the residents paid for; a little slice of home… Why bother visiting at all?

I hit the lift call button and waited. A glance in the mirrored wall next to the lift satisfied me that I wasn’t being watched. Since the previous evening, my paranoia level had tripled. The mission had been dangerous, but it was contained. I was to be known to my enemy, and allied with them. Now… god knows what lurked around each corner.

The car’s doors slid open at the 28th floor. The hallway was deserted. I knocked on the door to room 2331, and waited. There was no sound from within. I reached to knock again but as I did, the door opened and I found myself face to face with Harriet, silly lopsided grin on her lips, her right hand planted on her hip.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hey,” I offered in return. I couldn’t think of anything better to say, or anything that needed saying. I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me. As I turned to find Harriet I felt her arms encircle me from behind.

“I can’t begin to describe how much I missed you,” she cooed softly into my ear. “I’m so glad I got here in time.”

“In time? I asked turning in her arms till we were facing one another. “This has become time critical?”

Harriet frowned. “There are definitely elements back at six that are being less than forthright about the details behind this. It doesn’t seem to have left the controlerate level yet, which is strange. I have a bad feeling about this…” she replied biting her lower lip. “It’s the first time in all my years with six that I feel out of the loop, and that scares me.”

“Did anyone follow you here?” I asked feeling suddenly concerned. “Do you think anyone might?”

Harriet shook her head. “I left too quickly I think, If anyone intended to, I do not believe they have our location… We are safe for now… we need to work out what our next play is…”

With a sigh, I slumped down on the bed. “What the hell have we stumbled into?”

Harriet paced in front of me with her arms crossed and an expression of deep thought. “I don’t know, but we need insurance, and we need a way out that isn’t on six’s books… we may have to go dark for our safety, the op seems a write off.”

I reached out and took her hand as she passed. “I agree, but let’s just take a moment out… clear our heads.”

Harriet smiled and stopped pacing. She pulled my hand till I was standing in front of her. Wrapping her arms around my waist, she lent forwards and kissed me softly on the lips. Fireworks exploded in my mind as we melted into each others arms. “I love you,” I whispered breathlessly.

About an hour later, we were lying entwined in bed, our passion sated, Harriet gently stroking my hair as we held one another.
“It was much better that time,” she whispered softly. “I was with you, not a façade.”

“To be honest, I haven’t given it much thought since we spoke about it before I left,” I replied honestly. “It’s sort of a mute point now.”

“I know,” she answered softly. “I love you Sharon.”
I rolled over till we were facing one another and placed a kiss on her forehead. Before lifting her chin with a finger and letting our lips touch.

After a moment, Harriet placed her hand against my chest and pushed me back. “Stop,” she grinned. “Or I won’t be able to.”

“Hey, I thought I was meant to be the sex junkie half of this relationship?” I asked innocently pushing myself up on my elbows. “Well I guess I was supposed to be.”

Harriet sat up and lifted herself off the bed before crossing nude over to the window. “You know that’s never been your style kitten,” she smirked slyly, looking back over her shoulder. “You’re mine.”

I smiled; I felt truly confident in our ability to handle whatever was thrown at us now. The reminder of our love reinforced my heart and my mind; we were together in this, we had each other and we would be ok no matter what.

“What’s the plan from here?” I asked bringing things back to the job at hand.

“You go back to the compound and wait for things to play out… Whoever is involved in the conspiracy will know things have been rumbled… they will make a move. Here,” she offered reaching into her handbag and retrieving a new mobile phone in its packaging. “I got this at the airport for you, one for each of us, clean.”

I accepted the mobile and opened the box, retrieving the phone inside. “You think they will have monitored our communications so far?” I asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

Harriet shook her head. “It’s impossible to know… If they are high enough up in six… they can do that. This room is safe; I contacted you with the new phone… Its not on any records for me… they wont think to look for it.”

“For your sake I hope not.” I sighed. “Damn this is heavy Harri.”

Harriet shrugged and blew a strand of hair out of her face. “Yeah, it is… But we know about it now, that’s half the battle.”

I nodded, she was right. Our awareness would prove our most potent protection. I dressed quietly, and collected my bag. “I’m going to head back to the compound now… I need to talk to the Israelis.”

Harriet nodded. “I’m coming with you. I want to talk to this Dujani for myself.”

“No.” I shook my head. “Not yet. I’m the one dealing with them, and they trusted me to talk to 6, not to bring others into this… Let me talk to him before I bring you in ok?”

Harriet looked like she wanted to protest, but nodded her agreement.

I walked over to Harriet and hugged her tightly. “I’ll keep you in the loop, I love you.” I whispered softly, planting a gentle kiss on her lips. I left her smiling stupidly after me.

On my journey back to the compound, I regretted my decision to not bring Harriet. She was so much more experienced in this game than I… the world of espionage was hers, and I was barely an amateur. As she had known, I knew I couldn’t bring her in as much as either of us wanted. Her presence was a more significant asset if she remained unannounced, her support unseen. When it was hard to determine whom your enemy was, one often had to resort to hiding ones plans from ones friends.

I arrived back at the compound to find everything as I had left it. The usual men guarded the exterior with practiced nonchalance.

I walked straight through to the main courtyard to find peter working through several schematics with some of his men.

I approached the group but stopped short, waiting for him to catch my eye.

After a moment, he looked up, and his eyes fell on me as I loitered by the edge of the courtyard.

“My dear, you are feeling better now I trust?” he asked warmly walking across to me. “I trust you are still onboard with things?”

“For the time being Peter,” I nodded. “However, I have a favour to ask of you, and some information for your ears only.”

Peter nodded curtly, and led me to an office room by the courtyard.

“What is the problem?” he asked locking the door.

“I think the operation may be in danger.” I sighed. “Mi6 is corrupted at an unknown level… There is someone working against the operation from the start, and my partner and the local section chief also don’t feel good about things… I wanted to warn you privately.” I offered tentatively, hoping his reaction would be less than volcanic.

Peter looked at me for a moment before turning to look out of the window. “It was a matter of time I suppose. I have already begun plans to accelerate the operation. I will be leaving my keeper from Jerusalem in the dark of these changes, I suggest you do the same. We simply cannot know who is a part of this.”

“I think now would be a good time to show your trust in me by giving me a weapon.” I prompted gently, raising my eyebrows. “This is not a game.”

Peter looked at me for a long moment. “Are you sure you want to be involved despite these concerns?”

I nodded. “I don’t really have a choice. “I was brought in as a puppet by some involved party. How they intend to pull the strings during this operation will come clear with time, but for now, I have no choice but to presume that I am not on their Christmas card list…

Dujani chuckled. “I suppose not. The things we do for our countries eh?”

Peter walked across to a desk by the window and inserted a key into the top drawer.
He rummaged under some papers for a moment before withdrawing a Walther PPK pistol and a spare magazine. Turning, he handed the two Items to me.
“For you.” He offered. “It was my throw away for near a decade. It got me out of several difficult moments, Lets hope it is redundant for you child.”

“Thank you.” I smiled. “But I am not a child.” I growled racking the slide of the pistol and checking the chamber was full. “I may be new to the world of espionage, but believe me when I say that a visible enemy scares me a damn sight less than the invisible one at present.”

Peter looked at me with a hint of curiosity, as If he wanted to ask me something.

“You are full of surprises little one. Come,” he offered gesturing at the door. “let me show you our revised plans.”

As we left the office, I was interrupted by my phone ringing. I flipped the mobile open and lifted the handset to my ear. “Hello.”

“Sharon, you have to come quickly, they found me, I need you’re Israeli friends about now.”

Note from author:

Hello Folks, sorry for the EPIC delay... (like Bejing can deliver takeout to france faster) I've been delayed by exams, then coursework, then moving house... now im settled and my muse deemed me worthy to return... so Focal Point is back... give me a few days for Haifa too... :)
Shalom
Alyssa

To Be Continued...

Focal Point - Chapter 17

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

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Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

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Focal Point
CHAPTER 17

By Alyssa Plant

Michael Cohen's dream was to protect and serve as a police officer.... That job didn't satisfy him until one day, when people without names came to visit. He wanted to make a difference, but he didn't expect it to make a difference to him, too...

Chapter 17

Equally concerned by the turn of events Dujani had sent me with Officer Geffen to retrieve Harriet from her hotel. To say Daniel Geffen’s driving style was original was an understatement, but my only concern at the time was that we may not be fast enough.

With a screech of tyres, we slid into the service car park at the rear of the hotel. Daniel and I left the vehicle where it had come to rest and made our way to the rear service doors of the hotel building. If she was indeed as compromised as she had thought, the front door would be far too obvious.

Approaching the door, Daniel drew his sidearm, I hung back momentarily thinking he was going to shoot the lock off, but was relieved when he used the butt of the weapon to smash the security keypad off before short circuiting two wires and allowing us access to the service corridors of the hotel basement. It wasn’t pretty, or subtle, but that was our last concern at present.

As we rode the service lift to the 28th floor, I drew the PPK from my handbag and removed the safety.

“Where did you get that?” Daniel asked looking over with a vague hint of surprise. “I can take care of anything.”

“Peter gave it me,” I replied tersely. “And I don’t need your help thank you.”

“Whatever.” He muttered.

As the doors began to slide open I raised the pistol, and elbowed Daniel. “Take right.”

He nodded, and moved forwards into the corridor. Leaving the car, I turned the left hand corner quickly and scanned the empty corridor. “Clear.” I whispered, “I’ve got the lead.” I added beginning to move down the corridor with my weapon raised.

I reached the end of the corridor, and flattened myself against the wall. Harriet’s room was another 20 meters down the corridor to the left. Crouching down low, I popped my head around the corner before snapping it back again. The corridor was clear, but Harriet’s door was ajar. Feeling my heart thump, I pressed on silently towards my target. I could sense Daniel’s presence behind me.

Reaching the door, I stopped to listen; Inside I could hear a male voice with an Arabic accent…

“Yes sir, I got here and killed them, but it was not the one you said…. The pretend woman was not here. Yes, yes, I know, I will make it right, have the others reached their target yet? Ok, I will call.”

Feeling the anger surge inside me, I swept around the doorframe and entered the room, weapon raised. “DROP THE WEAPON.” I shouted reflexively, more from force of training than intent. The man turned on hearing my voice, and raised the silenced pistol in his right hand as the scenario invariably plays out. I loosed off the first round from my own, shooting the weapon from his hand. The man yelped angrily and came at me. Without time to scrap, or the body mass to take on the large man, I dropped my aim and put a bullet in his kneecap. Howling in agony, the man fell to the floor. “Fucking cover him.” I yelled at Officer Geffen. As I swept forward clearing the room. “Clear.” I gulped as I moved to the far side of the bed and found the room’s only other occupant.

Harriet was lying face down in a pool of blood. I rolled her over, and checked for a pulse. There was none… Two bullet holes in her chest, and a small red circle on her forehead were the only marks that told me my darling was not sleeping… Choking back a sob, I cradled her broken form in my arms. We had been together just under a hour previously… She had been so very much herself despite the danger. We had been together such a short time, but I had truly felt that I loved her… She had been my closest friend, my confidante, my teacher in more ways than one.
Unable to stop myself, I felt red hot tears roll down my cheeks and drop onto Harriet’s still warm skin. I bit my lip and sobbed uncontrollably for several minutes before I could regain control of myself. Laying her head back against the blood-soaked carpet slowly, I rose, looking down at her still form. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth before turning back towards the others. Daniel was kneeling on the assassin’s back, and looking on with concern.

“Are you ok?” he asked dumbly. I don’t know why people ask that question when they know the answer, but I’m sure it’s the only thing they can think of at the time.

I sniffed and nodded. “Get him up.” I whispered quietly. “Put him on the bed then lock the door.”

Daniel nodded and lifted the injured man onto the bed that I had previously shared with Harriet. I walked across to the bed and stood over him, watching his expression for a moment. “Who sent you?” I asked quietly and calmly with a sniff trying to look like I hadn’t been weeping.

The man grimaced before shaking his head. “I will not talk,” he hissed.

I shrugged and lifted his silenced HK pistol from the floor. I looked the weapon over for a moment. I would use this weapon to destroy those that had ordered Harriet’s death, but first, it would get me their names. Calmly, I placed the silencer against the side of the man’s remaining kneecap and fired.

The man screamed out as the bullet destroyed his remaining knee, and sank back to the bed panting heavily.

Grabbing his hair, I yanked his head upright, and put my face in his own. “Tell me who sent you or I’ll destroy every one of your joints and you’ll never move again.” I hissed quietly. The look in his eyes told me that he knew I would keep my promise, but that he would still resist.

I placed the barrel of the pistol against his elbow, and paused for a moment, locking eyes with the man. His eyes widened in terror and his lips quivered. “Tell me.” I offered.

“I can’t they will kill me,” he begged. “Please.”

I shrugged and pulled the trigger.

As I felt the humanity leave me for what I was doing, the man’s screams of agony began to sate my lust for revenge.

“Life as a paraplegic can’t be too fun can it Officer Geffen?” I asked conversationally turning to the Israeli. Daniel’s expression was a mixture of shock and understanding.

“No, I here it’s worse than death.” He replied with a straight face. “I’ve never spoken to one though, I’d like a first hand account before I make and firm judgements.”

“Give me a moment and you can ask one.” I replied turning back to the pitiful excuse for a man on the bloodstained bed and placing the pistol against his remaining limb.

“Ok ok! I’ll talk!” the man half screamed. “Please don’t!”

I decocked the pistol and pressed the barrel against his kneecap, causing him to whimper. “I’m all ears.”

“I was ordered to come here and silence someone who got too close.” “A man pretending to be a woman, undercover… I got the wrong person… too late,” he pleaded. “I was ordered by an English man that I work for…I did not know his name.”

The man’s eyes locked with mine, and his eyes widened in recognition… I lifted the pistol and put a bullet between his eyes. I knew his next words…

I dropped the pistol on the bed between the man’s legs and turned to Officer Geffen. “I guess that proves it. Mi6 is significantly involved in the ring.”

Daniel nodded. “That was a little forceful maybe?” he asked cautiously, his eyes flicking between mine and the still body on the bed.

“He forced my hand. We have neither the time nor resources to interrogate him properly.” I shrugged.

“No, I am just surprised… I thought Mi6 officers were more… by the book than that…”

“There’s a book?” I asked raising my eyebrows. “Either way, it was personal, he deserved to suffer.”

Daniel’s eyebrows shot up. “You and the dead woman?”

I nodded, wincing at the word dead.. “Officer Harriet Carlisle of Her Majesty’s Secret Intelligence Service.” I replied fighting tears. “I love… loved her.”

Daniel walked over to me and opened his arms. I accepted his embrace and sobbed into his chest. Eventually we separated, and there was an awkward silence for a moment. “What do we do next?” I asked softly.

“We need to get back to the compound… If they have struck here, it can only be a matter of time…”

“What about Harriet?” I asked looking between my lover’s body and the Israeli. “We can’t leave her here?”

“We have to.” Daniel replied softly. “Contact your people or your embassy and tell them you have an agent down, they will recover her body and fly her home. But we must go,” he insisted.

I nodded weakly, and walked back to Harriet’s side. “I love you. Forever and always.” I whispered bending down to kiss my love’s lips.

Standing, I composed myself, and followed Daniel from the hotel room with a last look at the bloody scene behind me.

I stood outside the door for a moment before turning on my transmitter and contacting Damascus Station.

“This is Sharon Cohen, We have an Officer down at the Damascus Hilton, room 2331, Harriet Carlisle.” I stated without emotion.

“Sharon this is Terry Anderson, What happened?”

“Someone was sent for me.” I replied quietly out of Daniel’s earshot. “An assassin sent by a ‘British man’, she was murdered before I could get to her.”

“Sharon, I believe you, but we have just received a copy of an arrest warrant sent to the Syrian Police… For you and an Israeli named Daniel Geffen, for the murder of Harriet and the bombing of the compound you were staying at…. “

I felt a lead weight hit me; “The compound was hit? When? It can’t be Daniel; I’ve been with him since we left the compound… He can’t have done it.” I replied with insistence.

“We don’t know…” Terry began cautiously, “However, this man Geffen may be playing both sides, be careful… You need to go dark Sharon, This is way above everything… They have your Anastasia Zanov Alias too… you will both need new papers… “

“I’m a newbie remember Terry?” I replied with a mixture of resignation and exasperation. “What the hell contacts do I have? I couldn’t find fake papers if they sold them in Marks and Spencer’s…”

Terry sighed. “I’ll see what I can do, but With six watching me, it could be hard… I have orders to bring you in and have you sent back to the head shed.”

“Thank you Terry, I don’t know what I’d do without you…I had Harriet… but now…” I trailed off. “We will be ok, and I’ll watch my back… Don’t worry.”

“Look, after this conversation, bin the transmitter and mike, they have a gps locator in… do you have clean coms?” he asked almost as an afterthought.

“I have a new mobile, 07844 337228, It’s untraceable.”

“Good, goodbye for now Sharon, and good luck.”

“Thanks Terry, Goodbye.” I offered wondering If I’d ever speak to him again and turned the transmitter off, dropping both items into a waste bin as we left the service entrance of the Hotel.

I wasn’t sure if I could trust Daniel Geffen; His behaviour had seemed genuine, but we were in a high profile game, with very high stakes. I decided that I would keep the news of the attack on the compound to myself for the time being. We would return, and I could judge his reaction to what awaited us. It would be harder to fake shock than it would be to cover it.

Slipping back into the car we had arrived in, we vanished into the city once more.

As we drove, I looked over at Officer Geffen beside me: He seemed concerned at the hotel… and showed no sign of acknowledgement when I’d suggested we return to the compound. In anticipation of our inevitable discussion when we arrived, I carefully slipped the PPK out of my handbag and held it out of sight on my lap. I may have been out of my depth, but I was fully prepared to drain the pool should it come to that.

The roads became more congested as we approached the compound, and as we turned into the street, we were confronted by a sea of flashing lights… Syrian Authorities were all over the remains of the compound. The place looked like it had been on the receiving end of a cruise missile or laser guided bomb.

Daniel looked on with surprise… genuine surprise, but eventually he allowed his training to kick in, taking our car past the scene without raising suspicion, before pulling up about a block away.

“They…. It’s gone….?” he asked apparently rhetorically. “Shit they found us.”

“Keep both hands on the wheel.” I hissed quietly slipping the handbag off my lap and raising the pistol. “Talk to me.”

Daniel froze. “You’re working for them…” he frowned looking over at me with a mixture of disappointment and surprise. “But the hotel….?”

“What did you know about this… the attack?” I repeated. “You saw what I did to that bastard in the hotel… Don’t believe I won’t treat you the same.”

“I swear… I found out the same time you did.” He stammered in surprise. “Why the fuck would I want to murder my friends?” he asked incredulously.

I shook my head and lowered the pistol. “Sorry.” I offered with a sigh and an embarrassed half smile, “I needed to be sure you were not working against me. Things have gotten bad quickly… I’m scared” I admitted.

Daniel looked across at me. “You thought I was working with whoever did that?” he asked, jerking his head back towards the burning rubble of the compound. “You English are paranoid…”

“Paranoia keeps me alive.” I offered by way of excuse. “I’m sorry I had to do that… I was told earlier when we were leaving the hotel… The Syrian authorities have an arrest warrant out for both of us. Me, for murdering… for the murder of Harriet, and you, for the bombing… Our respective agencies have orders to pull us in too… Some very influential people are pulling the strings behind this.”

Daniel shook his head. “You don’t say.” he sighed. “I understand by the way.” he offered looking over at me as he lent forwards resting his elbows on the wheel. “If I had been in your shoes, I’d have treated you the same.”

“I’m so new at this.” I admitted. “My first mission has gone so wrong… now we are fugitives even from our own people… How did things get so twisted?”

“The players in the ring are tidying up loose ends… we posed a threat to them, and any further work on our part would compromise them, or spark investigations within our parent agencies.” He shrugged. “They couldn’t have that; setting us up to take the fall conveniently removes any blame from others. We went rogue, we are the perfect scapegoats.” He concluded with a sigh.

There was an awkward silence for a moment. “We need to go dark.” Daniel added firmly. “We need to get a new car, new ID papers, and new clothing… Change how we look… If we have any hope of surviving this, we need to find the traitors within our organisations: Exposing this is the only way we get out.”

I nodded solemnly. “I can help on part of that,” I offered tentatively. “Our station chief in Damascus is on side; he’s looking into acquiring papers for us.”

“How do you know he’s clean?” Daniel asked sceptically. “It is clear Mi6 is rotten.”

“No,” I stated firmly. “I trust him, I took this to him first, and he was surprised and supportive to say the least… This is someone back home judging by the train of events. He is a good man.”

“If he gets us papers he is.” agreed Daniel. “Look, we need to find somewhere to stay… I know a nice quiet hotel out near the airport. It will do for now I think.”

Pulling away from the curb, we headed into uncharted waters. Apprehensive as I was, I wasn’t about to concede yet.

To be continued....

Note from the Authoress in chief:
Hello lovelies, Sorry this is taking its time, the house move and other crap is taking its tole, now im down with swine flu and between putting oinkment on the horrid rashers and fighting the urge to roll in mud (Seriously, just regular flu), I'm trying to work on this now... So hers 17, 18 is hot in the works. I hope this isnt a tad bruital for some weaker constitutions, but oh well :) you dont read my work for peticoats and princesses...
Happy reading,
Alyssa

Focal Point - Chapter 18

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Focal Point
CHAPTER 18

By Alyssa Plant

Michael Cohen's dream was to protect and serve as a police officer.... That job didn't satisfy him until one day, when people without names came to visit. He wanted to make a difference, but he didn't expect it to make a difference to him, too...

Chapter 18

I sat on the bed in our hotel room and tried to take my mind off what had happened earlier that day in a room so globally identical. Officer Geffen had driven us to a small hotel near the airport. He had signed us in as a married couple; Mr and Mrs Reese; American tourists. I learned that more often than not, an American couple abroad would blend in the easiest anywhere in the world; everyone overlooked them.

I was alone for the first time in days, and I really didn’t want to be; after we checked in, Daniel had taken the car and driven away into the city to dump the vehicle before it could betray our location.

Sitting alone in the soulless hotel room brought things back to me. Harriet was dead… I was wanted for her murder. I was sat in a Syrian Hotel room as a woman… minor technical detail. The most unsettling part however, was the latter didn’t seem to bother me anymore. I was in turmoil about that issue: As much as I loved how I was now, some part of me still wanted me to stop and get back to familiar ground. Now however, wasn’t the time; all I could think about was what had gone wrong… How the woman I loved had ended up being shot when she came to help me out of my mess… Indirectly, I had killed her.

I closed my eyes and lent back against the headboard. I could feel the hot tears begin to well in my eyes, and the slow trickle before the dam broke. I wasn’t sure how long I cried, but the last thing I remembered was feeling truly sorry that I had ever accepted that ridiculous offer.

When I opened my eyes again it was dark. The room was quiet, and the sounds of traffic on the road outside were the only sounds.

As I slowly woke, I became aware of a large shape in the chair on the far side of the room.

“Daniel?” I asked sleepily rubbing my eyes.

The shape stirred. “Are you ok?” he asked softly. “When I got back, you were asleep, I thought it best to leave you…”

I shrugged noncommittally. “Thanks I guess.”

As Officer Geffen hit the light switch next to him, I blinked reflexively as the room suddenly appeared all around me in a blinding flash.

“Are you ok?” he asked with a hint of compassion. “You were crying….?”

“I wasn’t., just tired.” I insisted groggily.

“Your makeup tells me otherwise, was it the hotel?” he pressed gently.

Reflexively I reached up towards my eyes; blasted mascara. “It was the cap on a lot of things.” I shrugged pulling myself upright on the bed. “I still don’t quite believe she’s gone.”

“You were in love… I have experienced that loss. Believe me.” He stated matter of factly with a sardonic half grin. “We blame ourselves… We tell ourselves that this job caused it, that we are to blame for bringing them into it. The truth? It is out of our hands…”

“This happened to you?” I asked cautiously.

“My wife and daughter were killed by a Hamas car bomb 5 years ago… Daniel offered without emotion. “When I was still with the Israeli Defence Force, they were killed by a revenge cell targeting the families of serving personnel…” he said solemnly with a shrug. “At first, I told myself that my joining up had brought this… that marrying her had caused it all… anything to blame myself,” he continued.

“It took me years to accept that I had no hand in it. Those bastards chose to take their lives at random. Your… partner?... She was an Intelligence officer also. She knew the risks, she was doing what she thought to be right. She died in the line of duty at the hands of those we fight to stop. There is no blame; there is only our duty to bring them to account for their evil acts.”

I felt a tear roll down my cheek as I listened to him talk. The strange part was, I understood what he meant. His words soothed the burning fire of guilt in my heart, but the flames would never go out.

“Thank you.” I whispered.

“For what?” he asked quietly. “All I did was tell you the truth.”

“For letting me in… for telling me about your family.” I replied in a small voice. “It helped.”

Daniel smiled; “You will heal… It just takes time.”

“Did you manage to dump the car?” I asked, trying to banish the awkward silence that followed our heart to heart. It had reassured me, but felt entirely too personal a topic to have with a man I hardly knew. The fact that I no longer viewed him as my peer was strikingly obvious to me.

Daniel nodded. “I left it in a multi storey car park, and got a cab back here.” He confirmed. “I did stop at some shops… I got us some new clothes. Sorry.” He grinned weakly. “I wasn’t entirely sure of your sizes…” he shrugged apologetically holding out a bag.

I took the bag he offered and retreated into the bathroom with a murmur of thanks. The bag contained underwear, a pair of blue jeans and a white blouse. The knickers fitted, but the bra was a total loss… men and their overestimation… The idea made me chuckle to myself. To his credit, he had a fair eye for the size of the rest of me and the jeans and blouse fitted well enough. Opting to keep my current bra and sandals, I set about removing the horror mask that my makeup had become.
As I stood before the mirror with clean skin and stared at my reflection. I fluffed my hair absent mindedly and rubbed my eyes: I looked tired, and my eyes were somewhat puffy, but it had been a very long day. I shrugged and applied light makeup before brushing my hair with my fingers and hooking an errant lock behind my ear. With a shrug, I tore myself away from the mirror and returned to the bedroom where I found Daniel stood by the window. He had changed out of his plain native dress, and was wearing a pair of cream chinos and a navy blue shirt with the top few buttons undone. It was only in the new light that I realised his beard was gone.

“You look different.” I offered, catching his attention. Daniel turned around and grinned. “I was tired of the beard…. Made me feel dirty. It fits I see..?” he added giving me a slow once over much to my embarrassment..

“Ok I guess.” I mumbled looking at my feet. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing.” He dismissed with a wave of his hand. “You hungry?”

Almost in response, my stomach rumbled in protest. “I think that’s a yes.” I smirked. “Wouldn’t room service be more subtle?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, But Mr and Mrs Reese have no reason to hide… And we will be able to see a threat coming far easier in a restaurant than this room.” He offered with a smile.

As awkward as it felt, I took Officer Geffen’s hand as we left the room and made our way downstairs to the restaurant. It was part of our pretence, but it made me feel uncomfortable. I didn’t know if it was my role, or his.
There was no hint of Syrian police as we dined, and I began to relax as the evening wore on. We were still in danger, Harriet was still dead, but we could cope… We had to cope. More and more I thanked god that I was not alone… That at least I had one ally in the world. I felt very alone…

I woke the next morning as rays of sunlight began to slice through the curtains in our room. The sound of rhythmic breathing next to me reminded me that the bed had a second occupant. We had agreed to share the bed the previous evening. As much as my brain protested, it had made sense. We posed each other no threat, and the more comfortable we got around each other, the easier it would be to pose as a couple. I still didn’t like the fact that I had slept in the same bed as a man.

Sitting up, I slipped my feet out from beneath the sheet and stretched. Officer Geffen lay sleeping peacefully on his side facing away from me, the sheet had slipped down to his waist. I shook my head at the image in my mind and collected my clothes from the chair and padded quietly through to the bathroom.

Slumping down on the toilet, I rubbed my tired eyes. A day passed, and I still expected Harriet to be on the end of a phone, the whole thing had gone from sickening reality to numb dream. I couldn’t quite believe she was gone. This whole event felt crafted and false, as if the players would walk off the stage at the end before taking a bow. I doubted the blood on my hands would wash off however.

Showering and dressing, I returned to the bedroom quietly. Officer Geffen was still sleeping and I was unsure as to what I should do. Eventually, I walked over softly, and gently shook his shoulder before stepping back and waiting for a response. Geffen stirred, and rolled back onto his face. I rolled my eyes and shook his shoulder harder. With a moan, Geffen rolled onto his back and opened his eyes sleepily.

He frowned momentarily before smiling. “Morning.”

“Morning.” I offered, “We need to go.”

Daniel nodded lethargically and sat up in the bed. “You feeling any better this morning?” he asked tentatively as he stretched.

I shrugged. “I can’t answer that, not till I go home.”

Daniel nodded, “Ok, well you know you can talk to me if you wish…” he offered trailing off. “I’m going to head for the bathroom now, you might not want to watch.” He smirked slyly, laughing as the look of horror and understanding crossed my face.

“Ugh you were naked?” I asked screwing up my face. “Isn’t that a bit presumptuous?”

Daniel shrugged flipping the covers off himself before I banished myself to the view from the hotel window. “Well its not like I packed sleep wear yes?” he chuckled closing the door behind him.

How had I gotten so prudish? I knew exactly why he was embarrassed to get up in front of me, and I knew…. I mean, there wasn’t any tension between us… he was just like me… well… just like I was…

Just before lunchtime, we pulled up outside a small shop on a backstreet. I had spoken to Terry Anderson, he had secured documents and ID for the pair of us, but was being watched closely by six. As apprehensive as the neighbourhood made me feel, the fact we were meeting covertly made me all the more nervous. We were beginning to stray into field craft techniques that I had not covered yet… The game was changing, and I lacked the skills to play.

“Where did he say the drop was?” Daniel asked casually smiling as he did so. The man was a picture of calm as we drove. His quiet confidence the result of years experience. This was his element, and he loved it.

“The corner of the next street,” I offered. “Under the post box.”

“We’re clean, you go get the items when I pull over.” He nodded.

As the car cruised over to the side of the kerb, I felt my heart begin to flutter. Quashing the feeling, I opened the door and stepped out calmly and began what felt a one mile walk nude.

I reached the post box and made to read the times listed in Arabic before casually slipping my hand underneath and feeling for the attached envelope. My heart rate tripled as my fingers closed on the manila envelope, Pulling it out as subtly as I could, I turned and walked back to the car.
Slipping into the seat, Officer Geffen pulled us sedately away from the kerb and into the street. “You got it, you did good.” He smiled at me.

“Sorry.” I frowned. “I don’t know why that scared me.” I opened the envelope and tipped out the contents. Two aged and backdated US passports, and a Virginia Drivers licence in the name of Sally Westmore, and one from California for a Mr Mark Goldstein.

All the Identity documents looked as if we had possessed them for an extended period of time, the workmanship was supreme. Looking over the markings and seals, I wondered exactly how genuine they might be.

“Who am I then?” prompted Officer Geffen turning the car onto a main street.

“Mark Goldstein, Santa Barbra, California, born 1979…” I repeated aloud without looking up from the documents I was examining.

“Daniel chuckled. “Your man has a sense of humour; Goldstein indeed…”

“Well you don’t quite look like a Smith.” I quipped flashing him a smile. “I’m Sally Westmore, from… Norfolk Virginia, born 1981. Oh I’m older.”

Daniel looked over quizzically, “How old are you?”

“I’m 24.” I offered defensively. “Why?”

“I had you pegged as around 28 like me,” he replied shaking his head with a frown, “Not that you look 28, I mean you act older..” he added backtracking.

“I’ll forget that.” I grinned, “But I know what you mean… I’ve had a lot to deal with I guess. It’s probably to blame.”

“Probably.” Daniel nodded, letting the subject drop.

We had been driving in an irregular pattern for the last 20 minutes, mostly to talk, but partly to ensure that we were clean after the collection. As it turned out, it was a good thing.

“I think… we are not alone.” Daniel muttered his eyes flickering to the rear view. “Three cars back, the blue ford. It has been with us for the last four turns.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked, regretting the words as soon as they had left my mouth. Not something a professional field officer would say at all.

“Give me a minute,” Daniel replied quietly, watching his mirror. “And don’t turn around, or they will know we are onto them. We need to test if this is a tail or not.”

After the next set of lights, Daniel made a late turn onto a side street and watched his mirror with what I could only describe as a smile. “Yes, They are following us.” He stated matter of factly. “Not nice guys.” He muttered to himself before following the road round back to the main street. In the vanity mirror, I watched our tail follow at a discrete distance. As we reached the lights, Daniel Jumped a red and make a quick right turn into the stream of traffic. Quickly turning around in my seat, I could see our pursuers make the turn and give chase.

“When the fuck did they pick us up?” I asked reaching into my handbag for the pistol to reassure me. “Was it the drop?”

“Probably someone followed your friend because he reached the same conclusions about him we did.”

Daniel’s speed began to edge up and our pursuer became more obvious as they wove through the traffic in pursuit

“Are you sure this is safe?” I yelped as we took the wing mirror off a car as we passed.

“Hey I’m Mossad trained in pursuit and evasion driving.” Daniel grinned looking over. “We are best drivers in the world.”

“That is a matter of opinion.” I grimaced.

My own fears aside, Daniel wove the car expertly between the traffic as we sped through downtown Damascus. The tail car was unable to close on us, and after 3 more sets of lights, Daniel had managed to shake the tail and pulled the car off into a side street that allowed him good views of approach in either direction. I was impressed by his cool. I was qualified to drive pursuit as a police officer, but blue flashing lights tended to clear the road ahead. Being chased however was a different matter entirely; and one I was entirely unfamiliar with. I wasn’t sure if I could have kept my cool the way he had.

“Are you ok?” Daniel asked quietly as he checked the chamber of his pistol before slipping it into his trousers. “You’re quiet.”

I nodded. “Just a new experience for me.” I shrugged dismissively trying to act nonchalant. “We’re leaving the car?”

“It would be best.” He nodded. “They know it now, and I put good money on the Syrian police having our licence plate by lunchtime.”

To Be Continued...

Focal Point - Chapter 19

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Focal Point
CHAPTER 19

By Alyssa Plant

Michael Cohen's dream was to protect and serve as a police officer.... That job didn't satisfy him until one day, when people without names came to visit. He wanted to make a difference, but he didn't expect it to make a difference to him, too...

Chapter 19

“The first thing we need to do,” Daniel announced placing his fork down as punctuation and leaning back in his seat as we ate a quiet lunch at a small café in the heart Damascus’s busy tourist district. “Is we need to turn this around.”

I looked over at Daniel across the table and gazed at him for a moment trying to unravel the direction his mind was taking. “We are outlaws until this organisation is exposed...” I agreed slowly, “our only option is to take the fight to them,” I added realising the direction his mind was headed.

“Big words,” Daniel said slowly raising his eyebrows. “Where do you plan to start this little war?”

I thought for a moment, mentally reviewing the documents and discussions I had in memory from my short time with the Israelis. “We start with the Oil Minister… Mohamed Hasizi” I said quietly as a plan began to form in my brain. “If we grab him and make him talk… we can find out who else is part of this ‘inner circle’? I offered. “It’s our only lead, and the subtle approach is somewhat pointless now.”

Peter nodded. “It sounds risky, but you’re right, it’s all we have. How will we get close to him?”

“This isn’t the United States of Paranoia,” I smiled, “and he’s only the oil minister, at most he will perhaps have a guard and a driver with him, if we catch him in transit, we can make him disappear before they can realise he’s gone…”

Daniel gave me a strange look, “You were telling me the truth when you said this was your first mission?”

I grinned and blushed. “It is, I’m just not new to the world of catching people.”

“You were a police officer,” Daniel replied sipping his coffee with no hint that it had been a question. “However, if it is all the same, I will interrogate him this time,” he added quietly, “We do need him to live long enough to talk,” Daniel smiled sardonically.

“It almost sounds like you don’t trust me,” I smiled sweetly. “I can be good.”

Daniel chuckled, “Well I don’t know about that,” he grinned. “I first met you undercover as a Russian mercenary… you turned out to be an international spy, and you’ve tortured and killed a man before my own eyes… Do I even need to mention that you began to plot the kidnap of a foreign politician… You seem like my sort of girl, and they aren’t the good sort,” he smirked

His words and the look in his eyes made me feel strange and somewhat unclean. I didn’t want to be his sort of girl, at the moment or anyone’s… The girl part even bothered me a little when he so pointedly brought it to attention.

“Well you can do it, we just need the names,” I added quickly, wanting to end the awkward silence. “But we have to move before the others can realise we are alive and kicking, whoever followed us was working for someone, we can’t be seen to be taking these steps.”

“You’re treating this like a police job are you not?” Daniel asked flipping through his wallet for the bill.

“Why not?” I shrugged. “It’s the best way to deal with what we have; we’re undercover. We know who the bad guys are and we need evidence to bring them down…”

Daniel looked at me for a moment before raising his eyebrows, “You’re quite correct,” he sighed. “I had been thinking about this from a Mossad point of view… how we do things… Perhaps… yes,” he mused quietly for a moment tapping his hand against the table as he thought. “If we were to treat this as one of your police operations… it would throw them off our scent… It is not standard operating procedure for either of our agencies… they would not expect it.”

Looking over at Daniel, I saw an admiration in his eyes, thinking his words over, the more the realisation he had met struck me also. The only way we would survive this trial by fire, and have any hope of catching the men responsible for our betrayal, would be to become unpredictable, to do anything and everything they didn’t expect to buy us time. To them, we were Field Intelligence Officers… and there was a relatively fixed modus operandi from what I had seen during my short stint in the business… If we broke the mould, we broke their ability to predict our moves, and that gave us the upper hand.

We left the café, and made our way into the sea of human traffic outside: It was still the height of the tourist season and the streets were packed. Before long, we hailed a cab, and made our way back to the hotel and the relative privacy of the room.

I sat on the bed back in our room with my back against the headboard and my knees tucked into my chest. I was thinking, and it wasn’t pleasant. The tourists… the breaking of the proverbial mould: Becoming what they least expected had been niggling away at my brain since the thought had first entered. There was one answer that was repeatedly surfacing as I searched for the right one, and it would not allow itself to be submerged. It told me that I should go back to being mike, and as logical as it sounded, a strange regret held me back. They would not expect me to be male…. No record listed me as such, yet how would I explain this to Daniel? I had lied to him all this time? That I was not the girl he knew? I didn’t know what to say. I looked over at him by the window, quietly watching. It was something I had to confront.

“Daniel… About our disappearing?” I asked tentatively. “I had an Idea.” I offered quietly.

Daniel turned and lent back against the window sill. “Shoot.” He offered plainly.

I squeezed my knees harder. “We should change our appearance… They know what we look like… perhaps we should… I don’t know…” I trailed off uselessly allowing my hands to flop to the bed.

Daniel smiled. “No, you’re right, we should… but I had a beard, that’s one change… not much more I can do without plastic surgery really… what about you? Change your hair style? Colour? Stuff your bra?” he offered with a grin.

I shook my head as I felt colour rise. “Well…” I began slowly. “They’re looking for a man and a w-woman; right? So… mm, what If I dressed as a man?” I blurted without looking at him. “I could cut my hair and….” I said weakly looking up at him to judge his reaction.

Daniel shook his head. “No, that wouldn’t work,” he shook his head emphatically. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good idea… Excellent Idea… But I think you’d draw more attention pretending to be a man. Not that you don’t now… he added sheepishly. “I just don’t think it would work really, you’re too pretty.” He grinned blushing himself.

I looked down at the bed sheet. Some idea that had been… “What should I do then?” I asked quietly.

“We can go into town later and pick up the things we need. but I suspect we just need to look different enough to remove suspicion.”

Later that afternoon, we returned to the hotel with a plethora of bags and boxes. Having found an excuse to not return to being Mike, I had followed Daniel’s initial advice and chosen to change my appearance in more subtle ways. Sifting through the bounty, I collected an armful of items and retreated to the bathroom to begin my transformation of sorts.

Dumping the items and bottles into the sink, I looked at myself for a moment. I had almost begun to think of this me… As the real me. Would I go back to being blonde once more when this was all over? Hell, would I keep the hair? Was I mad? delusional? Lost inside some role? I didn’t think so. To me, this felt so real, so finite, and so important. I decided that when I got back to England, I’d resurrect my blonde locks, and the Sharon I had grown familiar with would return, if only to stop Sally from killing me for what I was about to do. For now however… Change was on the cards.. I raised the scissors and began my work.

Half an hour later, I looked at my reflection. I was no hair stylist, but I was pleased with the job I had done… My hair fell to my shoulders, and was jagged and rough… it took years off me… the deep brunette shade I had dyed it made the look even more striking… I looked NOTHING like Sharon Cohen anymore… not the Sharon Cohen born in a London Salon... I couldn’t tell if it was the experience of the past week, or just the new style that made me see myself so differently. Almost Like I had begun to earn my right to have this body. I felt a strange flopping sensation in my stomach; a strange mixture of panic and pride. I was finally looking at someone else in the mirror… seeing myself how others saw me, and it was striking…. As hard as I had tried, I had always seen some of Mike in Sharon, but now… now he was gone. I couldn’t see a trace: Daniel’s words made sense now. There was no way I’d be able to pretend to be a man successfully: The idea pleased me, and I did not feel guilt.

Fluffing my hair with my hands, I made faces at the mirror before smiling, and leaving the bathroom. Daniel was stood in his spot by the window, watching the traffic on the street bellow. “I’m done.” I announced quietly to get his attention.

Turning, I could see he had taken gel or something to his shaggy hair, creating a more youthful style… he certainly didn’t look 29… he looked almost handsome.

“Wow, different,” he grinned. “It suits you.” He smiled. “It always amazes me how you women can change your appearance so easily,” he chuckled.

I grinned and struck a silly pose. “Oh we get taught it in spy school.” I retorted playfully. “Or was that high school?” I asked myself putting a finger to my lip and looking thoughtful. “I guess I don’t have the blonde excuse anymore huh?”

“Whatever.” He chuckled. “I think the idea was a good one… we look different enough to pass cursory inspection I think. And you don’t even look old enough to be a Intelligence Officer anymore.” He grinned shaking his head.

“A girl always likes to hear that.” I chuckled. “Why don’t you use the bathroom, and I’ll change, and we can head out?” I offered nodding towards the now vacated scene of my experimentation. Grabbing a pile of clothes, Daniel vanished into the bathroom, closing the door, leaving me to change.

I slipped out of my jeans and blouse and stood in my underwear before the bed. I looked younger… I should dress younger too I mused. Searching through the clothing we’d bought, I pulled on a shortish denim skirt, and a tee-shirt. If we kept to the tourist areas, and broke some social rules, I suspected we would be overlooked by our pursuers.

Slipping my sandals on my feet, I sat on the bed and looked down at myself. I was surprised how much I had changed since this had all begun. What started as a challenge, had become disturbing, and was now almost second nature to me. I wondered if I was truly mad, or if I should even question myself. I felt happy with my appearance, Truth be told, the only negative thought I could come up with at the time, was that my enhancements were not permanent…

To Be Continued...

Focal Point - Chapter 20

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Focal Point
CHAPTER 20

By Alyssa Plant

Michael Cohen's dream was to protect and serve as a police officer.... That job didn't satisfy him, until one day,
when people without names came to visit. He wanted to make a difference, but he didn't expect it to make a difference to him, too...

Chapter 20

We spent three days observing Mr Hasizi and his movements. Three days of watching, and waiting, and planning, but in the end it paid dividends. We discovered that Hasizi was picked up and returned home in a limousine with only his driver and one bodyguard that remained in the car. While the man may be a big player, he managed to hide things well within the means of an Oil Minister. It was the avenue we would strike at: When he was returning home from the ministry on the coming Friday, we would strike. It gave us the most scope for success, and the longest time before he was discovered missing. It would be our only chance.

I looked out of the car window for what must have been the five hundredth time that hour. We were parked down the street from Hasizi’s office, waiting for him to leave the building on his journey home. We had taken his wife and two sons that afternoon: We had no desire to harm them, but they would act as leverage against a dedicated man. Daniel had been surprised by my cynical reasoning… A man with no fear of death, was immune to interrogation, but his family were a weakness that he had no control over. I felt bad undertaking such actions, but realised with resignation that they were necessary. We had no time, no resources, and no allies… We had to resort to methods and acts that normally would be considered excessive. I hoped we could gain the information we sought without harming an innocent, my sense of right and wrong was still as strong as the day I had joined the police force…. It was my job to protect the law abiding, not harm them; that day seemed so long ago…

I glanced across at Daniel, sitting calmly in the passenger seat, reading a novel; he looked extremely relaxed considering what we were undertaking.

“When is he due?” I asked to break the uneasy silence.

Daniel twisted the book in his hands to look at the watch on his wrist. “Any minute now.” He offered casually. “We wait till he has left the ministry, and move.”

I nodded more to myself than Daniel and sat quietly, unable to fully relax in the seat. I was always on edge before a job.

“It is now.” Daniel murmured as he reached down and began threading a silencer onto his pistol, his eyes flicked between the ministry door and the limousine approaching in the rear view mirror.

My heart thumped loudly as the vehicle approached. Daniel opened his door and slipped onto the pavement and slowly made his way forwards to an unobtrusive spot near the entrance to the ministry. There was precious little information on the security detail, but every precaution had to be taken with the presumption that they were good. A visible threat would result in a no show. We couldn’t risk that. I slowly slipped the car into gear as Hasizi left the building flanked by his security man. Hasizi was nothing like the photographs I’d seen of him, he looked older, fatter, but the eyes were the same. His security man was intimidating, but sloppy, hired muscle, not a true bodyguard. He walked with the Minister, not before, and one man was not enough for a personal protection detail; it made it too easy. After closing his principal’s door, the man let his guard down as he turned to get into the vehicle himself; he never saw the bullet coming.

Daniel fired the silenced pistol into the back of the man’s head as he was opening the front passenger door. Stooping, he lent into the vehicle and fired twice into the driver before the man could react. The limousine remained immobile.

I pulled the car alongside as Daniel manhandled a limp Hasizi out of the limousine and into the backseat of our car. A second security guard ran from the door of the ministry as Daniel was opening his door. With practiced ease, he turned and fired twice dropping the man as he fumbled with his holster. Daniel slipped into the car and I was pulling away before the door was even closed.

“That went smoothly.” I murmured turning onto a larger road. “What did you do to him?” I asked looking at the limp form in my mirror.

“He will wake in fifteen minutes or so,” Daniel shrugged. “I trapped a nerve cluster that knocked him out.

“Ah, the fabled Mossad voodoo.” I chuckled darkly, “We’re clean.” I added checking my mirror a second time.

Daniel grunted noncommittally his eyes not leaving our precious cargo in the rear seat.

After several miles we had left the city proper, and were driving through the industrial outlands of Damascus. I pulled the car off the road, and into the cluster of industrial buildings we had scouted out the day before. The old factory complex was deserted save the wild dogs and occasional vagrant. It was away from prying eyes and attentive ears.

I got out of the car, closing the door behind me and circled around to Daniel’s side and helped him to drag the unconscious minister from the back seat.

Propping him up against a support pillar in the deserted warehouse floor, we cuffed his hands behind his back and left him to wake; we didn’t have to wait long.

Hasizi groaned , his head lifting slightly before lolling back to his chest. His hands moved and his head snapped up with the realisation that he was restrained. He looked around the room for a moment before focusing on myself and Daniel standing against the far wall. “Who are you?” he asked nervously, his hands testing the bonds once more. “I will pay what you ask, please free me.”

Daniel walked forwards till he was about ten feet from Hasizi and squatted down till his eyes were level with our seated prisoner.

“What makes you think we want your money?” he asked with amusement ringing in his calm voice. “You believe your life so valuable that someone would kidnap you for money?”

“I… Ah, who are you?” He asked, caught off guard by our disinterest in his money.

“Who we are is not important.” Daniel said dismissively with a wave of his hand, “We are very interested in you however, Mohamed.”

Hasizi’s expression changed from fear to cold awareness in a heartbeat. “Why would you be interested in me?” He asked feigning ignorance. “I am but a lowly minister of the Syrian government, I cannot influence policy.”

“This is no time for games Mister Hasizi.” I added nonchalantly stepping forwards to stand at Daniel’s side. “We are running a tight schedule, and we will use necessary means to gain the answers we seek, cooperation is in your best interest, and that of your family.” I sneered.
Hasizi looked at us for a moment, gauging our expressions. “You do not have them.” He said firmly, looking me in the eye.

I took a step forwards and looked down at Hasizi, forcing him to crane his neck further. “That is a significant gamble to take Mohamed.” I said with an amused smirk. “Resistance is noble,” I sighed, crouching in front of him. “Noble, but foolish. I can see you are a dedicated man, a professional… There is no point threatening you with pain, or death, it will not motivate you to give us the information we require.” I said frankly, looking over at Daniel, hoping he had the same train of thought I was working with.

“Sharon, go and bring his son through.” Daniel said with resignation, looking over at me. I smiled inwardly; he had picked up what I had been planning.

“You do not have them,” stated Hasizi firmly. “You bluff.”

I turned around as I was walking out of the room. “NO!” I shouted, my voice echoing around the empty warehouse, “You are calling my bluff…. A gamble you are about to pay for. Perhaps it will take your son’s life to make that clear.” I snapped turning on my heels and walking out of the room. I drew my pistol and racked the slide before pulling his son to his feet, I dragged him to the doorway; from twenty feet away, I could see Hasizi’s eyes bulge. I shoved his son back behind the door and pushed him to the floor before covering his mouth with my hand; I fired a shot into a pile of sacking across the room and waited a moment, checking the gag in his mouth. I waited a moment before pulling the door open and returning to the main hall of the warehouse. Walking back to where Hasizi was bound, I said nothing till I was within several feet of him. The expression on Daniel’s face was exactly what I had hoped for… total surprise.

“You killed my son.” Hasizi muttered quietly. “You had them, you killed him…” he trailed off.

“I told you we were serious Mohamed,” I said raising my eyebrows as if to say ‘I told you so.’ “Are you going to talk, or do we have to kill Amira and Kalid?”

“Please do not harm them!” He blurted. “I will tell you what you need to know.”

Daniel lent forwards and gripped Hasizi’s jaw turning his head forcibly to look at him. “Who is your contact in mi6.” He asked, betraying no emotions for or against my apparent action.
“Mi6?” Hasizi asked slowly, realisation flickering across his eyes. “You want to know who sent the freak to stop the Mossad cell in Damascus?”

“You seem to be on the right track.” Daniel said refusing to rise to Hasizi’s barb; I however barely concealed the lurch I felt in my stomach.

Hasizi looked around for a moment, his eyes flickering to the door where he thought his son had been executed. “Harriet Carlisle was my point of contact with the head of our operation.” He said visibly sagging against his restraints. “Please don’t harm my family.” He pleaded.

I looked at Daniel with shock; his brow was furrowed. “How many times did you meet with Harriet Carlisle?” he asked Hasizi not showing any sign of surprise at the reply. “Where did you meet?”

Hasizi shook his head. “I never met Carlisle,” he shrugged, “I spoke to them via secure satellite phone as a conduit to the head of our group. We would speak monthly to discuss updates and receive orders.” He said flatly, a broken man. “I did not know the head’s name, he kept it anonymous He was referred to as Oxford.”

“”What are the names of the others in your group?” Daniel pressed on,

“I do not know.” Hasizi said shrugging against his chains, “We operated individually completing our tasks and were coordinated through Carlisle.”

Daniel stood up and walked to the door of the warehouse and made his way outsides. Unsure of what to do, I followed. He was leaning back against the brick wall, smoking a cigarette when I found him.

“Do you think he was telling the truth?” I asked tentatively.

Daniel nodded and sighed, “Yes, he was telling the truth about everything he was told. That man is broken.”

“But Harriet would never…” I began, leaping to her defence.

Daniel held out his hand, “I said he was telling the truth, not that he was right.” He said looking across at me. “It’s pretty obvious the group are using Mi6 Secure satellites to communicate off the radar… What intelligence service looks for chatter on its own birds?”

I nodded. “It makes sense, but why pass them self off as Harriet?”

“Smoke and mirrors, and fall guys.” Daniel shrugged. “All we know is that two people at Mi6, and at least one of them a woman, are the very top of this organisation… We may still complete the mission.”

“And clear our names,” I added. “And Harriet’s.”

“That was decisive of you in there.” Daniel said after a moment of silence. “Brutal, but functional. We achieved the desired result with minimal bloodshed.”

“He’s not dead.” I said looking over at Daniel to watch his expression.

Daniel chuckled. “That is so you.” He said grinning. “That is not one of your police tricks I think. Where did that come from?”

I smiled, “Some TV show I watched used the same trick.”

Daniel shook his head, “I will never understand you, but I love the way you think… It’s so… off the cuff… decisive… brilliant.” He added looking me in the eyes. I felt immediately warmer, which was quite a challenge in the Syrian climate. I wondered if I might feel things for Daniel I told myself that I wouldn’t… couldn’t... It was just the situation; we were thrust together by circumstance and fate, it was the tension; nothing more.

“We should go back and deal with him.” I said, breaking the awkward silence. “What’s the plan?”

“I make an anonymous phone call to the Syrian secret police and point them at the man coordinating their drug problem. They will be picked up and dealt with.” Daniel replied stubbing out his cigarette.

“Is that wise?” I asked, dubious of the Syrian system and its loose ties to justice.

“Of course not,” Daniel shrugged, “But it gets him into a jail cell rather than a shallow grave, if he cooperates: Which he will. They can tie up this end and save national face.”

“What about his son?”

“Bring him and the others in, we will leave them here for the Syrians.”

I nodded and walked through to the anteroom of the warehouse to unchain Hasizi’s family. I led them back through unharmed, before looping the chain through their plasti-cuffs around another pillar and fastening the padlock.

Hasizi realised immediately that he had been tricked. “You pig bitch, you lied to me.” He bellowed at the top of his lungs.

“No, I just have some humanity,” I growled, “unlike you organising the death of an innocent woman in Damascus.” I spat in return, feeling the pain I felt at the loss of Harriet resurfacing. “You’re the criminal; you’re going to pay.”

Hasizi looked as if he was going to speak, but closed his mouth. He looked between myself and Daniel and his eyebrows rose. “You’re the shemale pawn sent by mi6!” He laughed. “And you have the audacity to say I have no humanity. You are less than human.”

I stood, my mouth flapping uselessly, I looked over at Daniel, trying to gauge his reaction, He looked… shocked…. His professional mask slipped. Before I could feel anymore shame, I turned and fled, leaving the warehouse door swinging.

I ran for about a hundred meters before I slumped against a wall, choking back sobs. I slid to the ground and fingering the hammer on my pistol. I had lost the only other person I had in the world at that moment, and there was the very real chance that he would turn on me too. I dropped the gun to the ground in resignation and gave myself over to the wave of tears.

From the Author:
Sorry this has taken so long folks, but I'm back writing it now, and expect more of this and some others soon. Hope you like it! Please comment :)

Focal Point - Chapter 20.5 & 21

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Chapter 20.5

“Are you alright?” Daniel’s calm voice asked as it came smashing through my distraught mind. I looked up at him, standing above me, by reflex, my fingers gripped the pistol by my side.

“I’m sorry.” I muttered weakly. “I should have told you, I’m so sorry. Please….” I pleaded looking up at Daniel.

Daniel crouched down by my side, and took the pistol from my hand, “You will not need that.” He said realising what I was feeling. “I will not harm you.”

I swallowed the rising fear, “You realise what he said in there?” I asked tentatively, trying to establish what page we were on.

Daniel nodded slowly, “That you are… not a woman.” he said slowly, shifting uncomfortably.

“He’s right, or was.” I sighed closing my eyes to compose my thoughts. “Before this mission, I was… male.” I couldn’t bring myself to say man, because in all honestly, it had never been a title that I had identified with. “This mission required a female agent, for the legend, and I had to replace someone…. I was the only one with the required… skills.” I shrugged weakly. “Before I went on the mission, I began to feel more at home like this. I began to realise that it had been something I was missing my entire life.” I added sincerely, “This is the real me… even if I didn’t begin this way… I know how weird this must sound, but please… I have not deceived you… you are the only friend I have left.”

Daniel was quiet for a moment. “I cannot begin to understand this… but I cannot see a male in you.” He said softly. “Surprised? Yes: You are so… feminine,” he shrugged, I believe I expected someone like you to be more… masculine or awkward….” he trailed off.

“Daniel…” I sighed, “I can’t explain this very well… I don’t really understand this to begin with, but I can tell you with certainty that the girl, no, woman you see before you is a real person, I’m not a fake, or a pretender, or some in-between, I am Sharon Cohen.” I said with a determination that I didn’t know I felt.

Daniel took my hand and pulled me too my feet. We stood looking at one another for a long moment before he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him. I hardened at first, but finally relaxed into the embrace that allowed me to cry out the pain and confusion that had been building up in me for the last few weeks. He stood holding me till I had stopped crying, and pulled back to look into my eyes. “In a world of lies and deceit Sharon, you are one of the very few honest people that I know. This does not change that,” he admitted with a lopsided grin. “It is not hard to see you as a woman, you must have made a very bad man.” He chuckled softly.

“I guess you’re right.” I admitted softly. “I’m a more complete person now.”

Daniel smiled and nodded his head in the direction of the car. “Come, let us leave this place, our work is done.” He said softly. “We have much to do now.”

I nodded absentmindedly as we walked back to the car and drove away from the warehouse. I will never know what happened to Hasizi and his family, but I expect he is still holed up in a Syrian Prison cell, awaiting a trial that will never come.

Our journey back into the city, and our hotel room was dominated by an awkward silence. I really didn’t know what to say to Daniel; I felt like a burden, and a bad fake, regardless of his well meant words of acceptance.

He had tried to talk several times, but I could only utter one word responses, and conversation quickly died. I so wanted to talk to him, to make things normal again… We had reached a significant breakthrough in narrowing down the search for the ones that had framed us, and our eventual freedom, but it felt like a minor victory compared to the turmoil that Hasizi’s words had created. It was a strange feeling. This felt right; I was happy with how things were… but was I simply fooling myself? Had this job changed me so much? Had I simply bent with the pressure? I didn’t think so, but it was a constant weight on my mind. The authenticity of my feelings was confusing. Hasizi’s words had been the truth, I reminded myself.

I wasn’t sure why I felt so bad that the truth was exposed. It was of course, simple fact, but there was something about how I had been treated by the Israelis, and Daniel; it made me feel normal. I sighed deeply as I stared out of the window. Why was life so complicated?

“Talk to me.” Daniel said softly, turning towards me as he drove. “You’re still upset by what Hasizi said, are you not?”

I nodded weakly and refused to meet his gaze.

Daniel sighed. “Sharon, look,” he said imploringly. “I’m ok with this… really; I am a tolerant man. Do not treat me as though you expect me to scream and shout about betrayal, I can understand your reluctance to reveal something so personal. We really haven’t known each other that long…. Things have been complicated, I bear no grudge.” He said looking at me imploringly.

“I’m sorry.” I murmured softly, “I still feel guilty.”

Daniel shook his head. “Do not feel guilty for being who god made you.”

I turned to face him, for the first time seeing the softness in his eyes. “Do you really believe that?”

He nodded, “I am a religious man, although I do not take the words as literally as some of my kinsmen. I was taught to see the meanings… not the laws. God has a plan for all things, and he would not allow something to happen that he considered a sin, or abhorrent, that someone was unable to help.”

I looked out of the window for a long moment while I thought of my answer. “Thank you.” I said quietly.

“For what?”

“Everything and nothing.” I said without looking at him. “Everything and nothing.”

Chapter 21

It felt good to finally have my feet back on English soil. Our flight out of Damascus had been completely uneventful; the documents Anderson had secured were not questioned as we cleared customs and boarded the aircraft. Even the flight itself had been quiet, although I had mixed feelings. One part of me felt relieved with every mile that was placed between myself and that country, but another knew It would always be where so much had changed…. Where I’d lost so much… I’d spent the rest of the flight attempting to engage Daniel in conversation to distract my weary mind.

As the plane bean its decent into Heathrow however, the tension I had been enjoying a welcome break from returned with a small army of followers. I walked quietly next to Daniel as we left the aircraft and made our way along the gantry and into the brightly lit main terminal building: Customs, the first hurdle in what I hoped would prove the final leg of this mission lay ahead of us.

“Do you think it will be ok?” I asked trying to break the nervous silence that had occupied us since we had first landed.

Daniel shook his head, “Of course,” he shrugged casually. “They do not know we have left Syria, and these documents are clean, if we were going to get picked up, it would have been leaving Syria, we have slipped the net.”

I nodded to myself, trying to believe his words. I still felt like a lost little girl next to his years of experience at this game. I knew that I was miles beyond the meagre training I had received, but I was still miles away from safety too, nerves were only human I rationalised.

As we approached the customs lines I had to check myself as I began to walk towards the domestic line, thankfully, I didn’t think it was noticed.

The cue progressed and I found myself for the second time in front of the customs booth with my heart in my mouth.

“Welcome to the United Kingdom, what’s the purpose of your visit?” the bored officer asked barely looking up.

“Visiting friends.” I said casually, flashing a quick friendly smile at the man.

“Enjoy your stay.” He smiled back stamping my passport. It was amazing what a smile and a short skirt did to a man I thought rolling my eyes: He didn’t even ask for my return ticket.

* * *

“It feels good being home does it not?” Daniel observed with a smile as we walked out of the terminal building and hailed a cab. “That expression on your face is one I know well.”

I sighed as I looked around the taxi bay at Heathrow Airport. It wasn’t anything spectacular… It was a concrete overpass, four lanes of tarmac and a small copse of trees climbing the embankment on the far side… But it was England.

“It does.” I agreed without really looking back at him. “Miserable, but home.”

The weather was typically British as we drove out of Heathrow and towards central London. The sky was grey and overcast, with the occasional hint of drizzle; I found it difficult to believe it was actually July.

Our plan was not as complicated as I’d believed it would be… I was going to turn myself in; or at least that was how it would appear to the outside observer. Just a naive young agent believing that her coming back in would clear her name.
We were going to take the head off this organisation or die trying, but first, there was groundwork to be laid.

I surveyed the small hotel room before me, a double this time thankfully, but still relatively lacking in privacy. It was mildly annoying that I wasn’t able to return to my own flat, a mere handful of miles from the hotel we were staying in, but I wasn’t naive enough to believe they wouldn’t be watching my place. Eventually they would clock on to the fact that we were no longer in Syria, and it wouldn’t make the search a hard one if I was in the first place they would look.

I’d changed clothes on arrival, and felt more comfortable in the jeans, vest top and hooded sweatshirt I’d bought on the drive over; they were considerably warmer than the clothes I’d brought back with me from Syria.

I picked up the mobile phone I’d bought in the airport and dialled the one phone number I knew I could trust. As much as I had disliked some of our previous interactions, we had been partners… and we had worked well together, and it was time for one last job.

“Sergeant Thompson.” Harry answered when he picked up the phone.

“Harry,” I said neutrally, aiming for more of Mike’s voice than Sharon’s. “It’s Mike, how are things?”

“Mike?” He asked curiously. “This line sounds a bit odd… How are you mate?”

“I guess I’m ok.” I said biting my lip nervously before continuing “Look Harry, I’m back in England for a bit, could I meet up with you for a drink?” I asked, hoping he bought it.

“Yeah no problems mate, would be good to catch up… Though it’s not like you to want to go out for a pint is it?” he chuckled. “Foreign air must be doing you some good man.”

“Yeah, so uh, when’s good for you?” I pressed, hoping to actually get a time and place out of him. I was aware of Harry’s legendary reputation for never getting to the point and an extended conversation wasn’t really possible without getting drawn into detail I couldn’t reveal over the phone.

Harry sighed as though he was stretching. He was probably still at that same desk in the ops room. “I get out at six mate. ‘Bout seven in the Mare?”

“That works, I’ll see you then. Bye.” I offered closing the connection. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do or how I’d even do it… But I needed Harry on side for what I had planned, although his reaction to me would be unpredictable. I was sure I could spin some tale about it being a role… like it had been, but any thought of going back to being mike was out of the question now. I mentally shrugged. It was out of my hands.

* * *

It was quarter to seven, and I stood outside the Mare’s head, a quiet pub that was frequented by off duty officers. It was the favoured haunt of the firearms teams.

I’d wanted to dress down for the meeting; I had wanted to present as neutral an image as I could while reminding Harry that this was a role, in the end I realised that I had to go all out to achieve that… The brown boots and short skirt would probably draw more attention than I wanted, and the tight long sleeve white tee-shirt was left little to the imagination but it would also most likely stop Harry exploding and outing me to the whole pub if he thought people were paying attention… Small mercies I suppose.

I pushed the door open and entered the warm interior. I was right. It might only have been seven pm, but the place was busy, white shirts and open collars of the recently off duty mingled with other patrons that were quite obviously on the force too.

I couldn’t see Harry at first, but the place was crowded; it wasn’t that unusual. I approached the bar and ordered a bottled beer.

“There you are love.” The bar tender said cheerily as he handed over my drink. I nodded my thanks without really paying attention; my mind was elsewhere, currently watching the room around me. I wasn’t sure if it was my recent experiences, but the less than subtle glances I was receiving were pinging my radar. I wasn’t naive enough to believe they were sent to grab me, but after what I’d gone through, the attention was unsettling.

Harry walked into the pub shortly after seven and walked straight up to the bar after a quick look around; for me I presumed. He chatted aimlessly with the Landlord for a moment before taking his pint over to the darts board in the corner of the room, and began to pass the time throwing darts while he waited for my arrival.

I slipped off the stool I was on and walked over to him. He hadn’t changed much, still the same short receding hair, the same mix of Jeans and gym tee-shirt he always wore when off duty. I realised that while I hadn’t got on with him, it had been something wrong with me, not him.

“You’re still an aweful shot.” I purred softly causing his final dart to plough unceremoniously into the wall next to the board.

“Huh, oh hello.” He said turning around to face me. “Sorry, thought you were someone else for a moment darling.” He smiled. “Do I know you?” He asked furrowing his brow.

I swallowed and smiled. “It’s me Harry… Mike.”

Harry’s eyes widened for a moment. “Erm, what?” He asked slowly, confusion registering on his face. “Mike?”

“Um, yeah.” I offered looking down at my feet. I raised my eyes to meet his. “Look Harry, I can explain… can we go somewhere quiet to talk? It’s sort of important.”

Harry stood staring at me for a moment. He reached over and picked up his pint glass and took a long gulp before blinking and muttering “Uh, sure.”

We walked over to a quiet corner of the pub and took a seat in the booth.

“So this is what you’ve been doing since you left…” Harry said bluntly looking me over. “Not the diplomatic service huh?”

I couldn’t look him in the eye for a moment, he looked almost hurt… deceived. “It’s not like that Harry.” I offered trying to meet his gaze. “I can explain.” I offered weakly.

Harry’s expression willed me to continue, and over the next half an hour, I proceeded to give him the slightly edited version of the truth. I told him about the mission, Syria, Harriet, the Traitors… nearly everything. I left out my feelings about the whole subject, and thankfully he bought the duty line: Though not without a little ribbing.

“I still can’t believe how you look man.” He said shaking his head with disbelief. “I mean, you really do look like a bird.”

“That was sort of the point.” I offered rolling my eyes and sipping my beer. “It wouldn’t have worked very well if I didn’t.”

His expression turned serious for a moment. “You’re serious about these bent guys in Mi6? Jesus…” he breathed running his hands through his short hair. “I can’t believe you’re working for them.” He said incredulously. “This is dangerous Mike… uh, that feels weird.” He said shaking his head.

“Probably best if you call me Sharon.” I said blushing. “I guess it fits better for now.”

“Are you alright in there?” He asked softly after a moment. “I mean, this is pretty deep right? I’m not sure if I’d be in one piece up top if I was in your shoes… though I doubt they’d suit me.” He laughed attempting to cover his concern with humour.

“I… Yeah, I’ll just be glad when this is all over.” I said dismissively avoiding his question: It was true though.

“So what are you planning to do? I mean, can’t you take this higher up? To your bosses?”

I shook my head. “No, that won’t work, As far as they know… I don’t exist… well, sure I’m on some records, I have a pass… but I can be painted in as a traitor myself… I have been.” I offered with a sigh. “Only way we can really solve this is by drawing them out… by getting evidence… boots on the beat.” I smiled remembering the old phrase from when I’d been in uniform.

Harry finished off the remainder of his beer and placed the glass down on the table decisively. “Fuck it, I’m in.” He said with determination. “Beats going on shouts to some kid with a water pistol at Tescos.”

I smiled. It almost felt like the old days again.

From the Author:
Hey folks, Again, one thousand appologies for the length of time this took, but I've been doing that 'get an education' thing, and the bastards keep trying to get a girl down with all the work.. *sigh* Still. I'm back for now, and expect more Focal point and a Christmas NCIS special for your pressie :)
Thanks for reading, and please comment,

Alyssa

Focal Point - Chapter 22

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Chapter 22

“West Thames Fish and chips?”

“Hi, do you deliver to Aberdeen?” I asked inserting a little nervousness into my voice.

“Certainly, Let me connect you.” The indefinable voice on the other end of the phone replied. I waited for a moment before the familiar clicking sound on the line let me know I was going through to operations.

“Operations.”

“I ah, I’m Sharon, uh, Sharon Cohen, With the Middle East and Far East controlerate.” I added trying to sound flustered. It certainly sounded like an Oscar worthy performance on my end. “I want to… I need to report.”

“One moment Miss Cohen.” The Operations Officer replied without a hint of emotion or sign that they knew who I was. I knew that the moment I came on the line and mentioned my name, that they had been made aware of my status. It was a surprisingly short wait when I was put through to Jane North, my handler.

“Sharon? My god, where have you been… we’re worried sick… Syria… what happened? Where are you?” she asked in quick fire. “We need you to come in, please…”

I don’t know Jane; I’m terrified.” I added nervously. “I need help, I.. Everyone’s dead, I got back to England, but I don’t know what to do… The police wanted me in Syria… they said I killed Harriet…. The Israelis… I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s ok honey,” Jane soothed. “It’s ok, just tell us where you are and we can come and pick you up.”

“Is it safe? I mean, I heard they… is it really ok?”

“Sure sweetie.” Jane soothed. “We’ll send a car for you… where are you?”

“I ah… god, I think someone’s following me.” I hissed urgently. “I’m sorry… I’ll call in again, I have to go.” I blurted dropping the handset back onto the cradle of the pay phone I’d been using and slipped out of the booth and back into the bustle of the London pavement. Within minutes, I was nowhere near the faceless street that they would inevitably track my phone call to.

My plan was quite simple really: I played into their expectations of me. If you live upto what someone thinks of you, or someone, they will never question it: A core doctrine of undercover work that I had learned while on the force. I was building up to a point where those working against us would feel that I was on the ropes and pliable: That they could control me. That point was right when I was at my strongest.
As much as I hated to believe that Jane North could be involved in the treachery. It was hard to deny given the evidence we had retrieved. I knew she and the rest of the people back at Mi6 that were involved in my operation had access to my background, but I was placing a lot of money on the fact that they would presume.
I was new to the world of intelligence: Just a police officer that could shoot well. Their kid gloves approach had been telltale of that fact. I was a newbie; rattled and unstable… sent in because I would mess up, and I wouldn’t be capable of thinking clearly or rationally. Playing up to the stereotype of the lost lamb was risky, but it could give me the upper hand. They would underestimate me simply because they wanted to. They had no reason to suspect that I knew anything at all about the group, or who was involved. By proxy, they would also never suspect I was planning to fight back. It was the perfect armour in our fight; the element of surprise.

Harry’s unmarked saloon pulled over to the side of the street where I was waiting. Slipping into the passenger seat I flashed him a quick grin.

“Went ok then?” he asked pulling out into the traffic.

I nodded slowly, running things over in my mind. “Yeah, it’s just like the old days really… just bigger stakes.”

“You think they’ll buy this plan of yours?” he asked trying to read my expression.

“Well for the good of my neck I bloody well hope so,” I sighed looking out of the window. “I’m pretty nervous… well no, scared I guess. But facing my fear is the only way to end this… the only way to make it out of this alive is to bring them down.”

Harry nodded sagely. “Still can’t believe you convinced me to get involved in this mess,” he chuckled softly. “I mean, going against the Secret Intelligence Service… aiding and abetting a wanted criminal… my former partner that’s currently running around the world in drag.”

“It’s just the same as any undercover Harry.” I said softly, my eyes fixed on the dashboard in front of me. “This isn’t easy for me.”

Harry muttered something incoherent. “That’s just it.” He said hesitantly. “You make it look easy mate… I’m not saying anything… I’m really not; but you somehow manage to pull this off without breaking a sweat… Hell mate, I can’t see the real you in there and believe me, I’m trying pretty hard.”

Part of me understood what he was saying… It must have been an utter mind fuck to see a former friend changed so drastically, but another part of me was a little hurt. I wanted my friend to understand how I felt… That I had to lie was tearing me up inside, but I wasn’t sure he could handle the truth… I had been barely able to...

“This is hard Harry,” I pleaded softly looking across at my former partner. “I’ve felt so… strange since this began; my life’s been completely turned upside down.”

“I can understand that.” Harry said quietly as he drove. “It’s the whole undercover thing… you get into it a bit much, and you begin to forget who you are; what you’re there to do. It’s a real mind fuck mate.”

I sat for a moment taking in what he had said; Harry’s words were not those of the man I had known… that I had worked with. He spoke instead with a wisdom and insight that exposed the true character under the bravado and bullshit. Looking over at him I smiled weakly. “Thank you for being here Harry… It means a lot that I’m not alone in this.”

* * *

We arrived back at the hotel where Daniel and I were staying. I had invited Harry came up to the room with me to discuss our next moves.

Entering the room, Harry nodded at Daniel before slumping down in one of the chairs by the desk. “Fine mess this is huh?” He chuckled. You and… Sharon here pissing on some nasty people’s toes, and running around the world causing mayhem…”

“You make this sound like a joke.” Daniel replied darkly. “Why again did you involve this man?” He asked turning to me.

I held up my hands in surrender. “Whoa, guys… less of the claws ok?” I smiled embarrassedly. “Look Daniel… Harry, for all his personality flaws is the sort of friend we need in this… He’s from my old unit, we can trust him, and he’s not bent. We have few enough allies as it is.” I pointed out.

“So what are you planning?” Daniel asked cocking his head to one side. “Some sort of …. Direct action?”

I nodded slowly. “In a way,” I murmured. “We’re going to sting them.”

“How?” Daniel asked curiously, his interest piqued.

“I called in this morning.” I admitted. “I called in, and told them that I wanted to come in, and debrief, and was scared… I simply filled their expectations. I’m going to arrange a meet in a few days and well… That’s sort of all I can think of at the moment.”

“Well planned as usual Cohen,” Harry chuckled. “So this meet is going to be a trap of some sort? Ah…” He sighed. “This is where I come in isn’t it?”

Smiling as sweetly as possible. I shrugged. “Well if you happened to liberate a few bits and bobs from work I wouldn’t be too upset.”

“Hah.” Harry laughed. “Typical… sh…you want me for my power… they all do.” He grinned.

“Not your power Harry, Just your access,” I grinned. “Some wires, listening gear and a few weapons wouldn’t go a miss for a day now would they?”

“So what am I meant to say? That I need to borrow kit that needs to be logged out?”

I pursed my lips for a moment and thought. Harry was right… The equipment I had hoped to secure from the Metropolitan Police through his help were all items that were securely watched and looked after. Getting at them would require permission… forms… “Harry.” I asked cautiously. “If I was to give you my sizes, could you get me a female PC’s uniform from stores? That is less secure after all…”

“What are you planning now?” he asked with a hint of dread. “Yeah, I probably can… though they will think I’m a proper perv if they catch me.”

“Then don’t get caught.” I grinned, patting him on the shoulder.

What I was planning was still somewhat hazy in my mind, but a definite idea was forming… I would have to be on my best misbehaviour to pull this off. I thought.

To be continued...

Focal Point - Chapter 23

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

Senior / Sixty+

TG Themes:

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Chapter 23

It was a strange sensation I felt as I began to dress in a police uniform for the first time since my erstwhile involvement with Mi6 had begun. Of course, it had barely been more than a month in all reality, but to me, it felt symbolic: It represented the completion of a circle in a way: I had changed so much, in the short time that had passed, but at the core of me I knew my beliefs and morals held fast. I was still the same person that had joined the police force six years before, and as I looked down at my tights covered legs and adjusted the skirt for the fourth time, my head was clear; I still felt like a police officer.

I had to admit that the image starting back at me in the mirror was pleasing. I felt an overpowering sense of calm as I looked upon my reflection. The female constable’s uniform that Harry had stolen without embarrassment from the stores fitted me like a glove. The young woman that wore it had changed so much since her sudden and violent birth. I had grown familiar with my shape, my contours, and my hair… the young woman was me, and I was finally proud of what I saw. No more than at that moment wearing the uniform of the Metropolitan Police Force. The white blouse and cravat, with fitted black skirt and low chunky heels were certainly very different to my old uniform, but they were also the same in a manner: It was still the uniform people put on to protect and serve, and in a roundabout manner, I was doing just that.

With a sigh of acceptance for what was to come, I picked up the rucksack I had left on the bed, and slipped on a short grey jacket: for all intents and purposes, I was just another officer going to work.

Our operation’s main objectives were simple, and the plan was to be kept as basic as possible. I would meet Harry once I had successfully entered New Scotland Yard, and we would make our way to the basement where the Specialist Stores and firearms teams were located to acquire what we needed.

Daniel felt bad being left out of the game, but it was nothing he could involve himself in. The job required people familiar with the corridors of the building and practices of the Metropolitan police force. To his chagrin, Daniel was to be waiting to extract us afterwards.

The walk from the hotel to the tube was a short one. And before long, I found myself once more amongst the thousands of commuters that packed London’s underground during the morning rush to work. As we travelled meter by meter closer to New Scotland Yard’s St James street stop, I felt my nerves slowly building. It was such an excellently simple plan, but despite my confidence, stage fright was beginning to grasp me in its twisted claws; they way it always had before the first steps undercover on the job. By habit, I retrieved my trusty Ipod from its still somewhat strange location in my handbag, to distract myself from the unwanted thoughts and allowed my mind to drift into the beat.

The arrival of the train at St James Street station signalled my departure from the coach. Climbing the escalator, I ascended to street level. By now, I was one of a handful of officers I could identify around myself making our way towards the building: We had timed our incursion for the morning shift changeover at 8am. The increased number of personnel would mask the presence of an unknown, and increase the chances of success. Walking the familiar steps, I walked the short distance from the steps of St James Street, to the front entrance of New Scotland Yard.

Entering the foyer of the building was as familiar as it had been for the previous years. Nothing had changed in the weeks I had been absent; I even recognised a few faces. My uniform under the jacket and the manner with which I entered the building, born of long repeated shifts and familiarity proved successful, and I swept past the front security desk without even showing my non existent warrant card. I turned off the music in my ears, but left the earplugs in place: People were less likely to make conversation with someone who presumably would not hear them.

Breaking away from the masses heading for the lifts, I made my way to the entrance to the ground floor offices and the service facilities beyond. Nonchalantly, I walked over to the door, and proceeded to enter the pass code into the lock. My first attempt failing, I re-entered the code, presuming that my nerves had made me hit a wrong key. The second red light however, started my heart hammering; surely Harry would have known if the codes had changed? Wiping my damp palm on my skirt, I once again tried to enter the code as I remembered it. A third red light flashed brightly, blinking angrily at me. A Mixture of dread and acceptance flooded me as I turned to walk away from the mission and perhaps attempt it again after securing another access route when I bumped into a young male officer that had been waiting behind me.

“Trouble love?” he grinned warmly, reaching past my startled body and entering the code. “They changed it yesterday apparently; it’s been stopping people all night,” he added conversationally with a shrug. Before opening the door and biding me enter. As we walked through, he gave me a quizzical looking over, “Don’t mean to sound cheesy or anything, but where abouts do you work? I’ve not seen you around before.” He asked in a feigned casual tone. “Sorry, you must get that a lot.” he chuckled sheepishly.

“Actually no.” I smiled back sweetly as I slipped the headphones out of my ears to appear more attentive, realising that this man may well be my ticket through any further barriers or Identification checks. “Yes, I am new, I’m working out of the firearms office,” I added, knowing for certain this man was not on the staff. “I’m just a secretary really.”

“Cool.” My companion said relaxing. “My name’s James… James Mayweather, I’m working with traffic.”

“Jenny Sheldon.” I replied offering my hand. “Thanks for talking to me.” I grinned nervously, “It’s rather scary to be honest; my old station was much smaller and I know nobody.” I admitted sheepishly with a gentle shrug of my shoulders. I was playing with this young officer, I knew it, but it was building a closer rapport, and decreasing the chances of suspicion. It was strange to consider how my application of undercover behaviour had changed... Gone was the by the book but somewhat mediocre Officer, and into his place had stepped a very cold, calculating and decisive woman: I was going to succeed, that much I knew. The stage fright was gone now… I was in mid performance.

“Thank you again James.” I smiled sweetly, “This is where I have to go I think.” I added nodding towards the basement staircase. “I guess I’ll see you around?” I offered tentatively with a smile, waiting for the inevitable response.

“Ok cool,” James said quickly, his smile fading slightly as he dug his hands into his uniform pockets. “Bye then I guess… Unless you fancy meeting up for a coffee later perhaps?” he asked cautiously, seeming almost like a young boy. “I mean, I could give you the low down on the place.” He grinned quickly with more self assurance.

Smiling inwardly, I gave him my number and told him to text me before leaving rapidly to make contact with Harry. This officer could prove his usefulness once more by offering me a safe way to exit the building if I needed to break and run… I could suffer coffee for that.

Slipping down the empty stairwell, I removed my jacket and stowed it in the bag I had over my shoulder. Checking my appearance in a darkened window, I pushed open the doorway to the basement level of the building.

More open plan than the other floors, the basement level of New Scotland Yard housed the equipment and departments that used more sensitive material in their policework. The different departments and stores were rooms built off a large open plan main floor and garage area. Slipping behind one of the unmarked surveillance vans, I waited by the fire point that Harry and I had agreed on as a meeting point.

“You took your sweet time.” Harry muttered from a shadowed corner to my left. I let my breath out quickly. “You scared the hell out of me Harry!” I scolded. “Ready?”

Harry nodded grimly. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but we need to be careful… My ass is on the line here…” he hissed frowning. “And you… Jesus, the guys in Belmarsh would love you mate.” He added with a dirty grin.

I elbowed Harry sharply in the ribs as I walked past him and made my way out from behind the surveillance van and strode purposefully towards the Special Equipment Stores room.

The room itself wasn’t quite as unassuming as the name suggested. Special Stores was more of a small warehouse. Several lines of steel shelving and lockers filled the majority of the space, with a long flat countertop just inside the door separating the rest of us mortals from the special breed of Met employee known as the store-man. Typically a reclusive and socially dysfunctional individual, they lived a mole-like existence in the bowels of Police headquarters the country over.

“What’s your plan here, uh, Sharon?” Harry hissed from beside me. “You can’t just walk in and take them.”

I shook my head as I reached out for the door handle and turned to look at Harry. “Of course not,” I said slowly rolling my eyes. “I’m going to ask them first.”

I opened the door and walked coolly into the Stores unit, cutting off any response from Harry and walked across to the desk where an aging sergeant was seated, occasionally typing slowly on a computer keyboard as he peered into the screen.

“Morning.” I smiled cheerfully. “Need to get some things for the Specialist Firearms Command.”

“Certainly, Constable.” The man replied dryly looking up. “Do you have the forms?”

I shook my head a few times and pursed my lips. “You know what that lot are like, “Go get this, go do that, go…. Anywhere… They said I can fill in a claim form to the department down here and get it authenticated afterwards? It’s just we need it pretty sharpish… it’s a short notice operation.”

The man frowned, “You’re with CO-19 upstairs?” He asked raising his eyebrows. “I didn’t know they had many women on the teams.”

I plucked my uniform blouse and smiled weakly. “Im not, I’m admin staff, sort of new.” I admitted sheepishly, looking down at my shoes. “I’ve fucked up haven’t I?” I added with a deep sigh. “I’m sorry to waste your time.” I added, before turning and walking towards the door.

“Oh it’s alright love, look, what’s your name?” the older man smiled leaning forward on the counter top. “Jenny I mumbled, sniffing and averting my eyes, “Sorry!” I blurted wide eyed, “sorry, I mean WPC Sheldon sir.”

The older Sergeant smiled warmly and chuckled. “No need to stand on ceremony down here girl; nobody but the relics down here.”

I slumped against the wall and dabbed the underside of my eye as if by reflex to protect my makeup from tears, “I’m sorry sir, I just wanted to make a good impression on my first day.”

The old sergeant smiled sadly. “I didn’t mean to upset you dear,” he replied soothingly. “I’m an old Officer in a new world, things change, so they put me where I don’t have to deal with it,” he shrugged. “I do however, remember my first day, so come here and tell me what you need, and I wont get you in trouble.” The man smiled. With a smile and relieved thank you, I left the Special Equipment stores carrying two small flight cases containing all the surveillance material on my list: The expression on Harry’s face was priceless.

* * *

Folding my uniform neatly, I slid the items of clothing inside the backpack I had brought with me and lifted the handheld mirror out of the front pocket before beginning to apply makeup. Harry had disappeared to stash the two cases of surveillance equipment in his patrol car, and I was currently standing in just my underwear in a small cold toilet stall in the basement of New Scotland Yard.

The second stage of my plan was the more risky element. It would require us to bluff our way past the armourers in the secure Central Operations Armoury and take the weaponry we required; not a mean feat by any standard.

Packing away my makeup materials, I slid the pair of loose but fitted jeans up my legs and rolled a tight white tee shirt over my head. Running my hands through my relatively short hair, I slipped my jacket on again, and slid a highly edited Warrant card onto my belt. A whole different woman looked back at me in the toilet mirror: Attractive, yet casual and relaxed. Just the image I needed to portray during the next phase of the plan; the most important stage.

Slipping out of the toilet, I smiled plaintively at Harry, who by this point had changed into his own version of ‘on duty’ civilian clothing, and was leaning against the far wall of the corridor, his leg propped up behind him.

“You ready?” he asked flashing me an equally nervous glance.

I nodded, “Let’s go.”

Homework

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Organizational:

Title Page

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Taxonomy upgrade extras:

I had been taking hormone pills that I had bought on the internet for about 6 months now. Things had been easy to hide for the first few months, nothing major happened. Hell, I haven’t even told my parents yet. How can I tell them? I mean, what would I start by saying?

“Hey mum, hey dad, I’m not your son, I’m really your daughter despite being born a boy and being called Mark.”

Doesn’t sound too logical does it?

Homework
by Alyssa Plant

Homework - Chapter 1

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

Voluntary

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Taxonomy upgrade extras:

BigCloset Retro-Classic

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

----------=BigCloset Retro Classic!=----------

“Hey mum, hey dad, I’m not your son, I’m really your daughter despite being born a boy and being called Mark.”

Doesn’t sound too logical does it?

Homework
Chapter 1 — New Term
by Alyssa Plant

Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf on Thursday 08-07-2008 at 05:48:56 -0400 pm, this retro classic was pulled out of the closet, and re-presented for our newer readers.~Sephrena

Note: This has since been rewritten as Fake It Till You Make It here on BCTS, find it on the right!

I guess id better explain. My name is Mark, and I’m a girl. Well, I should be. I guess if we are being true to stories like this, my real name is Hannah. I’ve always felt like a girl… yada yada yada… you know how it goes right? Good, So ill skip the usual crap and actually tell you what happened to me.

It had been a whole 3 months since I had been back to school. Summer break was over, I’d be starting 6th form today.

“Hey mum, hey dad, I’m not your son, I’m really your daughter despite being born a boy and being called Mark.”

Doesn’t sound too logical does it?

Well things sort of happened over summer. I lost a lot of weight. I gained weight in some places… like my chest, my bum, my thighs. I generally have what one would casually describe as a girl’s figure. I know what you’re thinking now… Typical tranny story… the protagonist looks like a girl but nobody else notices…. Well that’s a lie. My sister noticed, my mum noticed, my friends I saw over the summer noticed. Most told me I was looking too girly, that I should cut my hair. Now a 5’7 boy with long blonde hair is sort of unusual. Especially when he has an arse the size of mine. Strangers tend to take me for a girl, abet, a somewhat skinny, flat chested girl. I love it, but it takes all the strength I possess to do the ‘hell no I’m not girly’ routine expected of a boy.

Well what would people think if I didn’t?

So yep. Today, going back to school. Not the best of times for any kid sure. But now I look like I belong in the other school…. Our place has a boys school, and a girls on the same campus. One of those old private jobbies… Getting dressed this morning has been interested. I avoided trying on my suit because of this reason….

Till you reach 6th form, you wear the school blazer and uniform, pretty standard. In the 6th form, one wears a suit and the school tie. So I was forcibly dragged along by my mother to the men’s department at the local department store to buy a suit.

Yes, my mum got asked why her daughter wanted a men’s suit…. That made her go red. I cant really understand why they don’t see it…. Maybe they just don’t want to? Denial seems a fairly big river when people want it to be.

So we bought a suit. It fits really weird Thanks to my blossoming body. I KNOW I won’t finish the year in this. I won’t be able to look like a boy at all by Christmas if there is any luck in the world. I guess it puts the pressure on me to tell people huh?

So yeah, back to the suit huh? Its grey pinstripe. Rather too bankerish for my taste, but my mum loves it. I got out of the usual backpack bonanza by picking the most androgynous black .laptop style bag for this year. Stops people calling me gay, which lets be honest, doesn’t usually really impede them remotely.

So the suit… yeah, pinstripe. Oh I said that? Ok sorry. Well, I found a collection of shirts I could live with. Black mostly, with the occasional dark blue or red. They are simply men’s shirts… there is no way I can possibly describe them to you. They come in one style, one shape, and are rather boring. But you didn’t read this story to hear about men’s clothes did you? No, you want to hear about the juicy transitioning parts and sex, and sordid details, possibly the pain if you are so inclined. Well hold your horses guys, gals, and um, others. I’ll get to the good stuff in time…

School tie tied. I don’t really think that required further discussion. It’s a tie, there are many like it, and fucking unfortunately, this one is mine. Collect my flowing feminine locks in a ponytail as normal, throw on my black zip front hoodie and suit jacket over it.

Why a hoodie? Well two reasons, its September, and its cold… and it bulks me up, and hides my swelling chest. While not uniform items, they are generally ignored by staff unless garish.

This isn’t your usual tranny story. No, I’m not intersexed as far as I know, and I didn’t suddenly wake up with DDs after popping my first oestrogen pills. They are big enough to be noticeable on my frame. Sure, if I was fat, they would simply look like moobs. But I’m skinny and thin. So they look like boobs. The jacket stays on….

”Mark, come on, we are going to be late.”

Sorry, that’s my dad. He gets annoyed when I keep him from the job he hates.

I grab my book bag, and bounce down the stairs to the kitchen. Ow! Damn it, I need to buy a sports bra, or flatten these things, bouncing hurts….

“Did you brush your hair dear?” calls my mum from her office.

“Yep mum, its all tidy as normal. I look vaguely presentable.”

”By my or your standards?” she asks, popping her head around the door.

I just look at her while I bite into a slice of toast.

I grab my coffee mug as I head out, one of those travel ones with a lid, its great I tell you…

I’m learning to drive at the moment; my dad lets me drive to school in the mornings before he takes the car on to work. I can’t say I’m thrilled by the prospect.

“Come on mark, show some balls and pull out. If I didn’t know you were my son, I’d swear you were a bloody woman.”

I cringe at that comment and keep my mouth shut. A comment either way is counter productive I feel.

“See you tonight.” He calls as he drives out of the car park.

Well, here I am; at school… at last. This all seems real now. They will notice. What do I do? How the hell do I get out of sports?

Ugh, one disaster at a time. My fingers slowly press the keys on the electronic pad controlling the gate to school. It’s early, and out of hours, the gates are electronic, open during the day. I get to school at 8am thanks to my father. Usually I like it, gives me time to do work, relax, wake up. Now, I rather fear it. The time to my death is extended. Part of me wants this over now. Part doesn’t want it to happen at all.

I slowly sip my coffee as I walk into the building; the warmth is reassuring. I poke my head into the common room, our new common room as 6th formers. Its empty… silent. Normally, id be excited; finally getting to enter the den of the cool kids. But it seems so dark and silent right now. Like a tomb… My tomb.

Slipping my suit jacket off, I hang it on the back of one of the sofas. I slump down on the couch to wait.

Unconsciously, I sat with one leg under me, as I always do. Today, it seems too girly. Straightening myself out, I sit properly. Legs apart, slouching. I laugh at myself. I’m going to all this effort for nothing. NOBODY IS HERE to call me up on my ‘manliness’. Chuckling to myself. I pull my leg back under me. I never liked sitting legs apart. Always seemed crude. And when not crude. It was opening a target location to the bullies. They always seemed to like kicking me there. Maybe if I did it more often they would kick me so hard my balls fell off?

‘One can always dream….’ I thought darkly.

The door creeks and I jump. Looking around, its just a cleaner.

”Sorry love, didn’t mean to make you jump.”

Did she mean love the way women talk to young boys? Or the way women talk to young girls? Fuck, why cant she at least use a gendered phrase. I’d know weather to run home or stay then…

The door goes again. I look around; Its Paul, one of the guys who I’m largely indifferent to. He’s a footballer, but not a snobby prick like the rest. He’s probably gay, he dresses far too well… but then, he is a footballer, and I swear he wears makeup….

I listen to myself stereotyping so wildly and shake my head to myself.

“Hey Mark. Good summer?” he asks sitting down in front of me on another sofa.

“Not so bad. Kind a quiet.” I reply non comittally. “You?”

“Yeah, was great. Football camp, and our Italy tour was wicked. You look different?”

Shit. “Aahhh, I lost some weight, I was sick.” I try hopefully.

“Shit man, you’re really fucking skinny, but you just look different. Like you put on weight, but lost it kinda… Softer, but smaller….” He gestured. “Sorry dude, didn’t mean to have a go.”

“Ah, its ok. I know I look a bit weedy.” I shrug. “Guess I wont make the rugby team this year.”

Paul chuckled over the mars bar he was wolfing down. “Like you ever tried out… or wanted to.”

I smile and shrug. “You got me.”

Paul looks over my shoulder at someone coming in through the door.

Twisting around, its Megan, Kara, and Gary. See, I know I said its ‘sorta’ a boys school, but the girls come over at breaks, and like now. Megan and Kara are Gary’s sisters and general entourage. So they are a common sight around.

As usual around other girls, I get quiet, and shy. I’m jealous, and curious at the same time. I sort of feel I have more to prove to other women, that I am one of them, than I do to prove I’m not a guy.

“Hey you two.” Beams Megan, the fiery redhead grins. She’s the epitome of the family’s Irish past: Freckles, bouncy, and with hair like a burning potato field.

Kara is more ginger than red, subtle, and bookish, A nice girl. We get on. Gary is the odd one out; jet black hair, fair skin, and glasses. The girls often kid him that he’s adopted, despite their father’s similar hair.

“Hey guys.” I mumble through my coffee, PRAYING that they don’t make some blunt comment about my appearance the way Megan has a tendency to…

Paul begins chattering to Kara about some book and Gary Slumps on the sofa and throws his feet on the coffee table.

“Just like we’re back home again.” Grins Megan shoving his feet off the sofa.

”Hey I’m just getting used to our new palace.” He laughs flicking the TV remote in the general direction of the TV on the wall.

Some random news show comes on, distracting most peoples attention momentarily the way any newly turned on TV does.
“You look different Mark, you get your hair cut?”

“No he didn’t” replied Kara shaking her head, her ginger straight hair wagging around in front of her eyes.

“He lost weight though. You have GOT to give me the name of the diet you used. You’re skinnyer than me!” She pouted trying to look hurt.

“He had some exotic disease or something.” Chimed in Paul.

“You look different, but I cant place it.” Megan replied slowly, squinting her eyes at me.

I felt VERY uncomfortable as they all scrutinised me.

“He looks like a girl with that hair.” Gary laughs.

I cringe, that is NOT the words I wanted to hear. Part of me knew it was only a matter of time.

“I think he’d look like a girl even if he was bald.” Smirks Megan.

I cant help it. Its too much. Stifling a sob, I get up and run out of the common room towards the toilets.

Locking myself in a cubicle, I slump down on the seat.

Great! I just confirmed their thoughts. I KNOW I look like a girl. And they know something is up… And now I ran crying to the toilets. What a fucking stereotype I am!

“Mark?”

“Fuck off.” I mumble.

“Mark, where are you.” Megan calls again.

“Somewhere you shouldn’t be.”

“Or you by the sounds of things.”

Erp. The goose which is in my ownership, seems to be rather cooked.

“Huh?” sometimes stupidity is the best way out of a problem. If in doubt. Be thick….

“Well the way you’re behaving this morning reminds me of me that’s all… Over sensitive, crying, You’re acting like a girl Mark, Come out and tell me what’s up.”

Thank god, she doesn’t know.

Unlocking the door, I slowly slide out of the cubicle.

She’s stood there leaning against the wall next to the urinals.

”You have changed.” She announces.

”Yeah so? We all do over the summer, its months since we last saw each other.”

Megan shook her head. “Not this much.”

I try stupidity again and look blankly at her.

“Well, let me explain something. You managed to get thinner AND fatter at the same time.”

“Huh?”

Megan smirked. “Don’t play dumb, you may be blonde, but you can’t cheat an expert.”

Extending her long graceful arm, she counts off on her fingers. “Firstly, you have a serious ass on you… I saw you leave the common room, that one surprised me. But yet you are skinny as hell. Your face seems rounder, but you are thinner, and finally, your thighs seem chunkier, while your calves seem smaller.” She finished ticking off before turning back to me and resting her hands on her hips. “What is going on?”

“I ah.” I mumble. I just don’t know what to say to that. She has me in one. And im finally as stupid as I act.

”I don’t know where to start.” I mumble, hoping to buy some time to get my jumbled thoughts in order.

“Well start with telling me how long you’ve been trying to become a girl.”

My jaw drops.

“What the fuck?”

“Mark…” She says softly, her hard expression breaking. “I’m not blind. You were never blokey, you acted like a girl this morning, and you got upset when someone mentioned that. You come running to the toilets, and Physically you look like I did when I was 12 or 13… what are you taking?”

“Um.” Can I ? “hormones.” I mumble, half hoping she cant hear me.

Girl’s hormones?” she asks. “how long?”

“6 months.” I admit.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks. Looking at her, I can see a hurt in her eyes. One of my best friends, and I ignored her totally.

“I thought you would hate me, and tell everyone.” I whispered, a tear rolling uncontrollably down my cheek.

“Aw baby I wouldn’t ever do that.” She cries throwing her arms around me.

”You girls aren’t allowed in here.” A high pitched little voice announces.

One of the kids from year 7 is looking up at us with an angry startled expression on his little face.

”Get lost.” growls Megan.

The kid looked like he wet his pants as he scampered away.

“Come on, lets go before he tells a teacher.” She smiles, taking my hand and leading me out of the toilets down some steps to the playing fields.

“So tell me.” She asks softly as we sit down on a bench in the cold morning air.

Staring at my hands; I tell her the whole tale, start to finish, nothing left out.

By the end, we are both crying, and hugging. It seems so soppy and stereotypical, but seriously, It was that emotionally draining. Still… I’d told someone. I had one hurdle down. Suddenly, things didn’t seem so dire.

If I lost everything, I’d still have Megan to lean on.

“How are you planning on dealing with the others?” she asked through a haze of breath.

“I hadn’t really planned.” I mutter looking at my feet.

“Well they are gonna notice something is up, you don’t look like you did before the summer.”

“Ugh. I know ok?” I sigh exasperatedly. “What can I do?” I ask hopeful that she will have some form of answer.

“Well, you can tough it out. Pretend nothing is wrong. And hope everyone is blind.” She gestures comicly. “OR…. You can admit it….”

I feel very cold suddenly.

“I, I don’t know.” I stammer. I WANT to do it, but I don’t know if I can….

“Stay here.” She says suddenly, a thoughtful expression on her face.

”Meg no!” I cry just as she vanishes.

Megan’s ‘cunning plans’ rarely are cunning or planned.

Oh what the fuck is she doing?

Author's Note: Just a flash of inspriation while I look towards finishing 'The Road to Haifa'. I know you want more Haifa, but i want to keep the quality up :) Alyssa

Homework - Chapter 2

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

I finish unbuttoning the shirt and slip it off my shoulders with a sigh and await comment.
“Holy crap you weren’t kidding.” Gasps Kara as her eyes notice the small breasts on my thin chest.
Crossing my arms across my breasts I stand there shuffling my feet not really knowing what to do.
Looking back and forth between Kara and me, Megan’s eyes light up. Not a good sign….

Homework
Chapter 2 — Annie get your gun
by Alyssa Plant

Note: This has since been rewritten as Fake It Till You Make It here on BCTS, find it on the right!

“Um, Mark?”

Not really wanting to, I turn my head to see a very sheepish Gary, and his two sisters looking equally solemn.

“I’m not dieing.” I mutter at my wannabe wake.

“I’m sorry Mark,” Gary begins again. “I didn’t know… I didn’t mean to upset you…”

I am SO not speaking to him….

“Look ah, Mark…” Kara begins slowly. “Will you come with me and Meg? We have an idea that might work….”

Why do I think this is going to cause a LOT of pain?

The three talk quietly before Gary vanishes, and I’m left with the two Olsen twins….

“Look, Mark… um, what should we call you? Do you have a name you’d prefer?”

“Ohh can we help pick?” squeals Megan gleefully.

“Hannah.” I blurt, not wanting to end up being named something insanely cute by Megan. “I always felt I was a Hannah…”

“Ok, Hannah it is.” Smiles Kara, “Well my dear, we think the best course of action is to call everyone’s bluff. Be yourself, and screw the lot of them!” she smiles.

“You do realize that it wont be you getting the shit kicked out of her if I do this?”

oh gosh, I just called myself she? (key turning point in any trans story don’t forget…)

“Stop looking so thoughtful babes, we have some serious work to do, and about 45 minutes to do it in….” Megan announces looking authoritative.

So, I’m escorted to one of the staff loos that visiting girls often use, the main door locks, so its perfect for my torture session…

Megan sits me down on a chair beside the sink, and rummages through her and Kara’s bags searching for cosmetic items.

“Now this might tingle a little.” Kara mutters through a mouthful of metal implements as she starts tweezing away at my eyebrows. I’m quite sure she meant that more as comfort than a statement of fact, because it bloody hurts.

“Hangon Kara, I need a better canvas.” Megan announces with a frown. “stand her up.”

Clearly not getting a choice in the matter, I stand and wait for the next fun pain.

Megan undoes my suit jacket and hoodie, and removes both. “Take your shirt and tie off please.” She mutters standing back with a hand cupping her chin and a thoughtful expression. Anyone would think she was some major designer or makeup artist about to go to work….

Slowly I take my tie off, and begin to unbutton the shirt. The cold air of the bathroom is making my skin goose bump and my nipples harden annoyingly. I hesitate, I’ve never been topless in front of anyone since I was a small child, I always hated the idea…

“Come on Hannah, we’re all girls here.” Smiles Kara sympathetically.

Like that fucking helps!

I finish unbuttoning the shirt and slip it off my shoulders with a sigh and await comment.

“Holy crap you weren’t kidding.” Gasps Kara as her eyes notice the small breasts on my thin chest.

Crossing my arms across my breasts I stand there shuffling my feet not really knowing what to do.

Looking back and forth between Kara and me, Megan’s eyes light up. Not a good sign….

“Kara, pass me your bra.” She grins.

Shrugging, Kara reaches behind her and unclips her bra and slips it out of the sleeve of her blouse. That trick has always fascinated me… maybe I can try to learn it one day?

Megan takes the offered item of underwear and approaches me with it grinning.

“Here put your arms up.” She asks softly as she slips the item onto me.

This is strange. I’ve never worn one before…. Not that I haven’t wanted to…. Maybe I’m not a proper tranny… I didn’t dress in my sister’s clothes from an early age, or borrow my mother’s dresses. I was just too scared I guess… and didn’t really want to wear the clothes as much as I wanted to BE what I was meant to be. As often as it’s made out, Clothes don’t make the girl…. They just make her warmer… But hey, this is a trans story, so ill get back to the transformation!

Clipping it in place, she fiddled around with my breasts until I was sat right. The effect was scary…. I had cleavage…. I had …. Breasts…. Wow….

I knew I had grown in the months id been taking hormones, but the effect the garment created was shocking… Megan just stood there grinning at me.

Looking at her watch, she swore. “Damn girls, we have a lot of work to do and not much time, we need to get a shufy on…”

The girls set to work on me… Ill spare you the frantic details. But when I got to look in the mirror, the effect was shocking….

Megan and Kara had done a total number on me… there was no way I could possibly be mistaken for a boy now…

My long blonde hair had been tousled and hairspray’d and teased and now fell down about my shoulders in a funky layered way, my thin eyebrows drew the eye to my big grey eyes that Kara had expertly highlighted and made up, I don’t think they used foundation, but my skin seemed to glow… a clear lip-gloss completed the image of a girl I could hardly recognize in the mirror…

My suit? Well, I still wore the trousers, they had been dragged up higher and after some confusing jiggery pokery with my thingy and a spare pair of Megan’s knickers, I had a girls flat crotch, an image that certainly didn’t upset me…

The suit jacket had been put back on me on its own, no shirt, and a single button done up exposing a good view of cleavage, with Kara’s spare sandals, I looked almost like a businesswoman ready for the office… I looked… I looked like a girl finally…

I cannot begin to describe how much it meant to me seeing myself in the mirror that cold morning. It was like waking up after a lifetime of nightmare ridden sleep.

Biting my lip I looked at Megan and Kara’s expectant faces and smiled. “Thank you guys.” Was all I could get out before choking up and being crushed by the Irish sisters.

“Can I really do this?” I whimpered as we approached the door.

Megan stopped and put her hands on my shoulders, “Look Hannah, if anyone can do this… if anyone is tough enough to do this, its you… You need to do it, you need to be yourself… you look right now, you look more comfortable in your own skin for gods sake! Do me proud.” She smiled pecking me on the cheek.

The bolt slid back in the door frame like a gun cocking. Why do doors have to open slow motion when you don’t want to see the other side?

Stepping out into the corridor, we slowly made our way towards the school office. Kara told me Gary had excused me from registration, so we would be going to deal with the easier side of my coming out carnival… the administration.

Walking down the corridors was terrifying, most of the students ignored me, a fair number stared at me. Something in me told me they knew, but nobody was shouting ‘Tranny!’ yet, so maybe it was something else?

As we ascended the stairs to the school office, 3 of the rugby team passed us joking and laughing, not without a good long leer at the three of us.

“Dude I didn’t know that fag Mark had such a fucking hot sister.”

How do you know that was his sister ? oaf two replied.

“She looked just like him! Didn’t you see? Man id hit that if I didn’t have to be nice to that little gay boy to do it.” The other sneered as they disappeared around a corner.

Megan looked at me and her serious face broke into a burst of giggles. Maybe they didn’t know?

As we finally reached the office, we slipped inside and approached the desk.

“How can I help you girls?” smiled the Secretary behind the counter.

“I ah need to see the headmaster please I need to talk to him about some of my personal details.” I asked with my heart in my mouth.

“Who should I say is here?” asked the woman not really paying attention.

“Ah, Winters Miss.” I squeaked nervously.

“Why aren’t you seeing your own headmistress love?” she asked clearly catching on to my nerves.

“Because She goes here.” Replied Megan with a firm resolve.

The secretary looked confused. “No you do….. Mark Winters?”

To Be Continued...

Making Waves

Author:

Alyssa Plant

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Making Waves

by Alyssa Plant

Making Waves

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

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Posted by author(s)

Making waves
By Alyssa Plant

What happens when a really good plan meets with its arch nemisis: Being put into action. A tale of One girl's self discovery, love, and swashbuckling on the high seas.
Part One.

Peter Goldwyn shivered in the early morning chill as he stood on the deck of the ship transporting him and two dozen other passengers southwards towards the East Indies. His father had left England when he was a babe under the flag to conduct the business of the crown in the territories of the Caribbean. His mother had told him tails of his father’s work, and where he lived, and he had learned to read with the letters his father had sent home.

Here he was; 15 years old, and aboard a ship sailing ever closer to his father. Peter closed his eyes and pictured his father’s painting over the mantelpiece in their London home, He pictured the port in Barbados, and his father, just like the painting rushing to meet him and his mother as they disembarked from the ship. The image brought a smile to his lips. Peter longed to see his father again, to be part of a real family like his friends had. Of course all of those friends remained behind in London while he was many many miles away. He had no idea how far, but it must be at least hundreds.

They were, according to the ship’s captain, a week out of the outer Caribbean. Peter had risen early that morning to try to catch sight of the dolphin’s the ships crew talked of, that bobbed and weaved as they swam alongside the ship. So far, he had seen nothing, but the fact he had not been looking slipped his over burdened mind. It was relaxing to be alone,. Well sort of alone, the ships crew were around, maintaining their charge, keeping them ploughing onward towards their destination. He relished time away from his mother. He felt less guilty for not being the son she wanted. His friends had grown tall, and strong, and become interested in girls, but Peter had not. If anything, he had become interested in his friends, much to his horror. Peter felt like god had punished him for his thoughts, his desires, the ones he kept locked away in his heart. He had never wanted to be a boy… he had never liked the rough and tumble games they had played, or the way they behaved. And as a punishment for his thoughts and inadequacies, god had punished him with a frail slight frame, and none of the manly attributes his friends possessed. Of course, a part of peter relished this, prayed it would always be, but his rational side told him the truth as he saw it. It was wrong, and a sin… That much he knew.

“Peter?” called his mother from behind. Turning, he snapped out of his self debate and smiled at his mother weakly. Marie Goldwyn was an attractive woman; she had given birth to Peter when she was 20, and time had been kind to her. Her long dark hair done up in an simple bun, with several strands breaking loose to frame her elegant face. Peter envied his mother.
Marie hugged the shawl tightly around her shoulders against the breeze as she approached her son. “Why are you awake so early Peter?” she questioned with a hint of concern in her conversational tone. “Are you feeling well?”

“Yes mother.” He smiled, “I just wanted to see the dolphins.”

Marie smiled and wrapped her arm around her son. She loved the boy with all her heart, but in truth, a pang of fear grew steadily stronger in her heart. What would Thomas say about him? Would he accuse her of failing to raise his son properly? Blame her for his lack of masculinity? Maybe this was just the way god had for him? To be a gentle soul, a kind, loving compassionate young man…

”What is it?” Peter asked looking up at his mother.

”Oh nothing darling.” She smiled, just thinking about your father.

Peter smiled, “I cant wait to see him, I don’t really remember him much.” He frowned. “All I have are the paintings in the house to really remember him by.”

Marie hugged her child. “Well you’ll get to soon enough. And we shall not be apart again.”

Four days later, The ship entered the first Island clusters of the Caribbean waters. Marie and Peter sat eating Dinner with the ship’s captain and the other passengers of standing n his quarters. They had just begun the meal when a ships crewman burst in, apologising profusely, but requiring the captain’s immediate presence at the helm. Making his apologies, the captain left the guests and followed the crewman.
“What the blazes is so damned important Davis, that couldn’t have waited till after dinner?” growled Captain Stevens as he followed his crewman to the helm deck.

Davis didn’t answer, but walked over to a crewman holding a telescope and handed it to the captain.

”That sir.” He announced grimly pointing towards a dot on the horizon.

Captain Stevens placed the lens to his eye and focused on the object. It was a ship at full sail. Atop its mainsail, a Calico Jack flew in the breeze.
Stevens felt his heartbeat quicken. He had dealt with pirates in the past, but he never relished the prospect of a boarding action with passengers aboard. He would try to outrun them and make for nearest port, damn the schedule…

“Full sail Davis, and arm the crew just in case, we’re running.” Barked Captain Stevens before making his way back bellow decks.

Dinner broke up early that night as the passengers were informed and crew readied.

Marie lead Peter to their cabin and locked the door behind them. She knew it was of little point, but it made her feel better. Peter was divided, one part of him fantasised about pirates, and the adventures… heroes and villains…, but another part was scared. Scared of fighting, and of death.

His mother paced the cabin a few times before sitting heavily on her bed..
”Mother?” he asked, half for reassurement that everything would be ok, half to reassure her. His mother didn’t look worried as he had first thought, she was concentrating furiously, thinking, working things over in her mind.. Feeling foolish stood there in the middle of the cabin, Peter sat beside her and placed his hand on hers as she held them clasped in her lap.

Marie worked the plan over in her mind several times, if what she had heard was correct, then it might well save Peter’s life… but could she? Could he? Could they? According to the captain, they might outrun the pirates, but at best, they had 2 hours before they knew for sure. Running the plan through her mind one last time, she explained things to Peter.

They would disguise peter as a teenage girl, her daughter… She had heard that pirates took young men and boys to bolster their ranks… to indoctrinate them in ways of crime and deviancy… If they thought peter was a young girl, they would spare him?

Anxiously, she watched her son for any sign of indignant refusal or bravado, but she saw none. He wore a look of meek acceptance and fear, mixed with something she couldn’t quite tell… Dismissing it, Marie began digging into her cases, she located the packages she had brought from the Oxford street boutiques for the Governor’s daughter as a gift; a child of similar age and size to peter. A pretty dress with all the fine accoutrements a fine lady of the City would wear… and would now hopefully save her darling son’s life.

Ordered to strip by his mother, Peter stood in nought but his underwear in the chilly cabin. Receiving a disapproving look from his mother, he slipped the underwear to the floor and stepped out of it. As much as the idea thrilled him, he was afraid it would show.
Marie bunched up the shift and lowered it over Peter’s and let the simple cotton undergarment fall about him. The young lady’s garment made him look even more fragile she mused: This may work yet.

Working quickly, she attached the petticoats, and laced the stay about her child, fussing and adjusting till she was satisfied his foundation garments were perfect. Helping him into the dress itself, she laced the bodice and adjusted the skirts before stepping back to admire her handiwork.

Before her stood a nervous young girl of 16 or 17 in the height of London fashion. She was shocked by how disturbingly pretty her son looked, unnaturally so for a young man. Things were not perfect of course…Naturally his hair would need fixing and a touch of makeup… but she felt a flutter of relief in her heart that the plan might just succeed.

“Darling? Do you feel well?” she enquired of her son, or daughter as seemed more appropriate at that moment.
Peter indeed felt strange. A mixture of signals flooded his body. Was he dreaming? Or was this a nightmare? “I.. Yes mother, The clothes just feel strange.” He answered hoping it would satisfy her.

Marie seated herself on her bed and motioned her child to join her.

”What shall we call you?” she asked, half to herself. The face looking up at her struck her of the paintings of her grandmother in her youth… Abigail Demontford… “Abigail” she mumbled. “Yes, you shall be my daughter Abigail.” She smiled.

”Now no arguing, we have a lot to do and very little time to do it in…” she said sternly. Before reaching into the trunk that contained her cosmetics.

Captain Stevens gripped the telescope in his hand as he watched the pirate vessel approaching on their stern. He did not need its magnification now to see what loomed. They had no hope of reaching port. This would be the time to stand and fight…

”Davis…” he began as the first cannonball flew overhead.

The battle was hard and furious, but within a space of a hour, the crew had surrendered and struck their colours. They were not a military vessel designed to survive prolonged sea battle…. And they were not Marines…

Captain Stevens, wounded in the exchange approached the pirate captain and handed him his sword. In all his days as a captain he had never expected this, but for the good of his passengers, it was his duty. The man before him accepted the blade without word. Looked it over from tip to hilt, before running him through with it. Captain William Stevens Died that day on the deck of his ship. His blood mingling with the timber.

Captain Brand did not relish the cold blooded killing of men, But the execution of a captain was always required to win the obedience of his men. Mercy bread heroes… and heroes were an inconvenience.

“Cooper, Martins, Hart,” he growled beckoning 3 of his junior officers up to him, “Crew, Passengers, and Cargo inventory. Now if you please.” He growled to the 3 men by his side. As the men moved off to their assigned tasks, Brand surveyed the efficiency of his crew. They had been raiding shipping in the Northern Caribbean for near 6 months now, and all together the crew was efficient. Good sailors, and good fighters. He controlled them with an iron hand and kept them in good coin for their loyalty.

Like a large number of his men, Brand was a former navy man disillusioned over time by the distance and desolation. While his values did not extend to property ownership, he despised rape and murder. Brand would raid a ship, take his pick of the cargo and move on: He often found that legends and fear grew more efficiently when there were people to tell of it.

Cooper, Martins and their men finished rounding up the crew and passengers of the English merchantman. Brand walked forwards. And stabbed the bloody sword into the decking by his feet, a rapid method of gaining everyone’s undivided attention he had learned.

As the hubbub subsided and all eyes fell upon him, he spoke in a quiet calm voice. “This ship and all aboard it now belong to myself and my crew. As you can see, some of my boys are a might twitchy, so if we can keep all heroics and dramatics to a minimum, there will be no further bloodshed.” He said plainly “If I get all I want, you may be allowed to go on your way.”

Peter, now Abigail, stood beside his mother on the deck of the ship, half hiding behind her skirts. He was terrified, The pirates were scary and nothing like the stories he had read. The Captain said that if they complied they would be free to go? Maybe his mother’s plan would work?
Peter had spent the hours before the attack with his mother, learning to move, act, and respond as a young woman of stature. Granted, it was by no means perfect, and she wouldn’t pass in the London social circles, but it was enough. His hair was done up in a braid and a slight amount of his mother’s makeup graced his cheeks. Peter felt… amazing. He couldn’t begin to describe the feelings of normality. It was as if he was finally awake after a life of dream. Did he think he was a girl? He wasn’t sure, He certainly felt better than when he wore boys’ clothes, and he wasn’t expected to be something he wasn’t now. Perhaps he was?

Abigail snapped out of her thoughts; Her mother was squeezing her hand tightly. The pirates were going through the passengers, checking them for valuables. Abigail felt her heart beat faster as the men approached them. When the Pirates finally reached them, Abigail wanted to cry with fear; the men looked over him and his mother with a animal hunger and started to grope around their dresses looking for supposed valuables.

A young Officer strode over and punched the pirate touching him in the face.

“You know the captain’s rules Smith, No touching womenfolk.” He growled before glaring at the man who had backed off from Peter’s Mother before turning to the mother and child, “Ladies, my apologies.” He smiled before moving on.

Cargo was offloaded, and a number of passengers and crew were persuaded financially to swap sides.

Marie looked at her child, no, her daughter, she couldn’t think of the angel by her side as her son. This ordeal was nearly over, she prayed that the bastards would leave them and be gone.

Captain Brand looked over the deck at loading operations. It had been a good raid,. 20 tons of powder for the Barbados guns, food supplies and luxuries aplenty… Amongst the passengers, they had secured a surgeon, and a navigator and 20 able bodied men from the crew. He was pleased with himself.

Captain Brand looked down towards his son, Edward Brand, the boy he had raised from a babe, and that would one day be his successor. The boy had taken the name of Martins so as to avoid any relation related issues amongst the crew. He hadn’t wanted it to seem as if his promotions had been based on his blood, rather than his backbone.

The lad was staring into the passengers milling on the deck as he supervised the detail guarding them. What was he looking at?
Brand walked along the helm deck of The Carpathia to get a better view. The boy was transfixed by an angel. The girl was a child, only 16 or 17 years, but a beauty. Brand chuckled. Perhaps he would have to give that son of his a kick start.

Abigail watched the pirates take the ship’s cargo, and begin to withdraw. She looked up at her mother and gave a weak smile, they had made it. If only she could find a way for her mother to allow her to wear this dress again? Oh how she loved the feeling, the caress of the fabric, Perhaps not the tight corset, but the way it squeezed her boyish chest into small mounds pleased her.

“Come here darling” growled a pirate as his fingers closed around Abigail’s arm. Abigail began to panic, and her mother began screaming. The last thing she remembered was someone clamping something over her mouth and nose before being engulfed by a deep blackness.

Making Waves - Part 2

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Making Waves
By Alyssa Plant

'Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of feet on the steps at the end of the hold and the sound of keys in the lock. Abigail slipped her legs off the bench and slipped into the gloom at the rear of her cell. She didn’t know who was coming, but she had a good idea what happened to girls taken by pirates, and it wasn’t related to tea parties or puppies.'

Part two

“You wanted to see me sir?” Lieutenant Martins sighed with annoyance. He was stood before the Captain’s desk while the old man looked over some charts. Looking up, Brand cracked a half smile,
“Would it hurt you to call me Father once in a while boy?”
Edward frowned. “Well I’m not feeling particularly friendly, so do you mind if we get to the point?”
Captain Brand looked up from his charts. “You never touch a woman when we make port, yet you seem to loose all sight of anything else when you are meant to be doing your job. I don’t get you boy.” He smirked. “I brought you a little something from the raid, she down in the brig. Try and act like are one of my lieutenants in future?”

Edward looked at his father. “You did what?” he asked incredulously.

”The pretty young thing you were eyeing… one of the passengers.” His father waved dismissively without looking up from his charts.

Edward left his father’s cabin without another word.

Peter came round in a dark, damp room. He was still at sea; the gentle rolling had become easily recognisable during the voyage. Peter took a deep breath of musty air… at least he tried: For some reason he was unable to breathe deeply, and his chest felt sore. Reaching up, he felt his chest and found it encased in the stay his mother had laced him into earlier. Sitting bolt upright on the bench, the memories came flooding back to him. He was dressed as a girl, and had been taken prisoner by pirates, who assumed he was a girl. Abigail… his name was Abigail. He had to start thinking like a girl if he was going to survive this. How did girls think? He wasn’t sure.

Abigail looked around her. She was in a cell, in the hull of a ship. She seemed to be alone. There were barrels and crates around the hold. There was noise coming from above; all the regular sounds of a ship at sea that she had become accustomed too. Abigail was terrified. Where was her mother? Would she see her again? Would she ever see her father? Why was she thinking in feminine pronouns? Fingering the lacy hem of her dress, she thought for a moment. She didn’t look like a peter, or a he… and there was something unexplainably right about how she was dressed. As if the change of clothes had cleared a fog in her mind.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of feet on the steps at the end of the hold and the sound of keys in the lock. Abigail slipped her legs off the bench and slipped into the gloom at the rear of her cell. She didn’t know who was coming, but she had a good idea what happened to girls taken by pirates, and it wasn’t related to tea parties or puppies.

Footsteps rang off the deck as she cowered in the darkness. The young officer that had protected herself and her mother appeared out of the gloom.
“Please don’t hurt me.” She whimpered quietly. “I.. I’ll do whatever you want.”

The man looked at her for a moment. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He replied softly, unlocking the door and stepping into the cell. Abigail pulled herself up flatter against the bulkhead.
“Please.” He repeated. “I just want to talk to you. I didn’t know you had been taken.”

Abigail relaxed a little. The man clearly didn’t intend to rape her immediately, which was a small mercy she thought.
The man approached and offered her his hand. “Here.” He said. “Allow me.”

Accepting it with a half smile, Abigail regained her feet. Her hand still in his, she followed him across the cell to the small bench she had woken on. Sitting as demurely as she could, she turned to face the young officer as he began to speak.

“Look, I wanted to apologise. I… My father.. Captain Brand… He took you because of me.” The man said slowly. “He thought I liked you, so… I’m so sorry.” The young man replied, a blush rising in his cheeks.

Abigail looked at the young officer. He was stammering and blushing like a boy with a crush. Well he was a boy with a crush… Wait… He was? She was it…. Abigail was torn by conflicting emotions; the realisation that someone liked her made her heart flutter happily. However, the fact it was a boy made her worry. In the short time she had been a girl, it had felt sort of normal, but she knew this was just a dream… an imaginary moment that would not last. This was all wrong… this morning, he had been a normal boy. Hah, that was a lie, he had been far from normal. Fragile, feminine, pretty, not a normal boy at all… But did that make him a girl? Abigail realised that morning, when her mother tried to protect her, that she was not a boy. This felt right. She felt whole for the first time in her miserable existence. It seemed odd, strange, disturbing, but she knew now that she had to exist by the moment, it was the only way forwards.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, staring at her with a curious expression on his face. “You looked so thoughtful.” He said.
“I.. I miss my mother. And… and I’m scared.” Abigail replied quietly. “I’m sorry, I’ve not been abducted by many pirates, and I… I don’t know.”

Edward reached out and took Abigail’s hand. “I promise I will let nothing happen to you. I got you into this, and on my word as a Gentleman I will get you out.”

Abigail was beginning to like the young lieutenant. He was a kind man, and he was quite handsome she observed.

“Look, You Can’t stay here.” He announced getting to his feet. “You will have my cabin, and I will see you set to rights once we reach port.” he said, offering Abigail his hand.

Taking the Lieutenant’s hand, she rose and followed him from the dank cell. The two made their way along dark passageways in the hold of the ship before reaching a staircase at what must have been the stern. Lieutenant Martins lead the young woman up towards the officers quarters and led her into a small but comfortable Cabin.

”Here is my cabin, I.. I’m sorry its not much, but its all I can offer.” He replied sheepishly. “I suppose you would like to rest now, I’ll bring you some food in a while if you’d like.”

Abigail nodded silently, biting her lip, and watched the man leave the cabin, closing the door behind himself.

Finally alone, she sat heavily and in a decidedly unfeminine manner on the bunk. Tears rolled from her eyes as she awkwardly unfastened the dress and let it slip from her body, Sobbing with effort and stress, she fought with the stay’s laces and finally freed herself from its grip. Slumping onto the bunk, she was soon fast asleep.

Abigail woke several hours later feeling groggy. She listened again for the sound that had woken her. There was another knock at the door.

Slipping her feet off the bunk, she pulled the dress over her shift and held it closed as she approached the door. . She knew enough to not answer the door in her underwear.

Opening the door, she saw a young woman, perhaps 20, or 21. The woman was dressed similarly to the crew she had seen. Tunic, loose trousers and her hair tied back under a scarf. Abigail’s confusion must have been obvious. The woman smiled.

“I’m Hannah. Lieutenant Martins asked me to come down and check on you.”

Abigail held the door open and invited the young woman into the cabin.

”He wanted me to help you get cleaned up, he wanted you to eat with the cap’n and the officers later.” She announced shaking a small canvas bag she held.

“I don’t have much, but he figured that you didn’t have anything to get cleaned up with.”

“I, ah, thank you.” Abigail answered quietly.

Hannah looked at her with an expression Abigail wasn’t quite sure of. Before she had chance to decipher it, the young woman had gathered her in a tight embrace.
”I know how you feel sweetie” she said softly. “I lost my parents when I was about your age. It’s scary being alone in the world.”

”My parents aren’t lost.” Abigail whispered. “We were travelling to Barbados to meet my father, and my mother… I don’t know…” she trailed off sadly.

Hannah squeezed her tightly. “The Cap’n left the ship sailing, so there is a good chance your parents will be alive and well in Barbados, but I don’t know when we will make port, much less when you can find a ship back to them. I know the lieutenant said he will get you back, but you got to understand it’s a long shot honey.”

Abigail slipped from Hannah’s embrace and frowned. “I guess.” She mumbled. “This is all still so sudden for me. I’ve not had much chance to think.”

“Lets get you cleaned up huh?.” Smiled Hannah, in a less than subtle attempt at changing the topic.

Hannah brushed out Abigail’s hair with her worn brush, and using the pale of water in the well on the dresser, helped her clean the smudged and run makeup off her face.

Abigail felt a great deal better as the older girl helped her, Hannah almost felt like a big sister. She had never expected to find a woman aboard a pirate ship, such things were never told of in the stories back home. Pirates were all rapists, murderers, violent nasty smelly men. The captains barbarous, vindictive and cruel. But these people… they were different, more like normal people.

Hannah picked up Abigail’s stay and began to loosen the laces so she could fasten it once more.
“Such beautiful clothes.” She mused quietly. “I wish I had such finery.”

“You would not lust after it if you had worn such thing.” She smiled. Even in her limited experience, Abigail had gained a deep empathy with other women with regards to the clothing expected of them. Stay’s were torturous things. Perhaps she could get some clothes like Hannah? But then, Hannah was a real girl, and the clothes were the only things that made her body appear feminine she thought with a sigh.

Lacing the girl into her stay, and fastening the buttons of the dress, she helped Abigail tidy her hair and pronounced the girl fit for an audience with the captain.

The two made their way up towards the main deck of the ship. It was early evening, and the sun was beginning to set over the horizon. A skeleton crew manned the deck and helm, keeping things in check.
Hannah led Abigail through a door towards the stern and into the captain’s quarters.

“She’s here Sir.” She announced before giving Abigail’s hand a squeeze and disappearing out the door.

Abigail stood awkwardly in the candle light of the cabin. 6 men sat around a table with the Captain at its head.

Lieutenant Martins stood and made his way over to her. “Captain, men, I’d like to Introduce Miss Abigail Goldwyn.”

There was a round of murmurs as the other officers rose and greeted her. The Captain looked… well she couldn’t quite describe it. He looked funny… It was almost as if he wanted to speak, but was holding his tongue.

Lieutenant Martins lead Abigail to a place at the table and held her chair for her. Aware she was under the intense scrutiny of the men present, Abigail tried to be as graceful and feminine as possible, Copying the way her mother behaved at formal dinners in the past.

Throughout the dinner, she was engaged by many of the men at the table, in various questions of her past, England, and other dinner topics. The captain remained quiet.

Abigail found herself laughing at more and more of the jokes the officers made. They were a friendly group, and none of them seemed to make any advances. As much as she missed her mother, she knew that she would have to be strong to make it back to her. Perhaps she could learn to enjoy this? She wasn’t treated like a prisoner, more a guest. As the dinner drew to a close. She withdrew as her mother and the other women always had to leave the men to their drinking and man time. Thanking the captain and officers, she asked The lieutenant to escort her back to her cabin. He was only to pleased to assist.

Reaching the cabin, Abigail caught Lieutenant Martins looking at her and smiled at him. As much as reality told her not to. She felt increasingly smitten by the young man. His handsome features were looking down on her with a mixture of kindness and appreciation. The man was clearly searching for something to say. Her body took over and Abigail found herself reaching onto her tiptoes to touch her lips to his. She melted into his encircling arms. Reality be damned…

NCIS - A time of Innocence

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Organizational:

Title Page

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Taxonomy upgrade extras:

NCIS — Naval Criminal Investigative Service
A Time of Innocence
A fan fiction
By Alyssa Plant

NCIS - A Time of Innocence, Part 1/2

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

7,500 < Novelette < 17,500 words

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Fan-Fiction, poster's responsibility

Gibbs and the team take onboard a new Agent, but little do they know quite how close to the case they are...

NCIS — Naval Criminal Investigative Service
A Time of Innocence
Part 1
A fan fiction
By Alyssa Plant
edited by Valerie Preston

Leroy Jethro Gibbs raised the coffee cup to his lips and took a long draft of the precious liquid. The elevator car rose up through the floors of the NCIS headquarters building towards the squadroom. The doors pinged open and within a half a second he knew his morning was ruined.

“Gibbs” smiled Director Vance warmly. “I never knew you arrived this late, I always though you snuck in with the cleaning crew.

“Had to get a refill.” Gibbs muttered raising his takeout coffee cup. “What do you want Leon?” Gibbs asked suspiciously, looking over at his boss.

“Mcgee.” Vance replied. “There’s a new cyber crimes taskforce the Joint chief’s are setting up, Secnav (secretary of the Navy) wants us to give them a team, Agent Mcgee is the best we have.”

“So what do I get while the Secnav kisses ass on the hill? You’re leaving me a man down on short notice.”

“I thought it was about time Agent Mcgee moved on anyway. He’s been a probie for what? 4 years?.”

“I like my team Leon, Jenny never interfered with how I ran it.” Gibbs growled as he took a sip from his steaming cup.

“Yeah well I’m the director last time I checked. And don’t go accusing me of meddling Gibbs. Secnav says jump, I ask how high.” shrugged Vance. “look, I’ve found you a replacement, If you don’t like him by the time the task force is over with, ill give you Mcgee back. Ok?”

The elevator doors slid open and Jethro Gibbs stepped out onto the squadroom floor.

“How high Mr director?” he called back as he left Leon Vance standing in the elevator.

“Are you actually working?” Ziva David asked casually as she slid up behind Anthony Dinozzo’s chair. Jumping, Tony slapped the screen’s power button and turned to glare at his college.

“Actually I was looking through pet suppliers to find you a collar with a bell” He replied smiling sweetly.

“Rawr.” Ziva purred and made a playful claw motion towards Tony.

“Come on to Dinozzo in your own time Ziva.” Gibbs said appearing around the corner.

“I was not.” Replied Ziva indignantly, crossing her arms. Poking her in the ribs Dinozzo grinned. “Do you think we can get one in Gibbs’ size?” he stage whispered.

Smirking, Ziva approached Gibbs’ desk.

“Ah, Gibbs, I have that file on the Petty Officer Martinez case….” She began hesitantly, slipping the file onto her boss’s desk. He was in an especially bad mood this morning.

“Give it to Thomas, We pick up a new case when the probie arrives.”

“Ziva looked confused, and retrieved the file before heading out of the team’s office space to find Agent Thomas, exchanging a confused glance with Tony on her way out. He didn’t seem to understand either…

“You’ve never called Mcgeek Probie before Boss…” Tony asked curiously.

“And I haven’t started.” muttered Gibbs, not taking his eyes off the file he was reading.

“We’re getting a new probie?” asked Tony slowly. “Why?”

“The Director sent him to do his computer thing…” replied Gibbs, looking up from the folder. “And we have a replacement Probationary Agent for the meanwhile.” He sighed taking off his glasses. “Who I fully intend to pass on to another team once we get Mcgee back from DC.”

“When are we getting them?” Tony asked curiously. “Any fun facts about this one? You haven’t given me much time to prepare… I’ll need all new material after Mcgeek…”

“Any time now I guess.”

Dinozzo turned and found a young agent looking at him with an apologetic smile.

“Probationary Agent Samson… I was told to report here by the Director?”

Agent Samson was a small man, and the term man fitted about as well as his cheap suit Dinozzo noted. He had a very slight build, fine features, and his straw blonde hair was tied back in a low ponytail. There was something intriguing about his appearance that Tony couldn’t put a finger on.

“You been issued a weapon yet?” Gibbs asked without looking up.

“I… ah, no? I thought probationary agents were unarmed?” Samson stammered wondering if he had made a mistake.

“Ziva.” Gibbs called, somehow sensing the Israeli was stood by back of the team office area. “Take Agent Samson down to the armoury and get him issued up.”

Looking up, Gibbs regarded the young agent. “Nobody goes unarmed on my team, if you don’t have the right tools, don’t attempt the job…”

“Gibbs rule number 22” Ziva whispered as she led Samson out of the office. “He has… These rules that we all work by… you will learn them, I am sure….” She smiled pressing the elevator call button.

Stepping into the lift, she leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms, looking at Agent Samson. “I’m Ziva David.” She said, extending a hand.

“Agent Samson.” Mumbled the new boy quietly.

“Do you have a first name?” Ziva asked, cocking her head slightly and shooting Agent Samson a enquiring look.

“Toby.” He shrugged. “Can I ask a question?”

“Firstly, you appear to be working with us for some time. So here are the rules.” Ziva began, raising the fingers on her hand to tick off as she went.

“Firstly, Gibbs is ‘Gibbs’ maybe Agent Gibbs till he says otherwise, but definitely not Sir. Secondly, his word is law, follow it and you shall survive. Also, ignore Tony, He will try to bully you as the probie, but he means well.” She smiled lowing her last finger.

“Oh, and never spill Gibbs’ coffee…” she stated seriously.

“His coffee?” Toby asked, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

“It may happen at some point, from what I have heard, its inevitable, Just… try not to...” She grimaced, turning to face the door as the lift came to a halt.

“Hey Boss.” Tony began, moving over to Gibbs desk, “Did you ok this guy with Vance?”

“Orders are orders Tony.” Gibbs sighed. “And play nice.”

“Now I’m always nice boss… Tony smirked. “Timmy turned out sweet as punch.”

“That’s exactly my worry.” Began Gibbs, You try to actually teach him something, He’s not here forever.”

“Come on boss…Mcgee looks more dangerous than this guy… What did his record say?”

“First in his class from Michigan State… majored in… Criminology and history.” Gibbs replied checking the file. “His fitness is good, and he has a list of martial arts on his file, Good initial training grades. Not a bad agent.”

“But he’s green boss… Come on… Who does the Director think we are? Baby sitters?

“Apparently.” Replied Gibbs, draining his 3rd Coffee cup before sending it to join its brothers and sisters in the trash. “Either way, I’ll need you and Ziva to pick up the slack, just for a while.”

Tony nodded. “Sure boss.”

Toby handled the Sig Sauer p228 he had been issued in the elevator ride back up to the squad room. He had waited for this… He was a federal agent, with a gun and a badge… finally heading towards his dream job. Well part of it.

Ziva lead the way back to the office area. Agent Samson would be using the vacated desk that had belonged to Agent Mcgee. Toby felt like he was treading in someone else’s shadow, but at least according to Ziva’s story of her arrival; his shadow was still moving. Sitting at the desk, he looked around the small enclosed space that made up their office. All the other Probationary agents in his class had talked about Agent Gibbs… Gibbs and his team… Toby couldn’t wait to tell his friends Agents Amy Marlin and Hannah Swift, that he had been put into THE Gibbs’s team…

“Grab your gear.” Gibbs growled as he strode into the office space, grabbing his sidearm from his desk draw and vanishing just as quickly again towards the elevator. With a scramble Toby followed the other agents making it to the closing doors in time to just slip through…

“What is it boss?” Tony asked jogging to keep up with Gibb’s rapid stride.

“Navy Lieutenant found dead in Norfolk.” Gibbs replied as they made their way into the parking lot to pick up an agency car.

“Interesting circumstances too.” He said quietly, almost to himself.

Arriving at the scene after a lengthy freeway journey, the team pulled up by a side street in downtown Norfolk.

The four agents made their way across to the cordon as the ME’s van arrived. Flashing their badges, they entered the service alley. Tony flicked his camera on and began to document the scene, and Ziva moved off to speak with a local Leo. Gibbs knelt by the body; Toby could see he was concentrating hard, looking at the young woman before them with intense concentration. She was pretty; a tall young woman with short spiky hair and fine elfin features. She was wearing her Navy dress uniform; the blouse drenched in blood from a cruel gash in her throat.

“What do you see?” Gibbs asked Toby without looking round.

Toby studied the body intently, trying to remember his training. “She was attacked standing up, by the blood pattern.”

Gibbs nodded, not taking his eyes off the body. “Anything else?”

“She was moved.” Toby almost smiled, realising he had noticed, despite the guilt he felt at his happiness. “There is no blood pooling around the body, she was killed elsewhere and dumped… ah, sorry, I cant see anything else.”

“She was redressed. Here….” Gibbs muttered, pointing to a mark of residue on her chest above the open top buttons of the blouse. Toby leaned forward and noticed the tape residue; nearly swamped by the blood flow he had missed it.

“This is what now Tony? You’re third?” Ziva chimed from across the alley.

“Why are you keeping score?” Dinozzo replied incredulously.

“What?” Toby asked Innocently. “His 3rd what?”

“Transsexual.” Ziva answered smiling. Tony does not like them.” bending to continue sifting through some trash.

“Not a word probie.” Tony growled and carried on measuring.

Wait, what? This is a woman isn’t it?” he asked slowly, turning to look at the victim again.

“His Navy ID is for a Lieutenant Daniel Braskin.” Ziva answered without looking up. “The photograph matches, somewhat, and we checked….” She finished looking over at Toby. “Are you having a problem Like Agent Dinozzo?”

Toby shook his head firmly. “I was just surprised, she’s so pretty.”

“Indeed.” Ziva smiled sadly. “It could also provide motive for their death.”

Toby had a thought, and made his way to the body, now on a gurney before being loaded onto the van and unzipped the body bag.

“What are you looking for?” The Elderly ME, a Doctor Mallard asked curiously. “Can I undo the buttons on the blouse?” Toby asked, and on receiving a permitting nod, unbuttoned the blouse.

Looking around the young woman’s breasts, he noticed more of the residue, but nowhere else. He rebuttoned the blouse out of respect for the dead young woman, much to Doctor Mallard’s approval.

“What were you looking for?” he asked the young probationary agent curiously.

“The tape Agent Gibbs mentioned… part of why we suspected she had been redressed after being bound… its not… well it is, but not how he thinks….”

“Go on.” Doctor mallard prompted, wondering where the young agent was heading.

“Well, she was transgender right? And had Male ID… Serving US navy… So she clearly hid herself when she was on duty… The tape was from where she bound her breasts… to pass as a male… So I don’t think she was redressed, Plus the blood flow is too extensive for someone who was cut and dropped, before being moved, redressed and dumped… I’m not as experienced as agent Gibbs, but that, coupled with the blood on her hands suggests she walked after the incident, her hands trying to stem the flow… There may be another crime scene…”

“Good.” Gibbs said, appearing behind Agent Samson. “You can help Tony search for any blood trail.” sending the Probie off with the more experienced Agent.

“He’s good.” Duckie mused as the two watched Agent Samson and Dinozzo begin searching.

“Uhuh.” grunted Gibbs casually.

“You’re still angry about the Director taking Timothy away?” The doctor asked his friend.
“He’s the boss,” Gibbs replied curtly. “But you’re right; At least he’s got more street sense than Mcgee had when he started.

Duckie Nodded, and patting his colleague on the back, proceeded to climb into the Van to begin the journey back to headquarters.

Back in the office, Toby was running through the Lieutenant’s life, trying to map out their last 3 days to place them at the scene.

He felt so sorry for the woman. She had been secretly living her own life…. Balancing the job she loved with the person she was. He had found a photograph of the girl with her family in her purse; as a girl. Toby had offered to be the bearer of bad news; a task all too willingly given. The team’s comments he had overheard here and there suggested they would put their foot in it, intentionally or not at the worst possible moment… Her parents didn’t need that.

“What have you got?” called Agent Gibbs by way of greeting to the team.

Leaping to his feet like a puppy greeting its master, Tony launched into his theories….

“Well boss, we found the original scene, It was near a side entrance of a gay bar over on Williamson, CCTV placed the Lieutenant leaving at around 1, and talking to several people before moving off alone towards where the incident took place. We found the knife in some dumpsters behind the bar; it’s with Abbi…. He managed to get as far as where we found the body before he bought it, There were several pooling where he stopped enroute, explaining the lack of blood at the secondary scene.” He said smugly.

Gibbs nodded briskly before turning his gaze on Ziva, who proceeded to detail the Lieutenant’s naval life and associates, none of whom thought anything out of order about him.

Before he knew it, Toby felt the team’s eyes on him.

“I, ah, Called the bar, she was a regular, Used the name Sharon, bartender couldn’t give me a last… Came in every night around 8; stayed till 11 and left alone; almost like clockwork. Nothing exciting in her life, kept a low profile, no sign of a lover, but had been known to date, I got a few descriptions of guys she was seen with at the bar, its ah, Transgender bar, not a gay bar.” He finished quietly, glancing at Tony.

“At least someone works around here.” announced Gibbs taking a sip from his coffee cup. “Ziva, get on to Abbi, see if she has any prints from the knife, Tony get down to the bar and ask around about him, see if you can find any friends…”

“Ah, Sir, sorry, Agent Gibbs…” Toby began, realising he probably shouldn’t interrupt.

Gibbs stopped mid sentence and looked questioningly at Toby as if he really ought to have a good reason.

“Regardless of Tony’s feelings to the victim, He really should say She and her, use female pronouns, if you go into that place like… you talk here, you will get nowhere.”

“Look probie, I know how to conduct an investigation… I’ve been doing this, oh, 6 years?”

“Dinozzo, the only good communication you’ve had with a transsesexual was when you stuck your tongue down their throat, Listen to Agent Samson, be nice to them, and they will talk to you… You go in there like yourself and you won’t even get the time…”

Dinozzo looked like he was going to say something but simply nodded instead before grabbing his things and making for the elevator.

Ziva gave Toby a curious glance before returning to her computer screen.

“You can sit down now Samson.” Gibbs muttered without looking up.

Blushing, Toby returned to his desk and carried on profiling the victim.

Toby stood by the sink in the men’s room washing his hands when the door opened, and banged closed again. He looked up when he heard no footfalls on the tiled floor; Officer David was leaning back against the closed door, arms crossed with that same look of amused curiosity.

“What are you doing in here?” he squeaked indignantly.

“Maybe I could ask the same question?” she purred, stepping forwards purposefully. “Some things do not add up Toby Samson, I mean no err, malice? Is that the word? But I have what people call an inquiring mind.” She continued, stopping quite close to Toby.

Ziva regarded him for a second, and flashed a quick grin before speaking again:

“This case is more than a job to you I think?”

“No, I don’t know her.” Toby answered quickly, knowing his nervousness showed. “I just don’t like seeing people hurt for something they cant help, I was bullied a lot in high school…” he answered hoping she took the bone.

However Ziva was not thrown; “You have yet to slip in pronouns; even Gibbs has by accident. You were particularly upset when you found out her identity, and since Tony’s reactions you’ve rather disliked him, yes?

“He was a bigoted arsehole.” snapped Toby with a look of distain.

Ziva reached out and gently touched Toby’s forearm, “You’re personally involved in this case Toby.” She stated flatly. “Why?”

“I said…” He replied stepping back till his backside contacted the row of sinks. “Its really not a big deal Ziva, I just never expected to find this sort of thing coming up… here, or how id deal with it.”

“Please do not be insulted if I am far off the wall here,” she said shaking her head, “ No… Ball! Yes. This is not your first contact with transgender people? You seem aware of how our Lieutenant bound her breasts… from an intimate perspective too… and you knew that they would clamp down if Tony had used his normal methods. “Why?”

“I, ah.” Toby stammered helplessly.

Ziva looked at the young agent; in his flustered state, it showed more, he was having trouble maintaining the mask he used. Her years reading people had told her he was hiding something significant from the moment she met him. A faint aura of falsehood around his behaviour and the very precise wording of someone thinking about what they are saying carefully… there had been cracks, but she would not have connected the dots if it had not been for this case…

“You are transgender, yes?” she asked softly.

Toby looked for some way out of the cul-de-sac he had backed into, but there was nothing.

“Please don’t tell anyone.” He whispered quietly, looking anywhere but into her eyes.

Ziva pulled the young agent to her and hugged him tightly as he sobbed. She had expected something, but not quite this. Now she knew why the case was effecting him so…

Toby let himself into his apartment, dumping his case and coat by the door. He wandered into the kitchen and opened a bottle of white wine that was cooling in the refrigerator. Pouring himself a glass, he took a sip of the chilled liquid as he padded through to his bedroom, enjoying the taste and the feeling of relaxation it gave him.

Placing the glass on the dresser, he slipped the clothes from his body and stepped into the shower in his adjoining bathroom. As the warmth of the water soothed his aching muscles, Toby began to cry quietly to himself. He hadn’t told another living soul about himself, and through all of his effort and ability, she had seen through him. Why had they gotten that case? Why couldn’t he bottle it up for one lousy investigation? Thinking back to when he spoke to the girl’s parents, he was so jealous of her, and so sorry for her parents. They had only just got to know their daughter, and she had been brutally taken from them. Toby resolved to solve this case. Not to impress Gibbs, or anyone, but he owed it to the girl… and herself.

Wrapping a towel around her body, Juliet Samson stepped carefully from the shower, hooking an errant lock of sodden blonde hair behind her ear. Wiping the steam from the bathroom mirror, she studied her reflection in the steamy glass. She was never going to win Miss Virginia, but she had a pleasant enough appearance. Juliet had always loved her face, It made her feel more like the girl she felt she was, despite other biological factors to the contrary. Sighing, she smudged the reflection with a damp hand and left the bathroom. Patting her body dry, she selected a bra and panties from her drawer and slipped them on, the bra cupping her small breasts the heavy suit disguised. Pulling on an oversized tee shirt, she slumped down at the dressing table and started up her laptop computer while taking another sip from the wineglass.

Checking her emails, she began to search the net for local transgender support groups. It had been something she had avoided, partly due to her career, and things she heard…

Flicking through the listings, she found a meeting in Downtown Norfolk at a bar called Sally’s, it was 5 blocks over from the scene, and she was sure there would be a great deal of gossip… and it was meeting tonight.

It took a moment of soul searching to convince herself to do it, but she knew that her life had changed irreversibly. She couldn’t hide anymore, and she had to do this, for herself, and for the young lieutenant. Of course, her source of any information and method of obtaining it would remain her secret…Gibbs would understand that? Right?

Pulling her tee-shirt off, she began ransacking her wardrobe for something suitable. Beyond dressing up at home, she had never really been brave enough to go out as herself, and as such, most of her wardrobe ended up on the floor in the search for that perfect outfit.

After much searching, she found a pretty knit white sweaterdress that ended mid thigh, she threw it onto the bed, and after ransacking her drawers, found the perfect black stretch belt and patterned tights to accompany it. Rolling up the tights, she slipped the dress over her head, and flipped her now dry hair from the collar and fastened the belt around her narrow waist, accentuating it further. After a light application of makeup, she sat on the bed, bag in hand, wondering if she could really do it. Sipping the wine, she nervously slipped her foot along the carpeted floor, feeling the sensation of the material against her foot. She felt ok, she looked ok… but what if someone thought she was a man in a dress? No, she had to do this, it was important. Checking her watch, she saw she had barely enough time to reach the bar. Slipping on her tan ugg boots, she slipped out of her apartment and down to the parking garage.

Soon she was zipping down the freeway that connected DC to the Virginia coast. It felt liberating to be out, existing as herself. She thought back to what Ziva had said in the restroom. Was it that obvious? She wondered whether that was a bad thing in itself. Checking the clock on the dash, she noticed she was cutting it fine to arrive with enough time to scope the place out properly. In her nervousness, her foot inched down on the pedal a little further…

The blue flashing lights stopped Juliet’s heart for a moment. What was she going to do? She was a federal agent, in drag, caught speeding? Gibbs would hear of this, she knew. She was so busted…

What if? Well it was partly true… no, it was all true…. Pulling over to the shoulder, she stopped the car and waited for the officer to approach.

Opening her window as the officer approached, she tried to remain calm and composed.

“Evening ma’am.” Smiled the officer, giving Juliet the once over. Do you know how fast you were going?”

“Over the limit, but I have good reason.” She answered confidently.

“Oh, what’s that then?” smiled the young highway patrolman, taking a chance to peek at Juliet’s legs through the open window.

“I’m an undercover NCIS agent.” She responded looking at the officer.

“Huh? What’s NCIS?” The patrolman asked with a puzzled expression.

“I’m going for my badge ok?” She asked reaching into her purse on the passenger seat and retrieving her ID wallet. “Here.” She said handing it to him.

The man looked at the ID card for a moment. “Step out of the Car ma’am.”

Stepping out of the vehicle she placed her hands against the bodywork, “What’s wrong? She asked indignantly.

“You expect me to believe this is your ID?” asked the officer with a hint of annoyance. “That you are Agent Toby Samson?”

“Yes…” replied Juliet with a bored expression. “Did you miss the part where I said I was undercover?”

“Huh? You’re a dude?” asked the Officer dumbly.

“Do you want me to phone my superiors and report you for jeopardising a federal investigation?” she asked, turning around to face the officer and fixing him with a serious expression. “You have seen my Identification, and received explanation for my appearance; do you want me to get my sig Sauer out of my purse to show you?” she asked, tilting her head to one side and raising her eyebrows questioningly, stepping towards the officer.

“Ah, no ma’am, ah, I mean Sir, sorry.” The officer stumbled before turning to return to his patrol car. Juliet stood and watched him return to the cruiser, hand on her hip. The officer turned and looked back at her with a look of confusion, shaking his head, before finally getting into the car and pulling away. As she slumped down into the seat, the wave of relief flashed over her. That had been too close…. The highway patrolman’s reaction was surprising for her. Did she really look that female? That convincing? The thought made her feel happy, yet worried at the same time. The Israeli agent Ziva had worked it out… how long before others?

Thanks to her lead foot, Juliet arrived at Sally’s bar with five minutes to spare. It was all wrong…. She should have been here much earlier… going in without a good recon was dangerous, she knew, but it was only a transgender bar? What harm could it really do?

Getting out of her car, she slowly walked over to the main entrance of the bar. Stepping inside, she was greeted by a pleasantly quiet atmosphere. Soft music was playing, and there were small groups of people sat around chatting.

Juliet approached the bar and waited while the barmaid served another customer.

“Hey, what can I getcha darling’ The barmaid asked cheerily taking Juliet’s attention from a rather gaudily dressed man in what appeared to be a Vegas showgirl outfit drinking a beer.

“Oh, ah, a white wine please, dry if you have it.” She asked, “Uh, I don’t suppose you know where I ought to go for the meeting tonight? This is my first time…”

“Sure honey, back room marked private, near the ladies room.” She smiled handing Juliet the drink. Slipping the barmaid a 10, Juliet thanked her and made her way towards the rear of the bar. Finding the door as described, she waited for a moment, wondering if she ought to knock….

“Just go in hon. We don’t bite.” Smiled an older woman in a pink dress that had appeared behind her from the restroom.

Juliet pushed the door open and entered the room; it was a small but comfortable place, like a large lounge… sofas and chairs made a rough circle, and there were small clusters of people chatting amongst themselves.

Despite the fact she clearly belonged here… Juliet felt extremely awkward. She was by far the youngest present by 10 years at least…. The others all seemed to be engrossed in their conversations, and she really didn’t want to approach anyone…

“Hi there.”

Juliet turned to see a middle-aged woman in a cardigan and ankle length skirt, wavy auburn hair cascading down to her shoulders and tiny rimless glasses.

“My name is Hillary, and I’m the group coordinator. “Your first time here?” she smiled warmly.

Hillary was clearly transgender, her large frame and dark shadow marring her otherwise feminine appearance.

“Ah, yes,” she blushed. “I saw your group advertised online… I hope its ok I came?”

“Sure sweetie, we always welcome new members… Do you have a name you’d prefer we use?”

“Juliet.” She answered. Hilary looked confused for a moment then smiled broadly. “Why don’t you take a seat over here and we’ll get started huh?” she smiled gesturing to a sofa.

“Ok everyone, lets get started.” She announced loudly clapping her hands for attention.

Once the group was seated, they began going around, giving their names, how old they were, and why they had come. A lot were cross dressers Juliet found out.

Finally, it came to her turn. Taking a deep gulp from her wine to calm her nerves, Juliet stood.

“Hi, my name is Juliet, and I’m 23, and I…. ah, I guess I’m here because I’m transsexual.” She blushed, rushing to sit down again.

“Hey don’t be nervous sweetie.” rumbled the one woman mountain to her left, “Tell us some more about you.”

Smiling sheepishly, she continued. “Well, uh, I guess I felt different from a young age…. I know it’s a cliché.” She continued, rolling her eyes, “But I guess I always felt that way, like my body was wrong, you know?”

Most of the group smiled and nodded in agreement.

“I went to college at Michigan state…. I’ve been working for the….” At the last moment, it struck her that the truth may not be a good idea. “A law firm in DC, I’m a legal secretary.” She improvised. “I guess I want to start being me, like, all the time, and I didn’t really know where to begin… she continued sheepishly. “I mean not this.” She gestured plucking at her dress, “But like, properly, surgery and stuff.”

“Well I’m glad you came along Juliet.” smiled Hilary warmly. “Would you like to tell the group why you feel you’re a man? We really don’t get many female to male transsexual people here.”

Juliet stared for a moment. “Female to male?” she stammered, “Nooo, I want to be a girl!”

Realisation dawned in Hillary’s eyes, along with several others in the group. “You mean you’re ah, physically a boy?” Hillary continued slowly, as if trying to wrap her head around the idea.

Juliet nodded sadly. “This is like the first time I ever came out dressed as me.” She answered quietly.

“Well you sure are pretty hon, you got us all thinking you were a Genetic gal.” intoned a fairly pretty woman in her mid 30s who looked as if she had come straight from the office.

The realisation of what the group had thought made Juliet blush deeply again. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She mumbled quietly.

“Don’t be hon, you’re lucky.” Hillary smiled. “We can talk more in the smaller group work,” she said smiling at the next person in the circle to say their piece.

Later that evening, Juliet was sat in a booth with 6 others from the group having a drink. She had switched to coke after the one glass, not wanting to drink and drive. The meeting had been interesting, but not a word said about the murder…. Juliet knew the community was very tight nit… they would all know… she just had to bring it up.

“I’m sorta scared to do this.” She said sorrowfully to the group, “After hearing about that transsexual woman’s murder, I sort of don’t feel save.”

“Oh, poor Sharon Braskin? That was awful.” Agreed Stacey, one of the cross dressers at the meeting. “Between her and the others, this place aint safe no more.”

“Others?” asked Juliet, her heart skipping a beat. “There have been more? Here?”

“Uhuh.” nodded Stacey taking a swig from her beer. “Five in the last 3 months, it’s like open season on transwomen…”
“Why haven’t the police been searching for anyone? I mean… five is a lot… the guy has got to have left clues….”

“One guy? Hon, the cases were all different, it’s just people hate us… and hate turns to violence, girls get discovered and attacked a lot.” Marie added. “Beatings, stabbings, shootings, drownings, plus a few more accidents… I don’t know… it’s awful suspicious.”

“Hah, you hear about the cop that was in Rainbow yesterday? Crystal giggled. “He was Soooooo embaraced to be in there…. I swear he was terrified we’d all come onto him and infect him with trannyitis…. He was askin’ about Sharon, and who knew her, but nobody talked… asshole cops do no good…. They won’t now… they just make a show of tryin’ to help when all they are doin’ is marking us out to abuse us themselves…. All cops are fucking bigots.” She sneered.

Juliet was shocked by the attitudes towards the law enforcement community… but she didn’t exactly think it was unfounded… There was a long history of bad blood between the transgender community and police. Either way... the news shocked her. So many deaths in a short period were not coincidence, such thing didn’t exist… at least so Gibbs said… one of his rules… Juliet forgot which…. She had to get the office and work on what she had found out…. Storing the information in her mind, she went back to the topics at hand, the makeup, the fashion, the special girl world that just oozed pink like a weeping sore…

Saying her goodbyes, Juliet left the final remnants of the meeting, drinking their night away in Sally’s, and began the drive back to DC. At least 5 more murders in the area… along with several more suspicious deaths and ‘accidents’. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots…. In College, they had studied the theory of serial killers… Sure, the psychopaths, and fetish driven killers got the media, but it was the driven ones that caused the most damage. The quiet, calculating ones… Whoever was behind this, was not stupid, a phenomenon of the forensic TV shows was the changing MO…. Killers watched shows like CSI and realised their patterns gave them away… and soon. The intelligent ones started adapting… varying their methods and habits to avoid detection for longer….

Hitting speed dial on her cell, she slipped the earpiece into her ear and waited….

“Hello?”

“Hi, Ziva, it’s ah, Toby. Can you spare a moment?”

“Mm, sure,” she answered cautiously, “What’s on your mind?”

“I think I hit a breakthrough in the case… I need some help…” He replied.

“Oh? Ah, Sure… You sound like you’re driving…. Why don’t you come straight over to my apartment? We can talk… its better than over the phone…”

Juliet’s heart jumped. “Ah, Ziva, I can’t…. I’m…. I… I ought to go home and change first.”

“Why?” She asked curiously.

“I’m just coming back from the transgender bar in Norfolk… one of them… I was sort of doing some investigation…. Ah, undercover… or not I guess… Don’t tell Gibbs please…”

“Ah,” she sighed, “I understand. Don’t be silly, its only clothes, come on over anyway I’m sure you look cute.”

Blushing to her roots, Juliet agreed, and entered the proffered address into the car’s satnav.

Juliet pulled the car into a space on the street outside Ziva’s building. It was in a fairly nice part of DC, on a street lined with similar mid market apartments and cafes. Getting out, she made her way up the steps and pressed the buzzer for Ziva David’s apartment.

“Yes?” came the tinny response.

“Ah, Hi, Ziva, it’s me….”

“Me who?

“Ju, ah, Toby.” She said trying to be quiet; to avoid people overhearing her using that name… dressed as she was.

“Ooh, ok, come on up.”

Juliet climbed up to the second floor and knocked on Ziva’s door. After a moment, the Israeli opened her door. Juliet could see she had not interrupted any serious plans… judging by the bare feet, sweatpants, and university tee-shirt.

“Hel….” She began, as her eyes fell on Juliet. “Oh wow, you weren’t kidding…” she trailed off. “Come in.”

Juliet walked into the apartment; she could feel Ziva’s eyes all over her as she hung her coat on the stand. The apartment was small but cosy, the personal touches giving the place a very homely feel.

“I just can’t get over how….like a woman you look…” Ziva murmured thoughtfully. “I mean I knew you would look better than Tony but… I did not expect this….

“Ok, I feel really comfortable now.” Juliet scowled.

“I am sorry.” Ziva smiled apologetically. “I knew… but you… yeah… I mean… you do look like a woman…. A very pretty woman.” She added, raising her eyebrows in punctuation.

Juliet blushed, “Thanks I guess, still, you can’t tell anyone you know… or anything…” she pleaded. “It would kill my career.”

“Nonsense.” Ziva said shaking her head. “The United states is not so backward I think…. Especially a federal agency… But it is your life….” She shrugged, making her way into the kitchen. “Would you like a glass of wine before we get down to work?”

Juliet thought about the two she had consumed tonight… and whether she should…. Blocking the thought from her mind, she accepted; she had earned it tonight….

Sitting down in the living room, she told Ziva everything that she had learned that evening. Ziva looked thoughtful.

“You are right…..” she mused. “This is all too coincidental, we will get the records of all of these deaths tomorrow… and try and find a pattern, or something…. It has to be connected.”

Juliet sipped her second glass, “How do we explain to Gibbs how I found all this out? He’s not stupid…. And he will know how Tony got on… why would I fair any better? The newbie?”

“We tell him the truth of course… Well, a modified form….

Juliet looked at Ziva with a forlorn expression. “What’s that then? I accidentally, totally not my fault, slipped and fell into a dress and makeup that was perilously left lying around and accidentally forgot to notice?

“It was my idea.” Ziva grinned. “I convinced you to dress in some of my clothes, and go to the bar… we are the same size mostly…. So it works…. I stayed in contact with you, and we sent you in… undercover… we knew they would talk to one of their own… we had a hunch… Gibbs likes it when we take the initiative….”

As much as she hated to admit it, it might actually work…

“And tomorrow, we can use it again….”

“Yeah, ok, that might work.” Juliet mumbled to herself, “Wait… WHAT? Tomorrow? Noooooo” she pleaded desperately. “No way can I do this in front of them….”

“Sure you can.” Ziva grinned. We need to investigate this angle further…. And they will open up more to two women…. Or… at least a woman they think is one of them…”

“Tony is going to hate me.” Juliet sighed dejectedly. “And Gibbs will think I’m a fairy.”

“Well you are not, and he is not so closed minded I think.” She smiled reassuringly. “That man is more than most understand.”

“Well you are no man, so you can stop complaining…” Ziva grinned.

Juliet smiled sarcastically. “You aren’t the one this means everything to… its not some game…”

“I know Motek (Sweetie, Hebrew) she whispered softly, a caring look in her eyes. “Believe me when I say I do not want to hurt you, or see you laughed at… I do want to help you, And if anything, this may open their eyes to you as a female….plant the suggestion in their minds that this is more normal than the old you… lets be honest, he was not much of a Tony….

Juliet giggled. Ziva was right, she sucked at being a man, why bother trying? If she could weasel some time at work in as herself, I would be a dream moment she could savour… even if it didn’t last…

“Ok, I’ll do it.” She smiled, bunching up her resolve.

“That’s the spirit.” Ziva smiled. “But we will need a name for you…..”

“Well I used Juliet Stone at the meeting…. Plus Juliet is the name I think of as mine….” She answered blushing.

Ziva regarded her for a moment, “It suits you.” She smiled. “Anyway, I think it is time to call this a night, it’s an early start for us. I’d offer to drive you home… but I think neither of us is in a state to drive, yes?”

Ziva’s comment flipped a switch in Juliet’s head, she suddenly realised how much she had drunk…

“You can share with me…” Ziva offered. “My sofa… it is not the most comfortable…” she shrugged sheepishly.

“Oh thank you, but ill take the sofa.” Juliet replied, “I really don’t mind.”

Ziva cocked her head, “What do you think of Tony? Apart from when he opens his mouth? She smirked.

Juliet thought for a moment. “He’s gorgeous…. Funny, well dressed, sexy…” she sighed wistfully “Till he opens his mouth.” She giggled.

Ziva nodded, and removed her tee-shirt, standing there in bra and sweatpants. “What about this, me? Physically I mean?” she gestured at herself.

Blushing, Juliet just shrugged. “You’re pretty? You clearly work out….I dunno?” she replied.

Ziva nodded grinning. “My point exactly, you will share with me… and I will hear no more arguments. Ok?”

Juliet shrugged, conceding the point.

Flipping off the lights, Ziva lead Juliet into her room and the two washed up before getting ready for bed.

“Ah, Ziva?” Juliet called from the bathroom. “I don’t have anything to wear?”

“Just wear your bra and panties.” She called back. “It’s not like I haven’t seen any before.”

Shrugging, Juliet returned from the bathroom, her dress and tights in hand.

Ziva was brushing her hair on the bed when she entered, the boggle eye expression returned…

“What?” she asked defensively, wondering if something was amiss….

“You have breasts…. “Ziva replied flatly, her eyes never leaving Juliet’s chest.

“Sure, doesn’t every girl?” Smirked Juliet, pleased to finally have the upper hand in something.

“But you…. I thought…. Arg! I’m confused!” Ziva cried with mock sorrow.

“Hormone pills.” Juliet shrugged. “I’ve been getting them online for like, 8 months now.”

Ziva’s eyes flashed in understanding, before she broke out in giggles. “Well we had best find something that covers them tomorrow…. We do not need questions on your speedy puberty I think…”

Descending into adolescent silliness, the pair chatted for a short while before finally falling asleep.
Juliet felt happier than she had ever before in her life…

Author's Note: This is part one of two Everyone, I posted this now because ive been writing this for the last few days, and i got bored of not posting it! I swore id do it in one go, but i felt i had to... Part two, the concluding part will be posted either tomorrow, or monday (its already half done,), followed shortly after by Road to Haifa 23. Thanks :D and I hope you have enjoyed this. Feel free to tear it to shreds! I wrote it because im a huge fan, and love the show, and got bored of waiting for more episodes hehe.

Alyssa

To Be Continued...

NCIS - A time of Innocence, Part 2/2

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Other Keywords:

Permission:

“Tobias, I need a favour,” Gibbs asked on hearing the phone pick up.
“Hello to you too, Jethro.”
“I need to you pick up a case from your agency's end, My team has been running it for the past few weeks.”
“Ah,” chuckled Fornell “Who’s toes have you been pissing on this time?”
“Yours,” And you are less likely to throw a punch over it, Tobias.”
Agent Fornell sighed. “Fine, what is it?”

NCIS — Naval Criminal Investigative Service
A Time of Innocence
Part 2
A fan fiction
By Alyssa Plant
edited by Valerie Preston

Previously on NCIS.....

'“We’re getting a new probie?” asked Tony slowly. “Why?”'
/
'Officer David was leaning back against the closed door of the mens room, arms crossed with that same look of amused curiosity.
“What re you doing in here?” he squeaked indignantly.

“Maybe I could ask the same question?” she purred.'
/
'Flicking through the listings, Juliet found a meeting in Downtown Norfolk at a bar called Sally’s, it was five blocks over from the scene, and she was sure there would be a great deal of gossip… and it was meeting tonight.
It took a moment of soul searching to convince herself to do it, but she knew that her life had changed irreversibly. She couldn’t hide anymore, and she had to do this, for herself, and for the young lieutenant. Of course, her source of any information and method of obtaining it would remain her secret–Gibbs would understand that? Right?'

The Conclusion....

The next morning, Juliet dug deeper into her pillow as the alarm clock began screeching… It seemed aweful early… ugh, she didn’t want to leave the bed. Something felt odd–there was a warm presence in the bed beside her. What had she done?

“Murfph,” she mumbled.

“It’s 0400–it’s when I get up,” mumbled Ziva sleepily from beside her.

The sound of her friend’s voice brought the entire night swimming back to Juliet, the fear subsided somewhat, only to be replaced with a pressing need for the bathroom. Slipping her feet off the bed, she sat up and stretched in a catlike manner, yawning deeply. Then she made her way to the bathroom and relieved herself. As she was washing up, Ziva followed her in and dropped her shorts with complete indifference. Juliet began to blush furiously again.

“Pop in the shower, and I’ll find something breakfasty…. I usually eat on the way to work.” Ziva announced, flushing the loo. “Then we can get you sorted out, and into the office, yes?”

“I’m not sure.” Juliet began taking the offered towel. “What reason do we have for my being there? I mean… like this?” she shrugged, gesturing at her bra and panties.

“Well I would hope you are not going to the office in that–” Ziva chuckled, “Tony may not be able to function.”

“Ugh, you know what I mean…” Juliet scowled. “How do we explain it?”

“I was thinking…last night…” Ziva called as she slipped back into her bedroom. “This is your first time doing this. Well no, second… Either way, you are not expected to be natural I think? Perhaps practice is a good reason? Yes?” she replied sticking her head around the door. “Trust me.” She grinned before vanishing again. Juliet stepped into the shower, she wondered if trusting someone who killed for a living was a good idea…..

Juliet made her way back into the bedroom wrapped in the towel Ziva had given her. A set of clothes lay on the bed with a Post-it note on the top.

‘Juliet, wear this.’

Shrugging, she removed the note and held up the first item, it was a angora sweater in a deep merlot, that had a wide shallow boat neck that reached nearly from shoulder to shoulder. Juliet rubbed the fabric between her fingers, it felt gorgeous… Placing the sweater down, she picked up the skirt bellow. It was knee length and charcoal grey with a short slit on the right hand side that stopped a few inches above the hem. A skirt… great… She could see Ziva’s logic, a skirt would help with the supposed ‘getting in character’ charade, but she didn’t like the idea of it… not around work…

With resignation, she let the towel drop, and slipped on her underwear, followed by the clothes, and the unopened packet of opaque pantyhose beside them. Ziva clearly wasn’t a skirts girl… Happy that everything fitted, she retrieved her purse, and applied a light foundation and a spot of liner and mascara in the bathroom mirror, before making her way into the kitchen to find Ziva.

“It all fitted ok?” Ziva asked without looking up from the stove.

“Yeah.” Replied Juliet absentmindedly, slipping onto one of the breakfast bar stools. “You really wanted me in at the deep end didn’t you?”

“Well I thought it would reinforce things…” She shrugged, finally turning around. “Ah, you did your makeup… good.” She grinned, munching on a slice of toast. “We can pretend I did it…” She smiled, sliding a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of Juliet, before leaving the kitchen to get dressed herself.

Juliet ate quietly, she wasn’t hungry–she was too nervous–but she knew it would be a long day; it always was in NCIS. She couldn’t remember a day since the academy when she had been able to eat at regular times, a habitual breakfast-skipper during college, she had fast learned to change her routine. At first, Ziva had seemed quite closed; a very independent person who rarely let her guard down, but Juliet had seen another side: she actually cared about people, she was funny, a good listener, and sensitive, despite her protestations otherwise. A very different woman to the one he had heard referred to as ‘Gibbs’ attack dog’.

“You ok?” Ziva asked, appearing at Juliet’s shoulder.

Juliet nodded, pushing her plate away from herself. “It was delicious, thank you. We ready to go?”

Ziva nodded and handed her a bag with her dress and boots in. “Wear these.” She said, handing Juliet a pair of flat court shoes. “If Gibbs sees you in those furry things he will know something is missing, no, amiss, yes… id never be seen dead in them…” she laughed.

“I like my Ugg boots,” she replied defensively, pouting like someone had taken away her favourite doll.

Following Ziva out of the house, she left the bag in her own car, before joining Ziva in hers for the drive to work. According to her, it would allow the pretence more depth, and she didn’t know how the marines on gate guard would deal with her presentation and ID.

Pulling into the gates of the navy yard, Juliet felt a pang of fear: Marines didn’t tend to be the most open minded and sensitive types. At least not the ones she had met; what if they made a scene? Arrested her?

Pulling up to the guard station, Ziva rolled down her window and flashed her ID badge, and through they rolled. A cursory flash of her ID badge at the security guard on the main door of the NCIS building and she was in the lift up to the squad room with Ziva.

“Any other day, I’d be concerned about the lax security.” Juliet Sighed with relief as the doors closed.

“Its not lax.” Replied Ziva Calmly. “They recognise you… and you’re with me.” She shrugged.

“Recognise me? What the hell?” replied Juliet with a hint of fear. “What if they tell someone?”

“Relax little one.” Ziva chuckled. “They see that long blonde haired agent that is working with Special Agent Gibbs’ team. People really don’t look so closely in an organisation this size….

Anthony Dinozzo strolled into the squad room at six am, still half asleep. Although walking past Agent Felton using the photocopier had soon dealt with that. Damn, federal agents just kept getting hotter he mused to himself as he slung his briefcase on the shelf behind his desk and dumped himself into his chair. Ziva was chatting to an attractive blonde he hadn’t seen around before, the two of them were sat at her desk, talking quietly together. Tony knew he really ought to mind his own business, but the childish desire to know what Ziva was upto was too much, and a chance to talk to the little nymph wouldn’t go a miss…. It was early, but he liked to get a good workout before breakfast…

Slipping out of his chair, he smoothed his jacket before approaching the pair.

“So.” He announced, making his presence known. “How is my favourite Israeli National this fine November morning?” He beamed broadly as he craned his neck in an attempt to catch sight of the computer screen.

“Nothing Tony.” Ziva replied calmly, “Just the case.” She replied with a sly grin, catching her companion’s eyes.

“Who’s this?” Tony beamed, turning to the other woman. “Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo… I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

The blonde blushed shyly and before she could open her mouth Ziva interjected;
“Tony, This is Detective Benson from Norfolk PD, she’s helping me with some investigations.”

The attractive little thing was a cop? Now he was interested…

Juliet looked at Tony for a moment, he genuinely didn’t see it was her… or him… whatever…

“Juliet Benson.” She smiled, offering her hand. “I’m working with Officer David on your current case. We have reason to suspect that it is not isolated. And after speaking with NPD, we want NCIS to take the case… We’re snowed under.” She shrugged apologetically.

Of course, they had spoken to the head of homicide over at NPD, but the little ruse was becoming more amusing by the moment, and Juliet found herself liking the way Tony looked at her.

Tony smiled. “How so?”

“Well we found a number of other murders of transgendered individuals in the area, different MOs, locations, but it’s all too coincidental. Your Officer David and another… Agent Samson? Spotted this link and phoned us this morning.” Juliet continued with all seriousness, while Ziva found herself struggling to not laugh.

“Well if you like, we could discuss the case over dinner tonight?” Tony beamed, oozing sugar. “Say about 9? At your place?”

“I ah, Sorry.” Juliet mumbled. Tony was trying to pick her up? Was this how much of a manwhore he really was? “I’m busy.” She shrugged. “Another time.”

Unwilling to let it go, Tony was about to open his mouth when the elevator chimed, announcing its arrival. Gibbs strode into the squadroom, his drug of choice in hand, just like any other morning…

With a scowl, Tony vanished back to his desk.

“David, Samson.” He called, “What was the urgent voicemail on my machine about?”

“You have a machine Boss?” Tony asked incredulously.

Ziva bounced to her feet and approached Gibbs’ desk. “Sir, we had a breakthrough in the case… We did some legwork and we think this case is bigger than originally thought… We called NPD, and they signed over a number of other cases to us, that we think, is the same guy…. Twelve to be exact…”

“You had better have a good explanation for keeping us on this till Christmas David…” And what’s my probie doing in your clothes?”

“Undercover Boss, we sent him in and got what To… ah, we couldn’t before…”

Tony didn’t quite hear right… Gibbs was talking as if the squirt was in the office… now. Ziva’s clothes….? No….. He couldn’t…. Tony swung around and looked at Detective Benson. No….

“Probie?” he asked with uncertainty.

Juliet blushed fiercely and looked at the floor, unable to say anything. Oh no… He was never going to live this down. A third strike… and with their own probie… FUCK!

“I sure as hell hope someone is going to explain this to me….” He moaned, rubbing his temples, his head down on his desk.

“Agent Samson Agreed to do that? Why is he still wearing them?” Gibbs asked, looking over Juliet.

“Well we figured that they would open up to one of their own…” Juliet began. And Ziva convinced me it would work… so… we’re about the same size…” She trailed off.

Gibbs cast his gaze over the Israeli Agent. “And he’s in your clothes still because….”

“Ah, well we need to use this direction further… and we agreed that he needed more practice… so… yes.” Ziva answered.

“Fine,” Gibbs muttered through a mouthful of coffee.

Juliet looked at Ziva with an expression of utter relief. They were partly out of the woods…. Casting a furtive eye at Tony’s desk, she returned to her own and began running through some of the case files.

Tony couldn’t stop staring at the Probie…. He knew he was a guy, but damn, it was had to see that. He had really never looked at the agent before he realised, that odd feeling he had felt on first meeting them was explained… She, he, it… looked like a pretty girl…. No wonder he felt weird vibes. The guy was probably getting off on wearing ziva’s clothes he thought to himself as he opened his email.

By lunchtime, Ziva and Juliet had compiled what they had found, and presented it to the rest of the team. They had identified 9 of the unsolved cases as possibles. The other 3, two of which were accidents didn’t fit the pattern, one was a multiple beating, and two… well, they were definitely accidents on further investigation. Mapping the 10 cases they had, gave them a startling pattern that any investigator would have missed had they not known the cases linked. All were centred around Sally’s bar in downtown Norfolk, all had been in the bar on the night of their death, and all were pretty and young… the most worrying feature that had been utterly missed, was all had been members of the same support group… The one Juliet had just joined.

As they finished, Juliet felt the eyes of the entire team on her. Not only had she made the break on her first case, but she was pretty sure she was the one that would solve it…

“Here’s what we will do.” Gibbs announced slowly. “Samson will return to the bar, each night after work, Ziva will shadow you when you leave, Tony will be nearby in a car, for fast response. We’re going to dangle you… and hope he bites. The guy isn’t stupid.” He growled. “So you….” He nodded at Ziva, “On your best misbehaviour.”
The Israeli Nodded curtly.

As much as this seems a strange idea, If you’re willing Toby, we need Ziva to… enhance… your appearance…” The bait needs to be enticing.” Gibbs said slowly, watching the probationary agent’s expression closely.

“So you want me to spend between now and whenever, as a woman… and get things done to me? So I’m more attractive?” Juliet asked quietly…. Hoping she added as much uncertainty as possible.

“If you’re willing.” Gibbs nodded. And if this pays off, I’ll personally recommend to the Director you’re taken off probationary Agent status pending completion of this case…”

“Ah,” Juliet mumbled uncertainly. “Ok, I’ll do it.”

Gibbs nodded his thanks. “You…. Take him… her… Go deal with this…” Gibbs gestured embarrassedly at Ziva and got up to leave. “I’m going to go OK some budget malleability with the Director. Don’t go TOO wild on the card.” He said, tossing the Agency credit card to Ziva with just the slightest faint crease of a smile.

As Gibbs left the room, Tony slipped over to Juliet’s desk.

“Look man, I’m sorry about before ok? Can we pretend that didn’t happen?” he asked quietly, colour coming to his cheeks.

Juliet regarded the man, “Ok,” she replied. Its not like I want to do this really… but… I won’t be a probie… It sounds worth it…”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, it’s the fast track out of the dumps for sure, but man, you’ve got more balls than I have to do this….”

Ziva patted Tony on the shoulder making him jump.

“I’m surprised you did not volunteer for this assignment Tony.” She smirked. “I thought you loved getting inside women’s pants?”

Dinozzo rose to his full height and stared down at Ziva. “Only if you’re still in them.” Tony grinned, and turned to leave.

“Probie… I want Full details of your girly afternoon with Ziva… or I’ll make your life living hell… Probie or not…” he grinned, before returning to his work.

“Let’s go.” Ziva said, rolling her eyes. “Before he asks you to take photographs also.”

Ziva lead Juliet to the elevator and hit one of the lowest buttons.

“Where are we going?” Juliet asked, they were heading down to the Evidence garage and forensics…

“We need a little assistance.” Ziva smiled. “I’m afraid we need extra assistance… Our Forensics tech, Abbi… she is… ah, better at this than me…”

Juliet shrugged and waited for the lift to arrive.

As they entered the Forensics lab, Juliet was greeted by the sight of a dancing goth in a white lab coat.

Slightly taken aback, she hesitated by the door. The goth spun on her 4 inch thick boots and regarded her for a moment. “Who are you?” She asked curiously.

“I ah….” Juliet began, looking at Ziva for help.

“This is Agent Samson, she smiled. A new face.”

“Really?” replied the goth curiously, furrowing her brow. “Aren’t you meant to be a guy?”

Juliet blushed more than she thought physically possible.

The tall goth looked at her for a moment. “Ooh.”

“Abbi, this is Juliet Samson, She is assigned to our team for the time being.”

“Am I missing something? I may not have had enough caffeine today but there is so definitely something absent in this explanation…. Abbi asked, wagging a finger at Ziva. “Does Gibbs know about this?”

Ziva smiled before proceeding to fill the girl in on the entire sordid plan, with selective levels of truth in certain areas.

Abbi looked at the young agent that was quietly looking over her machines as Ziva talked. Was this some big joke on her? Was this Tony? There was no way this was a guy… and no way it was reluctant or the first time….

“Wow.” She breathed. “So Gibbs gave you the card and carte blanche? Can I come?”

“We had hoped so Abbi.” Ziva smiled. “You are more the expert I think. Just…. Try to remember she has to be a federal agent afterwards….” Ziva grinned.

Abbi pouted, “At least one tattoo right?” And ill go easy on the piercings….”

Juliet looked shock for a moment till she realised that the woman was joking, and the three burst out laughing. Stripping off her lab coat, Abbi joined the two as they left the headquarters building to make their way into DC to begin their unusual mission…

Several hours later, A very different young woman walked through the foyer of the NCIS building. Between the three of them, they had eaten a decent sized chunk into the NCIS annual budget in the name of justice. Juliet had acquired a wardrobe suitable for a young legal secretary, as her cover dictated, and her appearance was flawless: Her hair had been trimmed and she had been given undeniably feminine bangs that split above her left eye, the majority of which was tucked behind her diamond studded ears. Her eyebrows were delicate feminine arches, and her nails were the envy of any DC professional woman. The Tailored pantsuit and leather boots finished an image that would stop a man at 10 paces more effectively than a 9mm bullet.

“Ma’am, you’re going to have to sign in.” The desk clerk called as they made their way towards the elevator.

Juliet turned to look at Ziva questioningly, unsure whether to admit that she worked there…
“She is on Special Agent Gibb’s Team Markus, a probie. Her ID is not ready yet.” Ziva waved dismissively to the security guard, collecting a visitor’s pass from the bowl on the desk. “I will drop this off later.” She called waving the badge over her shoulder as she returned to the others.

“You know, if you are going to be a federal agent, you really must learn to be more assertive.” She mentioned, as they stepped into the lift car.

“I want to.” Juliet admitted weakly. “But I’m terrified that they will laugh at me…. Think I’m some sort of freak.” She explained, screwing up her face at the thought.

“Come on sweetie.” Abbi admonished. “Looking like that, nobody’s gonna think you’re a freak, I doubt anyone will recognise you…. I wish Ziva had let me get you that other tattoo….” She replied sadly, pouting at Ziva.

“One was quite enough Abbi.” smirked the Israeli as the lift doors slid open, sounding like a death knell to Juliet’s ears.

“Gibbs!” Abbi yelled as she caught sight of the lead investigator descending the stairs from Mtac. Before he had reached the bottom of the stairs, she had flung her arms around him, and began bouncing like a puppy in her platform boots. “Gibbs, you gotta see this, look what we did.” She beamed gesturing at Juliet. “Isn’t this awesome or what?”
Gibbs regarded Juliet for a moment. She could feel his eyes scanning her body, head to foot as she stood there.

“Good.” He nodded, before returning to fending off a jabbering Abbi as he made his way back to his desk.

Juliet just stood transfixed to the spot. ‘good’? that was it? Her whole afternoon. The worry, the doubt, and all he can say is good?

Juliet scowled, but turned quickly as she heard Ziva chuckle beside her.

“Get used to it.” She chuckled. “They rarely ever compliment you properly unless they want something.”

Juliet nodded ruefully. “I wonder if they will forget I was a guy.” She sighed.

“Were you even a guy to start with?” asked Dinozzo from behind her with a curious grin. “I’m beginning to wonder if you were a woman all along, and this is some big joke.”

Pushing Dinozzo, Ziva glared at him. “You can always trade places if you want Tony, I’m sure you’d make a more convincing transsexual.”

Before Juliet could catch his expression, the agent had vanished back to his desk and was furiously typing away.

“What If I am too convincing for this?” She asked Ziva cautiously. “What if this is all just useless?”

“Looking at the victim profiles, you fit perfectly.” Gibbs reasoned. “You make some friends in the community, become known as transsexual, and hopefully he will bite.” Gibbs replied calmly, appearing from nowhere. “Don’t worry.” He added in a softer tone than his reputation allowed. “We will keep you safe.”

“Any sign tonight?” called Tony tiredly over the radio to Ziva, who was lurking in the shadows of the parking lot opposite Sally’s bar. It was the eleventh night of their under cover operation, and there had been no bites as yet. Juliet had been accepted by the community as one of their own, and frequented Sally’s bar on a nightly basis. The date of the second support group meeting was approaching, and the team had stepped up surveillance.

“Nothing.” Ziva replied quietly. “She is drinking at the bar with two people, two men have attempted to chat her up, both unsuccessful.”

“Don’t you think he’s fallen into that role far too easily?” Tony asked, clicking off the radio button to await Ziva’s response.

She paused for a second before replying; “He is a good Agent, he is doing his job.” She answered vaguely.

“Do you think after we net this guy he will be just one of the guys? You’ve got to see this has become more than an act…. How do you even let him use the ladies room at the office?”

“Would you rather he use the men’s room looking like that?” She replied tersely. Dinozzo’s attitudes would get him in trouble one day….

Juliet sipped the coke she had ordered slowly. The past fortnight had been strange…. Nearly everyone at work had begun to accept her as just another woman, of course, the ones that knew…. The rest had simply taken her at face value. She truly wondered if she would have to return to being male after the case was over. She prayed that she didn’t. The behaviours and mannerisms that she now used had been so deeply engrained in her psyche that she felt awkward behaving any differently.

Gibbs and Ziva had given her special classes in the gym to teach her advanced hand to hand combat, highly supplementary to the agency standard training, but few probationary agents ever ended up in this position she thought. Gibbs hadn’t batted an eyelid when she had turned up to training in a sports bra, shorts and vest, like Ziva, her cleavage far from hidden. The senior agent had seemingly accepted her as much as the others. Perhaps her former maleness was simply out of sight and mind?

“Can’t I get you anything stronger?” offered Marie, the bargirl, resting her chin on her palm. “You really look like you could use it.”

Juliet shook her head softly. “No thank you, I have to drive.” She replied softly, still deep in thought. “I’m sort of looking forward to next Monday.” She thought aloud. “I could really do with that meeting again.”

Marie nodded as she wiped the bar surface. “It’s a good group, they do a lot of good.” She agreed. “Not many of you pretty things around or this place would be crawlin with men looking to score.”

“There are guys who like… girls like me?” Juliet asked curiously. “Aren’t we just like normal girls though?”

Marie shook her head, “No, you aint honey, you got that thing between your legs with drags all the closet fags out to come sniffin around wanting a bit of deniable cock.” She chuckled. “You pretty young naive things are the worst, pretending to be all innocent and pure when really you bring those guys on.” She almost growled, shocking Juliet. Marie’s expression flashed back to pleasant once more. “You are into guys aintcha hon?”

“I…. Yeah, I think so.” Juliet mused quietly. “But only a guy who saw me as a girl, not what you said…”

Marie nodded, returning to her work.

Juliet said her goodbyes, and made her way out of the bar. The woman’s reaction had been strange. The things she had said about girls like her resonated in her mind over and over. Pretty girls like her, leading guys on? Something for the morning she mused as she slipped into her car and buckled up.

Arriving back at her apartment, Juliet let herself in and slumped down on the Sofa, these long days were killing her. She was working 16 hour days thanks to this case, although the overtime was nice, she barely saw her apartment. The changes that had taken place there were astounding though. Her bedroom was covered in girls clothes, her few items of male clothing were at the back of a wardrobe somewhere, she wasn’t even sure anymore. Little touches had crept around the place from her life as a working woman, The makeup in the bathroom, the coats on the rack by the door, her handbag on the kitchen counter, the magazines all over the coffee table. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to give this up…

Slipping into her room, she unbuttoned her blouse and let it slip from her shoulders as she padded through to the bathroom to do her business. Returning, she added her skirt and hose to the pile on her bed and slipped into a pastel pink cotton cami and a pair of grey sweatpants. Being out of the restrictive clothing felt nice. Slumping down on her sofa she began to unwind in front of the TV.

The knock at her door roused her from her light slumber. Stretching, she looked at the clock, it was 10 pm… she must have dozed off almost immediately. The second knock roused her to her feet, remembering her purpose.

Peering through the spy hole, she saw Tony Dinozzo stood outside the door. “Come on probie, let me in.” he called. “I’m not in a mood to huff and puff.” he called, holding a six pack up to the spy hole, “I come bearing gifts.” He sang playfully.

Juliet shrugged and opened the door. And before she could reply, Tony had walked straight in plopping the beer into her hands.

“You need some guy time Probie.” He said as way of greeting, “I bring beer, ordered pizza, and there’s football on.” He grinned

The grin fell from his face almost immediately as his eyes drifted from Juliet’s shocked expression to the cleavage peeking from the top of her camisole, just above the beer she was holding.

“Are those real?” He asked slowly, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Why are you still dressed like a chick dude?”

“I ah, I…” Juliet mumbled incoherently. “Because I like it.” She sighed heavily. “Ok?” she asked, gaining confidence. “I like being like this, It makes me happy, and I feel more like a god damn human being than some mindless robot living someone else’s life. For the first time in my life I’m happy, and I don’t need any shit from you for it.” She snapped.

Tony stood speechless, gawping at Juliet. “But you’re a guy….” He replied slowly. “You’re…. You have tits… are they fake?” he asked.

Juliet shook her head. “All mine.” She replied, “And I’m not a guy.” She asserted. “I may have been born one, but I’m not, ok?” Tony looked confused for a moment before nodding his head.

Sighing, Juliet shoved the beers into Tony’s hands before pulling one from the pack and pulling the ring pull on the can. “I think I need one of these before I try and explain any more.” She sighed.

Tony followed her mechanically towards the sitting room and stood holding the beer while Juliet slumped down onto one of the sofas. “You don’t have to stand there you know.” She grinned weakly at her colleague. “I don’t bite just because I have breasts.”

“This is a bit…. Different.” Tony admitted sheepishly his usual cockiness notably absent as he pushed aside an issue of Cosmo to set the beer on the coffee table. “You seem so…. Normal…” he shrugged gesturing with his hands and raising his eyebrows. “I mean I’ve really only known you as a girl, but I know you’re a guy… it’s sort of confusing,” he admitted.

Juliet sipped her beer for a moment without replying. Placing it down, she looked at Agent Dinozzo for a second then spoke slowly:

“Why don’t we pretend I’m not? Never was, never will be? The idea of me being a guy makes us both uncomfortable, I feel exactly like you…. So lets both pretend I was born Juliet, and start over?”

Tony looked at her for a moment, as if digesting her words; “You don’t like this? Why do it?”

“Because I didn’t choose this…” She sighed, “I was born this way, I had no choice in this matter ever… Anyway no guy would want to be a girl…. But I never was one ok?… does that make sense?”

Dinozzo cocked his head to one side and stared at her as if thinking. “Yeah, that does actually.” He answered with a slight grin.

“So you’re just my colleague Agent Juliet Samson, and we are just hanging out in your apartment, having a guys, ah, a night in….” he chuckled. “Should I be in here without having bought you dinner first?” he replied grinning cheekily.

“I guess I can make an exception since you at least bought me a drink.” She smiled broadly, raising the can to Tony. “Anyway,” she giggled, “Its not like I don’t enjoy staying in with friends to watch a game. Since when was football appreciation only guy thing?” She laughed with mock indignation.

The two chatted and drank, and ate Pizza while the game played out, but their discussion had made the game seem mundane. Juliet felt Tony was less of an asshole, and that he genuinely could learn to think of her as a girl. And he wasn’t exactly a bad guy when he opened his mouth… not all the time… The pizza and beer dried up, and the party wound down. Around midnight, Tony left Juliet to her bed. There was an awkward moment at the door, but she took the incentive and hugged him goodbye. After a while, the statue hugged her back, and left. It had been a strange but nice evening, and it had added another ally to her fold; better than facing the legal side of things alone…. But that was a while to come she reasoned. For now, there was a job to do.

Coffee in hand, Juliet rode the elevator into the office the next morning with a new vigour. Her heart to heart with Tony had cured her of her only real worry with regards to the team; being able to just fit in. The doors rolled open and she stepped out into the squad room. Another day, another dollar…

“Sir, I want to run a profile on the bartender at Sally’s….” Juliet announced hesitantly as she passed Gibbs’ desk. The Senior agent looked up from the report he was reading, and nodded at her before continuing. She was curious that he didn’t seem to lead her like the other Probies in her class experienced, The man seemed to watch her make her own headway and let her find dead ends and progress. Weather he agreed with her idea or not, she knew he would let her explore it. Maybe he already had this wrapped up? Slipping into her desk Juliet searched Employment tax records for Sally’s bar. Finding the information she wanted, she scanned the list for a Marie.

Finding the right name, she ran the name through every database she could find, credit, tax, education, criminal, DMV to find a picture of the woman that had caught her attention the night before.

Slowly, a picture built up, and it was not what Juliet had wanted. The woman had been married 5 years previously, and divorced 8 months ago, about a month before the first deaths. They had divorced on the grounds of adultery. It didn’t get more specific.

Pushing back her chair, Juliet sighed and ran her hands through her hair. This was leading somewhere, but she had run into another brick wall…

“Ah, Si… Gibbs?” she asked, approaching her boss’s desk. “Is there any way to find a reason for a divorce that isn’t stated without questioning the subject?”

“Ask the attorney. And if they don’t play ball, ask them with a warrant.” He muttered, without looking up from a document he was reading.

Juliet looked over at Ziva and raised her eyebrows. The Israeli had been watching the exchange and just shrugged before reaching for her handbag and grabbing her coat.

“What are you thinking?” Ziva asked as they pulled out of the Navy yard’s main gate.

“I don’t know.” Juliet murmured softly as she waited for a gap in the lunchtime traffic. “But I’m doing what Gibbs said… following my gut.”

Ziva nodded to herself before looking sideways at Juliet, “What is your gut telling you?” she enquired.

“That Marie Svenson left her husband for some reason related to these victims, my gut tells me, he had an affair with a young transgender woman, Marie associates all young transwomen with her husbands lover, and that has built up into what is now, a killing compulsion.. I’m not a physiological expert, but jealousy seems to fit here… and the way she said to me last night that I brought male attention on myself, on purpose, that I was actively seducing seemed to be a slip in her mask… the subject is very tender to her. I want to see if I can get anything off the attorney that filed the case as to why, or what caused it, see if it confirms my suspicions.”

She sighed. “This seems too logical to be this easy…. But I wan t to try.” She admitted, looking over at Ziva with a worried expression. “I really want to stay with you guys, if I solve this, Gibbs might let me stay.” She whispered softly.

Pulling into the parking lot outside the office building in downtown Norfolk, The two Agents made their way into the building and approached the front desk.

“Can I help you ladies?” beamed the pretty receptionist. “We are with NCIS, federal agents.” Ziva began, flashing her badge. “We were wondering if we could speak with one of your attorneys… a Mr Frank Gulf.”

The receptionist looked shocked for a moment, then beamed broadly in an attempt to recover and pressed an intercom button on her desk.

‘Yes?’

“Mr Gulf sir, I have two federal agents here that wish to speak with you, should I send them straight up?” she bubbled.
‘Sure, send them up’ came the slightly tinny reply.

“12th floor, suite 219.” Beamed the receptionist, gesturing towards the elevator.

Ziva followed Juliet into the glistening glass and panelled cube and the two began their climb towards the 12th floor.

“I wonder if secretaries get special effervescence training?” Muttered Juliet.

Ziva chuckled.

Arriving at the 12th floor, the two agents made their way though the building to suite 219. Entering a waiting room, Ziva approached the secretary and coughed to get the woman’s attention, as she was consumed by the dictation she was typing up.

“Officer David, and Agent Samson, we are here to see Mr Gulf?” she asked politely.

“Oh he said to go straight in.” Smiled the woman, returning to her work.

Knocking on the door, Ziva and Juliet entered the office beyond, and approached the desk situated before a beautiful view out over the river.

“Hello ladies, how can I help the federal government today?” Grinned Mr Gulf, rising to shake the agents’ hands.

Looking at Ziva for permission, Juliet cut straight to the point. “We are here about a case of yours, 8 months ago, February 18th, a Woman named Marie Svenson?”

Mr Gulf looked thoughtful for a moment, before grinning broadly, “Yes, I remember the case, Divorce… But I’m sure you brought me a warrant for anything not on public file?” beamed Mr Gulf with more teeth than a dental convention.

“I know.” Juliet sighed, lowering her head and looking at the man through her lashes. “We know the specifics of the case, we just wanted to corroborate Ms Svenson’s reason for the Divorce. We know it was Adultery, but can you tell us anything about Mr Anderson’s lover? That is the reason they split isn’t it? And of course, I don’t think Mr Anderson was your client, or his lover…” She smiled sweetly, brushing her hair out of her eyes, her hand hovering over her breast momentarily, her back slightly arched forwards.

“Quite true.” Grinned the lawyer leaning back in his chair, his eyes not leaving Juliet. “The guy was a bit of a strange one, Gay I guess. He was seeing a tranny… hot little thing. It kind of surprised me.” Chuckled Mr Gulf. “It was at the hearing, I remember he got a bit hot and heavy with it after the divorce was completed…. Guess it takes allsorts huh?”

“So it seems.” Juliet replied hotly. “Thank you for your time Mr Gulf.”

Ziva stood and made her way towards the door, and the two Agents began to leave.

“Wait, Agent Samson, you know… I could remember more over dinner maybe?” He smirked playfully.

“No thank you Mr Gulf, I don’t date bigots.” She replied, whipping her hair around as she swept out of the room leaving the attorney in a daze.

"Where did that come from?” Ziva asked as they were walking back to the car.

“I don’t know.” grinned Juliet. “I guess I just wanted to see if it worked, and I figured I had a supreme slimeball to test it on…”

“You learn fast little one.” Ziva Chuckled. “It seems your gut was correct. We may have another Gibbs on our hands soon…”

“Id like to think I have more hair and a better sense of style.” Grinned Juliet as she ducked into the driver’s seat.

“So what do we tell the Boss?” Juliet asked as she navigated the DC rush-hour traffic.

“Exactly what we know.” Ziva answered. “We tell him we have a suspect, Its likely that suspect will strike soon, and she has locked onto you as a potential target. You fit her profile, you have spoken with her, That puts you quite high on their list of potential victims. Especially since you are new… your innocence already angered this woman once, we test it again tonight, hopefully with more support.” Ziva concluded. “If nothing else, We will bring her in for questioning.”

Juliet felt truly worried for the first time since the case had begun. Tonight was her proving ground. Biting her lip, she forced her self to concentrate on the snarling traffic.

Gibbs put the phone down in the cradle on his desk and reached for his coffee cup. Empty… “Damn.” He sighed.

“Dinozzo.” He barked. “Get me a refill.” He called shaking the empty cup before throwing it in the trash. “And ask Duckie to come up here please.” He sighed as he walked out of the office, leaving a bemused Dinozzo behind.

As usual, Gibbs didn’t knock when he marched through the Director’s waiting room and straight into Director Vance’s office.

“Jethro,” Smiled Vance sarcastically. “You know we invented doors so that people could knock.”

Gibbs ignored the dig and glared at the director. “The Dead lieutenant case that blew up, we have a distinct possibility of it going down tonight. I want your permission to involve the FBI and HRT.”

“To the point as usual.” Smiled Vance rocking back on his leather chair. “I’ll call the director, grease some wheels, Isn’t HRT a bit excessive for one person? Surely force is the FBI’s to apply where appropriate… surely we should….”

“No.” Gibbs cut him off with a growl. “I have my probationary agent undercover. They are the perfect victim for this character, I’m not taking chances with a member of my team. You took away Mcgee, you owe me Leon….”

Director Vance sighed. “Fine Jethro, just don’t come complaining to me when you have whichever agent they send nipping at your heels again over Jurisdictional control.”

Before the sentence had finished, Gibbs had left. As he left the office, past the secretary that had given up trying to stop him many months ago, he pulled out his cell and hit the speed dial for Special Agent Tobias Fornell.

“Tobias. I need a favour.” Gibbs asked on hearing the phone pick up.

“Hello to you too Jethro.”

“I need to you pick up a case from your agencies end, My team has been running it for the past few weeks.”

“Ah,” chuckled Fornell “Who’s toes have you been pissing on this time?”

“Yours,” And you are less likely to throw a punch over it Tobias.”

Agent Fornell sighed. “Fine, what is it?”

Juliet Unlocked the door to her apartment and let herself and Ziva in. There was no point heading back to the office just to come back. Ziva had rung Agent Gibbs and hopefully things were happening at his end.

“Do we have any earwigs?” Juliet called as she entered her bedroom and began to undress. “I’d really like some sort of communication with everyone else tonight.”

“I will ask Gibbs To bring some when they come down.” Ziva replied from the sitting room. “They are mobilising back at headquarters.”

Juliet decided vulnerable was the order of play tonight… Anything to encourage Marie Svenson to act… if they were right. Finding the perfect pale blue dress, she laid it on the bed, before selecting some opaque hose, she set about changing her underwear. It was a silly idea, but she figured that if she were to be killed tonight, it would most likely happen in dirty clothes…. Plus she couldn’t bear the thought of being found dead in mismatched undies… Sods law said clean matching underwear was most likely to keep her alive.

Pulling the hose up her legs, she shimmied into the dress. It was a silk sheath dress with thin spaghetti straps, and a low back, A party going affair… The material was printed with Chinese characters and koi. On any other night, she might have appreciated the beauty of the garment, but tonight however, all she needed to do was fit the perfect victim profile. Any buttons she could push wouldn’t hurt… Sitting down at her vanity, she applied her makeup and tousled her hair. Satisfied with her appearance, she collected a white knit jacket from her wardrobe, and transferring the contents of her bag to something more appropriate for a night out. Juliet picked up her sig sauer off the bed. Well there really wasn’t space in the dress…. No… she wouldn’t carry it, it would blow her cover and would be too difficult to hide easily. God men had it easy…

Returning the firearm to its holster, she slipped it into the desk draw and made her way back into the lounge where Ziva was sat reading a magazine on her couch.

“Think this looks ok?” she asked Ziva, doing a little spin for her Colleague’s benefit.

“It looks… perfect.” The woman nodded. “You are not carrying.” She observed.

“How did you know it wasn’t in my bag?” Juliet asked astounded.

“The weight was not dragging it down, you learn these things….” She chuckled. “Its probably best anyway, but I know some agents who would feel naked without a firearm. Take this.” She offered, slipping the tiny snubnosed revolver from her ankle holster.
“Put this in your bag, Pray you do not have to thank me for it.” She shrugged, handing the pistol to Juliet.

The two left Juliet’s apartment, and made their way down to the car.

“Are you sure you can do this?” Ziva asked.

Juliet shrugged, “I think so. Its just… well it’s the first time this all seamed real… you know?”

Ziva nodded and smiled, “I remember one of my first cases with NCIS. I was undercover with Tony, we were posing as married assassins.” She recalled. “The worst part was the waiting, Once things went… noisy, as it were, I knew what to do, it was my element. But the waiting I was not so good at… Even now, the waiting involved in undercover work is what gets to me most, you will do alright Motek, What is it you Americans do? Ah yes, I will buy you a drink when this is over, ok?” she grinned, patting Juliet on the back.

"So explain to me again why you felt it was a good idea not to inform the FBI about a serial murder case that was OUR jurisdiction?” Fornell asked, rubbing his temples. “Do you just like pissing off my director?”

Gibbs chuckled and sipped his coffee as they stood in the warehouse the FBI had commandeered two blocks from the bar. “You know as well as me that your guys would have trampled all over this one and written it off.”

“True.” Agent Fornell agreed, sipping his coffee. The two agents were stood watching the video feed from several cameras FBI agents had set up around the bar. Needless to say, the agency had been annoyed that they had been left out of the loop, but were in no place to dictate things as NCIS had the thing nearly wrapped up.

“So what’s the deal with your agent Jethro?” Fornell asked, “Is that really a guy? How did you get him to do it?”

Gibbs took a gulp of coffee and looked across the warehouse at Ziva fitting a microphone and earpiece to Agent Samson.

“The Jury is out.” Gibbs muttered.

Fornell glanced at his friend. “Pardon?”

“I assumed so when we got him, but I don’t think so anymore.” Gibbs replied.

“So he’s really a transsexual?” Fornell asked curiously. “you think doing this undercover work as one has got to him?”

“No.” Gibbs said. “I think she was a female before she joined NCIS, this just let her show it.”

“I don’t get that stuff.” Shrugged Fornell, I’m glad it’s your Agent, not mine, I don’t think I’d know where to begin.”

“I guess we will see once this ends.” replied Gibbs trashing his coffee cup and walking across the warehouse towards his team members.

“Ok, that will do it.” Ziva said, taping the mike to the bottom of Juliet’s bra. “let me zip you back up.” She asked, turning the girl around to close her dress. Without a suitably private place, Ziva had managed to keep most of Juliet’s modesty intact as they fixed the wire in place.

“I guess I’d better get over there.” Juliet mumbled quietly, collecting her jacket and bag. “God I feel nervous.”

“You know this part sweetie.” Ziva soothed. “Just follow the book, you’ll have me, Tony, and Gibbs looking out for you… and those nice men from HRT in case things go apple shaped… no?”

“It’s pear shaped.” Tony replied, walking over. “How can you be worried with me and the Israeli terrier watching out for you?”

“ruff.” Ziva barked, making Juliet smile for the first time since they arrived in Norfolk.

“Are you ready?” Gibbs asked, appearing from nowhere.

“Yes sir.” Juliet mumbled.

“I’ll let that slide tonight.” Gibbs replied. “You two get in position.” He said, looking at Ziva and Tony. Both of the agents scurried off and left Gibbs with Juliet. Walking towards the door of the warehouse, and her car, Juliet put her hand on the door handle only to have Gibbs place his hand on hers.

“Are you ok?” he asked. This was not the man she had gotten to know over the last few weeks… and not his reputation…
Juliet smiled weakly. “I guess.” She sighed. “Just nerves. I want to do this right.”

“Well either way this goes down. You’re on my team now, for good.” Gibbs replied quietly. “So forget trying to impress me, just do your job, and make it back ok?

Juliet nodded. “I will si… boss.”

Gibbs chuckled and patted her on the shoulder. “Get out of here before I reconsider things.”

Juliet slipped into the car seat. She sat for a moment, her hands griping the wheel before she had the nerve to start the car and pull out of the lot.

Circling around, she travelled Northwards before turning back and approaching the bar from her usual direction. Pulling into the lot, she turned off the engine and stepped out of the car before she could give herself reason not to. The chilly night air gripped at her and she pulled her jacket around herself more tightly.

The door to the bar seemed like it was glowing red hot when she reached out for it, mentally slapping herself, she pulled the door open and stepped into the warm environment of the bar. The music and chatter assaulted her ears as she stepped through the foyer and into the bar proper.

There was a different woman working the bar when she approached. A jolt of fear made Juliet wonder if this had been for nothing.

“What can I get you?” grinned the bargirl.

“Just a coke please.” Juliet mumbled. “God is cold out there.”

“Uhuh,” muttered the bargirl passing her the drink. “You GGs never seem to wear enough.” She chuckled.

“GG?” Juliet asked curiously.

“Genetic girls honey.” Smiled the bargirl. “We transwomen don’t have to wear next to nothing to attract men that aint interested.” She chuckled.

Juliet let it slide, she was not really sure she wanted to correct the woman. “Is the meeting still in back?” she asked. “Uhuh.” Replied the bargirl giving Juliet a curious look, then shaking her head and returning to some glasses that needed washing.

Juliet approached the meeting room and pushed the door open without the hesitancy she had the first time, she might as well get it over…

The meeting progressed with an unhealthy tedium for Juliet. Any other night, she might have been interested in the topics at hand. But for the sake of the wire, and god knows who was listening, she kept it to the point and vague. After what seemed like an eternity, the meeting came to an end and Juliet joined the other women for a drink. She waited for as long as possible, but there was no sign of Marie Svenson anywhere. Perhaps they had messed up? Or she had been spooked by Juliet? What if she had found out who she really was? Shrugging on her jacket, she made her excuses, and walked to the door. Taking a last look at the bar, she slipped out into the night. With a sigh, Juliet slipped her phone from her bag and flipped down the list for Gibbs number as she walked across the lot to her car.

Out of nowhere, a hand smacked the phone from her palm and pushed her into the car opposite. Winded, Juliet looked around to catch sight of her attacker. Marie Svenson was stood between her and the bar, wearing a bulky hooded jacket, and jeans.

“You freaks don’t know what’s good for you.” She growled. “you need locking up in mental hospitals where you can get treated for your freak disease and queerness…” she spat. “You’re all the same, you’re home wrecking pretty little freaks.” She hissed lunging at Juliet with what appeared to be a flip knife.

Juliet stumbled back, losing her balance and falling to the asphalt. Marie came forwards, but the angle was wrong and as she stooped to stab Juliet, she kicked her feet up, launching Marie over her into a patch of weeds beside the lot.

“Help!” Juliet screamed into the microphone between her breasts. “Help me for god’s sake. She’s trying to kill me.”

“Oh that wont help you freak.” Marie growled regaining her feet. Juliet slipped her hand between her breasts and pulled out the snub-nosed revolver Ziva had secreted between the cups.

Raising the revolver towards Marie she regained some composure. “Drop the weapon, Federal agent.” She shouted.

“Oh bull shit honey, you don’t know how often I heard that line…” Marie sneered reaching into her jacket and extracting a pistol. “Pity, I wanted to make this look like a mugging, but you force my hand sweetie. I bet its not even loaded.” She chuckled aiming at Juliet.

“Maybe not, but this is.” Hissed Ziva slipping out of the darkness and pressing her Sig to the back of Marie’s head. “Drop the weapon. And she is a federal agent.”

Marie dropped the weapon in surprise and glared accusingly at Juliet. “Fucking freak.” She spat before Ziva buried her head in the hood of a parked car and cuffed her…

Gibbs walked over to Juliet, who was sat in the open door of an FBI suburban.

“Good work Samson.” He said, handing her a cup of coffee. Juliet cupped the warm liquid between her hands and gave Gibbs a smile in thanks. “I thought she wasn’t going to be there boss, I let my guard down.” She admitted.

“Doesn’t matter.” Gibbs shrugged. “We got her, and you wont do it again.” He stated flatly, knowing full well that the experience would prevent her ever doing the same again.

“What now?” she asked, looking up at Gibbs. “Our job is done. The FBI want this one, and im all too happy to let them have the paperwork.” He admitted. “Why don’t you get changed out of those clothes and we can get back to the office?” Gibbs probed.

The horrified look on Juliet’s face was all he needed to see. “I didn’t think so he chuckled walking off.

“What now boss?” Tony called as he and Ziva walked over to join the two by the truck.

“Why don’t we find a bar? Go get a drink?” Gibbs asked innocently.

Tony, Juliet and Ziva groaned theatrically and the 4 burst out laughing.

Note from the Author:Thanks for waiting guys, i had some problems but here it is as (re)promised! i hope you like it... i MAY have plans to do more episodes... it depends on how much you like this conclusion... thanks
Alyssa

Oh PS: With plot assistance from Otterylexa, CEO and Chief Pixie of Evil muses inc. She has been invaluable ironing out plot fubar's on the BCTS chatroom! come visit us!

Nightstalkers

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Organizational:

Title Page

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Other Keywords:

Vampires

Taxonomy upgrade extras:

Nightstalkers

by Alyssa Plant

Nightstalkers - The Beginning

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Contests:

All Souls Day 2008 Story Contest

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

Other Keywords:

Vampires

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Nightstalkers
Born to save a world she never knew existed...

The heavy bass was thumping; Danny found it hard to follow the conversation at their table in the club just off campus. It might have helped if his mind had been in it. As he slowly sipped his beer, he couldn’t quite focus on his friends and their discussion of some trivial team or sport. All he could focus on was what his parents would do when they found out he had failed the year at college.

Most were out celebrating this evening, but an unfortunate few had failed to meet the grade, and Danny was drowning his sorrows till he had the courage to confront his mother and father with the news.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried… the break-up with Mary… the constant tiredness… an empty feeling inside that he couldn’t quite place. College was the last thing he needed right now…

“Another beer man?”

Danny snapped out of his lamentation to see Mike starting questioningly at him across the table, half out of his seat.

“Uh, sure.” Danny shrugged dismissively. As Mike made his way through the crowd towards the bar, Danny’s eyes were drawn to three girls by the edge of the dance floor.

They seemed so totally out of place here, in this student dive. The three were goddesses…. Dark, gothic, goddesses…

As if she had sensed Danny’s eyes, the tall raven haired beauty in the centre of the trio locked eyes with him and smiled.

Danny didn’t quite know how to respond, Just as he found the courage in him to smile back, his view of the trio was blocked by Mike returning with a handful of beer bottles.

“Here man.” He yelled over the thud of the music handing Danny a bottle.

“Mike you see those three behind you? Near the floor?” Danny yelled back, gesturing in the direction of the trio.

Mike swivelled around to look, before flashing a grin at Danny and disappearing towards the trio.

A little voice inside Danny told him that this night was going to be interesting.

Danny absentmindedly sipped his beer as he watched Mike reach the trio, and begin a very careful, nuclear bomb he called flirting.
He didn’t get slapped, and they didn’t leave, instead, mike returned across the club with the 3 girls. Danny was surprised that mike had the necessary charisma to pull off such a miracle, but made a mental note to thank the man anyway.

“Hi, I’m Vanessa.” smiled the goddess with the slightest hint of a Parisian accent. Looking at her, Danny found it hard to look away. The girl was beautiful, way out of his league.
“Ah, Danny.” He stumbled
Danny noticed her two friends getting acquainted with his friends and slid up on the sofa to make room for Vanessa to sit.

“You got to college here then?” he yelled over the beat.

Vanessa shook her head, her rod straight black hair shimmering as it moved. “I’m sort of new in town.” She shouted back. “Well, all three of us are.”

“We can show you girls the best sights.” Yelled Tony grabbing his crotch.

“Ignore him.” Danny yelled at Vanessa while kicking Tony under the table. “He left his manners back in the dorm tonight.”

Vanessa simply smiled at Danny and ran her fingers along his forearm gently.

Danny began to wonder what he was in store for that evening...

“Hey, you girls want to come back to ours for a nightcap?” asked Mike as he wrapped his arm around the waist of a dreadlocked blonde.

“Sounds good to me…” Vanessa smiled looking at Danny.

The group left the club, and Danny was transfixed by Vanessa’s beauty.

Her dark straight hair cascaded over her shoulders liked liquid silk. Her pale complexion highlighted her fine delicate features. The girl was a goddess… She couldn’t have been more than 22, but she carried herself like no other girl Danny knew… she had a worldly wisdom and grace that surpassed her nubile form.

Perhaps there was a god after all….

As the group walked slowly back through the campus grounds, Danny and Vanessa chatted about themselves now they could be heard bellow a shout. She had grown up in a small town south of Paris, and her parents had moved to the states for work.

She was curiously vague about her age and work, just that she was not a student. Danny felt too lucky to press further at this time.

As the group reached their dorm, the couples made their way towards the elevator. As they squeezed into the metal box, Danny felt Vanessa pressed against him, her face upturned and her dark lips smiling at him. Reaching down he pressed his lips against hers in a kiss that almost stopped his heart.
As they broke the kiss, Vanessa snaked her arms around Danny’s waist and purred. “How about we forget that drink?” she whispered sultrily.

Danny couldn’t agree fast enough.

Somehow, Danny managed to make it from the elevator to his room, and let them in with his lips locked to Vanessa’s.

Collapsing onto his bed, the two necked and made out for what seemed like an eternity. Danny was in the process of working out Vanessa’s bra catch when a scream echoed down the corridor.

“What the fuck was that?” he asked with a worried expression.

“Nothing baby, probably just some drunk students.” Vanessa purred before slipping down Danny’s body towards his pants.

Any thoughts he had of pursuing the source of the scream was quickly forgotten as Vanessa sent him to cloud 9.

As Vanessa slid back up, she nibbled her way up his torso to his neck.

“You’re amazing… AAAAHHHHH,” Danny gasped as a searing pain ripped through his shoulder and neck.
The last thing Danny remembered was a warm wet feeling and Vanessa’s bloody lips mashed against his.

Wait bloody?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The world swam back into focus slowly; Danny had a raging hangover. Rolling over in bed Danny tried to cover his head with a pillow.

For some reason, it was different to usual.

Pushing himself up in bed Danny looked down to see what he had been lying on that hurt his chest… what he found made him recoil in shock. Scrambling backwards he fell off the end of the bed and wound up flat on his back staring up at the ceiling.

Gingerly, he lifted an arm to touch the swellings on his chest. They looked like breasts… They felt like breasts… why the fuck did he have breasts?

Danny let his head flop back to the floor and let out a sigh, a very high pitched feminine sounding sigh. This had to be some funky dream… Last night with that girl Vanessa had been interesting… we must still be asleep he thought hopefully.

“You’re not asleep little one.” Purred Vanessa from the opposite corner of the room where she sat on her haunches with her head cocked to one side and a curious grin on her lips.

“What?” Danny asked dumbly, suddenly shocked at how high his voice was.

“This was certainly interesting.” Smiled Vanessa. “I never expected this.”

“What have you done to me?” croaked Danny quietly.

“Well…” began Vanessa, “Drink this, then we will talk baby.” She purred getting to her feet with catlike grace before handing a mug to Danny.

Carefully he took the mug before sniffing sceptically. “What is it?” he asked eyeing the dark liquid suspiciously.

“Just a special hangover cure I use, trust me, it will make you feel better.” Smiled Vanessa stroking Danny’s bare knee.

Shrugging, Danny tipped the mug back and gulped some of the liquid down.

As the first drops hit his tongue, he knew what it was. The liquid had a coppery taste that was all too familiar, yet at the same time, he couldn’t quite stop himself drinking it down.

Danny emptied the mug in one go before setting it down beside him.

“Why the hell did you make me drink blood?” he asked Vanessa with uncertainty not at her motives, but at his own desire to down the liquid.

“Because I knew it would make you feel better… you need it now.” The goddess smiled knowingly.

“You make it sound like I’m some sort of vampire?” Danny laughed. The smirk on Vanessa’s dark lips stopped him dead.

“You have got to be kidding….” He began, “And why the hell am I like this?” he squeaked gesturing at his body. “I have boobs like a girl.” He whispered mournfully.

“Oh I’m quite serious.” Vanessa answered sternly as if talking to a petulant child. “But the being female part sort of confused me too.”

Danny gawped, and started to really look at his body as he sat on the bed. She was right. “What he fuck?” he whispered almost to himself.

“Look, when I turned you, my DNA blended with yours, adding my vampirism gene to your DNA and rebuilding you from scratch. Normally, it rebuilds a person to their peak… to the full potential of their DNA… I mean… you never see fat or ugly vampires do you?” she smirked.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Danny smirked, “I don’t see any at all! You have got to be fucking kidding!”

Vanessa shook her head slowly. “No honey, I’m not. Welcome to the real world.”

A cold sweat enveloped Danny. “So why am I… wait, I’m a girl?”

Vanessa looked Danny up and down. “Yeah, If I had to put money on it, id say so.”

“I’ve got to be dreaming.” Danny sighed hugging his knees to his chest.

“The only way I can think this might happen, is if you had female dna? shrugged Vanessa.

“HOW? screamed Danny. “I’m… I was a man!”

“Look honey. We need to get you up and dressed, you can’t sit around here nude all day.”

Nodding silently, Danny accepted the offered hand and pulled himself, or herself? to his feet.

Walking over to his mirror, Danny stood before the glass staring at his reflection. But try as he might, he could think of himself as a he anymore. There was no trace of male in what he saw.

The first thing his eyes noticed, was his breasts…. Or her breasts? They appeared firm and prominent. The curve of his waist, the swell of his hips, and obvious lack of penis and balls between his legs made him feel momentarily sad.

Everything was different… from the long shapely legs ending in delicate feet to his thin long small fingers and delicate features. Danny’s hair was Blonde as before, but now hung down past his shoulders in a gentle wave.

“I’m a girl” Danny croaked.

As she touched her face, she withdrew her fingers as if burned. It was all too much for her. This was no dream. If it had been a dream, he would be fucking this body, not being it.

Slumping down onto the end of her bed, she began to cry.

Vanessa who had remained silent during the whole process of realisation silently wrapped a blanket around Danny’s shoulders and hugged her while she cried.

Unlike all the men she had turned, Danny was different. His reaction to the turning was most curious. Something she would have to run by Geistler… Perhaps the prophecy was true? Perhaps he was the one?

All she knew now, was she had a frightened girl to look after and tutor.

If learning the world wasn’t as it seemed wasn’t bad enough, Danny would have to learn how to be herself too…

In truth, she was sorry she had needed to turn him. She wouldn’t wish what was to come on anyone…

Chapter 2 — Bedtime stories

Danny sat on the bed in his room wearing a tee-shirt that could have been a nightgown to her new form.

“Tell me about the world please?” she asked looking at Vanessa. “Right now, I feel like I don’t even know which way is up.”

The dark goddess looked ruffled. Her sultry exterior was cracked. Danny could see a very different woman inside.

“Just explain things to me please.” She pleaded. Danny sighed and stared out into space before balling up some invisible courage and opening her lips, “I want to… but I don’t.. I… can’t blame you for this.”

Vanessa looked at Danny, her eyes searching for any sign that the words were a lie.

“I’m sorry.” She said quietly. “I can see how much this has done to you, I never expected this… the others I turned learned about the world as it is, and lived their new lives, but I’ve broken yours, I feel so responsible.”

Danny looked at Vanessa; he felt no lust for her, no desire, just, a woman; another woman now… the one person he could talk to, she almost seemed a parent to him now…

“Please, I need someone to guide me… teach me what to do…I feel like a little kid…”

“I’ll talk to the council.” Vanessa resolved. “If they agree, and due to the circumstances, I think they will, I’d like to adopt you… you need someone… a mother its pretty much the role I would have by any other name…”

“But I already have one?” Danny asked curiously.

“Honey, do you think you can ever live that life again?

Danny looked dejected. It didn’t hurt as much as he expected it to. “But you’re the same age as me?” seemed to be the only opposition she could form to the idea.

Vanessa shook her head. “I’m going to be 322 in November.” She smiled.

“Huh?…. I think you had better start explaining this whole reality thing to me... Danny replied with resignation. “And yes, somehow, I dunno, I think I’d like that.”

Vanessa cocked her head at Danny, “Like what?”

“To be your… um, daughter?” Danny mumbled awkwardly. “I guess I have to accept a few changes.” As weird as it felt to be saying it, It almost felt comforting to Danny, This was weird… Why was he so accepting of this fate? Was it something else that changed?

Vanessa leaned forwards and kissed Danny on the forehead. “First thing, you need a new name. As I never expected to be a mother thanks to this… way we are… I’d be so happy if you would let me pick my child’s name?” she asked cautiously.

“I’d like that.” smiled Danny.

“Nataliya.” She announced smiling; “It was my mother’s name, my real mother. We can call you Natalie for simplicity.”

Natalie smiled, she liked the name, it was still an internal struggle for her to accept that she was now a girl, but the name now seemed to add some final reality to it. In a way, the name allowed her to feel at home in a role she wasn’t used to. A tiny part of her mind felt detached now. She wasn’t Danny the girl, she was a girl called Nataliya… not herself or himself.

“So, tell me about life then mother.” smirked Natalie.

“Come here and I’ll tell you.” Vanessa whispered affectionately opening her arms to her new daughter. Natalie looked hesitant for a moment before allowing herself to lean into her Vanessa’s side.

“Vampires exist.” She began, “Many centuries ago, humanity split, Homo sapiens grew on as normal, but Homo nocturnus branched off. The first was similar to a condition still present in Homo sapiens today. A deficiency in the blood caused them to need to drink blood for the haemoglobin they required to bond and carry oxygen and nutrients around the body. As time went by, and the first reproduced, this trait was carried over, somewhere along the line, homo nocturnus evolved; many of the old myths are somewhat true. Silver is poisonous to us, the same way arsenic and cyanide are poisonous to Homo sapiens. Crosses are utterly folklore…” she smirked lifting a chain tipped with a gold cross from her cleavage.

“Garlic is nasty, vampire or not, but harmless none the less… Mirrors, great myth used in vampire movies and books, utterly untrue. I mean, it defies logic that something could be present but not reflect?” she giggled. “There is an element of truth to the superhuman strength stories, we can run faster, longer, jump higher, and survive a lot more than a human, but you are not invulnerable, a high enough fall will kill you, and enough bullets in the right place will probably kill you… Sunlight, the biggest myth of all, while it does not turn one to ash as most depictions show, but our skin contains no pigment, so it burns you really badly if you are in direct sunlight for more than a few moments, exposure over an hour will kill you.” Vanessa explained as she stroked Natalie’s hair softly.

“So what about my teeth?” Natalie asked curiously as she touched her pronounced canines. “Were they just another evolution that made feeding easier?”

Vanessa nodded. “I’m not sure when that happened, but it certainly makes piercing skin easier.”

“What about turning? How does that work?” Natalie pressed, her curiosity growing.

“When I feed on someone, and I allow them to drink my blood, that passes the vampire gene in to their blood stream, it replicates and regenerates as you know. As for your case my child, we will have to talk to one of the council elders who knows the most about the process, Elder Geistler.”

“I fed on you?” Natalie asked wide eyed sitting up away from Vanessa. “When? I don’t remember?”

Vanessa nodded. “You were lost in the heat of passion, you probably don’t remember.” She mumbled almost looking sheepish.

Natalie giggled, “My last girlfriend liked it when I was rough, sorry.”

Vanessa smirked, before continuing with her story.

“The society is a mirror of humanity in a way. We have the high council, made up of the oldest and wisest of our species, they rule benevolently, doing what is best to maintain the survival of the species, and harmony with human kind. There are quotas for killing, and most feeding requires the victim left alive and unaware of what happened to them. Turnings are rarer still. These days, nothing more than for special cases, such as yourself.”

“What do you mean?” Natalie asked sitting up and looking into Vanessa’s eyes, “What is so special about me?”

“You are the one that was written about in early vampire lore. Your name, where we would find you, it was said that once turned, you would lead us to victory, and save us from a war of destruction. It’s a heavy weight I know my dear, but it is your destiny.”

Natalie was stunned. She was supposed to save a species she never knew about until today. “From who?” she blurted out, although the answer was trivial, any opponent would eat her alive.

Vanessa looked worried. “In the mid 1300s, a sect broke away from the vampire race, they had no regard for our laws, and our way of life, over time, they evolved too…” she trailed off.

“What did they become?” Natalie asked, without wanting to know the answer.

“Our predators.” Replied Vanessa in a half whisper. “They feed on vampires and they cannot be stopped till you came. You’re blood holds the key to stopping these nightmare creatures.”

Natalie was stunned, she wasn’t sure what to think or how to comprehend that she would be the end of a centuries old conflict between equally nightmarish creatures in her view, regardless of the fact that she now belonged to one of those species.

“I think that’s enough for one day.” sighed Vanessa. “There is such thing as information overload my dear.”

Natalie nodded mutely.

“Perhaps we should work on getting you dressed so I don’t have to take you home naked later?”

“I don’t have any clothes that will fit…” Natalie began plucking at the tee-shirt she wore.

“I’ll deal with that.” smiled Vanessa, “I want you to go take a shower. By the time you return, ill have something sorted my dear.”

Not quite sure as to how she would accomplish that, Natalie followed orders and made her way blindly into the bathroom.

Sliding the lock on the door, she stripped the tee-shirt over her head. That had once been tight on her, and it now reached almost to her knees.

Natalie studied her form as she stepped into the shower.

She ran her hands over her body. The breasts… her breasts felt strange, soft but firm, and touching the dark nipples made her feel funny in her tummy, it was more pleasurable than she had ever experienced before. Her body was hairless except for a small patch where her legs ended. That area was still strictly off mental limits. She might have accepted that she was female, but she was not touching it yet.

Her skin had a creamy whiteness to it, not ghostly, but untouched by the ravages of the sun. The texture of her skin was something else to Natalie’s mind. A softness she had never expected to feel on herself.
Turning the shower on, she slipped down to sit in the bottom of the shower and hugged her knees to her chest.

Closing her eyes she half wanted to wake up as Danny, but a part of her loved how she felt. A part felt at home.

As the hot water poured over her body, she plucked up the courage to confirm what she knew.

Slowly, she slipped a hand between her thighs and gently touched the folds that lay within.

She had a vagina. She had expected some shock, sadness, or sense of loss, but felt nothing, she felt normal… Withdrawing her hand, she clambered to her feet and began soaping herself and washing, this was too freaky to dwell on…

Stepping from the shower, she wrapped a towel around her waist before remembering and covering her breasts with the fluffy cotton.

Stepping from the bathroom, she made her way back into her room and sat on the edge of the bed to dry herself.

There was a knock at the door as she was rubbing her hair with the towel.

After making sure she was covered, she slowly approached the door and opened it expecting Vanessa to have returned.

“Hey, is Danny in there cutie?” asked her classmate Paul while staring at her chest.

‘I wonder if Vanessa, well mom would mind if I just killed one insignificant human?’ she thought to herself.

Chapter 3 — The belly of the beast.

Slamming the door in the guy’s face, she slid down against the door. Why was she having these thoughts? Until today, she WAS an insignificant human…. What the hell was wrong with her mind?

Why had she accepted this so fast? Why had she given up on her life so quickly?

Walking over to the window, she pulled the curtains back to leave a gap of several inches. She ran her hand through the beam of sunlight.

She felt nothing but the warmth of the sun on her skin… Was this all a joke? As she lamented, she felt the warmth grow rapidly to an unbearable level before jerking her hand away.

Dragging the curtain closed, she rubbed her tender hand. Dreams don’t burn.

There was another knock on the door.

“GO AWAY.” She screamed in frustration; not even caring to get up.

“I’ll come back later then.” came Vanessa’s voice from the other side of the door.

Pulling herself to her feet, Nataliya unlocked the door and allowed Vanessa to enter. “sorry.” She mumbled. “A guy I used to know came looking for me and I felt really weird about seeing him…”

“Vanessa dumped a small bundle on the bed. “You will now, they are your food.”

“It feels weird.” complained Natalie making a face. “ I still feel like one of them but I want them…”

Nodding, Vanessa unravelled the bundle. “It’s curious how careless people are with their drying laundry here.” She smirked. “This might not be perfect, but it will have to do till we get you back ok?” she said, handing the clothing to Natalie.

Plucking a bra from the pile, Natalie handled it as if a poisonous reptile. “How does this work?” she asked looking at Vanessa with the underwear held gingerly between two fingers.

Chuckling softly, Vanessa took the bra from Natalie and ordered her to her feet.

Slowly, she showed the girl how to adjust and fit the item before making her do it herself.

The thing felt weird to Natalie. Constricting yet relieving. Awkwardness over, Natalie slipped the panties up her legs, followed by a pair of plain, unassuming jeans that fit much better than anything she would have had.
Finally a College sweater completed her outfit. Within a day of being female, Natalie looked exactly like 90% of her new peers.

Feeling her hair itching her neck, she flicked it out of the collar of the sweater and gave her head a shake.

The long hair was taking the most getting used to. In her entire life, Danny had never grown his hair past his ears. The blonde tresses that now hung down his back were annoying at best.

Sitting down on her bed, Natalie almost felt like she had returned to normal. Atleast she was getting used to the body, strange, considering it had only been a few hour since she had developed it.

A light knocking at the door caught her attention.

Vanessa opened the door, revealing her two friends from the night before; the dreadlocked blonde, and the Asian girl.

Both walked into the room with curious expressions on their faces, and eyes fixed on Natalie.

“I don’t believe it.” Breathed the Blonde. “You fucked up big time Ness.” She smirked with a heavy Russian accent.

“How’d she fuck up Anna?” piped up the Asian girl, “She was told to turn him, not what to expect when it happened.”

“He, um, she is here you know?” Natalie grumbled.

“Sorry.” mumbled Anna looking apologetic. “I’m Annastasya Romanov, and this…” she announced gesturing at the stony-faced Asian girl. “Is Jan Lee.”

Natalie couldn’t help herself, and giggled. “Romanov? You mean to tell me you are THE Annastasya Romanov that went missing after the revolution in 1920?”

Anna Nodded. “Da. But your history books have somewhat incorrect.”

Natalie raised her eyebrows questioningly as the Blonde eased herself into the vacant desk chair, elegantly crossing her slender legs.

“Untill the year 1920, the Russian motherland was run by the Romanov family. We were vampires; the strongest clan in all of mother Russia.” She smiled proudly. “When the revolution came, we were exposed and slaughtered, I barely escaped. The man History pegs as my mother’s lover and advisor, Rasputin was nothing of the sorts.” She scowled venomously. “He stole me away from the bloodbath to turn a Romanov to his disgusting half-breed.” She growled.

“No wonder he was so hard to Kill.” muttered Natalie with surprise. “Was anything in history as I knew it?”

“Most things.” piped up Jan. “A few notable exceptions, but nothing quite as dramatic as Anna’s favourite story. Most of us.” She emphasised. “Keep a relatively low profile.” She smirked glaring at Anna.

“Will you two knock it off for one moment?” growled Vanessa returning from the bathroom. “You’re scaring the newbie.”

“Excuse me, but I’m not exactly a little kid, no matter what has happened.” shouted Natalie. “I might not know what the fuck has happened to me, but I’m not stupid, and I’m not some baby you can talk over.” She seethed.

Natalie was pleased to see the three mistresses of the night recoil at her anger.

“You’re right,” Vanessa began. “This is just new to us too.” She whispered. “Look… I’m sorry I had to do this, but it had to be done sweetie… I just… It has just been something we talked about and theorised over for so long, being here, doing it now is so strange… I promise to include you from here forwards. You deserve that much.”

“Well you can start by getting us to the same page, what are we going to do now?” Natalie asked impatiently.

“We wait for nightfall, and then you get to enter our world properly.” announced Vanessa. “I’d take you now… but I don’t look good with a tan.” She smirked.

Later that evening, the group left the dorm and made their way out into the rapidly approaching dusk.

The cool evening air felt good on Natalie’s skin. She wasn’t sure what to expect as they made their way silently between the buildings and quads of the campus. All she had been told was that they would be ‘picked up’ at some prearranged spot that Vanessa had spoken of.

Rounding the edge of a tall windowless building, Natalie found the group heading out through the bleachers onto the football field.

Danny had never been much of a sports fan, and as such had never strayed down towards the Jockatropalis that was the athletics department.

Staring in fascination she looked around her as they stood on the moonlit turf; it was quiet, but the world was going on around them… Natalie watched the arcing spotlights on the students union building in the distance swing backwards and forwards in the sky… the floodlit Astroturf pitches with groups of students in the opposite direction; the Interstate roaring along three hundred yards away beyond that.

Vanessa stood away from her and the others talking on a phone. Where were they getting picked up? They were near no roads…. How would…..

Natalie’s train of thought was cut off by the sound of Vanessa’s phone snapping shut.

“They are here.” She stated flatly.

Before Natalie could open her lips, she became aware of a distant thud of rotors.
Helicopter? What sort of organisation did these people… ah, creatures, belong to?

The thud became a roar as a sleek black shape slipped from the darkness buffeting Natalie with its downwash.

The side door slid open and Natalie followed the others as they approached the belly of the beast.

As her hand wrapped around the metal step, she looked back.

Could she leave this behind?

Shaking her head, she clambered aboard and sat down.

As the helicopter lifted off, she stared out of the window at the retreating Stadium. The decision was long past…. She had made it the night before…

Nightstalkers - Chapter 1

Author:

Alyssa Plant

Audience Rating:

Restricted Audience (r)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

Other Keywords:

Vampires

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

As if she had sensed Danny’s eyes, the tall raven haired beauty in the centre of the trio locked eyes with him and smiled.
Danny didn’t quite know how to respond, Just as he found the courage in him to smile back, his view of the trio was blocked by Mike returning with a handful of beer bottles.
“Here man.” He yelled over the thud of the music handing Danny a bottle.
“Mike you see those three behind you? Near the floor?” Danny yelled back, gesturing in the direction of the trio.
Mike swivelled around to look, before flashing a grin at Danny and disappearing towards the trio.

A little voice inside Danny told him that this night was going to be interesting.

Nightstalkers
Chapter 1 - An old war, a new savior
by Alyssa Plant