I took a look at the literature again. There were so many pamphlets, so many catalogues, so many testimonials. One of us was convinced.

"I think we have to do it. We really have no choice."

She kept emphasizing we. Like this was a joint deal. I guess it was, but really this was going to sincerely fuck me over. How did we get into this? If you really think about it, it should have been shouldered by both her and me. We both faced responsibility which was why we were in this mess, but really this was my fault. I acknowledged that. I acknowledged that immediately. I'm an asshole and speak my mind and have a short temper which is a bad combination for a relationship that needed repairs.

"How much again?" I asked.

"Jesus, what is with you and money? Look, we have to do this - regardless of money."

"I GET IT. Jesus you're a fucking HARPY," I told her a little louder than I was hoping for. She looked hurt, a look that looked now all too familiar.

We both heard the faint crying from the other room.

"Nice one," she said and I could hear her utter the word 'jackass' as she started upstairs towards the smaller bedroom.

I took a look at the pamphlets again and could see the message that the company was trying to sell us on. The metrics were convincing. 75% of couples remain happily married without therapy, without counseling, and without lawyers. 89% of couples in our age with a child also had a successful metric with them, but who knows what they're not saying in the pamphlets.

How did it go?

I looked at my phone and saw that it was my mom. I ignored it. My mind and fingers went back to the literature and I flipped through it and just saw happy couple after happy couple holding hands, hugging, and there were some that were bride and groom. It was cute and we were desperate. The company was called 'From Head to Toe' and made promises that were just unrealistic.

Just 4 weeks.

Challenge your identity... Challenge yourself....

You will emerge.

The money was pretty significant but my wife had started a job and we were pretty financially secure. We both were educated and could do our jobs well and were rising in our careers pretty well. We were lucky to be healthy and seemed to have our shit together, but when the baby came, we just weren't prepared. We were perpetually tired, miserable, cranky... just like the baby right? But we were adults and were collapsing.

We had never sealed the deal and gotten married and we had discussed it before. But we wussed out because nobody wanted to be in a wedding with a pregnant bride and now we just had too much going on and were terrified about making the wrong decision. Was it more important to get married? Nope. We had to repair this broken foundation.

Once we started talking to our friends independently, we got consolation and sympathy. My friend Will and his wife Molly were the nicest and came over and helped out and lent a kind ear to hear from my end of the deal. If you were wondering whether I had done anything fundamentally wrong like had an affair or committed a crime or harassed anyone, the answer was no. I'm a moral person and I love my wife... on paper. But in reality, I was beginning to dislike her.

Look, this is going to sound nuts, but we've heard of something that seems to work miracles. You're going to have to take a leap of faith.

There is absolutely nothing that can repair this. I'm going to have to get an apartment and we're going to have to figure out custody... this is so bad.

It doesn't have to be.

A few days later, we signed up for an online assessment and then the literature appeared and then the deals came.

20% off if you sign up now!
10% additional off with your referral.
Investing one month may mean a lifetime of happiness.

After a huge fight, we decided to again consider it.

My wife came down after about 20 minutes of rocking I could hear on our comfortable rocking chair that we had splurged on.

"Is she ok?" I asked.

"Fine," my wife said. She waited and then said... "she's fine."

She looked at me with her red eyes that were damp from some tears and she seemed like she was going to start crying again. Not again.

"Ok, sign us up."

My wife looked up at me and there was a glimmer of reconciliation that appeared. And maybe even the hint of a smile. So far so good.

We were both filling out clipboards in the stupid bright office. Jesus, why did the office have to be so bright and cheerful? We had taken a few hours from our day at the office to visit the local office of 'From Head to Toe' which was like a 10 minute walk from our apartment. It was on a really nice street with a few boutiques and the place was nice, minimal, and way too fucking bright.

"Is this being filmed in High def or something?" I asked her.

"Just shut up and fill out the forms. I'm sure they'll address whatever minute imperfections you might have."

She looked me up and down.

"Hey, I hope you know what you've signed up for. I wonder who is going to make the bigger sacrifice? I asked rhetorically.

"ME" we both said simultaneously.

We both kind of laughed and shook our heads. Maybe it was her that was going to make the sacrifice... nope, it was me. Definitely me and I looked down at my feet. They looked fine. I had on some nice white sneakers that I spent some decent money on. My girlfriend was wearing some clean converses and looked pretty casual with some baggy jeans showing that she didn't put in too much time into her appearance.

Luckily, the office (studio) was right near some cool coffee shops, a good mixology place, and some decent kind of cool bookshop/music places that looked like they could be fun to go to afterwards.

"Molly and JP? You can follow me."

I finished signing the information and I grabbed my coffee and followed my girlfriend down the hall. Along the hallway, there were different rooms that professionals were entering and exiting. I peaked in and couldn't see anything too interesting. It was clinical, but warm. The walls were painted in a funky blue color and the trim was white and everyone looked great. We stood out like weirdos.

The receptionist pointed us into the Oasis room. We walked in and she shut the door behind us. Thankfully the lights were dim and the room was as nice. Real nice.

There were three chairs, two on one side probably one for my girlfriend and one for me... and then one for Dr. Cooper. There was a a desk and an arc floor lamp that illuminated the areas above the chairs. On the walls were boring modern art pieces, but at least they tried I said.

We plodded over to the chairs and plopped down in a comfortable thud.

"How long you think we'll have to wait" I asked after a few seconds.

My girlfriend brought out her phone and just started looking at stupid TikToks. Flipping through and ignoring me.

"Hey," I said tapping her foot with mine. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," she whispered angrily. "Just regretting this whole thing!"

"Same here... let's get out of here before we do someth-" I swallowed my sentence when Dr. Cooper arrived right as I stood up to leave.

She smiled and held out clipboards in her hand and said "please don't stand up! It's so nice to meet you both," she said as she grasped my girlfriend's hands first with both hands and they shared a warm smile and then she said "It's so nice to meet you, too, James."

"It's JP," I said. "James Pierce."

"Nice name," Dr. Cooper said. "Strong."

"Yeah, well my parents named me after Henry James and I'm actually related to one of the founders of a company that has its foundation actually -"

"Nobody cares," my girlfriend said. "Nobody cares."

Dr. Cooper smiled and breathed a deep breath and sat down facing both of us. My girlfriend put away her TikTok.

She looked at us both and breathed again.

"Okay," Dr. Cooper said. "First of all, some good introductions. You've read over the literature and everything but you are in good hands. You are on the road to better people to a healed relationship."

"Or our money back?" I said with disdain.

"If I could legally promise to return your money if you're not happy with the results, I would."

"Of course," I said with a closed mouth grin.

She gave us her credentials and we walked about what brought us here. We talked for about 45 minutes and just talked about the process and reviewed the timelines. It all sounded fine and some parts I just had to mentally block out and just focus on the next five minutes. There was something scary about the whole thing that I just had to get out of my mind. like a bandaid. Like a bandaid. It'll be quick like a bandaid. It'll hurt at first and then it'll be over. And then the healing can begin. And who knows... maybe we'll figure it out. Maybe we'll work it out. Maybe we'll do it for Madeline.

"It's like going to the dentist!" Dr. Cooper smiled. "Nobody likes it at first, but then you realize you're a better person, a healthier person, and you'll recommend it to people who need it."

"Want to get started?"

NOPE

From Head to Toe 3. Moving Up.

We gathered up our supplies and headed to our separate rooms. The first day was pretty easy for myself and a little tough for Molly. Basically, the rundown is that one person would start from head and go to toe and the other person would go the opposite. From head to toe for one person and from toe to head for the other person. We randomly decided that my wife would go for head first and I would go for toe first. There was something terrifying about doing the head first and going downward.

Dr. Cooper was pleased and said that we made some splendid decisions. She gave us our week’s supplies in a nice FH2T Duffle Bags. Mine was cool and had some metallic sparkles to it. Molly’s was more subdued and didn’t have any flash or anything like that. She grabbed hers and I grabbed mine.

Dr. Cooper made a call and announced that we were ready. She instructed us to grab our items. Two staff members came to our door and we followed them down the well-lit hallway to a pair of rooms facing one another towards the end of the hall.

My girlfriend looked distraught as she faced the door and hesitated.

“Second thoughts?” I whispered with a little smirk.

“No way, asshole,” she said as she confidently walked into her room. I could see her removing her hair band from her ponytail and snapping it across her wrist and she shut the door. She tried to slam it, but it was a gentle close.

I headed into my own room. Inside a cooly lit room, there was a nice leather chair and a friendly looking Asian woman in her mid 30s who was rinsing out the basin with some soapy water. She had delicate features and on second glance, maybe she was of mixed race. She had beautiful porcelain skin and her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. She didn’t wear anything interesting except a blue polo shirt.

She glanced over at me and greeted me politely.

“Hello, James,” she said. “My name is Nancy.” I didn’t say anything and she turned around to look at me. I could see on her shirt that it had the logo of the Head to Toe company. She looked at me and put her hand over her mouth. “Oh, sweetie, don’t look so worried! You look like a little lost fawn!” She came over and took my bags and dropped them to the floor and put both hands on my shoulders reassuringly.

There may have been some bags under my eyes and I had a good dose of stubble but I was confident that my face didn’t really look that worried. And if I were, I didn’t want to give it away. I narrowed my eyes.

“Look, if you think this sort of thing intimidates me, it doesn’t. I’ve spoken with my sister who is an attorney and we’ve read the paperwork and have done the research so I’m not scared. I just want to get this over with and get these amazing results.”

She looked skeptical as she dried off and finished her collecting and preparing her supplies, but she smiled at me like I was a baby.

“I’m not scared… I’m committed.”

“Of course you are, honey! That’s why everyone comes here. Now come on!” She dried off the basin and instructed me to sit down on the leather chair. I noticed the walls and they were pink and had no modern art on the wall… just a few framed pictures with flowers and a closet with a slatted door.

“I saw your wife in the hallway. She’s very beautiful.” She paused.
And a professor in art history!”

“She is not my wife. She’s my girlfriend.”

“Same thing, right?” she said not in a mocking tone, but almost like something a friend of mine would say to me.

“Well, yes and no.”

Nancy brought out a little satchel.

“Have you thought about colors?” she asked gently.

“Not really…I thought it’s Molly’s decision.

“It is. But she said that you could choose.”

“Really… REALLY,” I raised my eyebrows. I was dumbfounded. Was this how it was going to be?

“Yes, really. She said it was your choice.”

“Okay,” I said as I pondered what this could mean. This was fantastic! If I had choice about this, then this will be a breeze. This month will be over so fast.

“Okay,” I repeated excitedly as I settled down. “Wow.” Nancy rolled up my pant leg. On the request was to wear loose fitting trousers probably just for the ease of rolling them up. She motioned for me to raise my feet and once I did, she placed the basin beneath my feet and again motioned with a downward gesture to lower my feet in the bubbles. I could smell lavender. Or something floral. It reminded me of Mr. Bubble from when I was a kid. Fragrant but not too obtrusive.

“So why aren’t you guys married?”

I closed my eyes partly because it was relaxing having my feet in a feet bath. I had never done this before. She brought over a hot towel and placed it around my entire face and pressed down on my toweled forehead to lean back in my chair. Again, it felt professional and like I was in good hands.

Before I could answer. “There, doesn’t that feel better?”

My words were garbled since the towel was over my mouth and I knew my words would be obscured by the damp cloth that was thankfully cooling.

“Now, I’m going to offer you a nice glass of white wine. It relaxes a lot of people that come through here.” I could hear her walking across the floor and she stopped and something opened. I could hear her uncorking a bottle that was obviously already open. I was hoping it would be good. White wine while getting a relaxing feet bath sounds pretty awesome although I would have preferred a good double IPA instead.

She walked back and placed the glass down on the side table to my right. I started to raise my head, but I could feel her hand once again gently lead my head back down to the head rest on the leather chair.

“Not yet, let’s just relax while the bath softens your legs. You’ll love it.

I could hear a seat being moved right to my left. I heard her sit down and I could smell a sweet smell that wasn’t the bath or the Mr. Bubble. It was from her. It may have been her deodorant or perfume but wasn’t too bad. I didn’t know if I could talk, so I decided to remain silent until she removed the towel.

“Don’t answer this… but what do you think your girlfriend is over there doing? You think she’s having a nice makeover? No. She is fully, 100% committed.”

She stopped speaking and tapped her foot on the ground near mine. “She’s 100% committed to making this work.”

More tapping.

“And you… I would say you are 20% committed. I know which parts you are not committed to. I know it.”

Tap… tap… tap…

“I’ve seen dozens of dudes just like you, coming in here and expecting this to be a breeze while their partners are in it. These dudes get what they got coming to them… in a good way. You see, you may be an asshole. You may be a cheater. You may be a moron. You may be a racist. I have no idea. We just met.”

Tap… tap… and then it stopped.

“But people who come in here are different. They are willing to have faith that two people can work things out. To reconnect, to meet each other halfway, to have what we call…”

And she leaned in closely right against my left ear. I could feel one of a loose strand of her hair that passed by my ear.

“Empathy.”

She firmly took the towel and held it down around my face and then draped it off of my face while rubbing the skin of my nose. The cool air hit my face and it felt good. I touched my nose and it felt clean and refreshed. In fact, I felt clean and refreshed.

“You get me?” she asked.

“I get you,” I told her. I thought about what she had said and what my wife was going through right now and I thought about fairness and about sacrifice and commitment and about inner strength. My inner strength.

I looked down and I said, “Do you have anything in pink? PALE pink…”

What followed that conversation was a flurry of discussion about what colors meant. What different tones meant. What names had meant. What were colors anyway? I was so confused.

“Calm down, dude. To some women, this is a science. For some women, everything sets the tone with the toes. You get dressed from toe to head, so it makes sense to really put a lot of thought into toe color.

“Look, to me it makes no difference so I don’t care. Just pick a color and go with it. The bath water is starting to go cold anyway.”

“Stop worrying about that.” She motioned for me to pick my feet up and she toweled them off. She put on some pink gloves and got to work on my feet.

It was disgusting watching her go to town on my dead skin cells. With just a few heavy rubs, she was able to remove a good layer of white skin cells from my feet.

As she continued her job, we made a little small talk and I thought about colors as best I could.

“So how am I doing?” I wanted to know.

“Compared to what?”

“You know… to other dudes who come in here. I must be totally different from every other guy who comes in here.” I was cool and comfortable in my own skin… even as it was being sloughed off from my feet.

“Well, I basically think that everyone is the same. We all have a good idea of who we are and we either base our personalities around how we perceive ourselves or we base our appearance around our identity.”

“I know, but…” I paused to think about how to ask this gracefully. “Well, how do things start to change? I know that there is the basic idea that as we start to progress from toe to head or head to toe or whatever, that there are seeds that get planted and that –“

“Yeah yeah, that’s all in the brochure. ‘Seeds of growth that spring into shared roots,’ right?”

“I remember reading that.”

“Everyone does… well, all the guys do,” she said. She rinsed off my feet in the basin and after, she brought one of my clean and now slightly red feet on the edge of the bath. She got an emory board and started doing something to my toenails. Wasn’t sure. It didn’t feel good but it didn’t hurt either.

“So colors, let’s talk about colors,” she went on.

“Yes, colors. Let’s discuss colors,” I mocked. “Just choose for me, will ya? And make me look good or whatever. Well, make me look like a good guy for my girlfriend.”

“It doesn’t work that way. This is supposed to take thought and consideration. It has to be personal. It has to be you. You have to decide on what you want.”

“I don’t know how to say this, but I really don’t care. It’s just a color. Blue pink, purple, orange, white, yellow, green, gray, black, polka dot,” her head dotted up as if I said something interesting.

“Polka dot?” she asked inquisitively. “That one might be hard.”

In my head I couldn’t imagine having polka dot colored feet.

“Well forget about polka dots then… just give me pale pink. Pale pink. Just girly enough, but too girly right?”

“Well, since you love pamphlets and research, here you go.” She reached under my chair and brought out a good 25 page small booklet and handed it to me. L’Oreal Nail Colors.

I looked in it. Holy shit. What was the difference between ‘Pink Moon’ and ‘Sunrise Brunch’ and ‘Chiffon-d of You’. They all looked pale pink to me. I ignored colors that made reference to boys.

“Here’s one, ‘topless and barefoot.’” Good name,” I said. “Or what about ‘It’s raining men?’ Is that ironic or something? Ooh I like Madison Avenue Strut.”

“Those are all good ones, but again, they are not YOU.” She got up and rubbed my feet with some oil that again felt good but unnecessary.

I was getting frustrated. “Well, I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do.”

“Ok. She got up and dimmed the lights and turned on a sound machine that had a nice sound of crashing waves. “You’re going to want to close your eyes again, but this will be quick and painless and you’ll have a color in the end, I promise.”

Sounds reasonable. “Okay, fine.”

“Okay here goes,” she paused and I heard the clicking of an iphone. I think she was reading from a script – I had read a review that mentioned that there were some guides that the staff ended up using for clients.

“Imagine it’s 3 weeks from now. You’re on vacation. It’s just you and your girlfriend. The sand is white and warm but not too hot. In fact, there’s a good breeze there. There’s a blanket big enough for both of you and picture this, there is no sand on the blanket. It’s just you and your girlfriend. She is there and smiling and wearing a bathing suit. You’re also wearing a bathing suit. And you guys are happy and a great couple. You have a mai tai in your hand a straw that you’re sipping out of. There is some lipstick on the straw but you don’t mind. The breeze is nice and it prevents you from getting too sweaty and too sandy. You start to stretch and your arm wraps around Molly and she leans her head into your chest. You share a laugh. You have what is called an intimate moment. You are relaxed. The breeze gets a little cooler as the sun starts to descend. It’s getting a little chilly and Molly notices that you’re getting cold. She can tell by your goose bumps that are showing up on your arms, your tummy, and your legs.”

I blushed a little when she said tummy. It was cute.

“She gets you a linen blanket and drapes it around your legs. It’s not a warm blanket but it’s all you’ve got from getting too chilly. You decide to get up and take a walk in the sun before the sun sets immediately. You get your light sweater you brought with you, your sunhat, and you grab your sandals, and you put them on. You look down at your feet once you get your sandals on…”

“Okay,” I say.

“What color are your toes?”

“I don’t know, they’re covered up,” I sputtered. I was confused but in my mind I can’t picture the toe color. I was getting frantic. What the fuck was wrong with me? “I can’t see any fucking color!” It was true.

“Shhh… don’t tremble. It’s ok. I’ll walk you through this.”

My heart started to race in a bad way. I think I was failing everything – that if I couldn’t do this right, then it was all for nothing. I might be the first failure. No no… commitment!

“Just keep closing your eyes, sweetheart. Ok, the sun is beginning to set and you just want to take off your sandals and walk towards the shore to say one last goodbye to the ocean before you go into your bungalow and have a romantic dinner before having sharing a bottle of champagne. You are enjoying your walk but want to take off your sandals.”

In my mind, an image starts to form.

Ok, things are getting a little nuts.

“What champagne are we going to have?” I ask.

“Shut the fuck up. Bollinger 1973, ok? Happy? Are you excited?”

“I am, but I think I’m tired or something. Why else would I take off my sandals to just go walking in the beach?”

“Ok, please just pay attention. You are carrying your sandals over to the water and saying goodbye. Just walk gently over to the shore.”

“Ok, I am getting an image in my head. I’m not sure where we are going with this.”

“Just picture… sandals off, end of the day beach, relaxing, heading to shore.

“Uh huh…”

“Sandals or shoes off, you decide to sit down. You put your sandals right by your beach bag.”

“You recline in the sun to enjoy the last ounce of sunlight yet. You still don’t see your toes, do you?”

“Nope, still not toe color. Apparently, I don’t care about sandal color either.”

“Don’t worry. You draw your feet up slowly.”

“Still waiting on color.”

“Shut the fuck up. Ok finally take a look at your toes.”

An image flashes before my eyes and suddenly just like that my eyes fluttered open and I said “I saw the color.”

“What color was it?”

“You’re going to kill me… but I think it was pale pink.”

Chapter 5. What’s so different?

“No peeking!”

I covered by eyes with both hands and pretended to be excited. “Can’t wait!” I couldn’t wait to get out of here. I can’t imagine that Nancy would have improved my feet that much. I guess a little touch up would be nice considering that there was almost 30 years of wear and tear on my feet. Broken toes, callouses. Whatever.

“This is my job, you know,” she said as she was cleaning up and carefully placed something on my feet.

“I know! And you’re doing a great job. So far, I’m not screaming and throwing a tantrum… although it did come close.”

“Drumroll please!” and she began to throttle her tongue.

Get this over with please.

“And… VOILA!”

I looked down.

“Um… hello - there are some things that are blocking the way.”

She smiled knowingly and said “Oh, oopsie! My bad,” and she brushed the pink rose petals and other flowers that were obscuring my toes.

I looked down and saw one remaining flower.

I flicked it away. Ok, so I have pink toes. Big deal.

“What do you think?” she asked. “Is it a good start?”

“It’s a great start. I love it,” I lied. “Ok, step 1 down and now step 2.”

“Nope, it’s all a process just like it was explained to you.” I sunk down in my chair disappointingly. “I’m just going to give you some moisturizer and a bottle for your reference in case you would like a second coat… or just need a reminder of what color you chose.”

“You mean, what color I was FORCED to choose.”

“Give me a break. Nobody made you choose… what’s the name of the color?” she took back the bottle. “Bikini-so-teeny.”

She looked at me and I looked right back at her.

“It’s just a color. It’s pink. End of story.” I looked at my watch and the digital arm said it was late. “Also, end of day so… see you in a couple of days.”

I stood up and plodded over with my bare legs over to the side of the wall where the two duffle bags that I had brought in were. But only one was there. I bent down and grabbed the one with my Nikes and sweat socks.

“I remember coming here with two bags…” I said to myself. I held up my gym bag. “Where’s the other one?”

I turned around to shower her that yes indeed, I had only one now.

“Relax, we’re not going to steal your disgusting shoes,” she said as she walked over. “Now put it down and come on this way,” and she opened up the door to the hall and I followed her. I almost bumped into woman who was probably a client and smiled at me and I smiled back. But as I passed by, she softly commented “nice color.” And I realized that she was smiling at me because I wasn’t wearing any shoes and socks and they probably thought had some weird thing about pink toes. What a bitch.

After a turning left and going down a few doors, Nancy said “Here’s the showcase room.”

Showcasing what?

And she opened up the door and we walked in. It was a fucking shoe store. I mean it was a fancy shoe store no doubt because instead of rows and rows of payless style shoes where basically you pick out your size and pay for it. This was like they were showcasing the shoes. Which makes it pretty obvious why they call it the showcase room.

“You mean Shoe case room right?” I waggled my eyebrows.

“You are the first person to tell me that!” she said alarmingly.

“Oh really?”

“Of course not,” and she took me over to a few stylists who were part of the package deal that my girlfriend and I had signed up for. Style consultants they said they were. One was casual, one was professional, one was entertainment, etc etc etc. They seemed all interchangeable, but in a good way. All friendly, all really polite, all really genuine. They were good people and they were nice. We got along great.

“Hey, look at you! Looking all pretty,” an obviously gay man greeted me and then he looked down at my toes and jokingly slapped me against my chest, “Oh honey!”

“Ha ha, very funny,” I said back. “You know they made me choose this color, don’t you? Jesus…”

“Oh really? Was it the script for ‘long day at the office’ or was it ‘trip to the masseuse?”

Someone else chimed in – “Or was it ‘give me a piggy back ride?”

“Or hot summer nights?” and everyone laughed.

Nancy came over and said, “Nope – it was chilly at the beach.” And she elbowed me in the ribs. “And he did great. Look, we’re here to help you do the best thing you can do for your family and for your girlfriend. So we can have fun can’t we?” and she looked around at the group and they all nodded affirmatively. “And we can also be serious.”

We all gathered together near some of the shoes and I was offered a drink and I accepted it. It was a glass of champagne – to cool your nerves, someone said as I grabbed it and sipped.

We talked about the blah blah stuff, like commitment and intimacy and empathy and change and when asked if I was serious, I said – 100%. This was important to me.

“Ok, well good news and bad news for you,” Nancy said as she got to the point. We did some quantitative data about the personality tests you’ve taken –“

“You mean the ones that took over 8 hours to do?”

“Yes, the ones that took over 8 hours to do. And you’ll see that it’ll pay off.”

“We did the data analysis and we also got some feedback from some interviews with your girlfriend about who you are… you know – who you are, to your girlfriend. What kind of person are you according to her. From her point of view. Anyway, we got her feedback.”

“Basically, the good news is that you get to choose the shoes. Total carte blanche. The bad news is that your selection has to be from here and it has to be from specific categories of shoes that we’ll help you out on.”

“That sounds amazing. I can’t believe that after all the testimonials, that this is the outcome.” I sighed with relief. “I can’t believe that I get to have that kind of autonomy. It sounds like the best thing that could happen.”

“Of course it’s the best thing that could happen. This is our company policy – the best possible outcome.

One of the consultants came over and handed me a pair of white sweatpants. “Around that corner is the dressing room so put on these pants and come on out. You’d be surprised but this is actually good to have when trying on our shoe. Sweatpants are very versatile.”

“Sure – sweats it is,” I said and I took them and around the corner. I got in an locked the changing room making sure there weren’t any cameras. At least the ones in plain sight. None.

I took off my pants and then I caught myself looking in the mirror at my newly pointed toes.

I felt so stupid for this whole thing. It’s just a month, I said as I changed into the baggy and oversized sweatpants. I looked again at the mirror and felt a little better, but still a little self conscious.

I pulled up my sweatpants as much as I could ans I psyched myself up and marched over to the crowd. And they all gave little golf claps.

“Ok, should we go from easiest to hardest?” Nancy started.

“Definitely,” I agreed.

“Let’s talk Sandals.”

“You mean flip flops.”

“Sandals. And they’ll be your new best friends. They go well with everything. Out on the town, sandals. Out at a restaurant, sandals. Lounging around? Sandals. See?”

“Perfect, let’s do it. Sandals.”

“And you also reminded me! Flip flops too!”

“Awesome. How many pairs of sandals you think we need to get you?”

“How about 1.”

“How about 8?”

“JESUS CHRIST. I don’t need 8 pairs of sandals. I can’t imagine a time when I’ll ever need 8 pairs of sandals,” and I thought about when I would ever need 8 pairs of sandals. One day, I’ll have to sit down with my friends and show off all of my great pairs of sandals.

Consulting with the consultants, the pairs started adding up. One of them said I needed a pair for lounging around in and I tried on a pair of sandals.

I grabbed the plainest ones I could find. “Check out my toes, dudes!” I said as I put a pair on and showed the group.

“You need one for walking – maybe you can even wear one when you go outside today and walk home.”

“Walking sandals.” Another pair that looked pretty boring. I hiked up my sweatpants to my upper leg and I tried them on and walked a few steps. Ouch.

“Yeah, you’re going to hate yourself after like 2 blocks with that. How about this one?”

I took a look and sneered at the shoe.

“You don’t want blisters and besides” – she whispered – “it’s totally detachable.”

“Say no more,” I said as I tied one pair’s buckle onto the back of my ankle.

Boom another pair! Hitting homers with these bozos, I said silently to myself.

Nancy chimed in. “You’ll need one when you’re at the beach – remember those cold nights? So think about what would look good with a bathing suit.”

I got sick of trying on so I grabbed a pair that I thought would look good with blue trunks or whatever.

The romance consultant also added – “You’ll need a pair probably for vacation – you know something that will look good for both walking and a little smooch you might want to give Molly spontaneously.”

I grabbed a yellow one and thought about how that kiss would go.

I missed delivering kisses like that and felt both sad and thrilled that we were doing this.

“We have only two pairs of flip flops left and congrats – they are yours. They’re designer so consider yourself the owner of a pair of very desirable flip flops.”

I nodded and they were added to the list. I wasn’t a huge flip flop person – just for long car rides

And on the beach of course.

From the athletic and “streetwear” consultant, I got some cool high tops

And even some cool kicks that I think even Molly has the same kind if you can believe it. One day we’ll have to both wear them on the same day.

“You’ll need boots!” someone chimed in.

“Boots for when you wear long pants…”

“And boots for when you wear shorts.”

“Yeah, but who wears boots when you have shorts on?” I said thinking about someone wearing boots with shorts on.

Whatever works, I thought. I got sick of trying on these items that eventually I just ended up agreeing to much of their recommendations. There weren't a lot of options and from what they offered me, it seemed nothing too showy. Utilitarian is what I was aiming for. I even picked out a pair of boots that looked pretty good and would probably be described as "military" boots if you had to pick a word. Those were coming home with me and it would look good with an old pair of jeans.

I had an option for rain boots to go with something either more conservative and "normal" looking

Which would have totally made sense given a guy like me, but then Nancy and a stylist convinced me to go with a more colorful kind saying that they would also throw a matching pair for my daughter. I thought about how fun it would be to actually have something to share with my daughter, beyond DNA. Well, in any event, it would be a cute photo op.

I paused as I was considering what I was doing.

"Thinking about something?" one of them asked.

"Thinking about my daughter I said," and we paused and talked about feelings and perseverance and it felt great to get some insight from a group of consultants who thought about things beyond style. We talked about what kind of father I was going to be. Whatever, if one day that my daughter and I could go for a daddy-daughter hike and we're both wearing boots that look alike, then I call that a fucking win. The group agreed.

"I thought about how excited I was that my girlfriend and I were expecting a baby and then I learned that it was a girl. You'll never believe this but little shoes were the first things I bought for her."

I thought a little.

"If this works and we have another baby, I'll be thrilled. I bet this time around, my girlfriend will surprise me with baby shoes. I bet by the time we have a second kid, I'll have a beer belly.

Just silly even thinking about it.

The group was happy and said that there were a few more decisions to be made. Another pair of shoes was plopped right near my feet. Nancy could tell by the way that I was rubbing my feet that I was just exhausted from trying on so many shoes.

They smiled with sympathy and said that they would promise that they would make a good decision about the remainder of my shoes and that I shouldn't worry because I was in good hands.

I believed them.

They counted up all of the shoes that were going home with me and made sure that everything was in order for dropoff on the next morning. While they were doing whatever paperwork, I went over to the changing room and

"Which one you going home with?" one of them wanted to know.

My eyes looked towards the sneaker selection, but Nancy came over and said "there are two ways to show your girlfriend that you are committed to this."

I nodded and went for the shoes that best showed off my new toes. I did remove the ridiculous bow though. Off to a good start, no doubt.

"Congratulations. We're done with day 1. Now let's find Molly."

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 2 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2012 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

“So who are you and what have done with my son?” asked Dad.

I jumped at Dad’s voice. With the vacuum going I hadn’t heard him enter the room. I shut it down and pulled the white paper dusk mask off my face so I could talk. “N-nothing. I was just cleaning.”

“Sure you were. Scotty, you have never cleaned up the living room without being told and you don’t do this thorough a job even when I make you.”

It took me a bit to work up the words. I couldn’t ask for a better opening, but Dad never listened. “Remember you asked about my New Year’s resolutions? Well, this is it.”

“Your New Year’s resolution is to vacuum the living room?” He was looking at me funny, like I’d sprouted a tail or maybe a long Pinocchio nose. “So what is it that you want?”

“I’m trying to do something about my allergies. I’m making a dust free environment. That’s supposed to help. My resolution is to clean up every week and keep the house dust free. So what I want is my allergies to get better.” It kinda of hurt that he thought I must have an ulterior motive. That really was the main reason, but it couldn’t hurt to ask. “Although I wouldn’t object to getting paid something for it. Rick gets paid for mowing the lawn after all.”

Dad took a long sip of his coffee before he responded. “It’s good you’re taking some responsibility for your allergies…”

I braced myself for what would come next — but you really should be working out.

“… You know, if you want to make this house dust free there is more than vacuuming to be done. If you’re serious about this, I’ll support it and get some more air filters and an air purifier for your room.”

“Yeah, that would be good.” I tried to keep my tone polite, but I think it came out a little snarky. That’s because IMHO those are things we should already be doing. At least he hadn’t tried to shove exercise down my throat, but I still felt like I was getting cheated. “So, that’s instead of getting paid?”

Dad gave me a hard look. “Are you doing it for your allergies or the money?”

I sighed. I’d lost and I knew it. If I said it was for the money I might get paid but Dad wouldn’t do the air filters or the air purifier. It certainly wouldn’t help my case for allergy shots. “For my allergies, sir.” That was true enough. That was more important than money. It just annoyed me that Dad paid Rick twenty bucks to mow the yard with a riding lawn mower, but if I wanted a dust-free house it was up to me and I wouldn’t get paid for it. “I’m almost done cleaning. After lunch can I go to Cathy’s?”

“Sure you can.” He smiled at me. “The house looks good by the way. I’ll get the air filters and an air purifier this week.”

I dressed for the arctic, coat, hat, gloves, before heading to Cathy’s house. After being warm all the way through Christmas it had finally gotten cold enough to need them. Cathy didn’t live that far away, but she wasn’t exactly next door. She was directly across the road from Grandma’s house and catty-corner to our house. Both our houses were set back from the road. She had an acre or two of pasture in front of her house. We had an ‘orchard’. OK, we had some runty fruit trees that had yet to produce much besides wasps. We hadn’t had cows or horses or real crops since Grandpa died. Cathy and I were kinda friends by default. We were almost the same age (I was ten days older), but there weren’t any other kids even close to our age within five miles — unless you wanted to count Rick and I didn’t. Even though she was a girl she was easily my best friend. She’d been at her grandparents the past few days and I was looking forward to catching up on what she’d gotten for Christmas.

Mrs. Andrews answered the door. She was wearing a dress and had her chestnut brown hair all curled and styled and her warpaint on. She looked like she ready for church, but she looked like that all the time. I really didn’t like her that much. She was quite strict and insisted on best manners at all times. She was also my Sunday school teacher and friends with my Grandma so if I put a toe out of line I was in trouble at home as well. She’d thawed somewhat since the incident when Cathy and I were walking home a couple of years ago. I was welcome in her home now. I think she had decided that I was boyfriend material or to be more accurate future boyfriend material. She’d made a point of mentioning more than once that Cathy wasn’t allowed to date until she was sixteen. That was three years off, but I’ve started to wonder if she was hinting rather than warning.

“Hello Mrs. Andrews. Cathy called and invited me over. Can I come in?”

“That’s may I come in, not can I, and yes you may.” She stepped back and allowed me access to her home. “Cathy, your friend is here.”

I went to their living room. After spending most of my morning cleaning my house I noticed how neat theirs was. Not a bit of dust here to stir up my allergies. I sat down and waited for Cathy to join me. I was never allowed in her room. Her mother thought it was inappropriate. It was as if she was afraid that if we were ever left alone for five minutes we’d rip off our clothes and jump each other. What made her restrictions even stranger was that Cathy could go bike riding any time the sun was up without supervision. When we really wanted to get away from the parental units that’s what we did. A quarter mile in either direction and the pine trees cut off all view.

I didn’t have a long wait. Cathy came thundering in right after her mother called. She was a pint sized version of her mother in looks but a world apart in dress. She had her hair back in a simple pony tail, faded jeans and scuffed tennis. She had a new t-shirt that had bad attitude Tinkerbell on it that read ‘Dust This!’. Somehow I don’t think her mother bought her that. Cathy was a major girly girl back in elementary. She was usually skirts and dresses. Her mother had made many of the dresses and they were a bit on the old-fashioned side. Still they’d seemed to fit her. About the time she hit junior high the dresses vanished in favor of jeans t-shirts. To be honest that’s what most girls wore to school, but I think the girly style suited her better.

Cathy is majorly talented. I wish I had just one of her gifts. She excelled at athletics, music and art. She could run circles around me. She was second chair flute in band. She wasn’t taking art because she didn’t have enough electives but she should be in art. She did these anime style cartoons with pencil and pen that she’d ink and color. She was the only girl I knew who read comics. Although her preferred comics were Japanese manga with titles like Fruits Basket and Marmalade Boy instead of cool stuff like X-Men and Spiderman. I knew that for a fact because I bought them for her. She had to smuggle them into her house because her mom didn’t approve.

“So I heard you got snow for Christmas?” she asked as she plopped down beside me.

“Yeah, that was pretty cool. Short-sleeve weather on Christmas Eve, then it snowed on Christmas Day.” That was a pretty big deal for Pine Hill. Only the second white Christmas that I’d ever had and the first time ever that the first snow of the year was a Christmas snow. “I got out and made a snowman although it didn’t come to life. Then Dad, Rick and I had a snowball fight.” I’d probably stayed out a little too long, because I’d developed a slight cough that I didn’t have before, but it had been worth it. “Of course, by Thursday it had all melted away.”

“So, didja get anything good? I take it you didn’t get the cellphone or I would have heard from you by now.”

Cathy had a cellphone for a couple of years now as did most of the girls at school. I was still one of the disconnected. If I'd been a girl, that would have made the junior high equivalent of an unwashed heathen. As a guy it just made me hard to reach. “No, I didn’t get the cellphone. I did get the new Sims expansion.”

Cathy shrugged. “Anything interesting?” She didn’t share my enthusiasm for the Sims.

“I got a paintball gun.” That I’d still hadn’t taken out to shoot yet. I’d learned a couple of years ago when I’d gotten a BB gun that shooting at targets got boring quickly. “Dad hinted to Rick that if he wanted to keep using our back four acres to play soldier in with his friends then he needed to let me join, too.”

“Do you want to play paintball? Especially with Rick and his friends?” Her tone spoke volumes. Cathy knew it wasn’t something that I would have asked for.

“Not really with Rick and his friends, but I’ve played a couple of times. It’s fun and Rick isn’t as good at it as he thinks he is.” I wasn’t really sure what to think about it. I knew Dad was trying really hard to find something sporty that I liked. He’d done better with paintball than he had in other years, but me and the outdoors didn’t get along. I liked being outdoors in theory, but the reality usually sucked for me with my allergies. I changed the subject. “So what about you, did you get anything good?”

“Lots of clothes, some make up, some movies and some high quality art supplies and a video call with Daddy.”

She said it casually, but I knew the video call was a BFD. One thing Cathy and I shared was missing parents. Mine had decided she had to find herself and was living somewhere in California. Dad wasn’t happy with her because she wasn’t paying child support again so she was kinda a taboo subject at our house at the moment. Cathy’s father was on deployment in the Middle East and she rarely got to see him. “You want to talk about it?”

She did. So we talked about it and she replayed every word. It was obvious to me that five minute call meant more to her than all the rest of her presents put together. I brushed her off when she tried to shift the topic to my mom. “I got a phone call, that’s it. There is supposed to be a card in the mail.” Mom was like that. Last year Rick and I both got brand-new laptops. This year we’d get a card, maybe. “Anyway, what movies did you get?”

“Disney's Tangled and Brave. You want to watch them?”

Cathy’s mom entered the room with a glass of tea in her hand and jumped right into the conversation, “Those are girl movies. I’m sure Scotty doesn’t want to see them.”

“No, I do. I’d be glad to watch them.” I would have said that even if I did mind, because Cathy’s mom annoyed me with the way she hovered around watching me, but I wasn’t lying. Yes, they were Disney and it wasn’t cool to admit to watching Disney at thirteen, but Cathy and I both did. I hadn’t gotten to see either movie. I couldn’t ask Dad to see them at the theater or rent them. Dad’s taste in movies was more crime/drama. I’d been waiting for them to come out on cable, but this was better. So Cathy popped some popcorn, poured real melted butter on it and too much salt and we sat down in her floor to watch them. Not surprisingly I liked them. Her mother was right they were kinda girl movies, but Flynn Rider was majorly cool. As for Brave, I had no problem whatsoever cheering for Merrida. I know exactly what it feels like to have a controlling parent trying to make you be just like them.
 
 
Chapter 3
 
Monday, Jan 7th — Taylor Project Day 7
 
Why is it that school seems to drag out forever and vacations and weekends just fly by? I can’t believe that it is the end of Christmas break already, but here it is. So first an update on my progress.
 
Journal — I promised to write once a week, I’m writing - check

Allergies — I cleaned up like I promised the next day and I did the house again on Saturday. No go on getting paid for it, but Dad did buy a stack of air filters and show me how to change them. He also promised me an air purifier for my room. He ordered it online and it should arrive this week sometime. I think it is helping some. Check

Exercise — I feel guilty about this one. I’ve done a few pushup, situps and crunches in my room every day, but with Dad for a father and Rick for a brother I know exercise. That’s not an aerobic workout. It hasn’t been warm enough to go outside. So I’ve done what I promised to do, but it wasn’t much. Check minus.

Bully target — I haven’t been at school so I haven’t cried in front of anyone. I’ve also been thinking about how not to be bullied. One way is to be buff like Dad and Rick and no one tries to bully you. That’s not me. Another way is being a good little teacher’s pet and the teachers will protect you. Dave is good at that, but that doesn’t work for me either. Most of the teachers don’t like me much. I’m not a straight A student like Dave. Some people tattle, but bullies aren’t stupid. They don’t do anything obvious. No real progress on this. Check minus.

I’m worried about school tomorrow. I had a good time over Christmas break. I read a lot, played video games and hung out with Cathy. Now it is back to being a target. I’ll just do the best I can.

I also promised to write about important stuff. Dad took Rick and me out to dinner with his girlfriend Julie. They’ve been dating for a while now, but usually he leaves me with Grandma and picks her up. This was the first time I actually met her. She looks to be his type, blond hair and on the skinny side. She seemed less country than some of the others, more polished or refined or something. She had this black dress on and she looked classy. She works at a bank and she has a daughter, Hailey, who is my age. I’m a little curious about that. I don’t recall Dad ever dating someone who had kids before. I wonder if I’m going to have a new ‘aunt’ soon. I’ve had two ‘aunts’ since mom left. Aunt Pauline was around on and off again for when I was little. Then Aunt Vicky moved in for six weeks and lived with us full time. I thought she was nice, but she and Dad got in a big screaming fight and then she moved out. Not that those were Dad’s only two girlfriends. Dad dates a lot, but those just the ones who were more than overnight guests. The having dinner with us seems like a sign that Julie is going to be a serious one. I wonder what her daughter Hailey will be like.
 
 
Tues, Jan 8th — Taylor Project Day 8
 
Not much today I just wanted to give a quick bully target update — I made it through the first day. It wasn't a fun day. Kids still called me Snotty and Kevin Grutz kicked my desk all through fourth period trying to annoy me. He does that a lot. I’ve tried telling Mrs. Gerstacker before and she never does anything. She tells him to stop, but the way she says it makes it sound like I’m the one being unreasonable. She’s old like older than Grandma. Her hair is all white. Some old ladies get sweet, like Grandma, but some get sour. Mrs. Gerstacker is one of the sour ones. Sometimes when I have a bad allergy day she gets onto me for disrupting class when I’m just blowing my nose. So I just did my best to just ignore him. Anyway, day one completed with no more than the usual bullying. I don’t think being at school did my allergies any good. I’m feeling more stuffy tonight so I’ll see how it goes tomorrow. Short week so only three days until the weekend.

My second day back at school and I was already longing for the weekend. The day wasn’t even half done and I was feeling washed out, stuffed up generally crappy. Apparently my allergy medicine was failing. I was a little stuffy yesterday, but I could barely breathe today. I ran out of tissue halfway through fourth period and had to reuse the ones I’d stuffed in my pocket trying to find something not soaked with snot. Mrs. Gerstacker told me off twice for disrupting class. I was just blowing my nose. Kevin Grutz was being an ass as usual, kicking my chair and muttering things too quietly for her to hear. It was a relief to get to go to lunch and not have to be in class for just a bit.

I scanned the cafeteria looking for Dave and Lloyd. They’re my only friends at school. OK, there is Cathy, but I almost never see her at school. Our birthdays were only ten days apart, but mine was at the end of August and hers was at the beginning of September. That made me about the youngest boy in 8th grade and her about the oldest girl in 7th grade. That meant we were on completely different schedules.

Dave, Lloyd and I were outcasts, but at least we were outcast together. Dave was our undisputed leader. He certainly had the brains for it. He was probably the smartest kid in our grade, the second fattest and a major teacher’s pet. That makes him just as unpopular as me, but the teachers protect him more. None of that made him our leader. That had happened before I arrived. Dave led, Lloyd was his wingman and when I moved to Pine Hill I became wingman number two behind Lloyd.

Other people think Lloyd’s in charge, because everyone is scared of him. He’s not big or everything, he just gives off a creepy vibe. He was also a gun nut. I own a BB-gun. I bet most boys in our grade either own one or used to own one. A couple of them might own something larger. Lloyd had his own gun collection and he killed a deer when he was like ten or something. If there was a vote taken for most likely to go Columbine, Lloyd would win hands down. One of my most treasured memories was the day Lloyd made Kevin back down by describing in graphic detail how to gut a deer. Like I said, scary, but he was on my side.

They’d saved me a place in line so I joined them. We didn’t talk much in line. We only got thirty minutes for lunch so eating lunch at Pine Hill Middle School was like a NASCAR pit stop. I pulled into the pit (the serving line). The pit crew (the cafeteria ladies) changed the tires (slapped down food) in under twelve seconds. Then it was fill up on fuel as fast as possible. Then jump and get right back to the race (class). I picked up a large stack of napkins while I was in the line. Sometime between chowing down on my burrito and listening to Dave talk about World of Warcraft and how I should sign up so I could play with him and Lloyd. He was into this story about how powerful shadow priests were when I blew my nose.

Some people can blow their nose quietly. I never can. I make a trumpet noise all the time. It was loud enough to be heard over the buzz of the cafeteria. I heard a comment about a burrito with snot sauce. No problem. That’s just average bullying. Even Dave and Lloyd gave me the eye, but I that was OK. They were allowed.

Dave froze up a bit. “Teacher aggro, Gerstacker at three o’clock.”

I glanced the wrong way, realized that Dave’s three o’clock wasn’t my three o’clock and looked up just in time to see an angry Mrs. Gerstacker stomping our way. Now there were always some teachers in the cafeteria, but she looked upset. I know little old lady mad. My grandmother is usually sweet, but she can get a mad on. Mrs. Gerstacker usually looks sour and now she looked like someone beat her at bingo. She was looking at us or was that me?

“Scott Taylor Miller. It’s bad enough that you disrupt my class, but you do not blow your nose like that it at the dinner table. It’s unsanitary. Were you raised in a cave?”

Now how was I supposed to answer that? I had to blow my nose. The alternatives were worse. Did she want snot dripping out my nose and down my face? I knew better than to argue with a teacher, but what did she expect?

“Well, say something young man.”

“Uh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Gerstacker.”

She launched into a lecture. Something about I should have gone to the bathroom. Duh, not possible, there was no time to do that and eat lunch and did she really expect me to do that every time I had to blow my nose? I wouldn’t be doing anything else all day. Behind her I could see girls giggling at me and guys pointing. I felt myself start to lose it. No, not here not in front of the whole school. However, between her lecture and the pointing I could feel the tears working up. I tried to hold them back, but the snot was flowing too, so I reached for a napkin and blew my nose.

Mrs. Gerstacker stood there a second in shock. “I just warned you, young man. Get up now. You’re going to the principal.” She grabbed me by my arm and pulled.

I let her pull me along and I lost it. I was blubbering and I knew it. I wanted so much not to cry in front of everyone, but now I was doing it in front of everyone and they were all laughing and pointing and I had tears running out my eyes and snot running out my nose. I rubbed my face with my sleeve and I know that is wrong, but my pile of napkins was on my tray with my lunch. Was it worse to wipe your nose with your sleeve or have snot running down? What was the principle going to do to me? In the hallway she kept pulling me along so that I could barely keep up.

“Stop being such a crybaby, Scotty. You wanted attention, you got it.” She marched me into the office, plopped me into the chair and went in to talk to the principal.

I sat there rubbing my nose on my sleeve. Eventually one of the office ladies gave me a box of tissues. So much for my New Year’s Resolution. That was undoubtedly my worst breakdown to date. Would I get licks for this? I’d rather have licks than have to tell my father. At least a paddling was over fast. I was eventually called in to see Mr. Oak. My eyes went straight to a large paddle mounted on the wall. It had a cute slogan on it, ‘The board of education, apply to the seat of understanding.’ Yes, that would be better, fast and over.

I expected to be yelled at. Instead Principal Oak was gave me a sympathetic lecture. He more talked me down than anything. No punishment for me, but he did ask that if I have to blow my nose in the cafeteria that I try to be quiet about it. After that he sent me to the nurse who took my temperature and found I had a low grade fever, 99.5. She had me do a peak flow test. That’s the machine where you exhale as hard as you can and it measures your lung capacity. She didn’t like the results and had me use my inhaler. She tested me again afterward and was happier that I was back in green zone. She gave me a note and sent me to my next class. I didn’t get to finish my lunch and I was hungry, but I didn’t press my luck.

The rest of the day was awful. It was like Mrs. Gertrude had declared open season on me. It seemed everyone in school was mocking me. Kids pretended to sneeze, rubbed their eyes, called me every name from Snotty to crybaby with stops at queer and pansy in between. Why crying made me gay I don’t know, but it was the worst day at school ever. It didn’t end until I got on the bus. I slid over next to the window and Cathy sat down next to me isolating me.

“Hey, how are you doing? I heard about lunch.”

“Great, they know in seventh grade already, too.”

“Hey, listen to this. It might help.” She pulled out her iPod and ear buds and offered them to me.

Now Cathy is always sharing music with me, so I went along. She already had the song picked out and Taylor Swift’s ‘Mean’ flowed out of the earbuds. I knew the song and it was just what I needed then. I almost felt like crying then, but it helped. I closed my eyes and could feel Cathy there beside me. She played it again and again as we road the bumpity bus home. By the time we made it to our stop I felt almost human again. If only I could breathe.

“Thanks Cathy, you’re the best.” Maybe I should date her when she turns sixteen. She helped me out on one of the worst days of my life. Except that I didn’t really feel like kissing her. Maybe I really was gay.

She smiled so brightly, enough to warm me up despite the cold wind. “You want to borrow my iPod tonight?”

“No, really. I’ll be OK, thank you.” Then I was home and Grandma asked me about my day and I so didn’t tell her about all that happened.

As I passed our workout room I paused. Rick wasn’t home. I wasn’t sure where he was since it wasn’t football season, but the only ones home were me and Grandma. I needed to change things. This was all due to my allergies. As much as I hated to admit it Dad was right that aerobic exercise would help some. Doing situps, pushups and crunches in my room quietly didn’t make a good workout. I went back to find my Grandma.

I found her sitting in front of the TV watching some preacher. “Grandma, when is Rick going to be home?”

She looked up at me. “Not until dinner time.”

I paused for a long while weighing what I wanted to ask. “Grandma, would you keep a secret for me?”

She sat up straighter, hit the mute button and looked at me. “What kind of secret?”

I had a bad feeling about this. I knew she loved me, but I wanted her to keep a secret from my dad, her son. “I want to use the workout room, but please don’t tell Dad or Rick.”

She pursed her lips. “Scotty, I’m not sure that is the kind of thing you need to keep secret. Why don’t you want your father or Rick to know?”

“Because Dad doesn’t do exercise halfway. I want to go at my own pace. He’ll get involved and he’ll push, push, push.”

She sighed. “I can understand that. Your father is a good man, Scotty. I’m very proud of the way he has raised you and Rick when your mother left. He means well. Really he does, but I know what you mean. You’re not like Rick. You’re a gentler child. You always have been. I won’t tell him or Rick. I think you should, but it can wait until you’re ready.”

I hugged her gratefully. “Thank you, Grandma.”
 

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 3 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2012 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

Chapter Four

Friday, January 11th, Taylor Project — Day 11

Turns out it wasn’t allergies yesterday that had me all stopped up. I started coughing in the night couldn’t sleep and woke up with a 101.3 fever. So I’m sick today and was probably sick yesterday when Mrs. Gerstacker chewed out my ass for blowing my nose in the cafeteria. Dad took me into Doc Buford. The doctor listened to me breathe, took my temperature and made tsk tsk noises. He ran tests, negative on flu and strep. So I got antibiotics even though he thought it was a cold and antibiotics don’t cure a cold. He sent me home to rest. Grandma is staying with me today so basically it is a stay in bed and sleep day. I feel crappy. The one good thing is I don’t have to go back to school today. Maybe the whole thing will have cooled down by Monday.

Oh and my being sick I ruined Dad’s plans for the weekend. We were going out to eat again with Julie and her daughter Hailey was going to be there too. Apparently it was going to be a big get together deal. Sorry Dad, I really don’t care right now.

Monday, Jan 14th - Taylor Project — Day 14

I was sick all Friday and most of Saturday. My fever finally broke Saturday evening better and I was feeling better yesterday. I even stuck by my resolutions and cleaned the house. I tried to get out of school this morning, but Dad said if I felt good enough to clean house then I was good enough to go to school. Today wasn’t as bad as Thursday. That was the worst school day ever, but it was pretty awful. I’m not just Snotty and gay any more. Apparently I’m also a coward. It is a known fact at school that I stayed home on Friday because I was too scared to come to school. Morons. I was home because I was flat on my back in bed sick. At least I feel like today was a victory because I didn’t cry once. I kept singing Taylor Swift’s Mean in my head and it helped. If anything I was angry. I told everyone that I was sick and they just didn’t believe me. Even though I still have the cough and I’m sucking down cough drops like they were candy to keep from hacking up a lung in class.

The worst part was Mrs. Gerstacker’s class. Instead of kicking my chair Kevin turned to whispers. He called me Snotty, made little nose blowing sounds, called me a coward and asked if I was going to run home. I tried to ignore him, but finally I was fed and turned around and shouted at him. “I was sick asshole!”

Of course, I’m the one who got sent to the Principal’s office, because Kevin whispered quietly and I shouted. The lecture I received wasn’t kindly this time. Now I’ve got after school detention on Friday. Dad wasn’t happy. We’re supposed to be doing the big get together meeting this Friday that we couldn’t do last week because I was sick. We still can. It will just mean picking me up at school. I’m not sure why I’m the one in trouble. I was sick. I’m the victim here. Is it really OK to make fun of sick people?

I watched Labyrinth over the weekend while I was sick. I watched a lot of movies, but that one came back to me. The girl, Sarah I think her name is, complains all through the movie how it isn’t fair. She was right. Jareth cheated all the time. It wasn’t fair, but there is a point where the big nosed gnome, Hogwart or something, complains to her that she isn’t being fair. And this is what stuck with me. She responds back “No it isn’t. But that’s the way it is.” Life isn’t fair. Is this one of those growing up lessons? If so I don’t like it. Why can’t life be fair?

Thursday, Jan 17th Taylor Project — Day 17

Everyday it’s been a little bit better. Mrs. Gerstacker rearranged the class seating on Tuesday so Kevin isn’t sitting behind me any longer. That right there made a huge difference. I’m still the favorite punching bag of the week, but I’m handling it. I sing ‘why you gotta be so mean’ in my head and it helps. Today was even better. Things are almost back to their normal levels, but that’s just because the animals found a new victim to play with.

Oscar got caught doodling about how he much he hearted One Direction. That made him more of a target than me. It’s pretty much an open secret that he’s gay, but he usually stays in the closet about it. I can’t say that I blame him for hiding it. I feel sorry that he is target number one now, but I don’t dare show it. I’ve already get called gay, queer, faggot, etc. If I so much as smiled at Oscar the rumor mill would make us gay lovers before lunchtime. Does that make me as bad as the others?

I wish it was like when we were back in kindergarten. There weren’t all these rules. You could meet someone and play awhile and you were friends. We moved here to Pine Hill at the end of fourth grade and it hasn’t ever been like that. Four years later and I’m still the new kid. If you’re an athlete like Rick you’re instantly popular. Band isn’t cool, but Cathy is in band and they’re like one big club. If you’re on the outskirts like me, Dave, Lloyd or Oscar you don’t really belong anywhere. Even the outcasts don’t really stick up for each other. Dave and Lloyd didn’t call me a coward, but they still call me Snotty. Some gay kid made a video about how it gets better after high school. Then he killed himself. That’s depressing.

Chapter Five

So Friday night and I was all dressed up like Sunday church just to go eat out, because this was the big event. Rick and I were in jackets (no ties thankfully) and we’re drove over to pick up Julie. Thankfully they didn’t live in Pine Hill so that she doesn’t know of my reputation as Snotty. Of course since Dad drove an extended cab truck we all look redneck. Formal wear and pickup trucks just don’t go together.

Dad pulled into a trailer park to pick them up. That surprised me. Julie worked for a bank so I expected something more than a trailer from her. Granted it looked like a nice trailer from the outside, but it wasn’t a house. I wasn’t allowed inside. The White’s had a cat so I had to wait in the truck while Dad picked up Julie and her daughter.

I expected Hailey to look like her mother, blond, skinny and dressed all up, cheerleader material. However, Hailey didn’t match that image. She had the most casual dress of any of us, a nice pink top matched with a knee-length denim skirt. She looked a lot more comfortable than I did in my monkey suit. Even better she didn’t give off a cheerleader vibe at all. Her hair was a dark blond bordering on brown with fine streaks of gold in it. I guess that’s what they call highlights. It looked natural, but I wouldn’t know how to tell. Regardless, I thought she had cool hair. Much better than my unruly black mop. I’ve got Harry Potter hair. I mean the book kind, no resemblance at all to Daniel Radcliff.

“So you must be Hailey, I’m Scott.” Lame. That was obvious.

“I am. Glad to meetcha.” She didn’t sound at all lame when she said it. She sounded sincere.

There were a few awkward moments getting seat belts on. I wanted to give Hailey some space, but the backseat of a pickup isn’t roomy at the best of times. Since Rick took up like half the backseat it was crowded. I ended up in the middle between Rick and Hailey. I flailed around for what to say, but was stuck for a while. Rick started talking about football and sports and asking Hailey what her school was like. Despite being in the middle they both talked past me like I wasn’t there. I tried to work on sinking into the seat so I wasn’t touching either of them. I got the impression that Rick was putting the moves on Hailey. That made me a little queasy. That would be just what I needed. Dad dating Julie and Rick dating Hailey and me stuck on the outside. Plus Hailey looked like a nice girl and Rick wasn’t a nice guy. OK, he was a good guy as far as being a team player and all, but he wasn’t a good guy were girls were concerned.

When Rick got the birds and the bees speech from Dad, I had to listen, too. I already knew about sex from health class, but Dad’s talk was a different. He basically gave Rick a blank check to go have sex, just as long as he did it safely. He warned Rick, but his warnings were a mix of safe sex and not to settle down to fast. One of the lines was “you don’t have to buy a cow to get milk.” I know how girls acted around my father. I’ve lost count of his girlfriends. His injured knee might have ended his football career, but he still worked out every day and he worked as a salesman. He was quite successful at talking people into things. That means he gets a lot of milk for free. From what I can tell Rick gets a lot of free milk, too. He has a reputation as a player at school that even I’ve heard down in middle school. It looked like he was sizing up Hailey to be another notch in his belt.

At least I thought that was what was happening. Rick kept talking about himself. I thought he was doing a wonderful impression of Gaston from Beauty and the Beast. After a bit I noticed that Hailey wasn’t responding the way girls usually did. She had been at first, but she no longer seemed engaged in the conversation. She made a comment now and then which was enough to keep Rick talking about his football triumphs. She looked bored. In fact she took her iPod out of her purse.

“So Hailey, what kind of music do you listen to?” I knew she was in choir. So she had to like music, right? Didn’t all the girls?

My question turned out to be inspired. That was all it took to get Hailey off and running about music. This was clearly a passion for her. I can’t sing or play a note, but being Cathy’s best friend paid off big time. It became clear that Hailey and I had similar tastes in music. I knew almost every band and song she mentioned. We were also both Gleeks. We talked the rest of the drive to the restaurant and most of the way through the meal. I actually had a good time. Rick, not so much. That was just a cherry on top for me. So the good news was that spending time with Hailey shouldn’t be a pain. I bet she’d hit it off with Cathy as well.

Sunday, Jan 20th - Taylor Project, Day 20
Time for another weekly update.
Journal — check.
Exercise — I haven’t had much time without Dad and/or Rick around to use our workout room, but I’ve been keeping up so check.
Allergies — the antibiotics cleared up my cold. I can breathe again. The air purifier that Dad promised finally arrived and I cleaned the house. I guess check, but still snuffling.
Bully target — improving since my meltdown day, but still in minus column.

Now that I've got that out of the way, something strange and important has happened. I think Hailey and I are already friends. We swapped IM information and have been doing a lot of chatting online this weekend. So why is it that I can meet someone new who doesn’t know about Snotty and make an instant friend, but at my own school people would almost as soon spit on me as talk to me? It’s like I’m just a label, Snotty, and that overrides anything else. It gives me hope that the whole Taylor project can really work. If I can just change enough to break past my label then I won't have to be Snotty any more. I think this is the first real proof I have that this can work. Yet, I don't know what I did differently to make friends so easily. Was it simply that she had no preconceived notion of me as Snotty? If so will any gradual change ever break past the label?

Anyway, I like Hailey. She turned out to be pretty cool. She asked me a lot of questions about my Dad and Julie dating. Although she knew more than I did. Trading messages with her I found at that our parents have been going out since before Thanksgiving. Hailey actually met my father before Christmas. I don’t think Dad mentioned Julie until recently. I could be wrong. I don’t pay too much attention to who Dad goes out with. I wish I had. I kinda think Hailey is expecting our parents to get married someday. Apparently her mother hasn’t dated at all really since her divorce. I didn’t tell her about my Dad’s dating history. I don’t want to bust her bubble. It makes me feel a little dirty knowing what is going on. Julie seems like a nice woman, but I’m sure given Dad’s opinions that she is already giving out free milk. It’s bad enough thinking about my father having sex. That’s just squicky. What’s worse is Hailey though. She’s going to be crushed when the breakup comes. Still, what can I do about it? Maybe this time is different. Dad never dated anyone with kids before.

My Dad’s a good guy mostly. Yeah, he pushes about sports and exercise, but he took care of us when Mom left us. He’s always been here for us. It’s just that for some reason this time I see things on the other side, what it will mean to Julie and especially Hailey. It makes me feel ashamed to be a boy.

Chapter Six

I hated PE with a passion and PE hated me right back. I swear the course was designed to humiliate all non-jocks and keep us in our place at the bottom of the food chain. The first thing I had to do each class was strip down to my underwear and dress out. Being half-naked made me feel even more vulnerable to than usual. Worse if my eyes even strayed to someone else I’d immediately accused of being a fag. I’d learned to change in the corner facing away from everyone else and to change fast. Then once the humiliation of changing was over came the demonstration of just how much I suck at all things physical. The one consolation I had was that there weren’t really any jocks in PE any more. They all took athletics so I was only in there with the other non-jocks. That was better but it still sucked because even with the jocks out of the picture I was still near the bottom of the barrel.

Plus the lack of jocks was offset by having a bully for a teacher - Coach Teller. I’m sure must have been an Army drill sergeant before he became a coach. He’d call us all maggots if he could. He is the physical manifestation of how much PE hates me. Actually I think he hates all of us because we aren’t jocks and he’d rather be coaching football players than teaching PE. Still, he hates me more than the others I think, because I’m weaker. I hear it all the time, move your ass Miller, faster Miller, keep up Miller. I keep hoping my exercise at home will help me improve some, but no sign of it yet.

Dodgeball at least didn’t suck as much as the other things Coach Teller had us do. There was very little structure and Coach Teller mostly ignored us leaving us to play on our own. That meant he didn’t hassle me. Dodgeball days were sometimes even fun. Nobody took it seriously as a real sport. We counted off, divided into two teams and jumped right into playing.

My strategy for dodgeball was pretty simple — run with the herd. I don’t try to grab the ball and get people out. If a ball came my way, I’d go for it, but I wasn’t an aggressive player. I usually survived the first couple of back and forth surges and then get knocked out when the herd started to thin. Today was playing out the same way. If only my nose would stop running. I wasn’t stopped up, but my nose kept dripping like a faucet and I had to stop and blow it a lot. At least I could breathe. It was better than being stopped up any day.

On the third round I was having a good game for me. I’d gotten another player out and lasted longer than usual. In fact there were only three players left, then two, then just me. Ok, so there was a half-dozen players on the other side and they had all the balls. No way was I going to win. I was up against the wall trying to dodge them all and being moderately successful. I knew I would lose, but I didn’t care. Last man standing was good for me. Then I dodged left when I should have dodged right.

The dodgeball caught me right in the chest and pow my chest just exploded in pain. Not itty bitty pain. It was almost as bad as getting hit in the nuts. It hurt so much I was couldn’t speak for a second. Then a cussword exploded from my lips. “Mother-“ I cut it off. I knew better than to drop the f-bomb in gym. I don’t usually cuss like that. Dad can cuss up a storm at home, but I’d get my ass busted at school or sent to run the bleachers at best. I walked off rubbing my chest. It still hurt pretty bad, but the pain was dying down from a sharp spike to an aching throb.

I didn’t understand where the pain came from. Dodgeballs sometimes sting a little, especially the smaller underinflated ones, but they don’t actually hurt. Getting hit by a paintball normally hurts a lot worse. The pain was ebbing, but as the shock passed a secondary reaction set in. I wasn’t really crying, but my allergies kicked in and I started snuffling. It was the thin runny kind and it was gross. I grabbed for a tissue to blow it out instead of sucking it down.

“Look, Snotty’s crying! Did the big bad dodgeball hurt your boob, Snotty?” Winston wasn’t one of my usual tormentors. He was one of the zealous churchgoers. His name wasn’t even Winston. It was Eugene but his last name was Churchill and he was a little on the chunky side. So everyone called him Winston. Why he got a cool nickname and I got Snotty, I have no clue.

“I’m not crying,” but I knew the tissue in my hand and my nose running made it look like I was having a boohoofest. I wiped my nose as best as I could and sang Mean in my head. Oh, it helped. I felt the tears turning to anger.

Coach Teller blew his whistle. “New game everyone, back in positions. Miller, back on the floor.”

I could hear the disdain in his voice as he singled me out for his disapproval and I wanted to snap at him. Yet, the restart was good for me. I was past the point where I might cry. I was able to lose myself in the herd and blow my nose then. I was feeling pretty good about that. I’d still been teased, but I’d held it together. My chest still throbbed right on my nipple where the ball had caught me, but it was passing. I didn’t think anything more about it until that night.

As I lay in the tub relaxing in the hot water I recalled the pain in my nipple and Winston’s comment about getting hit in the boob. Looking down at my chest it almost looked like I did have boobs, man boobs, but still. I felt my nipples and they felt very strange. They’ve been tender a lot lately, sometimes sore, sometimes itchy. Not constantly but often enough.

Wednesday, Jan 23rd — Taylor Project Day 23

I have got something major. Bigger than the Taylor Project. Ready? Wait for it.

I’m growing boobs.

I suppose it’s been going on for a while. Thinking back I remember my nipples itching and being sore, but I didn’t really notice until today. We were playing dodgeball in gym and it really hurt. Winston made a snide comment about me getting hit in the boob. I forgot about it afterwards, but tonight in the bath I remembered. I look at my chest and noticed they looked larger. I wasn’t really sure because I’ve had a bit of manboob thing, but this looked worse and focused on my nipples. They also felt different. When I explored my nipples with my fingers I could feel little bumps underneath them.

I rushed my bath and looked up man boobs on the internet. The bumps under my nipples are breast buds. I’m growing boobs — just like a girl. It’s called gynecomastia. I’m still pretty freaked about it, but I’m starting to calm down. It happens in 40% of boys during puberty. Why didn’t they tell us about that during health class? That would have been good to know. It is caused by a hormone imbalance. Just a little too much estrogen and not enough testosterone as puberty gets into swing. So the good news, I’m starting puberty. Lucky me, instead of peach fuzz on my chin or my voice cracking, my first sign of puberty is growing boobs. The articles I read said that I should contact a doctor, but it also corrects itself usually within six months. If it lasts more than a year than it’s called persistent gynecomastia.

I just saw a doctor two weeks ago — Doc Buford didn’t notice. Granted he didn’t have me take my shirt off when he was listening to me breathe, but obviously it can’t be that bad or he’d have asked me why I have these new chest growths. They feel freakishly huge, but looking in the mirror they aren’t that big. So do I tell Dad?

I’m thinking not. If I tell Dad he’ll take me back to Doc Buford. Who will examine me again with my shirt off, diagnose me with gynecomastia and tell me to wait and see if it gets better. Doc Buford is a big believer in wait and see. I think I could deal with the embarrassment of telling Dad and Doc Buford, but the problem is that if Dad knows then Rick will find out. I can’t do that. He’ll blab. I have him to thank for being called Snotty. That’s name is bad enough, I don’t want to be known as the boy with the boobs.

Honestly, writing this down is helping. I don’t say anything to gain by telling Dad. It will probably be gone by itself in six months. I see a lot to lose by saying anything. If this gets out at school things will get so much worse. That day that Gerstacker called me out in the cafeteria was the worst day of my life. If word gets out that I’m growing boobs it will be ten times worse and it won’t go away. I’ll be the freak of the school. So, that’s decided. I’m going to keep my mouth shut and wait it out.

No one has noticed so far, even Doc Buford. So as long as I don’t get naked I should be able to hide it. All of my t-shirts are baggy anyway. No one will see a thing. The only thing I have to worry about is changing in gym class and I think that will be OK. I never use the showers anyway. I feel vulnerable enough just changing clothes. I usually just change clothes quickly facing away from everyone else. There is no reason I can’t just keep doing that. It’s also another reason to step up my workouts. According to what I read exercise can help in some cases. Boobs are mostly fat. So less fat equals less boobs. However, from what I read it also won’t reverse the growth due to hormones, but it can reduce man boobs caused by fat. I had a little of that going. That can be undone with exercise.

Wow did I just write that? Maybe I am turning into Rick and Dad. That’s their mantra, exercise can fix anything. No, this isn’t about wanting to bulk up. I just want the boobs to go away before anyone finds out. If this gets out I’m dead meat. I think this overrides all other priorities on the Taylor Project. I’ve got a new Prime Directive. Hide my chests growths. Exercise, try to reduce them and hope to hell my male hormones kick in and they go away.
 

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 4 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2012 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

Chapter Seven

I slammed the snooze button when my alarm went off. I rolled over and onto them. Boobs. I have boobs. I rolled back onto my back. I’d done that all through the night. I usually sleep on my stomach, but every time I’d roll over I’d be reminded again of my boobs. Then I’d toss and turn. I don’t know how much sleep I’d gotten, but it couldn’t have been much. Deciding not to tell anyone, to just do nothing had been an easy call to make. Doing nothing was harder.

I put on a baggy shirt and looked in the mirror. I couldn’t see my chests growths but I knew they were there. So I ripped off my shirt and added a plain white t-shirt under it. Then I put the baggy shirt over that. I had a ton of oversized baggy shirts, hand me downs from Rick. I’d be OK. Nobody would know. Doc Buford had listened to me breathe and he hadn’t noticed. If a doctor didn’t notice, then no one would.

I went to the kitchen and saw Rick sitting there. I got a cup of water and took my asthma medicine and he just sat there half-awake eating breakfast cereal. I sat down and ate breakfast with him. He gave me grunt that might have been some kind of acknowledgement, but he didn’t notice. So I got to eat my breakfast in peace. Obviously my boobs weren’t any more obvious today than yesterday, but it was a relief to walk to the bus stop. I had to put on more layers. I felt safe under my winter coat. No one could see anything under that.

In first period history I found it hard to concentrate. I felt like there was a big neon sign on my chest, “Check out Snotty’s boobies”, but no one noticed. I got the usual amount of dirty looks for blowing my nose, yet the feeling of being watched didn’t go away. It wasn’t just my boobs either. I never really looked at girls boobs before. OK, I looked at porn on the internet just to see and decided it was gross. I’d never really understood the fascination other boys had with boobs. I still didn’t, but now I was very much aware that girls had boobs. Newsflash, girls have boobs and they come in a variety of sizes from flat to huge. Mine were thankfully nothing compared to what some girls had. In fact mine were downright flat.

Somewhere I shifted from just staring at boobs to trying to define what it was that made a girl look different from a boy. Oh, I knew the major difference. Girls don’t have what I do between my legs, but I couldn’t see that under clothes. However, I could tell boy from girl with just a glance. So how could I tell? It was more than just having boobs. Even a flat-chested girl looked like a girl and not a boy. It wasn’t height or bulk either. Boys weren’t much larger than girls in my classes. For a while the girls had been taller, but the boys were catching up and passing them. For the most part the boys were taller than the girls now, but I saw tall girls and short boys in 8th grade. I fell somewhere in the middle. I was taller than most of the girls and shorter than most of the boys. Although I don’t think I’ve really gotten my growth spurt yet.

In the end I decided it was really mostly clothes and hair. I didn’t have all the words for it but even in jeans and a shirt girls had a different look to them than boys. That should be good news for me. I dressed like a boy, blue jeans and a t-shirt. My random mop of hair wasn’t in a girl cut. So that meant I looked like a boy despite my chest growths. At least that’s what I told myself, but the feeling that all of a sudden someone would notice and scream it out to the entire school just wouldn’t go away.

I dreaded PE the most. When I finally completed my death trudge to the boy’s locker room I couldn’t strip to change. I just stood there staring at the corner for what seemed like the longest time, but couldn’t be that long. The bell rang signaling that I was already late. I had to get moving. I forced my arms to move. I took off my baggy long-sleeved shirt off and left the tight t-shirt I had on underneath. Then I threw the baggy t-shirt on over it. Logically I knew that my chest wasn’t any bigger than yesterday, but I needed that extra layer of clothes. Without it I don’t think I could have faced gym class. Even then I was sure that I was exposed.

I was the last one out and late so naturally Coach Teller jumped on me for being slow and had me run the bleachers after the normal warm-up exercises. I didn’t really mind too much. That put me a long distance away from the rest of the class. He kept me running the bleachers for half the class, a long time for merely being late, but Coach Teller used a weighted scale when assigning penalties. The whole time I could feel my chest growths jiggling underneath my shirt as I went up and down the bleachers. Why hadn’t I noticed the jiggle before?

When he finally released me to join basketball I was tired and sweaty. So no one questioned that I stayed in the background breathing heavy and not participating. Before I knew it class was over and we were supposed to change back and shower. I hadn’t lied to Cathy and Hailey. I rarely broke a sweat in gym, but I had today running the bleachers. While it would have felt wonderful to shower and get clean it would have been crazy even before my chest growths. I never showered in gym. I was bullied bad enough with clothes on. With my man boobs getting all perky there I absolutely could not risk getting naked in front of others. I’d just have to stink through my last class and a bus ride home. I swapped out clothes again never taking off the t-shirt underneath. I was very much aware it was damp and clinging to me, but nobody said anything.

Thursday, Jan 24th — Taylor Project Day 24

I made it through my first day with boobs without incident. Nobody noticed. I guess it will be OK for a few weeks. It’s winter and I can wear layers. I have three plain white t-shirts that are tight on me, but I also have a trashbag full of too small clothes that were never donated to Goodwill. I went through them and pulled out four or five old shirts that are too small to wear alone, but will be perfect for wearing underneath another shirt. Hopefully by the time it gets warm again my chest growths will have shrunk up. At least that’s my plan.

Until then, I’ll just keep working out. Rick and Dad weren’t home today and I really pushed myself jogging. I’m also putting myself on a diet. I’m cutting out cokes altogether and I’m going to try to work veggies into my diet. We really only have vegetables when Grandma cooks. When Dad cooks it is usually something like spaghetti or Hamburger Helper.

I did some more reading about boobs. The sore and tender feelings I’ve had are apparently normal when they’re growing. Maybe I could ignore them before because I wasn’t aware of it, but lotion is now my chest’s best friend. Although the sore and tenderness might not just be normal growth. I might have jogger’s nipples. Apparently wearing a loose cotton shirt when running is a bad idea. The shirt rubs against the nipples and that’s bad. Even some male runners actually wear bras because of it or at least so it said on the internet. I’ve never seen any of the guys in track at Pine Hill wearing a bra. I’m not buying a bra, but the website also suggested running topless. No way that I could do that at school. I need the big t-shirt to cover up the chest growths. Maybe I can get away with it at home. Grandma hasn’t peeked in on me once. Anyway, good news is that tomorrow is Friday and the weekend.

Friday, Jan 25th — Taylor Project Day 25

Boobs, boobs, boobs. I made it through my second day without anyone being any wiser. I know my chest growths aren’t that big, but I’m constantly aware of them. It doesn’t help that they itched today. The worst part today was lunchtime. Dave pointed out some girl, I forgot who, but she was wearing a tight red sweater and he claimed that he could see the points of her nipples. I couldn’t see hers, but I was very much aware of my unwanted ones under my shirt.

I tried to jog on the treadmill today without a shirt, but I couldn’t do it. I don’t think Grandma would peek in on me, but I just felt terribly exposed without a shirt on. I know that I’ve got man boobs, not real boobs, but I kept wanting to cover them up. In the end I jogged with two layers, a tight t-shirt and a baggy one over it. I got hot fast and worked up a good sweat that way. I’m getting better at the aerobic workout thing. I’m running farther and faster, but so far the only improvement I’ve seen are on the treadmill numbers.

We had another family date thing: Dad and Julie, Rick, Hailey and me. This time I didn’t have to wear a suit. We did a dinner and a movie thing. Hailey and I sat together and talked the whole time. She’s so easy to get along with. I also love it that Hailey doesn’t seem to like Rick. He looked rather sulky all the way through dinner. The movie was some crime drama and rated R. It wasn’t my first R movie by far, but my first at a theater. I wasn’t that impressed. Hailey gave me a nudge halfway through the film. Our parents were all snuggled up and cuddling.

Hailey is still really excited about our parents dating. I’m not sure where it is leading but we’re supposed to get together again tomorrow to go bowling. I don’t remember the last time I went bowling with Dad. Maybe it was some father’s day a year or two ago? Regardless, usually in the past he went on dates and we stayed home with Grandma. We only found out when it was serious when we woke up and the girlfriend was at the table eating breakfast. This activity together thing is pretty new. I don’t know what I think about Julie as a mom, but having Hailey as a sister would at least be cool.

Chapter Eight

Sunday, Jan 27th — Taylor Project Day 27

Wow, so much happened the past two days I’m not sure where to begin. I was pretty annoyed that we were going all the way to Dallas to go bowling. I hate long car trips. I get car sick if I read or even try to play with my Nintendo. That means I basically have to sit and stare out the window the whole time. Plus Rick always rides up front with Dad because his legs are longer. So I’m shoved into the back seat of a pickup. While an extended cab pickup can carry people in the back, that doesn’t mean it is comfortable. This trip was so much better from the start. First off we took Julie’s car, which isn’t big but is an older model with a real backseat. Second, I got to sit beside Hailey and we talked and listened to her iPod all the way to Dallas. I suppose it is selfish, but it also felt good that it is usually me excluded. Rick and Dad up front talking sports and stuff. This time Dad was driving and talking with Julie, I had Hailey to talk to and it was Rick who was the fifth wheel. I felt a little sorry for him, but not that much.

Once we got there things got even better. I thought we were just going bowling, but we went to this place that had bowling, lunar golf and laser tag. Bowling and lunar golf were fun, but laser tag was a blast. It’s even better than paintball. Dad only sprang for three games, but it was great. They had fog and strobe lights and this maze that you hunt each other through. Hailey and I swore a pact. We didn’t shoot each other even though we were on opposite teams.

We had a pizza buffet for lunch and the day wasn’t even over. The weather had warmed up (go mild Texas winters!) and we headed to a park. Usually with Dad and Rick that would mean they would throw the baseball or football around and made me feel useless. Instead Julie brought out a frisbee. She and dad sat on a blanket and watched while we played. Rick sulked at first and just watched Hailey and me. After a while he joined in. He took most of the fun out of it for me. Hailey and I were just having fun. Rick turned it into a competition zipping the frisbee at me as fast as he could. I think he might have been showing off for Hailey. Anyway that went on for a bit and wasn’t much fun, but it wasn’t long before the frisbee strayed over to Dad and Julie’s blanket. Dad returned it and a few minutes later Dad and Julie joined in and it got fun again. It didn’t matter that I had no skills. Thankfully my allergies behaved and it was just fun.

After a while Rick started making noises about having a date that night so we started driving back. Julie and Dad started talking in the front seat so Hailey and I could hear anything, but clearly they wanted some date time without kids. The problem was that Julie didn’t have a babysitter. It didn’t take long before Dad volunteered Grandma’s services and that Hailey could stay with me. Then she could ride back with Julie afterwards. Hailey and I were sharing these big grins even before they asked our opinion. So she got to stay over late.

I guess it wasn’t quite a sleepover because when Dad and Julie got back a little after one in the morning Hailey had to go home, but we still had a blast. We played Monopoly with Grandma, played some videogames, listened to music and spent some time surfing on the web. Hailey was surprised I had my own computer, TV and game station in my room. She was pretty cool about videogames, too. I didn’t expect her to like them. Most girls don’t, but she beat me at some of them. She also knew some hilarious websites with comics and videos.

We ended up watching movies late in the living room with Grandma snoring off. We talked a lot. I finally got the nerve to admit to Hailey that Dad dated around a lot and she shouldn’t get her hopes up. I didn’t share all of Dad’s wonderful advice. I knew Dad and Julie were probably having sex. That was gross enough. I didn’t want to talk about it. I tried to soften Hailey up for the eventually breakup. I’m not sure it worked. I mentioned how Dad never dated anyone with children before. Hailey jumped onto what a good sign that was. It was like she didn’t want to hear my warning. At least I said it. Still, it was mostly fun. I even thought about asking her about growing boobs, since she’d obviously been there and done that, but I didn’t think that would go over well.

Then right after church Julie and Hailey were back. Julie brought a ton of finger foods and heated up more. Dad brought out bags of chips and cokes. Dad, Rick and Julie ended up on the couch watching football. Hailey and I spent the day playing videogames.

Now I’m picky about the videogames I play. I tend to favor the strategy games and stuff with a story, adventure games and such. Hailey bought over several dance games, Dance Dance Revolution and some others. I knew the dance games existed, but I’d never played them. I generally don’t buy games that have to have special attachments and DDR required a stomp pad. Apparently they were Hailey’s favorite. She made them look simple. Some of the games played a little different, but they were basically the same. You have to step in time to the music as the game directs and the motion sensor watches your arm movements. Cathy showed up a little later and joined in. I was right! She and Hailey did hit it off. So I spent the rest of the afternoon playing the dance games with two girls and I had a great time. I sucked compared to them, but girls just aren’t as competitive about games as guys. It was OK that I sucked and they tried to help me do better and cheered me when I improved. That doesn’t mean girls don’t care about winning. Hailey and Cathy were pretty competitive with each other, but they encouraged each other and me too. It wasn’t like playing with Dad and Rick at all.

I’m tired, too. I think I got a better workout playing dance games than I did on the treadmill. I wonder if I could talk Dad into buying some because they’re good exercise. He might go for it. If not I still have some Christmas money left. Maybe I could pick some up used if he won’t. My nipples are a little sore, too. That’s probably from all the jumping and dancing. I wore double layers, but I was still moving around a lot. I didn’t really notice it at the time, but they feel a bit raw now.

Is it a weird thing that I spent a day playing with girls and had a great time? We played video games. They didn’t do their hair and makeup or anything like that and they didn’t talk about boys. Girls are just easier to get along with. Thinking about it before we moved here I had more friends who were girls than boys. When we moved to Pine Hill it was all segregated. Boys played with boys. Girls played with girls and that was the way it was. The only exception was Cathy, but I’m not sure she counts because we’d already met and played together whenever we’d go to see Grandma and Grandpa. So it wasn’t like I’d just met her at the end of third grade.

Thursday, Jan 31st, Taylor Project Day 31

I haven’t written in a while. I think that’s largely because I’ve been IMing with Hailey. We’ve talked through some of the stuff about allergies and bullying and it helped. Hailey thinks it is mostly reputation. She says that it is small town bullshit (her word). Whether you call it reputation or label, it doesn’t change how everyone sees me. How do I break past Snotty to become Taylor?

Hailey also says that what they’re doing is bullying and I should report it, especially the pushing and tripping. Yeah, right. Maybe that works for girls, but kids aren’t stupid. They know what they can get away with and what they can’t. Pushing my books on the floor, name calling, etc. It’s all covert. It would be just my word against theirs. I get shoved and tripped sometimes, but that never happens when a teacher can see.

I suppose I should update my status:

Journal — check

Allergy-free home — check

Exercise — Check plus plus. I know my workouts are working, because I’m jogging farther and faster when I do jog and I’ve lost weight, but not in the chest. :-( I’m not just jogging any longer. I managed to persuade Dad to buy me a DDR game. It was an older used game, but I was surprised how easily he agreed. On days when Rick and/or Dad are home I’ve been playing that instead of jogging. It’s good aerobic exercise. Besides I’m practicing so I can beat Cathy and Hailey (or at least not get tromped). It’s also a lot more fun than jogging in place.

Bully Target — Checkity check. I haven’t come close to crying all week. The harassment is still there. Kevin Grutz keeps pushing my books onto the floor, because he knows it gets to me, but I haven’t let it. He knocks them down; I pick them up. I’m trying to ignore it and just not giving him an opportunity to push them off my desk in the first place.

Hide Chest Growths — Check. My chest growths are still there. I don’t think they’ve really changed much, but it’s been a little more than a week since I first notice. I’m still nervous in gym and elsewhere, but no one has spotted a thing. I know that I didn’t notice and my doctor didn’t notice. So nobody else should either, but it doesn’t feel that way. At least I’ve gotten past the point where I spend all day obsessing about them. They’re there and they don’t seem to be shrinking yet. I’m hoping that maybe the exercise will kickstart my testosterone.

Anyway, the big news is that Hailey and Julie will be spending the weekend here. They’ll be sleeping on the fold-out bed in the couch. So I'm sorta having my first sleepover. Well, if moms came along for a sleepover. OK, it’s not really a sleepover, but almost. Hailey is real excited about it and Cathy has talked to her mom and can stay over late. Hailey is bringing all her dancing games and we’re planning a dance off marathon. Hailey joked about painting toes and makeovers — no way. I guess what is more important is that it is just one step short of Julie and Hailey moving in with us.

Chapter Nine

“Oh yeah, in your face, Hailey!” I’d just out danced her at the highest difficulty setting, a personal best for me and I was celebrating my victory with a victory boogie. It was all in good fun though because Hailey still won most of the time. I sat down, because it was a two-player game and our rule was that the winner rotated out so everyone had a turn. “Whew, it’s hot in here.”

Today was Groundhog Day today. Whether that rodent saw his shadow or not it was pretty obvious we weren’t going to have six more weeks of winter. The grass outside was already turning green and some flowers were already popping up. Winter was still hanging in there at least at night. We’d had the heater on last night, but today the Texas sun was shining. As a result it was getting pretty warm inside, especially when dancing my way to victory. To cool down I started fanning myself with my shirt as Cathy and Hailey selected what song they were going to dance to.

Cathy glanced back. “Well, why don’t you take off one of those shirts?”

“No no! I can’t do that.” The panicked words spilled out of my mouth before my brain engaged. I immediately realized they were a mistake.

Cathy turned to me with a puzzled look on her face. “What’s wrong, Scott?”

“Nothing.” Stupid, stupid, stupid, now they knew something was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t too late. “I mean. You’re probably right. I’ll go take off one of the shirts.”

“Scott Taylor Miller, you are a lousy liar. What’s going on?”

Hailey abruptly switched off the game and turned to face me. “I think I know. You’re hiding bruises aren’t you? You’ve got to stop covering up for your abusers. It’s Kevin isn’t it? If he has escalated to punching you, then you’ve got to say something. It will only get worse.”

Cathy looked at me with a face full of worry. “Is that it? She’s right if Kevin is punching you then you’ve got to speak up.”

“It’s not that.” I felt even hotter than before embarrassed and scared at the same time. What was I going to tell them?

Hailey came over and sat down on my bed beside me. “It’s not your father or Rick is it?”

“What? No! Dad and I don’t always see eye-to-eye. OK, we usually don’t see eye-to-eye, but he doesn’t hit me. I haven’t even had a spanking in years.” I felt tears and tried to hold them in. They were going to find out. “It’s not Rick either. It’s just… personal.”

Cathy sat down and hugged me from the side. “If it’s your secret, as long as no one is hurting you, I won’t tell. Pinky promise.”

I looked at Cathy. I knew she wouldn’t tell and I didn’t see any way I was going to get out of this without telling her and Hailey. It was Hailey that I worried about. I counted her as a friend now, but we just didn’t have the history that Cathy and I did. What if this freaked her out? I didn’t see any way out. “OK, but all of us have to swear.” I held out my pinky. “It’s our secret. Pinky swear.”

Cathy immediately joined. “Swear to God and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”

Hailey hesitated. “As long as no one is hurting you, I won’t tell.”

I looked at them and I was crying — again. I hated being a crybaby. If there were two people who wouldn’t tell it would be these two, but I didn’t know how to say it. The words wouldn’t come. “Maybe, I’d better just show you. Just don’t freak.” Deliberately I took off the baggy shirt I wore. That left just the little tight t-shirt on.

Hailey caught on first. “Oh, I’m sorry. I can see why you’re embarrassed.”

“Scotty, you’ve got boobs!” added Cathy.

“Shhh, shh, shh, keep it down. I don’t want Grandma to hear us.” She was half-asleep watching TV, but it would be a disaster if she walked in now.

“But how?” asked Cathy.

Now that the moment worst was over words didn’t feel so stuck. “It’s not that uncommon. You know in health they told us that hormones trigger puberty: estrogen for girls and testosterone for boys. Well, won’t they don’t tell you is that girls have some testosterone and boys have some estrogen. Sometimes when puberty is just starting the hormones get a little out of whack. I just got a little too much estrogen at the moment. It happens to a lot of boys it’s called gynecomastia. It usually sorts itself out in a few months and goes away.”

Cathy shook her head. “That’s not a little out of whack, Scotty. You look like you’re an A-cup at least.”

“I thought it was just man boobs,” said Hailey. “But now that I really look it’s not just the boobs is it? You’ve got a girl shape. You don’t just go straight up and down. You’ve got a waistline. I’ve never seen you when you weren’t in baggy clothes, but now that you’re just in that t-shirt it’s obvious.”

I had a waistline? “No, I’m just a little overweight. Some people are apple shaped, I’m a pear. My body fat goes to my butt. Haven’t you heard my father talk about my fat ass?”

“No.” Hailey didn’t sound convinced. “But our parents have been on their best manners. I haven’t seen him yell at all. Does he put you down a lot?”

“No, he doesn’t put me down. He just gets angry sometimes.”

“Sometimes he puts you down, Scotty. I’ve heard him talk about your fat ass. He’s not teasing. Your Dad is mostly a good guy, but he’s hard on you sometimes. Anyway, that’s not the point. So you’ve seen a doctor about your, um, breasts?” asked Cathy.

“No, I looked it up on the internet. If I see a doctor then Dad will know and Rick will find out and he’ll blab. It’s bad enough that I have allergies. I do not want to be known as the boy who is growing boobs.”

Cathy paused and then nodded. “OK, I definitely see that. You’ve got enough trouble at school. Rick and your father are all no pain, no gain. I can’t see either of them being understanding, but I’m not sure about this not going to the doctor.”

Hailey piped in, “Hey, would all that estrogen be why you like girl stuff?”

“I don’t like girl stuff.”

Hailey looked at me with disbelief. “Uh-huh, who just did all the moves to ‘All the Single Ladies’?”

I blushed. “OK, but it’s just a game. Sure, when we’ve been playing dancing games a lot, but it’s not like we paint toes and have slumber parties and everything. I’m not into sports, but I play videogames and other boy stuff.”

Hailey looked at me oddly. “Your two best friends are girls. You spend as much time IMing as I do. Your favorite videogames are dance games, Harvest Moon and the Sims. Harvest Moon is totally a girl game. As for the Simms, how exactly is it different from playing with dolls?”

“Hey, don’t knock the Sims. Lot’s of guys play the Sims. They’re not dolls. I build and design houses and stuff, you know. It’s a game. I don’t own dolls or stuffed animals. I like boy stuff.” Although I couldn’t think of an example right then. I didn’t like to pump iron. “I jog. I, um, play paintball. I like games and stuff and math and science.” That was lame and I knew it, but still didn’t change the facts. “I’m a boy!”

“Whoa, easy Scott. Of course, you’re a boy.” Cathy stroked my back.

“Boy scouts!” I finally thought of another example. “I liked boy scouts.”

“I’m sorry, Scott. I didn’t mean to question your manhood. Forget I said anything.”

“It’s OK.” Although I’m not sure it was. Not because she was wrong, but because I was afraid she was right. I did like a lot of girly stuff. Maybe it was the hormones. Maybe when my testosterone kicked in I’d bulk up like Dad and Rick and suddenly decide that football was cool. God, I hoped not.

“Hey Scott, why don’t you show us those websites?” Cathy was deliberately changing the subject. “I don’t have a computer at home.”

“That’s a good idea,” agreed Hailey. “Show us what you found.”

“OK, but I’m going to put my shirt back on first. I don’t want Grandma peeking in and catching us.” After I covered back up we all sat around my computer while and I showed them some of the sites that I found. They didn’t entirely reassure the girls.

Hailey wasn’t really happy with what I showed her. “I don’t know, Scott. It says you should see a doctor.”

“It also says it goes away usually within six months. I see my allergy doctor every six months. I saw him right after Halloween. I had my shirt off then and he didn’t see anything. I didn’t notice anything until January. I go back to see him at the end of April. That’s just only two months away.” I’d been thinking about that deadline a bit recently. That’s when I’d be caught. Unlike Doc Buford my allergy doctor always made me take off my shirt to check my breathing. “I’m not going to sneak this past him. There are a couple of things I’m sure the doc will notice.”

Cathy giggled. “You stole that line from Mulan.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s a good line. Anyway, I’ve been exercising and dieting. I’m hoping this will go down before then. It usually reverses on its own.”

Hailey nodded reluctantly. “OK, I see your point. Two months is a fair deadline and it does say they usually just wait and see.”

“So how have you managed to hide it so long?” asked Cathy. “Even with that oversized shirt you have on now, I can tell now if I really look. Why haven’t they noticed when you showered in gym class?”

“I don’t shower in gym class.”

“Ewe.” Both Cathy and Hailey made the same expression of disgust.

“I take back what I said before. No doubt about it; you’re a boy,” said Hailey.

“Hey, it’s PE. It’s cold in the gym and even when we go outside we hardly ever do anything to break a sweat. It’s not like we’re lifting weights or jogging. I shower after I jog. I sweat more playing dance games with you two. You two aren’t about to rush off and shower on me are you?” I didn’t go into how I never showered for gym class even before that.

“So are you using anything for support?” asked Hailey.

“Support? You mean like a bra?” Oh, no no no no, this was temporary.

Hailey nodded. “Exactly like a bra. I think you’ve got more than enough to fill an A-cup.”

“Back to the point from before. I’m not a girl. I’m a boy with hormone issues. Boys don’t wear bras. I want to hide them. I don’t want to lift them up and make them more obvious than they already are.”

“Don’t knock them till you try them.” Hailey giggled. “Not all bras lift them up and make them obvious. Sports bras flatten and hold them in place. If you wore one under your shirt it would help hide them. You should think about trying one, especially if you’re jogging.”

“First, I’m a boy and I’m not wearing a bra. Second, a bra has straps that you can sometimes see under a shirt. The last thing I need is to get caught wearing a bra at school. I’d never live that down.” Girls could wear boy clothes and be cool or at worst a tomboy. A boy in a bra would immediately be labeled a fag to the entire school. I had enough of that already. I didn’t need more. “Can we just drop this now?”

In a sudden burst of inspiration I realized how to get them off the topic of me. I knew it would work, too. It was part of the girl code or something. “I just shared my deepest darkest secret with you two. I think you two owe me a secret in return.”

Hailey frowned for a second and then nodded. “I guess that’s fair.”

Cathy responded quietly, “You already know mine, Scott. You were there. You saved me.”

It took a moment to realize what she was talking about. Then it clicked. “I didn’t do that much.”

Hailey leaned forward to look around me to Cathy. She dropped her voice. “I don’t know this. What happened?”

“It was last year in the fall. Scott and I were walking home from the bus stop together. Rick wasn’t there that day.” Cathy’s voice sounded like she was telling a ghost story, scared and lost.

“He had football practice.”

“Did he? Why is that a surprise, of course he did. Anyway it was just me and Scott and someone followed us. He was older an adult. No one ever follows us, but I wasn’t worried. I knew him vaguely. Just that he was Howie Booth and he went to our church. Scott and I were walking and talking when he came up behind us and scooped me up. It was warm and I had on a dress and he reached his hand up and grabbed my panties.”

What? He did? I didn’t remember that part. I just remember him scooping Cathy up. The scene was still etched in my mind. Big old Howie Booth scooping up Cathy like she was a child. I didn’t remember his hand up her dress. Why had she never said anything?

Hailey had laid a hand gently on Cathy’s arm. “You don’t have to continue.”

Cathy was crying. “No, I can continue. It’s OK. That’s as bad as it got. He put his hand on me, but just felt around outside. I’m sure he would have done a lot more, but that’s when Scott kicked him in the shin. Scott yelled at him to put me down and the creep did. We took off running and raced to Scott’s house and pounded on the door. We told our parents. We went to the police station later that evening and picked him up in a line up. Mom later said he ended up going to jail. I don’t know what they charged him with, but I’ve never seen him again.”

The memories were coming back strongly now, my one moment of insane bravery. Booth was twice my size. He so could have kicked my ass. Yet it was Cathy and for one time in my life I had acted in my crisis. It was one of the few times I can remember my father being proud of me. I also remembered the outcome. “Dad said he was a pervert and already had a charge of indecent exposure so he was going away for a long time. He also said Mr. Booth was a little slow.”

“So that’s my deep dark secret. I’ve never been kissed by a boy, but I was fondled and almost raped.”

Something else clicked for me. “I’ve never seen you wear a skirt or a dress since that day. Not even to church. Is that why?”

“Yeah, that’s why. I just feel exposed in them now.”

“You should wear them again. You look good in skirts and dresses.”

“Spoken like a boy. It’s not just that. Any time you’re in a skirt all the boys in school try to look up it. It’s a pain. I tell you what. You wear a bra and I’ll wear a skirt.”

“No way.” This was getting back to me. So I deflected. “Hailey, what’s your deep dark secret?”

“It’s a lot like Cathy’s. My dad used to abuse Mom and me. Not sexual. At least not me, but verbal and sometimes he’d hit. That’s why I asked about hiding bruises. I know about hiding bruises. My momma used to hide hers.”

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 5 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2012 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

Chapter Ten

Hailey’s secret shocked me. I’d suggested sharing our secrets, but I hadn’t expected hers to be so dark. I knew some men beat their wives, but I would never have pegged Julie as a victim. She was a strong, confident, and professional woman. Although I knew it wasn’t likely it would be wonderful if she was my stepmom someday. I couldn’t imagine her allowing herself to be a punching bag.

Hailey didn’t pause for my confusion. Once she started it, she seemed almost compelled to continue. “My dad wasn’t that bad when he was sober, but he got mean when he drank. I used to hear him and Mom yelling. Sometime he’d hit her. I couldn’t hear the blows, but I’d hear her cry out and I see the tears after and the bruises. Usually I hid up in my room when Dad was drunk, but it started happening more and more. Sometimes he’d yell at me, too and there were a couple of he got violent. He didn't hit me, but he grabbed me and shook me once and squeezed me hard enough to leave bruises. I did what I saw Mom do. I hid them. We were happy most of the time and if I said something the cops would take him away.

“Then I dropped my cellphone in the toilet. It was an accident and it was my cellphone.”

I nodded in understanding. I didn’t have a cellphone, but I was a boy. I understood that having a cellphone as a girl wasn’t just a convenience. Not having a cellphone marked you as one of the not connected: no texting, no calls, and no shared photos. Girls treated their cellphones like Gollum treated the one ring of power. Hailey had lost her precious.

“I left my cellphone outside and it got rained on once.” Cathy was trying to sympathize. “Not as bad as a toilet, but I know other girls who dropped them in the toilet.”

“I ran to Daddy. I knew he’d been drinking and I knew he was in one of his moods. I should have gone to Mom. I started telling him about my cellphone and he roared at me. ‘Do you know how much those things cost?’ Then he backhanded me across the face.”

Cathy slid an arm around Hailey and hugged. After a moment of hesitation I did the same. Hailey didn’t stop talking. Maybe she couldn’t stop. Now that the dam had sprung a leak the words just kept spilling out of her along with her tears. “It wasn’t the physical hurt really, as much as it was the shame. It would ache for days, but it was being hit that hurt and it was selfish why. I knew Mom was hiding bruises, but I’d never thought he’d hit me.”

She took a few deep shuddering breaths. “And then Momma rushed in and got in his face. ‘Not her! Never her! I told you. I warned you. We’re leaving.’ You’ve heard the phrase mamma grizzly? It was like that. Momma was smaller than Daddy, but it was like she reared up on her hind legs and let him have it. Not physically, just verbally. Then we left. Momma had me throw a few things in a suitcase. Daddy was following us around. He said that he was sorry and it was just the booze. Momma wouldn’t budge. I’ve never seen her like that before or since. I didn’t deserve it. I knew that Dad was hitting her and I looked the other way. She told me to, but I did nothing. I didn’t think he’d ever turn on me either, I was the princess. Yet, she saved me when I didn’t say a word to save her.”

Cathy rubbed away tears from her eyes. “That’s what moms do. It doesn’t matter how badly you screw-up your mom is always there for you.”

Even in the middle of Hailey’s pain Cathy’s comment hurt me. My mom wasn’t like that. She’d left and not looked back, but that was a teardrop of pain in Hailey’s ocean of tears. I certainly wasn’t going to bring it up. Instead I comforted Hailey as best she could. “You don’t have to continue.”

Hailey shook her head. “That’s pretty much the end of the story. We stayed with Grandma for three days and when we moved back Dad had packed all his things and left. Momma went to CPS and the cops. He got probation and community service, but she put him under a restraining order. Momma has full custody. I only see my father every few months under supervision. He looks older every time I see hm. It's scary.”

We held her tightly now and we were one big group hug. My tears were flowing and I didn’t care. Only a beast with a heart of wouldn’t be moved by Hailey’s story. Cathy was stroking her hair. “You’re mother did the right thing, Hailey. There are some lines you can’t cross. Remember what you told Scott. If someone is hitting you have to speak up.”

“I know that in my head, but in my heart there is a part of me that knows it is also partly my fault. I know he crossed the line, but I knew Daddy had too much to drink. I knew his temper. If I had gone to Momma about my cellphone maybe we’d still be a family. Everyone says it’s not my fault: Momma, my therapist, Gramma. I know it’s mostly true, but if you poke a bear do you blame the bear for lashing out?”

“Bullshit.” When people are angry or teasing me, I often stand there like an idiot while they punch me with their words. This time it wasn’t at all hard to find the words. “So he’d still be hitting your mom? So he could be hitting you as well? You didn’t break up your family. Your father did that. Not when he hit you, but the first time he raised his hand against your mother in anger. If you had stayed it might have been her in the hospital or you. Worse you could have been one of those stories in the paper. Mother and daughter found dead in home. Abusers don’t stop unless someone makes them stop. Your mother drew the line.”

If anything her mother should have drawn the line sooner. She should have drawn the line the first time he hit her. Although I couldn’t blame her. I knew just how hard it was to speak up when bullied and how good the bullies were at not leaving proof. I bet the first few times he hit her didn’t leave a mark. Just like when they tripped and shoved me at school. A part of me wondered if I should draw the line, but I pushed that aside. This was about Hailey’s pain, not mine.

“He’s right,” said Cathy. “Was it my fault that I got molested because I was wearing a dress?”

“No, of course not,” said Hailey immediately.

“I feel like it was my fault sometimes. That I encouraged him somehow, but it wasn’t my fault then and it wasn’t your fault. Is it Scott’s fault he’s growing boobs?”

“No, that’s a medical condition.”

“But I feel like it is my fault sometimes, Hailey. I feel ashamed and embarrassed. I didn’t even want to tell you two, my best friends.” I was running with Cathy’s theme that we all feel guilty even though it isn’t our fault, but the part about my two best friends clicked an idea. Something that might help Hailey. “We already promised not to share my secret. We all just shared our worst secrets. We cried together. We need to make a pact.”

That got through Hailey’s funk and a smile cross her face. “Yeah, we should pledge to be sisters.”

“Hey! I’m still not a girl.” I wasn’t offended. She was teasing me and that was so good that she could do that again.

“You have boobs, today you can be our honorary sister, our boob sister.” Hailey rubbed away tears and there was a smile on her face.

“Boob sister?” Cathy giggled. “Now you’re milking it.”

“No she’s not. I may have boobs, but I’m not lactating. Even if I was, no way I’d let her milk ‘em.” With a set-up like milking and boobs the pun had to be said. Even at my own expense.

Hailey started laughing. “You gotta have a baby first, silly and you don’t have the right equipment for that.”

Cathy giggled. “Seriously, Scott isn’t a girl and he might be your brother before long. So we can’t swear sisterhood.”

“We swear friendship,” I clarified. That had been my intention from the start although a part of me wished I could swear sisterhood. “Like the three musketeers. One for all and all for one. In fact, hang on.” I hadn’t used it in a year or two but I still had my pocketknife from boy scouts. I released my hug on Hailey and searched through my junk draw in my dresser. I found my pocketknife and popped open the blade. I tested the edge, still sharp. “We swear in blood. Just a prick on the finger.”

Hailey looked skeptical. “Isn’t that unsanitary?”

Cathy overrode her. “It’s just a few drops and we’re not drug dealers. The only one of us who has a disease is Scotty and if his blood makes my boobs grow a little, I won’t complain.”

I laughed at that. “I’ll be glad to send all the growth your way, but it’s not contagious.”

Hailey giggled at that. “All right, I’ll risk it. What do we swear?”

I sterilized the blade with some mouth wash and pricked my finger. “First prick your finger.” I was stalling for time trying to come up with words. One for all and all for one had been used too much. I passed my knife to Cathy.

Cathy gave herself more of a little cut than prick, but she didn’t cry out. She just passed the knife to Hailey and pressed her bloody finger to mine. “What do we swear?”

“Friendship,” I replied. “Friends first. Friends last. Friends forever.” I’m not sure where the words came from. Maybe I’d read them somewhere, but they felt right.

Hailey smiled and pricked her finger, but didn’t bleed. She did it again and drew blood and then pressed her fingers to ours. “OK, let’s do it.”

I started the words, speaking slowly. Cathy and Hailey joined in so we chanted them in unison. “Friends first, friends last, friends forever.”

Chapter 11

I sank down low in my tub to submerge my entire body. The hot water felt really good. We’d had a marathon DDR session and I felt sore all over. Even my boobs ached. Why did my boobs ache? It wasn’t like I was flexing my boob muscles while dancing. Yet, they were most certainly complaining all over and especially at my nipples which felt raw. I hated to admit it, but maybe Hailey did have a little bit of a point that I needed support. Perhaps better compression as well. Not that I was about to start wearing a bra. We had plenty of athletic support bandages in the house for wrapping up injuries. Something like that would probably help. I’d have to give it a try tomorrow.

Then there were the comments that Hailey and Cathy had made about me having a waistline. I couldn’t have a waistline could I? I’d read up about female puberty when I was reading about gynecomastia. The waist came later when the pelvis expanded to accommodate giving birth. It was late stage in female puberty. The unwanted estrogen in my body shouldn’t have had time to make changes in my bones. I certainly hadn’t grown any. However, now that the idea was in my head I couldn’t get it out and I couldn’t really tell looking down at myself. Reluctantly I pulled the plug and got out of the tub.

I dried off with a towel and started getting cold immediately, but rather than getting dress I took a good look at myself in the mirror. Did I have a waistline? I certainly didn’t have an hourglass and I have always had a big butt and thighs with manboobs. I wasn’t kidding about being pear shaped. I stood up and turned to look at myself in the mirror. They were right. I was overweight but I didn’t have a belly pouch. With my fat ass and my boobs I looked like a girl — with one obvious exception that wasn’t really that noticeable. It wasn’t much of a figure, still more ass than chest, but except for my penis my body screamed girl. Looking at myself I didn’t know what to think.

I look like a girl. What should I do? I’d swore Hailey and Cathy to secrecy, but I could just go tell my dad. Maybe even I should. This went beyond a little bit of chest growth. Was I wrong about my hips? Were my hormones so off-kilter that my hips were widening like a girl in puberty? That didn’t make sense. That took years. It had to be just fat. Most of the time the fat would reverse itself in six months or less. It had only been a few weeks. Just a few weeks. If I told Dad, then Rick would know and the whole school. Plus they’d put me on male hormones. That scared me as much as it getting out at school.

Not that I didn’t want my boobs to shrink. It was just that I didn’t want to turn into a knuckle-dragging Neanderthal. I love my dad and Rick has his good moments. I just don’t want to be them. All my worst memories are around sports and bullies. I had the best time today with Hailey and Cathy and the day wasn’t even over. Who did I want to be? Taylor, of course, but who was Taylor? I tried to see myself. Taller, yes and better hair that didn’t go all over the place. Not built like Rick or Dad, but fit, wiry or lanky. Yeah, that would be better. Yet I had a hard time making the image work while staring at myself.

I heard a knock on the bathroom door. Hailey called through the door, “Scott, are you still in there? I heard the tub drain. Are we going to watch Megamind or not?”

“Yeah, yeah, almost done. I’ll be right out.” Megamind. That was it. I was more of a Megamind than a Metroman without the evil fascination. So why wasn’t it working in my head. Maybe I was gay. Although that didn’t work. I definitely didn’t like boys. I just liked girls more as friends than anything else. I looked at myself in the mirror. I had a t-shirt on under my pajamas and the pajamas were too big on me, but my chest growths were still too noticeable.

I exited the bathroom starting to yell to Hailey that it was her turn when I almost ran into her exiting the bathroom. I saw her eyes flick down to my chest. “I know. Too visible. I’ll grab a blanket from my room and wrap up in it while we’re watching movies.”

She nodded. “Good idea if you plan to keep on hiding things.” Then she was past me and into the bathroom.

I ducked across the hallway to my bedroom. If I planned to keep on hiding things? Like I had a choice. She was lucky. It was so easy for her. She didn’t have to deal with expectations to man up. She could just be herself. If Dad and Rick found out or this got out at school, I didn’t want to think about it. Only girls were allowed to grow boobs and I wasn’t a girl. I’d be the freak. That’s because I was a freak. I looked like a girl. My friends were girls. Maybe I really was gay. Except it had nothing to do with liking boys. I certainly didn’t like boys. I liked girls much better, but as friends. My Taylor Project was all bullshit. I had no idea who I wanted to be.

Sunday, February 3rd (Superbowl Sunday) — Taylor Project Day 34

Today was Superbowl Sunday which was always a major event at our house. Every year that I can remember I’ve been forced to watch the game. This year Hailey, Cathy and I holed up in my room and we missed the whole thing. That was great as far as I was concerned. We spent a large part of the time playing DDR but we spent more of it just talking. I tried out the athletic wrap around my chest which did help with the jiggle and bounce but it isn’t exactly comfortable. Naturally the girls noticed. Hailey thought it was funny and was all ‘I told you so’ and ‘sports bras would be better’. Then we had a conversation about boobs and I learned way more than I’d ever learned on the internet.

Julie watched the game with Dad and Rick. Dad and Julie are getting gross. They’re acting like a couple of teenagers, cuddling and kissing all the time. According to Hailey her mom didn’t go straight to the sofa bed. She spent an hour or more ‘talking’ to my dad in the bedroom with the door closed. Obviously they were having sex. Hailey is all excited about it. She’s convinced that if they’re having sex then that means they’ll get married eventually. She’s even expecting it to happen on Valentine’s day. I wonder if her mother thinks the same thing, because with my dad sex doesn’t mean marriage. I really like Hailey and she’d make a cool step-sister, but I’m not so optimistic about it happening. Everything else is on track. I’m not looking forward to school tomorrow with hidden boobs, but I’ll deal.

P.S. I don't even remember who was playing in the superbowl let alone who won. Woot!

Hailey> So what are you going to do about Cathy 4 v-day?
Scott> For V-day? Why do I have to do anything 4 her 4 v-day?
Hailey> Because she’s got a big freaking crush on you

I paused and looked at my chat window. What was Hailey smoking? I paused to take a sip of bottled water, no more cola for me. That was nuts. Wasn’t it?

Scott> NFW. We’re friends. BFFs yes. Crush no.
Hailey> Way. She’s into U big time.
Scott> Bad enough UR shipping robulie. Don’t start shipping me.
Hailey> I’m not shipping our parents. They’re dating = relationship
Hailey> That’s the definition
Scott> Fine. Give you that one. UR pushing the ship then
Hailey> So?
Scott> A needle pulling thread
Hailey> I like happy endings. Sue me
Hailey> Back to U. Cathy crushes on U big time
Scott> How do U know? She tell U?
Hailey> No need. I’m a gurl. I have eyes. Hers melt 4U
Hailey> UR her knight in shining blue jeans.
Hailey> U saved her from big bad scary dude

Was Cathy really crushing on me? If she had been, then wouldn’t she have been more jealous of Hailey? Hadn’t she been a little at first. I tried to remember exactly how their meeting went down. There had been a little tension but it went away almost immediately.

Hailey> Scott? Still there?
Scott> Yeah. So if Cathy has a crush on me, why isn’t she jealous of you?
Hailey> Because I picked up on it in like 5 mins.
Hailey> Told her I liked U, but U were brother-to-be. Didn’t like U that way
Hailey> Gave her clear sailing
Scott> U discussed this? When?
Hailey> When we met. U really have no clue?
Scott> Apparently. So she told U this
Hailey> Neg. I told her
Hailey> But she went from green-eyed ragebeast to my new BFF
Hailey> Clue bat, meet Scotty’s head. Thunk.
Scott> Well OK then.
Scott> I like her, but BFFwise, not hearts and kisses
Hailey> I know.
Scott> Because UR a gurl
Hailey> He can be taught.
Scott> Don’t want to hurt her. Maybe someday more.
Hailey> Do something 4 v-day at least.
Scott> Like what?
Hailey> At least get her a card. It would make her day
Scott> But we’re not in elementary any more. Cards are a bf/gf thing now
Hailey> They don’t have to be. Just sign it as a friend
Scott> What if I got both you and her a card and sign them friends 4ever?
Hailey> Ding Ding Ding that wins the prize
Hailey> Seriously is perfect. Will make her day and not a bf/gf vibe
Scott> OK, will do

Oh, thank god. I was really starting to squirm about this. I could do a BFF card. The idea of having Cathy as a girlfriend wasn’t really a bad one. It felt kinda nice, but strange. My hormones were kicking in. See chest for evidence. So maybe it wouldn’t be strange soon enough. Oops, Hailey

Scott> You know my dad probably won’t propose don’t you?
Hailey> I can hope. My mom is so happy now.
Scott> I’ll hope with you.
Scott> Like U as BFF, but you’d B cool sister
Hailey> Ditto. Crossing all fingers.
Scott> U get Rick as brother too
Hailey> Ugh. Rick play football. Rick smash. Ugh
Hailey> GTG. Night bro-2B
Scott> Knock on wood. Night BFF

Chapter Twelve

Thursday, Feb 7th -Taylor Project — Day 38

I’ve been thinking a lot about what I am inside. Hailey made some comments that I act like a girl. Both Hailey and Cathy pointed out something I hadn’t noticed — I have a girl shape. I have a bit of a waistline. Actually it is more than I have boobs and a fat ass, but still. Maybe it is my hormones being out of whack, but I’ve been wondering a lot since then about whether I really do act like a girl or not. It’s certainly true that I don’t like sports. Thinking about it I’ve always been more at ease around girls than boys. Before we moved to Pine Hill most of my friends were girls. I just never thought about it, because when I was that young we just played, but I remember playing tea party and house. Of course, I remember playing hide and seek and tag, too. Life would be so much easier if I were a girl. Then Dad and Grandma and Rick and everyone else wouldn’t be trying to make me into a jock. Girls didn’t have to be tough. They could cry and stuff. Yet, I wasn’t a girl. I was a boy. Boys didn’t become girls. Except sometimes they do. I’ve heard that before but didn’t have details, so naturally I went to the internet.

The word I was looking for was transgendered, but I found another word that might fit as well, intersexed. Whether it was one or the other depended on if it was mental or physical. After reading the intersexed stuff none of it fits. There are some that sorta fit. Like gynecomastia can be a symptom of being XXY and some others, but none of the symptoms fit me. So it looks like the word for me would be transgendered, but I don’t fit that even that slot.

In the process of reading I found message boards and stories. There is a lot of transgender fiction on the web and I’ve been reading it in the evenings on the computer. There is something about these stories that speak to me so strongly. I love the determination of the protagonists and the almost magical way that becoming their inner gender fixes their life. That isn’t really me. Yeah, things would be easier if I had been born a girl. Then people wouldn’t be trying to make me into another copy of Dad, but what I found in the stories wasn’t just a little lukewarm wouldn’t it be nice. No, someone who is really transgendered knows it in their heart. That came across clear in the stories. You’ve got to be hardcore serious to let doctors cut off your dick, turn it inside out and make a vagina out of it. I’m not that intense. For me it is more that I don’t want to be me than I really want to be a girl. I think the stories appeal to me because I’m trying to do my own transformation from Scotty to Taylor. Plus, it’s reassuring to read about other boys with boobs and that I’m not alone. I’m not serious enough to be transgendered. I’m starting to get used to having boobs, but that doesn’t make me a girl. I know I’m a boy and if I was transgender I wouldn’t feel like that. I’d know in my heart I was a girl. I just think girls have it easy.

Dad and Rick always told me not to be a sissy. I hate that word. A girl who played sports, wore jeans and played rough with the boys was a tomboy and it wasn’t a bad thing. There was no such thing as a tomgirl. A boy like me who liked to dance, talk, hang out with girls and didn’t like playing rough — was called a sissy. Tomboy wasn’t bad. It was just a phase. I’ve heard more than once how Cathy was going through a tomboy phase. Sissy was never just a phase. No one ever said, ‘Oh Scott is just going through a sissy phase’. In the hierarchy of junior high insults sissy wasn’t as bad as queer/gay/fag. It was too childish. Elementary kids could use sissy. Queer, gay and fag were R rated. I wish there was a male equivalent for tomboy. One where you could express a feminine side without being a sissy or gay. Unless you’re Robin Williams playing Mrs. Doubtfire that doesn’t happen in real life. OK, maybe it just doesn’t happen in Pine Hill. There are places we’re people can even be openly gay and be accepted. Pine Hill just isn’t one of those places.

Grandma and Dad both had firm opinions about gays and lesbians. I’ve heard it before during political talk about gay marriage. What did they think of me? I know somewhat about what Dad thinks. He is always trying to push me into sports. What would he do if he found out I was growing boobs? Hailey’s Dad hit her. I don’t think Dad would ever hit me. I hadn’t even gotten a spanking in years, but he wouldn’t be happy.

I was so relieved to make it to the end of the week. School was bad. I’ve always known I didn’t quite fit but now I was more aware of how I didn’t fit. I think it made the bullying worse. I managed to shut down my emotions. I didn’t cry or react outwardly. I sang Taylor’s Mean in my head so many times I’m getting sick of it, but it got me through. I was also looking forward to seeing Hailey. She had some hush-hush super secret surprise for me.

I couldn’t really talk to her as soon as she showed up. Friday night was date night so my Dad and her Mom were all dressed up and in a hurry to go. We had to unload Julie and Hailey’s things stow them away, get the usual lecture to behave. Then Grandma had us eat dinner. It wasn’t until after dinner was over that Hailey and I finally got to slip off to my room and talk.

“So what super secret thing you wanted to talk about? Is it news about Dad and your mom?”

Hailey scooted closer and lowered her voice. “No, I got something for you. I know that you said no, but I brought some of my sports bras. I think we’re about the same size. I’ve read up on gynecomastia and I know you have. Boys with your condition often wear bras. Isn’t that true?”

“Some do. That doesn’t mean I have to. I’ve been doing the wrapping thing this week and it has helped. I think the bandage is less obvious than a bra would be.”

I knew I wasn’t sounding that certain and that was because I wasn’t. What I wasn’t saying was that wrapping myself took time to get right. Too tight was painful and too loose unraveled. I did not need a repeat of Wednesday when the whole thing started to come undone on the bus. Maybe reading transgendered stories all week had helped as well. Not that I was suddenly embracing becoming a girl. It was more that now that I was aware that the estrogen ocean ran deep and wearing a bra was barely sticking my toe in the water. Still I had enough pride left that I didn’t want to appear to be too eager. I was going to pretend to let Hailey convince me.

“How is a bandage less obvious than a bra? Either case they’re going to want to know what’s under there. Besides I think a sports bra would work better. That’s what a sports bra is for. I really think you should try one. Especially since you’re jogging a lot.”

“OK, I’ll try one on.” I gave a sigh trying to look reluctant while cheering on the inside. I didn’t want to put up so much of a fight that she changed her mind.

“Really?” She looked at me puzzled. “I was expecting more of an argument from you.”

I blushed. “Um, let’s put it this way, my sore nipples and bouncy boobs are on your side. I’m not exactly happy about things, but I’ll give it a try. So where are the, um, things?”

“In my bag. Be right back.” Hailey slipped out. I spent a nervous few moments thinking about how I’d almost blown it before she returned with her bag. She opened it up and dug through her clothes and came up with a stack of bras, most of which were pink.

“Why is it always pink with you? Haven’t you outgrown it yet?” Here at least I could try to build up some boy cred. Any boy would object to wearing pink. What was I thinking? Any normal boy would object to wearing a bra.

“Pink is my signature color,” she responded in an exaggerated Southern accent. “You know, ‘Steel Magnolias’?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Is that a movie?” Whew, subject change.

“Is that a movie?” Hailey rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’ll have to bring it next time. It’s a perfect Valentine’s Day movie, a real chick flick but a good one. I’ve watched it with my mom lots of times.”

“OK, anyway give me that plain gray one. I’ll try it.” I took the garment and headed to the bathroom. I locked myself in, removed my shirt and unwrapped my boobs. They felt much better without the wrapping but a week of having them wrapped had proved that Hailey was right — I needed some kind of support.

I picked up the gray sports bra by one strap. It looked too small to do the job, but might as well get it over with. I slithered into the bra and it stretched around me and to my considerable surprise it fit. I stared at myself in the mirror and didn’t really like what I saw. I looked more like a girl than ever. However, it fit just fine and felt a lot more comfortable than the bandage wrap except for the straps my shoulders. Those felt weird. I gave an experimental bounce. Hmm, maybe. At least this was proof I wasn’t transgendered. Wearing a bra didn’t feel wonderful. This was more an engineering problem: how to properly strap down breast tissue to reduce jiggle, a science project by Taylor Miller. I’m sure that would go over great at the science fair.

I put my crazy thoughts away and put on shirt on over the bra and studied the result in the mirror. Hmm, about as effective as the bandage at hiding things. I’d still need multiple layers for safety, but for now that could wait. I scooted across the hallway and back to my room and Hailey. “OK, I’ve got it on.”

“Well, what do you think? I can’t really tell. To be honest that baggy shirt hides enough that it just looks like man boobs, but I bet a real bra is more comfortable.”

I shrugged. “Maybe, but is it worth the added risk of being caught? Isn’t the bra just as visible as my boobs?”

“Well, I can’t see it, but you could triple layer. Sports bra under a t-shirt under a baggy shirt.”

“Hmm.” I didn’t want to appear to be too eager, but I’d already reached the same conclusion. “Maybe.”

“Try jumping or jogging in place. Tell me you can’t feel the difference then.”

“I think you’re enjoying this too much.” Still I jumped and jogged in place. “As much as I hate to say it, I think you’re right. I think it will work better than a bandage and is unfortunately necessary. To really put it to a test I think I’d need to go jogging or play some DDR.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?” She gave me a smile that was half play and half serious.

“Bring it on.”

“Oh, I’ll bring it. Let me put away my bag first. So do you want to keep these or not?” She offered me a handful of colorful sports bras.

I did, but most of them I couldn’t get away with wearing because of the coloring. “I don’t know. I’ll take this one and the white one, but I’m afraid the others are too brightly colored. They’ll be visible under my shirt. Besides don’t you need them?”

“Nah, I don’t work out like you do or need to and I’m not trying to flatten my boobs out. Besides, these are my old A-cup bras. It doesn’t matter as much in a sports bra, but I’m into B-cups now. I’ll just get Mom to buy me more. You can keep all of them. If you wear a darker shirt you can get away with the bright colors. I know that’s what I did for gym.”

“Thank you, very much.” I took the bras feeling strangely conflicted about how much I wanted them. They were strictly for jiggle control, nothing pervy. “I’m really grateful, but please don’t mention to this to anyone, like ever.”

“Not even Cathy? Don’t worry. I won’t tell. Your secret is safe with me.” She zipped up her bag. “Just be sure to wash them out after use. You can handwash them in the tub and hang them up in your closet overnight. There is nothing grosser than putting on a sweaty stinky bra.”

I had to laugh at that. “I’ll take your word on that.”
 

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 6 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2012 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

Chapter Thirteen

Sunday, Feb 9th — Taylor Project Day 40

I should do a status update. I’m keeping up with everything, but not seeing a lot of progress.

Journaling — check. Actually this hasn’t even been a chore. I’ve been writing most days. It helps to put what happens into words. I do have to remind myself to do these status updates still.

Exercise — running farther and faster, but not sure how much good it is doing. I’m also doing better at DDR and that’s more exercise than jogging. It wasn’t on my initial list, but also been better at dieting. That wasn’t on my New Year’s resolution because I’d already been doing it or more accurately half-heartedly trying to diet. Since I’ve discovered that I’m boobs I’ve dropped all colas from my diet. I’ve switched to water and fruit juices. I’m taking my diet more seriously. Not that I have a lot of control. I at least make a healthy start on the day. I make my own breakfast most mornings. Months ago I switched over from super sugared cereal to juice and a bowl of oatmeal. Lunch is out of my control. I eat whatever the school cafeteria serves. Allegedly it is balanced and healthy. I doubt it is any healthier than it tastes. With Dad and Rick being jocks dinner is usually double helpings of meat and starch with maybe a token vegetable if Grandma is cooking. Oh, and Grandma almost always has some kind of sweet around. Have a cookie/cake/pie did not help my weight (or hers).

That’s where I used to be breaking my diet. I’d come home, have cookies or cake or pie as a snack, then starch, starch, meat, meat for dinner. Then I’d drink a Dr. Pepper or three. That’s how I got a fat ass and man boobs. I’m really trying to eat more of the vegetables and less of the starches. Dieting sucks. Like Garfield says diet is die with a t. It feels like I’m starving all the time. I’m trying to fight that with healthy snacks instead of sweets. That has been mostly fruit and carrot sticks. I tried celery, but it tastes like rabbit food. They taste much better dipped in ranch dressing, but that just puts the calories right back in. Dad and Rick haven’t noticed. Grandma has because she buys the groceries, but she doesn’t get it. She keeps offering me sweets. I guess in her mind food equals love and if I don’t eat the sweets she baked I don’t love her. Newsflash Grandma, I’m jogging, but I don’t do daily weights like Dad and Rick. Nor do I plan to. It makes more sense for me to cut back on my calories than try to exercise it all off.

Dust free home — check. Allergies are better, but we’re in that pre-spring time in Texas. The pollens aren’t out yet, but it isn’t freezing. I expect it will get worse when everything starts growing. Hailey helped me even though I told her she didn't have to. Julie complimented both of us on cleaning afterwards.

Bully Target — OK, maybe I have made progress. I haven’t broken down crying this week, but the bullying isn’t letting up. Same old same old.

Breast reduction — not happening, if anything they are getting bigger. The original buds went away, but I feel more underneath. I’m afraid that I’m also getting lopsided. My left boob feels a bit bigger than my right one. I looked that up and that’s not uncommon either when boobs grow.

While they aren’t shrinking, I am upgrading my concealment technology. The sports bras that I got from Hailey are much more comfortable than bandages. I think the bandages actually compressed and hid better, but the sports bras won’t come loose and unravel on me. Going forward I’m going to triple layer: sports bra, t-shirt, baggy shirt. I’m going to have to handwash the sports bras a lot because I don’t dare risk anything but the white one and the gray when I’m changing for gym class. I can at least get away with wearing the colored ones on the weekends. As long as I wear a dark shirt they won’t show through. The straps bothered me some at first, but I’m starting to get used to it now. Although the extra layers are hot with the weather turning warmer. I can’t afford to shower at school, but I usually come home, work out and shower.

I’m getting worried about the lack of shrinkage in the boobs. I’m not seeing any sign of it reversing and I’m running out of time. At the end of April I go back to my allergy doctor and he will make me take off my shirt to listen to me breathe. My testosterone doesn’t seem to be kicking in. I am seeing a little bit of pubic hair so maybe something is finally happening. Now if only my boobs would stop growing. Hailey and Cathy thought I was an A-cup though we didn’t measure. I’m sticking with the wait and see plan. What else can I do?

After spending all weekend wearing a sports bra I was starting to get used to it, but it felt different to be wearing a bra to school. I wasn’t sure why. I’d already made the decision. I’d been wearing them for two days. Why did it feel like I was just now crossing a bridge? If there was a bridge hadn’t I crossed it on Friday night when I first put on the bra? Or on Saturday when I’d told Cathy? What was different about wearing a bra to school? It was just a superior cloaking technology, nothing more. Yet I almost went back to the bandages. Maybe it was all the tg stories I’d read on the internet. Maybe they were starting to mess with my head. In the end I put it on, but I was very much aware that I had on a bra.

I felt awkward merely walking with Cathy to the little Mom & Pop convenience store that served as our bus stop. There was no way she could tell. Cathy and I were both bundled up. The weather had turned cold again. It wasn’t below freezing, but with the wind blowing in our faces I was feeling the chill despite my multiple layers of clothes as we walked together in the cold gray morning. We chit chatted about this and that, but I wasn’t really giving her my full attention. Down the little two lane road, past the cemetery and we were there. The bus hadn’t arrived yet, but it should be along soon. So we shivered and waited.

“Are you feeling OK, this morning?” asked Cathy. “You look a little out of it.”

I shrugged not really wanting to talk about it. I wore it with Cathy yesterday and was fine. Why did it feel awkward now? I’d about decided to say nothing, but standing there in the cold just waiting and not saying what was on my mind wore down my reluctance. “It’s just that I’m wearing a bra to school. I’ve got it on now.”

“I’d guessed you would.” She didn’t sound that enthusiastic about it. “Not that I can tell.”

How could she under two shirts and a coat? “That’s the point. So no one can tell.”

“So what’s bothering you about it?”

“Well, I’m a boy, you know. Boys don’t wear bras to school. If anyone finds out I’m going to get pounded.” That was part of it, but with or without the bra I still had boobs. So why did the bra make a difference?

“You know, maybe you should tell your Dad, go see a doctor. It’s not natural and I think it is pretty serious. Yours are almost as big as mine.”

I looked at her. I felt hurt. I thought she was on my side. A doctor meant discovery. “You know why I can’t do that. Rick will blab. It will get out all over the school and I’ll be worse a freak than I am now.”

She nodded. “Yeah, but… I’m worried about you Scott. Have they gone down any?”

“Not in the past two days.”

“I know that, but overall are they shrinking or growing?”

“They’ve just grown. The website says it can take months. I only noticed a few weeks ago. Besides, I’ve got a deadline, remember. If it hasn’t gotten better by the end of April, Dad and the doctors will find out.” I was getting worried about that. While every day dripped by slowly the deadline seemed to be rushing up way too soon. “Besides, Dad and Julie look like they’re getting serious. I don’t want to scare Julie off by being a freak.”

“If your being sick would scare her away you don’t want her for a stepmom. I only know about her from Hailey, but she seems like a good mom. Do you really think there is a good chance she and your dad will get married?”

“Hailey does. I’m not so sure. Dad almost always has a girlfriend but he doesn’t marry them.”

“He married your mom didn’t he?”

I laughed. “He didn’t have any choice in that. She was pregnant.”

“You never told me that. Are you sure?”

“Yeah, Grandma dropped a comment once about one of Dad’s girlfriends that she didn’t like and I looked up the dates. Rick was born five months after they were married.”

“So your dad did the right thing then your mom just up and left. No wonder he has commitment issues. Still, you know, Hailey might be right. He seems more serious about Julie.” She shuffled along a bit. “Scott, if he did marry Julie where do you think yall’d live?”

“Huh.” I hadn’t really thought about it. “Where we are now, I guess. We have room. Hailey and Julie live in a trailer park. They’ve got a single wide.” There was no way Rick, Dad and I could move in with them. “Besides they have a cat.” I couldn’t move in with a cat, but if they moved in with us what would happen to the cat? “We’ve got an extra bedroom that we’re using as the workout room. I’d guess we’d move the workout stuff to the barn and make that into Hailey’s room.” Julie wouldn’t need her own room; she’d sleep in the master bedroom with Dad of course. Despite all of Hailey’s hoping it was weird thinking about them actually moving in. Although to be honest Dad and Julie living together was more likely than them getting married.

“Well, that’s good… I’d hate for you to move away.”

Move away? Leave Pine Hill? The possibility of moving away, to someplace where I wasn’t Snotty suddenly filled me with hope, but it was brief and fleeting like the sun peeking through the clouds on an overcast day. It wouldn’t work. “I don’t think Dad would ever leave Grandma. Besides we own the land and the house free and clear. You know how cheap my dad is. He wouldn’t want to pay a mortgage when we have a house large enough for all of us.”

“Good. You know it would be cool if your Dad and Julie married and Hailey moved in.”

“Yeah.” I coughed a bit. Just the cold air I hoped, not another cold coming on. I heard the rumble of the bus before I saw it. I heard the noise of a vehicle and looked up. “Bus!” We both hurried to get out of the cold.

The bus ride to school wasn’t bad. I had my coat on and Cathy for company. It was when we got to school and went our separate ways that I had to really face my classmates. In some ways going to school with a bra on was worse than finding out I was growing boobs in the first place. It felt like everyone was staring at me. I know I had on multiple layers, but it felt like everyone could see right through them. I made the mistake of holding my books to my chest and immediately realized that was such a girl thing to do. I quickly shifted my books back to my hip.

By third period I just couldn’t take it any longer. I asked to go to the bathroom, stripped down, took it off the sports bra and stuffed it into my pocket. I made a quick detour by locker threw it in and buried it. I felt better about it for a little while, but instead of being aware of my bra I was aware of every little jiggle and shake my chest made. Worse my nipples seemed determined to stand up today. Gerstacker jumped on me during fourth period for daydreaming. I wasn’t really. I was just so caught up on the whole damned if I do, damned if I don’t dilemma of wearing a bra.

Even Dave noticed at lunch how distracted I was. “Earth to Scotty, come in Scotty, check out the slut sweater on Mandy.”

I glanced over at Mandy Spears. She was wearing a sweater that was a deep green and tight on her along with a black skirt. I thought green and black was a good match with her auburn hair and fair complexion. The skirt made her stand out more than the sweater did. “It’s looks good on her, suits her coloring.”

“Whoa, Snotty you did not just say that. That’s a girl line. I was talking about the way her tits are almost popping out of it. She looks hot. What’s wrong with you today, Snotty?”

Lloyd chimed in supporting Dave. “It’s a slut sweater. She puts out. She’s advertising.”

“If you say so.” I looked but I couldn’t see what they saw. Maybe it was because I had a pair of my own, but they were just boobs. Girls wore their sweaters tight. That didn’t make her a slut. “I’m not hungry.”

I was hungry, but I just couldn’t take any more of Dave and Lloyd. They have been getting on my nerves a lot lately. All my conversations with them seem so shallow compared to my talks with Hailey and Cathy. All they talk about is games, guns and girls. Yet, they don’t talk about girls the way Hailey and Cathy talk about boys. They talk about them like they did Mandy. Like having a larger than average chest necessarily made her a slut. She wasn’t even showing cleavage. Her sweater was up to her neck. Her only crime was having breasts and not hiding them. Mine were flying free and feeling very exposed. “I’m not feeling so hot, I going to go.”

“If you’re not going to eat it, can I have the rest of your lunch?” asked Dave.

“Sure.” I walked away leaving them to lunch and headed back to my locker.

I carefully looked both ways before retrieving the sports bra Hailey gave me and stuffing it in my pocket. I dashed to a bathroom and put it back on. I immediately felt better with my boobs all tied down. Was I going crazy that I was already finding wearing a bra to be comfortable? Only the straps still bothered me and not that much really. Boys weren’t supposed to wear bras. Boys weren’t supposed to grow tits either. I had myself a long cry in the bathroom stall. Which doesn’t count against me, because no one saw me. After the cry I felt better. I’m not sure why, but I seemed to have gotten my angst out. I felt more relaxed and secure. That fell apart again at gym class.

I was almost paralyzed unable to get undressed. I didn’t want to take off the loose and baggy outer shirt that protected me from prying eyes. The bra I was wearing might be spotted through the tight t-shirt I had underneath. I knew in my head that my boobs should have been noticed as well. I quickly stripped off my shirt and put on my gym shirt. If there was an Olympic event for changing shirts, I probably set a new record. No one even glanced my way. Maybe it was like Buffy. Everyone in Sunnydale seems to forget all the weird stuff that’s going on. They only see what they expect to see. I was in a boy’s locker room, so I had to be a boy and boys don’t have breasts. Besides, I probably wasn’t the only one that avoided looking. Anyone caught looking at another boy naked would be instantly accused of being a fag and a homo. Regardless, I hid in my corner, changed and no one noticed.

Once I was dressed it was easier and I think it was even a good thing. When I came out they had three nets set up and it was obvious we were playing volleyball. I could still feel them moving on my chest, but I knew it would be even worse without the bra. I still couldn’t play worth spit, but I got through it and I got through gym without anyone noticing my boobs or my bra. The Buffy effect seemed to be working strong. Maybe I had powers over the Force. I imagined myself waving my hand in front of Dave and Lloyd. These are not the boobs you are looking for.

I almost ran into Mandy heading out of PE. I hadn’t really thought about it that we shared gym, but when I saw her back in her sweater and skirt I remembered. On impulse I called out to her, “Hey Mandy?”

She looked at me with suspicion. “What Scotty?”

“Just… nice sweater. The color suits you.” It wasn’t a slut sweater. I’m not really sure why I said it. Maybe because I didn’t stick up for her with Dave and Lloyd.

“Oh, thanks.” She smiled at me.

Chapter Fourteen

Valentine’s Day was shaping up to be a big deal. It fell on a Thursday, but Julie and Hailey would be coming over and spending the night anyway. It would be the first time they stayed over on a school night. Maybe Hailey was right. Dad certainly showed no sign of dumping Julie yet. It took a couple of days, but I eventually decided to just confront my father about it. After I made my decision it was another day until I found just the right time.

I scoped out Dad at the breakfast table as I took my asthma medicine with a tall glass of grapefruit juice and set some water to boil for my morning oatmeal. Rick had scarfed his food and left Dad sitting alone. He’d finished his breakfast and was sipping on his coffee. The timing felt right. My dad is a morning person, but only after his cup of coffee.

“Dad, we’re almost out of grapefruit juice.” Just a test to see if he’d had enough coffee.

“Put it on the grocery list for your grandmother. You’re the only one who drinks the stuff.” His tone was indifferent, not cranky.

I poured hot water over my oatmeal, mixed it up, and took my breakfast to the table. I sat down and studied Dad. Now or never. “Dad, are you going to propose to Julie on Valentine’s Day?”

“What?” He didn’t quite do a spit-take with his coffee, but I think it was close. “That’s none of your business Scott.” My dad looked more shocked than angry.

“Isn’t it? I live here, too. Isn’t my business if I’m going to have a new mother and sister?”

“That’s between me and Julie. Right now we’re just dating. That’s it and nothing more. A proposal is still in the future. Besides, if and when I propose is my business and a decision would be Julie's business. Case closed.”

It was what I’d expected, but it hurt. Not so much for me, but for Hailey and also for Julie. It was typical for my father. “I like them, Dad. Julie and Hailey both.”

“That's a good thing and I noticed it, but I'm not getting married because you like Haily. Still, it's good that you're getting along. I've noticed Cathy and Hailey are getting along, too. I’m surprised Cathy isn’t jealous.”

“What? Why would should be?”

“Girls often are when another girl moves in on their boyfriend.”

Oh, not this again. Dad had been convinced Cathy was my girlfriend for months. Then again based on what Hailey told me, maybe my father was closer to the truth than I was. “Cathy is just a friend.” That was the complete truth. She was just a friend and I planned to keep it that way. Hopefully the BFF card would set that straight. As for Hailey she so wasn’t anything close to a girlfriend.

“Uh-huh, well you may not have the muscles, but you’ve got the Miller knack with the ladies. Try not to break too many hearts.”

That ended the conversation. I wasn’t sure how to reply and before I could ask Dad what he meant he rinsed out his coffee mug and left the kitchen. That left me to decide what to do. One thing was clear. As Hailey’s friend I was going to have to tell her no proposal. I just hoped she didn’t take it too hard.

Wednesday, Feb 13th — Taylor Project Day 44

Good news and bad news. The good, Hailey is coming over Thursday night through Sunday. The bad, Dad isn’t proposing and I'm going to have to tell Hailey. I can't just do it by a phone call or IM. I know she was really hoping that there would be a proposal on V-day. Her optimism was even starting to rub off on me. It would be nice to be a real family again with a mother and a father instead of just Dad and Rick. Hailey would make a great sister. Without her and Cathy I don’t know that I could make it through the boob thing.

The Taylor Project is turning into a joke. I’m still doing the journaling (obviously) and the exercise and dust-free zone, but it seems the only thing changing about me is that I’m becoming more girly. I wore a bra to school Monday and Tuesday. Monday I was majorly freaked about it, but Tuesday was better. Today it didn’t bother me much at all. I forgot I was wearing it most of the time. Part of me is relieved and part is scared that I’m already getting used to wearing a bra. That is just so wrong.

I’ve been reading tg stories most evenings. They’re nice fantasies. Life would be easier if I was a girl, by which I mean a real gg (genetic girl). Then I should be growing boobs and I could be best friends with Cathy and Hailey and not grow up to be like Dad and Rick. Cathy probably wouldn’t have a crush on me that I don’t know how to deal with.

I hope she takes the card I’m giving her tomorrow the right way. I like her, but as a friend. I’ve read about hormones. It’s testosterone that powers the sex drives. The fact that I’m growing boobs means my testosterone has to be lower than my estrogen. Which I guess is why all I feel about Cathy and Hailey are friendship feelings. So tomorrow I get to tell Cathy we’re just friends and I get to tell Hailey that that my Dad won’t be proposing any time soon. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day and it’s going to suck.

I didn’t sleep well. No nightmares, just everything turning over in my head and I couldn’t sleep. Plus I had night sweats and needed a morning shower. Seemed more often than not I need two showers a day. That had me running late so it was a good thing I was already prepared when Cathy showed up Valentine’s Day morning.

I’d finished up the card last night and sealed it in an envelope. I was too old to make one out of construction paper and paste and the ones you buy from a store are too mushy. So I’d designed one on my computer and printed it. I hope it did the job. It was pretty simple. A big red heart splashed with the words Happy Valentine’s Day decorated the outside. On the inside I had placed the only picture I had of us together taken my Dad last summer. I’d blown it up to fit the card and then signed it with our oath, friends first, friends last, friends forever and my name. I’d thought about signing it ‘love Scotty’. That was the way V-day cards were usually signed, but custom or not that would send the wrong message. I’d made a similar card for Hailey, but wasn’t sure if I would tell Cathy or not. I was afraid it would hurt her feelings, but keeping secrets from her didn’t’ feel right either.

Anyway I wasn’t going to give it to her in front of Dad so I waited until we were out the door and walking to the bus before I pulled it out and thrust it at her. “So, this is for you.” Doh, I should be nicer about it.

Cathy didn’t seem upset. “You got me a Valentine’s card!” She snatched it up, ripped open. “Oh wow! It’s us! Where did you get this picture?”

“My Dad took it. I think that was the Fourth of July cook out we had last year.”

“Oh, yeah. This is so sweet! You’re not just my friend you know. Now you’re my valentine.” She moved for a hug.

I returned it and I was afraid she was going to kiss me. I was kinda of curious as to what a real kiss would be like, but on the other hand I was afraid I’d blow it. Plus we were both wrapped in coats so it felt awkward. She didn’t kiss me and her hair smelled nice. I held on until she pulled back.

“So I’ve got something for you, too.” Cathy brought out a bright red envelope.

I took it from her and opened it. It was a store bought card, but not a little kid one. It was a big red glittery heart on the outside. I opened it expecting to find mushy stuff, but it was Cathy’s handwriting inside. “Scotty, I know you’re going through a hard time right now. When I needed someone most you were there for me. I’ll never forget. I’ll always be here for you. Your Valentine, Cathy.” The words touched me and I reached right out and hugged her.

“Thank you, so much Cathy.” I was aware my eyes were wet. So I broke the embrace and quickly wiped them. I thought I should do something more so I took a chance and grabbed her hand.

Cathy looked at me a second and then we started walking hand in hand to the bus as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Yet, despite the fact that I was wearing gloves and she was wearing mittens I could feel my hand almost tingling in hers. It was like every nerve in my body was concentrated in my hand. Maybe my testosterone was flowing after all! I felt like I was almost floating. I also felt guilty because sitting at home on my desk was a similar card for Hailey.

“I got Hailey a card, too. I hope that’s OK, she’s my best friend, too and… she’s probably going to be my sister.” It was hard saying the words, but I had to say them.

Cathy squeezed my hand and kept walking. “I got her a card, too. You know, I’m not going to be your sister.”

Our hands were still together and I felt very warm. “Yeah, I know.” The words seemed to be full of implication. I don’t think we’re boyfriend/girlfriend yet. At least I hoped we weren’t, but I think we just agreed on what we’d both known for a while now. Someday soon when we were ready we would be. I could deal with that.

Chapter Fifteen

I floated through school. I still had the boobs and a bra, but it didn’t matter. Maybe v-day mellowed out the bullies, because it wasn’t that bad. Sure, Kevin made some snide remarks trying to get to me but it just bounced off. Probably because it was Valentine’s Day I found myself thinking of Cathy a lot. We weren’t bf/gf yet and that was OK and knowing we’d get there someday was even better. I might not of had a girlfriend, but I had a Valentine and that was enough. I hurried to the bus after school looking forward to seeing Cathy again. I slid into our seat first. When she joined me she took my hand again and it was just as exciting as before. No one else seemed to notice and I suppose it is such a small thing, but still neither one of us let go until we were at my door and I had to go inside.

Hailey arrived not long after. Dad and Julie were eager to get their date started. We had to wait to talk until they’d been hustled out and we were able to retreat to my room.

“So, what did you give Cathy? She texted me about it. Said you gave her the sweetest card.”

I found myself blushing. “I don’t know about that. Hers was more personal. Mine was a lot like yours. Here let me get it.” It was a lot like the one I got Cathy. Except I didn’t have a photo of just me and Hailey so I had used solo pictures of her, me and Cathy. I handed it over to her.

“Thank you. I didn’t get you one... OK, I have to ask. Is this identical to what you gave Cathy?”

“No, instead of the heart I gave her one that had a picture of just me and her in it.”

“Sounds sweet, but you signed it friends forever? Cathy made it sound like something more... Are you two are dating now?”

Dating? “No. At least I don’t think so. We just held hands and hugged. She called me her valentine. Maybe we're heading that way but we haven't crossed the bridge yet."

"Romeo, you'd better watch out or she's going to drag you over that bridge."

I wasn't sure if I wanted that or not. "Have you ever dated, Hailey?” We were in the same grade but she was a cute girl. Cute girls didn't have to beg for dates. Boys came flocking to them.

“Not really. I had a crush on a couple of guys. I went on group movie outing with some friends where we were mostly paired up boy/girl. I got matched up with this guy Mark from my school. I knew him, because small town you know everyone, but I didn’t really know him. He tried to feel me up during the show. I don’t really count that as a date. That’s as close as I got. Then there was all the stuff with Dad and moving out and therapy. No one asked me and dating just hasn’t seemed a priority. I’m glad for Mom though. She needs it more than I did.”

And that brought me right to the thing I didn’t want to tell her, but I should say it now. “I talked to my dad. He’s not proposing tonight. Just so you know.”

“Oh.” It looked like I’d popped her happiness like a soap bubble, but it only lasted a moment then she smiled and shrugged. “Well, I’d hoped but I knew I was pushing it. Hey, a girl can dream. He treats Momma like a princess and it would be nice to have a real dad. It’s not like they broke up. It’s only been a few months, right?”

“Yeah, it’s only been a few months.” I felt bad. Dad hadn’t given me the impression that he was anywhere close to being ready to propose. “I hope they do. It would be cool to have you as a sister. Especially since I’m already borrowing your bras.”

Hailey’s giggled. “Yeah, you’ll make a great little sister.”

“Hey now! I’m taller than you and still not a girl.”

Sunday Feb 17th — Taylor Project Day 48

It’s time for an update again. I’ve still made no real progress on my project. School still sucks, but it is better out-of-school. It’s like I come alive on the weekends with Hailey and Cathy then have to go back to sleep during the week to get through school. One ray of sunshine in the project, Rick now has to help clean with me. I think it is because Dad saw Hailey helping me. Regardless, he announced that Rick needed to get his lazy ass out of bed and help us. I guess that means my hopes of ever getting paid are gone, but at least I'm not doing it all by myself any more.

While my dad did not propose on V-Day, it is looking like Julie is getting closer to just moving in with us. Two things happened. First, Dad invited Julie on a cruise over spring break and apparently Hailey will be staying with me, Rick and Grandma while they’re away. The cruise is a BFD. I can’t remember dad taking a getaway vacation with another girlfriend. Although come to think of it he did do a long weekend with ‘Aunt’ Vicky. Regardless it’s a really good sign especially given how stingy my dad usually is. Second, Julie is openly sleeping in Dad’s bedroom now.

I don’t think they really meant to let that one out in the open, but Julie was more than a little bit drunk on V-Day night. Hailey and I got to see the whole thing. Grandma had fallen asleep on the couch and didn’t tell us to go to sleep. Besides Grandma was sleeping on Hailey’s bed (OK, the couch which unfolds into a bed). So it wasn’t like she had a place to sleep. That was our excuse. Really Hailey had challenged me to show her why the Sims wasn’t like playing with dolls. So we stayed up late playing. I helped her set up a game of her own. Naturally she wanted to make her Sims a copy of her own family. That was what I usually did as well. So we spent a long time setting up her neighborhood, making her family and mine and editing the Sims to make them look just right. I was having a lot of fun even though I wasn’t playing myself and we lost track of the time until our parents came home at almost one in the morning.

Dad and Julie were coming in the door. Julie was obviously drunk. She kept giggling and trying to hush us. Grandma woke up and was not impressed that Julie was drunk nor that we had stayed up late. Anyway I got chased off to my room, but when I got up from school it was just Hailey on the couch hide-a-bed. Julie was embarrassed and a bit cranky. I guess she was hungover. Anyway, I heard the rest from Hailey later. Apparently her mom was upset about being a bad role model, but finally admitted that she was sleeping with my dad. Duh, like we ever bought that they were having long chats behind closed doors. Since that secret got dragged out in the open, Julie slept in my dad’s bedroom both Friday and Saturday night. Hailey still slept on the hide-a-bed, but I think they’re just one step away from moving in.

What else? Cathy and I aren’t holding hands any more, at least not as much. We did it a few times, but didn’t feel right in front of Hailey. I’m hoping we’ll be back to holding hands on the walk to the bus tomorrow. Next step should be kissing or maybe asking her out on a date. However, her mom has made it very clear no dates until she’s sixteen. That’s actually a relief as that means I don’t have to ask her out, just kiss her sometime when the timing is right. It hasn’t been right yet, but I’m thinking about it. I didn’t really much before. So I guess that is a good sign that my hormones are getting straightened out. How will I know when it is the right time?

I read a few more tg stories on the internet. I still like some of them, but I’ve learned to check the warning tags. Some of them aren’t nice at all. I’m not sure I should keep reading them. I might be growing boobs, but I’m not a girl. I’m a boy. I’ve even got a potential girlfriend now. I suppose they’re just fantasies like Harry Potter. Hagrid isn’t going to show up with my invitation to Hogwarts and I’m not going to suddenly be a girl. It’s a nice fantasy, but in the real world my breasts aren’t going down even with all my exercise. I think I’m going to have to face reality soon and tell Dad. Yet as soon as I do, I’ll get put on male hormones. I’ll get hairy and smelly and turn into another copy of my father. I’m not ready for that yet. I’m just not.

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 7 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2013 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

Chapter Sixteen

Monday started with a nightmare. By the time I awoke the details were already fuzzy but the terror and shame lingered on. I could remember being in the boys locker room and Coach Teller had been in there with us, which he never is. He’d insisted we all had to shower. Somehow that transitioned to everyone else pushing and shoving me toward the showers while I was still dressed. There were even people who weren’t in my class there like Kevin. Along the way my boobs started growing. By the time I reached the shower I had a pair to rival Dolly Parton’s. Despite their size no one else noticed them. They had just thrown me in the shower and the cold water woke me up before my alarm even went off. I felt like I had been thrown in a shower, because I was drenched in sweat. I had no choice but to take a shower before school. I couldn’t even enjoy it because the nightmare kept haunting me.

Cathy’s smile helped as did her hello hug. We held hands as we walked to the bus stop and all the way on the ride to school. By the time we got to school I was mostly over it, but the feeling didn’t entirely go away. I had a huge secret that I couldn’t let get out. OK, maybe I had two secrets that weren’t so huge. They were small and strapped down, but the nightmare still felt like the rumble of thunder before an oncoming storm. There were storm clouds on the horizon and I was going to get drenched. How exactly was this going to end well for me? My boobs weren’t going away.

When I entered Mrs. Gerstacker’s class I immediately spotted Kevin Gurtz hovering right by my desk. He had no reason to be there. We now had assigned seats on the opposite sides of the room. He looked at me with eyes that promised torment and what flashed through my mind was that he knew. Somehow he knew about my boobs. I just stood there frozen not wanting to approach him. Someone gave me a shove from behind and I started walking. Kevin couldn’t do anything. Mrs. Gerstacker was right outside the doorway.

“Kevin, that’s my desk. Your’s is across the room.” My voice quavered. Did my hormones suddenly pick now for it to crack?

He stood there reminding me of a smaller and meaner version of Rick. He should be a freshman this year, but he’d been held back, probably to better his chances at football. He looked down at me. “So is it true?”

He knew! How did he know of all people? I moved my books from my side and clutched them in front of my boobs trying to hide them. “I, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do. I hear you have a little girlfriend.” He leaned forward over me. “I figure that has to be a lie.”

I almost laughed in relief. Was that all? Cathy and I had been holding hands on the bus for a few days now. Someone must have seen that and rumors spread like wildfire. Not that we really were boyfriend/girlfriend. We hadn’t said it to each other. “That’s none of your business.” I felt quite smug about it and so totally relieved. This wasn’t about my boobs.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Not even an ugly dyke would go for you, Snotty.”

Usually I clam up and want to cry when being picked on, especially by Kevin. He’s a big jock and could kick my ass without trying. This time his casual insults to Cathy were the spark that set off a bonfire of anger I didn’t know I had. “She’s not a dyke and she’s not ugly, dickhead.”

“Oooh, listen to the lover boy. I’ve seen her she’s a flat-chested ugly dyke.”

His insults didn’t even make sense. If she was my girlfriend, then she was interested in boys so not a dyke. However, even while knowing it was illogical I was too angry to come up with something witty. “She is not!”

“I hear you use her hair to blow your nose on.” The ring of the bell cut off anything else he had to say.

“Fuck off, Kevin.” I realized my mistake too late. When the bell rang all the conversations in class had ceased. I was the first one to break the silence following the bell and my words carried far louder than I’d intended.

“Scotty Miller!” came the crotchety voice of Mrs. Gerstacker. “I’ve warned you once about using obscene language in my class. Report to the office.” Although her words were angry she was smiling. She was probably happy to have an excuse to punish me.

“What?! Kevin started it.” The blatant unfairness of it pissed me off when I should have kept my mouth closed. Kevin had no reason to be on this side of the room. Where had she been when Kevin had been mouthing off to me?

“I heard no foul language from him. Report to the office. Kevin, take your seat.”

I spent half of Mrs. Gerstacker’s talking to Principal Oak and ended up with another Friday detention. I spent the other half glaring at her back as she diagramed sentences on the whiteboard. Kevin kept trying to catch my eye from across the room, but I ignored him. When the bell rang I was off like a shot to avoid another encounter with Kevin. I suppose having an alleged girlfriend was better than being outed as growing boobs or wearing a bra but I was still in no mood to have round two with him. I rushed out to join my friends in the cafeteria.

Dave waved me over to join them in line. “Hey Snotty, I hear you’re sleeping with that Cathy chick in seventh grade. Why didn’t you tell us you nailed her?”

OMG and WTF, how did it get this far this fast? “I did not. We just started going out.” Why did I say that? We weren’t really going out.

“You’re just saying that, right Snotty? We’re your bros. You can tell us how far you got.”

Lloyd nodded in agreement. “Yeah, so how far have you gotten? Gotta get to second at least.”

Now I was almost certain both Dave and Lloyd were just as virgin as I was. Both of them had stories about losing it during the summer with girls who probably didn’t exist. Apparently I’d broken one of the rules of boy code. I was supposed to claim I’d gone all the way. Like hell I was going to lie that way about Cathy. I knew how much it sucked to have a bad reputation. I wasn’t about to give her one. I was about ready to walk away from Dave and Lloyd, but I saw Kevin giving me the eye. No matter how much they were upsetting me, they were protection.

“Look, things haven’t gotten that far. There are no deets to share. I’m not sure where these rumors are coming from, but give me a break. Do you think I would hold out on you?” Oh, that was skirting a lie, because hell yeah I would. Anything that happened between Cathy and me wasn’t for sharing with Lloyd and Doyle to prove my masculinity. “Anyway, I’m more concerned about Kevin. He got in my face, but I’m the one who got detention. Now he’s looking at me like he wants to kick my ass.”

Lloyd looked over to where Kevin was watching us. “He’s a pussy. Watch this.” He gazed out at Kevin then held out his hand to make a fake gun and mimed blowing Kevin away. I watched and Kevin stood there a moment then slipped back into the line. Lloyd laughed. “I told you he was a pussy.”

“What are you going to do if he jumps you? You’re not carrying a gun at school and he could kick your ass.”

Lloyd shrugged. “If he’s stupid enough to throw a punch at me, I’ll just gut him with my knife. It would be self-defense. No jury would convict me.”

“You’re not really carrying a knife at school are you?” I looked from him to Dave.

Lloyd smiled and tapped his pocket. “This bulge in my pocket ain’t my dick.”

With him sitting at the table I couldn’t even see his pocket to see whether there was a visible bulge or not. Knowing Lloyd he might be making it all up or he might really have brought a knife to school. I looked him in the eyes and he just smiled back at me until I looked away.

Dave didn’t seem bothered at all by whether or not Lloyd had a knife at school. “Kevin is a troll. He just likes to pull people’s chains to stir up trouble. You gotta treat him the way you do a troll in any game or message board, ignore him. If you stop feeding a troll, they get bored and go away.”

That was easy for Dave to say. Lloyd was almost glued to his hip. I had Lloyd’s protection, but for me he was more a wandering knight. He’d protect me if he was around, but I was on my own most of the time.

Maybe Dave was right about Kevin. I didn’t see him the rest of the day, but I did get asked about Cathy. Most of them were just curious if we were dating. While I got teased some about it, for most people having a girlfriend seemed to move me away from the Snotty image and toward the more normal. Mandy actually approached me and struck up a conversation wanting to know details. Since the day I complimented her sweater we’ve been almost friendly. She was a bit of a geek herself, a major Dr. Who fan. Since she treated me like a real person, I didn’t lie to her, but there wasn’t much I could tell her. I wasn’t even sure where I stood with Cathy.

I arrived on the bus before Cathy and was nervous waiting for her, but her face lit up when she saw me. She slid into the seat beside me. “So rumor has it that we’re an item.”

“So I’ve been told. Were they good rumors or bad?”

“Mostly curious. So am I. Are we an item?”

I knew what she meant. Are we dating? Are we boyfriend/girlfriend? “I guess we are.”

“Good.” She leaned forward and tilted her head.

I’d never kissed a girl, not that it counted, but the body language was obvious. She wanted a kiss. This wasn’t really how I wanted it on a crowded bus with others no doubt watching, but I had to do it. I had to seal the deal. So I leaned forward and we bumped noses. I turned my head a little more and my lips pressed to hers. Maybe it wasn’t fireworks, but it was nice. It certainly didn’t feel like a kiss on the cheek from my grandma. It made me feel all warm inside.

I’m not sure which of us broke the kiss, but it didn’t last long. Cathy grabbed my arm and put it around her and leaned against me. “I think we’re going to need more practice, but we can’t tell my mom.”

I felt a little dizzy by the speed that everything was happening, but it felt good having Cathy lean on me, too. Not telling her mom was obvious. Her mom had made the rules clear. Cathy wasn’t allowed to date until she was sixteen. “OK, we’ll just keep it quiet.”

Although I wasn’t sure how long that would last. Adult gossip and kid gossip ran on two different tracks but there were bridges. Word would get back to her mother eventually. Then again we weren’t exactly going out on dates were we? Could we be bf/gf at school and not go out? I really didn’t care if her mom freaked or not. I had enough other stuff to worry about.

Chapter Seventeen

Wednesday, February 20th — Taylor Project Day 51

It’s almost March and that means I’m running out of time for my boobs to start shrinking. Some time about the end of April I’ll have my appointment with my allergist and I’ll have to take off my shirt for him to check my breathing and my secret will be out in the open — literally. I’m not even sure I have that long. The weather is getting warmer in fits and starts. I don’t know how long I can continue to pull off wearing multiple layers without someone wondering why I’m all bundled up. For that matter it isn’t comfortable. I’m sweating through my clothes. With all the exercise I’ve done I would expect some progress, but they’re still there. If anything they’re still growing. What’s weird is that it is there a part of me is starting to like it.

Today was Career Day at school. I spent all day being asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. Adults love to ask that question. When I was a little kid astronaut or cowboy were acceptable answers. Then they weren’t any longer. Like I’m supposed to know what I want to do with my entire life now? My best grades are in science and I like it, but you almost have to be one of those bald guys with a double-sized brain to do anything with science. I thought about farming. Our land used to be a farm. It seems a shame that it is just empty pastures now. However, me and the outdoors don’t get along. Besides I looked at the stuff on farming and the family farm doesn’t really exist any longer. They’re all these huge commercial affairs.

It really wasn’t what job I’ll have when I grow up that was getting under my skin. What bothered me was that there was a part of me that wanted to answer the question what did I want to be with a girl. I’m not talking in a tg way. More like the way that I wanted to be a cowboy or an astronaut when I was little. It’s not real. It’s fantasy. Girls do have it easy, but despite the boobs I’m never going to be one. My boobs may not be shrinking yet, but my puberty is finally getting in the right gear. My hair is growing in down there. I have an official girlfriend even if we do nothing but hold hands and kiss. I’m finally starting to show signs of normal male puberty which was what I wanted, but now I don’t know what I want.

Like my boobs, I think I’m going to miss them. Is that weird or what? I’m still terrified of them being discovered and the deadline at the end of April is looming before me. It’s like I’m one of those cartoon characters on a train and the sign says bridge out but the train isn’t stopping. Things will be so much easier when they’re gone, but I’ve gotten used to them. Those little ‘chest growths’ feel like they belong there. It’s not like I’ve ever had a part vanish before. I don’t have a prehensile tail that fell off or anything.

Maybe it is just that I don’t want to turn another copy of my dad. I’m not really thinking about the t-girl path. That’s about as realistic as me being an astronaut. It looks like a long and painful path and I know what Grandma and Dad would think. They’d think I was a freak. Everyone at school would think I’m more of a freak than they already do. That’s not what the Taylor Project was supposed to be about.

Honestly, I don’t know what I want. Being a girl looks better, but why? Is it mostly not being Snotty? That’s where I started months ago with the Taylor project. I wanted to change, but I didn’t know how. I wouldn’t mind magically turning into girl Taylor, but declaring myself a t-girl would make me more of a social outcast not less. I could also look forward to years of hormones, sterility and an operation that makes me squirm. I don’t like the idea of chopping of parts of me — any parts. That means my breasts just as much as my penis. I didn’t ask for them, but they’re part of me now. If they would just shrink back that would be OK, but an operation to chop them off doesn’t feel right either. So what the hell am I? Not transgendered because I don’t have that burning desire to be a girl. Not really any good at being a boy either. I’m stuck in the middle.

I’m not really sure when the idea formed, but I got the idea of testing myself. Almost all the tg stories I read talk about the wonders of dressing like a girl. When the protagonist does it in the story, it is like a switch is thrown and they just know. So I’ve been looking for an opportunity to try it. I’m going to have to have Hailey’s help. I thought about involving Cathy, but she already makes faces if my bra or boobs get mentioned. I know she would never tell on me and would help me if pressed, but I think it would hurt her, too. She wants me as a boyfriend. I don’t think she would understand why I need to do this test. Hailey, on the other hand, was the one who pointed out how girly I was in other ways. I think she’ll be cool with it.

I’m going to have to find the right time. Julie and Hailey haven't quite moved in with us, but they’re staying over from Friday night until Monday morning this weekend. Of course, that doesn’t mean Hailey and I will have time alone. If the conditions are right I’ll bring it up with Hailey. Julie and Dad need to be out on a date, quite likely. Rick needs to be gone, but that’s almost a given. Grandma is the one who will be the token adult in charge. Hopefully she’ll fall asleep on the couch or go shopping or something. I suppose we could risk it if she was just watching TV. She rarely checks in on us, but sometimes she’ll stick her head in and look. So it isn’t really safe. If I don’t get a chance this weekend, then it’s one more week of school and the week after that is Spring Break. Since Hailey will be here all week, surely there will be some time Hailey and I can get a few hours without being watched.

Friday, February 22nd — Taylor Project Day 53

I did not have an opportunity to talk to Hailey yet about borrowing her clothes. Cathy came over after school, Dad worked late and then Dad and Julie stayed in rather than go out. Mostly Dad and Julie watched a movie, but out of the blue Dad asked to see this DDR game we’d been playing so much. I don’t know if Julie pushed him or not, but we brought it out to the living room and for about an hour Hailey and I played with Dad and Julie. It was a lot of fun and for once I kicked Dad’s ass at something physical. In fact we all kicked Dad’s ass. For a jock he has no sense of timing and DDR is all about timing. Julie wasn’t bad for a beginner. Dad eventually called it quits, but it was fun while it lasted.

I’m also feeling guilty about Cathy. We’re still doing the hand holding thing on the bus and light kisses hello and goodbye. So we’re officially bf/gf but I haven’t said a word to her about my test. Maybe the test will prove I’m really a boy at heart and I won’t ever have to tell her. That’s if I go through with it. I didn’t have a good time to play dress up, but I could have talked to Hailey and I didn’t. Maybe I just need to stop this crazy stuff, tell Dad and see a doctor. No, test first. Then I’ll decide.

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 8 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2013 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

Special thanks to S.L.Hawke for technical assistance with medical details and in this post advice on body proportions.

Chapter Eighteen

Saturday night, Dad and Julie were out on a date as was Rick. On my way to get some more juice I’d noticed Grandma had fallen asleep in front of the TV. She hadn’t reacted at all as I walked by. I’d had some opportunities yesterday evening, but I’d chickened out. With Grandma snoozing this was about as private as we were ever going to get. So this was now or never. If I wanted to try dressing as a girl this was the time to ask. The hallway to my room seemed to stretch out like in a dream or a horror movie. Did I really want this? I didn’t think Hailey would freak, but I wouldn’t be able to take it back if I asked her. I could just do nothing. Say nothing. Be one with the three monkeys: hear no, see no, speak no. I’d be found out in time and I’d get put on testosterone and that would be it. Wouldn’t that be easier? Just bury these feelings?

But then I’d never know.

I’d arrived at the end of the endless corridor of doom and there was no man in a hockey mask with a knife waiting to stab me. Instead Hailey sat quietly playing on my computer engrossed in her game of Sims. She had become almost as addicted as me. I could sit down and talk Sims with her and pretend nothing was wrong.

No, no I couldn’t. I don’t know when it happened, but I couldn’t bury it. I had to test it. Just once. If I felt nothing, then I could put it away. If I didn’t do this, I’d always wonder what if. I willed myself to speak and somehow forced out the words. “Hailey, can we talk about something?”

She turned away from the computer screen immediately. “Scott? What’s wrong?”

Hailey abandoned the computer and led me to my bed. I was like a zombie and just let her lead me. We sat down side-by-side and she stroked my back. “What’s going on? You look awful. What happened?”

“I need your help with something, but I need it to be a secret.” The words still wanted to stick, but I was past the point of no return now. I knew Hailey. She’d dig it out of me if I tried to clam up.

“Of course, friends first, friends last, friends forever, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.” Would she feel the same way after I asked? Too late to stop now. “Would you?... Would you help me dress like a girl?”

“Uh…” Hailey looked stunned, but not angry or judgmental. “Wow, totally didn’t see that coming. I thought you hated the boobs.”

“I don’t know what’s going on. That’s the problem! I want them to go away, but a part of me wonders what it’s like and I just want to do it this one time as a test to see.”

“To see what? I don’t understand. Are you a transvegetable?”

I broke out laughing and couldn’t stop. Suddenly that sounded like the funniest thing that I’d ever heard. “Yes! You’ve got me. I like to dress up as a cucumber!” Really I couldn’t let that one go. I tried to do it with a straight face, but I had the giggle fits and I couldn’t turn it off.

It took a while for the giggles to die down. Both of us ended up rolling on my bed like little kids. Eventually Hailey rolled over on her stomach and propped herself on her arms. “But you’re serious aren’t you?”

Even with the conversation turning back to my dark secret things seemed lighter, hopeful now. I rolled over to match her. “Yeah, I’m serious and not really a transvestite.” I enunciated the correct pronunciation clearly. “A transvestite is a cross-dresser, a man who likes to wear women’s clothes or vice versa. I think I might have a different trans problem. I think I might be transgendered.”

“And that’s different how?”

“It means maybe I’m a girl inside my head. Look, you pointed it out to me. How I like DDR and hanging with you and Cathy and the Sims being like playing dolls.”

“And how we’re both laying on your bed with our legs in the air?”

I hadn’t noticed, but I paused and took in how we were posed. Hailey was on her belly at an angle on the bed. Her legs were bent back in the air and I was mirroring her. “I’m totally laying down like a girl aren’t I?”

Hailey giggled at that one. “Oh yeah, big time. And the Sims, I was right and wrong about that. There is more to it than I thought, but it is a lot like playing with dolls. You know, I wasn’t serious. I was just teasing you before, but this is different. You’re serious. Cathy and I are your best friends and we hang out all the time. Can’t it just be that you’re picking up some of our habits? I mean how can you be a girl in your head? You’re all into Cathy aren’t you?”

“I’m not as much into Cathy as she is into me, but yes I’m into her.” I hadn’t yet worked out how Cathy fit within all of that. “I think it might go deeper than that.” How to explain it though? “Some people are mixed up in the head genderwise. It isn’t something people choose. It’s like being gay or a lesbian. It’s inside you.”

“Ooh, a lot of people at your church including your father and grandmother would have a fit about that. I’m OK with it. We had people like that at my old church. Some of them tried to tell Mom that she needed to go back and do whatever it took to save her marriage.”

“OMG, they did not. Did someone set the wayback machine to the 1950s?” It boggled my mind, but I didn’t doubt her, because my church was majorly judgmental too. “So what happened?”

“We stopped going to church for a while. Not until we started going to yours. Mom and I had a talk about it. We’re giving your church a try, but if it makes either of us uncomfortable we’re out. Let’s get back to this test. How does it work? Scratch that. I get the how. You dress up in girls clothes. What does that prove?”

That wasn’t easy because I wasn’t sure myself. “I’ve just read that often when people are transgendered, they dress up as the other sex and it just feels right to them. If I’m a boy at heart and not just on the outside it will feel wrong.”

“I get it, I think. It’s like kissing a girl to see if you’re a lesbian or not.”

I looked Hailey over. Wow. “Um, is there something you want to tell me, Hailey?”

“Huh?” She blushed. “No, not me. Someone I know. I like boys. Although for some reason you’ve never done anything for me. I think that I friendzoned you from the start. Anyway, OK, I’ll help you. So we’ll have to use my clothes.” She looked me over. “I think they’ll fit mostly. You’re a little taller than me, but we’re close to the same size. How far do you want to take this?”

“What do you mean?”

“You want my Sunday dress or just jeans or somewhere in between and a skirt? You want to this inside out with panties as well as a bra? How about makeup, hair and nails? How far are you going to go with this test?”

“Oh?” I’d seen her Sunday dress. “Not the dress. I want a more everyday look for a test. Skirt for sure, I want something that looks feminine. So maybe one of your pink tops to go with it?” Most of her tops were pink. “I’ll do panties if you don’t mind.” OMG, had I just said that? It was just a test. A lot of the stories had raved about girl panties. It was an important part of the test, nothing more. “Makeup and hair we have to be careful. Nothing that will be too hard to take off. We’ve also got to hurry. I don’t want to get caught. Grandma is sleeping but she might wake up.”

“Then we’d better get started. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into the living room and returned with her suitcase. “Skirt and pink top? How about these?”

I looked at the denim skirt and pink top she’d picked out. They were familiar. “I think the first time we met you wore these.”

Hailey paused and then nodded. “Yeah, I think that’s right. BTW, that’s another thing girly that you have going on. You notice clothes. Most boys don’t beyond how much skin a girl is showing.”

Great, add another check mark in the t-girl column. “So, bra and panties and um, shoes?”

“Of course, shoes. You can’t have an outfit without shoes. It’s weird thinking about loaning you my panties. I’ve traded clothes with other girls before lots of times, but never panties. They’re more personal.”

“Hailey, we don’t have to do this if it is making you uncomfortable.” I wanted to do this, but I didn’t want to lose her friendship over it.

“No, I’m good. It’s not like I can’t wash them. Besides it isn’t about me being uncomfortable. It’s about whether you are uncomfortable isn’t it?”

I was momentarily speechless because Hailey got it. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“So we go girly. How about my white panties with the little red hearts and my good lacy bra? It will probably be too big for you. I’m a B cup. If I known we were going to do this I would have brought some of my old A-cups. Why don’t you put on the panties in the bathroom? Then come over here I’ll help you get the bra adjusted.”

Chapter Nineteen

On one hand I was relieved. Hailey hadn’t freaked. She was taking it well and helping me. She even was giving me her panties. They where white and girly, spotted with red hearts and weighed almost nothing. Yet somehow while stepping across the hallway to the bathroom they grew heavier until they must have been made of lead. Someone had tied the same weights to my heart. I’d asked for this but now I had to go through with it and that was something else entirely. I took a detour to the living room and peeked in on Grandma. She slept on so I had no excuse to back out.

Then I was in the bathroom with the door locked looking at myself in the mirror. Too late to back out. I took off my jeans. I’d asked for this. I could still leave on my whitey tighties. They wouldn’t show under Hailey’s skirt, but I’d know and a lot of the stories had raved about the silken texture of panties and how they’d just felt right.

I dropped my underwear and pulled on the panties. They weren’t all that different. They were cut higher on my thighs, but they fit me surprisingly well. They did feel a bit softer than whitey tighties, but there was no amazing sensation that I should have been wearing them all my life. In fact they felt a bit wrong, dirty. I could almost hear Dad and Rich and all the other boys calling names at me: sissy, fag, freak, queer, fairy. I hesitated at the bathroom door for the longest time with my jeans in my hands before I decided to see this through. I forced myself out the door and dashed across the hallway to where Hailey was waiting. “I’ve got them on.” I half-expected her to laugh at me.

“I can see that.” Her face was very serious. “Take off the shirt and bra then.”

“Yeah, OK.” Maybe this was all a big mistake. Hailey wasn’t laughing, but I still felt like a joke. I was a boy in panties, a freak, a sissy. I took off my double layer of shirts with no problem. Then I realized I’d made another mistake. Why didn’t I take the bra with me to the bathroom? I didn’t want to strip in front of Hailey. I’m not sure of the logic of that. First off, all I had were fake boobs, not real ones. So as a boy I could show my chest. Even if they were boobs, Hailey had the same equipment. Regardless of what was logical, it didn’t feel right. I pushed those feelings down and ripped off my sports bra. Then I immediately covered my boobs with my hands.

“I can turn around if it bothers you, but I’ve seen breasts before.”

“I know. It’s just...”

“Embarrassing? That’s OK. It’s just a natural girl thing to cover up like that. I do. Even in the girls locker rooms most of us don’t strut around flaunting our boobs. That only happens in the movies. Some girls flaunt, but I’m not one of them. I won’t watch if it makes you uncomfortable.” She handed me her bra and then turned around.

I did feel better when she turned around. I slid my arms through and reached behind me. I felt better covered. Put another check in the acting like a girl column. “You can turn around now.” I was trying to get the clasp done behind my back. It was a lot harder than I expected.

“Turn around. I’ll help you with the clasp.”

I was getting frustrated so I turned around. “OK.”

Hailey stepped in behind me and start hooking up the bra. “There is a trick to doing it yourself. You do the clasp or hook it in front first, then spin it around back and poke your arms through. Probably best that I adjust it this time though. You’re on the tightest hooks, but you’re doing a good job of filling out the cups. Hmm, you’re filling those out pretty well. Maybe you don’t need my old A cups after all. I’m a 32B and this is a bit loose in the cups, but it fits. At a guess you need a 32A, but you really need to be professionally sized.” She paused a moment. “Scotty, they’re not getting smaller. How have you managed to hide these at school?”

“Did you guess I had boobs before I showed you?”

“Well, to be honest I thought you had man boobs. Those oversized shirts and jeans you wear aren’t very flattering. Oh hell with it, they make you look fat.”

I laughed at that. “Better being thought fat than people seeing I have boobs. Most of what I wear are hand-me-downs I got from Rick and they’re too big for me. I’ve got nicer clothes. I just don’t dare wear them most of the time. Except to church and then I wear my jacket over my shirt.”

“Yeah, I get that, but how are you hiding it in gym class?”

“I face the corner to change, only take off my outermost shirt and change quickly. Even the t-shirts I wear in gym are baggy. Everyone has known me for years. I guess they see what they expect to see.”

“I guess people are blind, but you’ve had some luck, too. One slip up and you’re busted.” She paused and then smirked. “Busted. Heh. Anyway, your plan is not going to work. I don’t see how these are just going to go away in two months time.”

I was watching in the mirror and what I saw didn’t look much like a boy. With the panties and the bra I looked like a half-naked girl with a bad haircut. What Hailey was telling me didn’t really come as a shock, but what I was seeing was blowing the circuits in my brain. Why was wearing girl underwear so much more than being naked?

“Hellooo, are you listening?”

What? Oh, my boobs. “You’re right. They’re not going away. I think I’ve known that for a while now. I just don’t know what to do about it.”

“Do you mean about how to tell your dad or whether you are a boy or girl?”

I was still in shock from seeing myself in the mirror. With one question Hailey cut to the heart of something I hadn’t quite admitted to myself. It had stopped being about hiding things until they went away. It had stopped being about growing boobs. That was actually minor compared to the real question. “It’s about whether I’m a boy or a girl now.”

“OK, lets find out then. You’ve got the parts. Well, mostly. Lets make you pretty.”

“Yeah, pretty silly.” The nervous twitter that escaped my mouth was a little frightening. I was feeling a little lightheaded, but even if I was a girl, I wouldn’t be pretty. At best I’d be a boy in girls clothes. Still, she was trying and handling this so much better than I was. “Hailey, thank you. For helping.”

“You’re welcome. So…top next.” She handed it to me. “Cathy will freak, you know. She wants you as a boyfriend and she’s also really… churchy. I still like her, you know.”

I didn’t respond as I struggled into the top. It dropped into place. It wasn’t at all baggy. Hailey had B sized boobs. Should it be larger? Instead it clung to me. The shirt seemed to trick my eyes. I wasn’t that curvy was I? There had been a question about Cathy freaking. “Yeah, she will.” She wasn’t the only one. I was freaking out here myself. I felt like crying. I looked even more like a girl and I wasn’t done. “Would you hand me the skirt?” I asked in a small voice.

She handed it over. “BTW, what did you do to your… package?”

“Nothing.” Some of the stories I’d read had mentioned tucking my penis between my legs. I couldn’t figure out how to do that. It wouldn’t stretch far enough to get between my legs. I looked down. There wasn’t much of a bulge in the front. I didn’t have a hardon. I don’t get them very often. I don’t remember when the last one was, but this was scary not arousing. “That’s just me.”

“But… Nevermind. Put on the skirt.”

I put it on and twisted pushed in the shirt. Just like tucking a shirt into pair of pants. I couldn’t let her comment go. “What did you mean, Hailey?”

“Just that I couldn’t really tell even looking for it.”

So I wasn’t the biggest boy in the world. I knew that from stray glimpses in PE. Not all the kids were afraid to shower. “I’m just starting puberty. It will grow. Girls get boobs, boys get larger.”

“You’ve got the skirt too high. It should be around your hips not up at your waist.”

I pushed it down some, but it would only go so far. “It won’t go any further.”

“It’s not fair you have more hips than I do. Means you probably wouldn’t fit in my jeans anyway.”

“You mean I have a fat ass.” That was what Dad was always telling me. Move my fat ass.

“If you’re a boy, maybe so. If you’re a girl, then you have a cute bubble butt.”

Was that a good thing? Even if I was a girl I didn’t want a huge ass did I? “So my ass is too big for your skirt?”

“Um, not really. You’re a little bit bigger than me, but you’re taller, too. Honestly, for borrowed clothes mine fit you pretty good. My skirt is riding a little high on you, but not that much. Lots of girls wear them like that anyway at school. Tug them up to show more leg and tug them back in place if a teacher wants to do a skirt check. Here, let’s finish the outfit.”

I accepted a belt from her then some brown shoes with a low heel. The belt was a skinny little girly belt which meant it fit the clothes. I could tell what notch Hailey usually used. The hole was worn and I only needed two more notches. The shoes didn’t fit me; my feet were simply too long. I was like Anastasia trying to get her clodhoppers into Cinderella’s glass slipper. I finally gave up in frustration. “Forget the shoes. Tell me, how do I look?”

“I don’t know what you’re feeling Scotty, but you look like a girl. You’ve got mag legs, better than mine. Why don’t you look yourself?”

I knew where the mirror was, but I hadn’t looked yet. I wasn’t sure I wanted to look, but that was the point. Could I pass or was I just a boy in girl’s clothes? I turned to face the mirror and I saw a girl looking back at me. I couldn’t see Scotty at all. Just a girl with short hair.

Chapter Twenty

I stared at the mirror for a long time, but it didn’t change. That was me.

“So this is what you wanted to test. You look like a girl. Did you find out what you needed to know?”

If I was a boy it was supposed to feel wrong, unnatural. If I was a girl it was supposed to feel wonderful, like I was finally being myself. Instead the girl in the mirror scared the shit out of me. She looked so natural. It’s like she swallowed up Scotty and left no trace of him. It didn’t feel good. It felt freaky. This was supposed to be a test, not a one-way trip. “I don’t know what I’m feeling. I thought I’d look more like a boy wearing a skirt.”

“Do you want to go through with the makeup and the hair?”

I was scared to go on, but I was scared to stop here too. “I’ve come this far. We’d better go all the way.” If we stopped now, I might never know. It was scary as hell, but I had to know, one way or the other. “Let’s do this. Makeup and hair. If you can do anything with my hair.”

“You’ve got great hair.”

“Huh, no I don’t. I have haystack hair. It goes everywhere.”

“You’ve got naturally curly hair. Girls pay big bucks at the salon to make their hair look like yours. That’s what a perm is. It makes hair curly. If you go girl, you should grow it out more. You’ll have lots more options with longer hair, straight or curly.”

Grow it out? I’d always done the opposite, kept it cropped short. Except with Dad and Julie dating we hadn’t gone to the barbershop in a while. It was getting a bit long and going everywhere the way it did when it was more than an inch long. Did girls really pay good money for hair like mine? Why?

“I’ll work on it. You’ll see. I don’t have much makeup. Mom doesn’t let me wear foundation and you don’t need it. So I’ll just do your eyes and lips. Hold still.”

I held still as she brushed applied following her instructions. I closed my eyes and opened them again as she was putting on the lipstick. Then she put some stuff in my hair.

“What’s that?”

“Hair gel. Haven’t you ever heard of styling gel? What do you do with your hair?”

“Wash it and comb it.”

“Oh my god, you’ve got great hair, Scotty. You should take better care of it.”

Great hair? And Scotty didn’t sound right not dressed like this. “Call me Taylor.”

“Taylor? Where did come from?”

“It’s my middle name.”

“Oh duh, I knew that. OK, Taylor, what do you think of your hair?”

And there she was again, the girl in the mirror, the girl who was me and her hair looked really different, a bit wet but straighter and in place. It didn’t look particularly girly. I looked like a girl with a butch haircut, but it looked so much better than I’d ever seen it before. “It looks good, Hailey. What did you do?”

“Not much. I’m not a stylist. All I did was use some hair gel.”

It looked so different. Taylor looked so different. “So this is me.” I was waiting for the bells to ring. Instead I heard more of a funeral dirge. I got up and took a few steps. Moving didn’t break the illusion. “How do I look?”

“I told you already. You look like a girl. Maybe when I said that you acted girly, this is what I meant. I was picking up on this and didn’t even know it. How does it feel?”

“Like I stuck a knife in Scotty and he’s gone.” Great, I was talking about myself in third person.

“Just because you look like a girl, doesn’t mean you are a girl. I read up on your condition. You’ve got a shortage of male hormones. If you go to the doctor they’ll give you testosterone shots. You’ll end up looking like your dad and Rick. The clothes are just the wrapper, you know. It’s what’s inside that makes you a girl.”

I laughed darkly. “Oh, I know. That’s what all the t-girls say, but it’s deeper than having Tab A or Slot B. It’s in the heart, mind and soul.” And what was I at the core? Was I a boy with boobs or a girl with a penis? I looked like a girl. “I’m done now. I want to change back.”

Hailey looked surprised. “Already? So did you figure it? Care to clue me in?”

“I found out something, but I’m not sure what it means yet. I’m done now. I’ve got to change back. I’m going to have to think about things.” What if I couldn’t go back? I could remove the clothes but what if that wasn’t enough?

“Sure, whenever you’re ready. This was your idea.

I grabbed my clothes and bolted for the bathroom. I stripped out of everything and put my old clothes back on. My boobs didn’t feel as comfortable in the sports bra as they did the one Hailey loaned me. I didn’t care. I rushed through changing and looked in the mirror and saw Taylor in boys clothes. I still had the makeup on and I washed it out using soap and water. It took some scrubbing. I even stuck my head under the shower and washed out the hair gel. When I was done I stood there staring in the mirror. Taylor was still there mocking me. I could change the clothes and take off the makeup but she was still there.

I wanted to run and hide, but where can you hide from yourself?

I picked up Hailey’s clothes. I shouldn’t mistreat them. I folded them carefully into a neat pile and headed out to see her. She was going to want to talk. I knew it. I headed back into my room and she was sitting there just waiting. “Thank you for helping me. Here are your clothes back.”

Hailey took them and then pushed them back to me. “Why don’t you keep them for a while. Just in case you need them again.”

I nodded. “OK.” That made sense. I was very much afraid that I would need them again, but I wasn’t really wanting to face that yet. I put Hailey’s clothes in the corner of my closet. Maybe I should hide them better, but I’d deal with them later.

“You don’t look good. Do you want to talk about it?”

I felt all shakey inside. Like I was sick with the flu or something. “Can we not talk about it now, please? Can we just play DDR now or something?”

“Yeah, we can do that.” Then suddenly she rushed forward and hugged me. “Scott or Taylor we’re still friends. OK?”

I hugged her back and started crying. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She held me for a while and I cried. Then we played DDR and that helped for a while. Maybe it was a girly game, but I was able to lose myself in the music and focus on getting my steps right. However, I couldn’t hide from the way I looked when I had to take a bath and get ready for bed. My boobs were right there on my chest still just as real, but now Taylor lurked in the mirror staring out at me.

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 9 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2013 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

Chapter Twenty-One

Saturday, March 2nd — Taylor Project Day 61

I’m going to skip the status update. The big news is that I did my clothing test with Hailey. She was very supportive and loaned me her clothes helping all the way. It didn’t go at all like I expected. I can more than pass as a girl. I make a better girl than I do a boy. So what does that make me? So what does that mean? I told Hailey to call me Taylor. I wasn’t really thinking about it in terms of the Taylor project. The name just felt right, but the whole situation didn’t. I didn’t feel wonderful it was scary. It just made everything too real.

I’m still the same person I was before. I still have a penis, but my boobs feel a lot more real than they did before. Hailey thinks I’m might even be a small B-cup now. Is that too much growth for gynecomastia? What is normal growth for real girls? I’d just noticed back in January, but I’d started with some man boobs. How much have they grown? I’ve searched the web reading everything from medical sites to advice for girls going through puberty and all I’ve found is a bunch of lame every girl grows at her own speed kind of advice.

Am I a boy or a girl or something in between? Some people are born in between, they’re intersexed. Could I be intersexed? Is that why my boobs are blowing up like balloons? I’ve tried reading up on intersex conditions but it isn’t easy reading. Yet, from what I can tell they don’t show up suddenly at puberty. At least not on medical sites. Some of the tg stories that I’ve read have the surprise twist that a t-girl who thought she was a boy turns out really to be intersexed and a real girl complete with plumbing. However, those stories are just stories. Like Pinocchio becoming a real boy. They’re a lot more fun to read than medical stuff.

I’m not as jumpy as I was just after I dressed up. Taylor felt entirely too real then. That still scares me, but I’m not sure what to do about it. I still don’t like the idea of having my penis and balls chopped off and an artificial hole punched in down there. If there was a magic pill and it could be real, that would be different. However, the way they do things sounds primitive and painful. It means giving up having kids of my own. Not that I planned to have them any time soon, but I thought someday I would have a family of my own.

Not to mention how everyone else will react. Dad and Grandma are not going to be happy. I’m not sure myself so how could I ever convince him? What if he tries to beat the sissy out of me? Then even best case, he supports me I’d have to transition at Pine Hill. I know how they treat me already. It would get worse, much worse and it wouldn’t stop until I graduate and move away. The grass on the girl side looks greener, but there is a thirty foot high electrified fence and moat full of alligators between me and the other side. Is that really something I want to do? Even if I make it to the girl side, would it be like the saying? What if the grass only looks greener? Then I’ll have put myself through hell for nothing and there will be no way back. What do I do? I started off this big project to become Taylor, but is Taylor a boy or a girl?

I don’t always remember my dreams, but this time I knew I was dreaming. Or rather I knew it was a nightmare. Yet, even knowing that I couldn’t wake up. The nightmare kept changing and so did I. I was a boy, a girl and both. Rick was taunting me, ,’chick with a dick, chick with a dick’ and everyone hated me: Dad, Grandma, Julie, even Hailey and Cathy. I had to be punished for being bad. They said I wasn’t good enough to be a boy or a girl. I’d have to be an it. Suddenly it was Lloyd there with a sharp knife and volunteering to do it. He said it wasn’t any different than taking care of cattle. A little flick of the knife and it would be over. I was suddenly at the hallway at school and everyone was around me. They were pushing me down the hallway like a cow in a chute to the slaughter yard where I’d be chopped up…

“Scott wake up!” called Hailey.

Someone was shaking me and I opened my eyes. There was enough light that I could make out it was Hailey. I was still creeped out by the dream but I was glad she was there. I dove at her and grabbed her hard shivering and shaking. “Sorry, nightmare. Bad one.”

“I gathered that.” She hugged me back. “Are you OK now?”

“I guess.” No, I really wasn’t, but I was embarrassed at the way I was clinging to her and I scooted back. I grabbed a pillow and hugged it instead. The memories of the nightmare were still echoing in my head. “How loud was I?”

“I don’t think anyone else heard. How bad was it?”

I couldn’t really make out her face. I just had the impression of her presence and the sound of her voice, but it was a lot better than going back to the nightmare. So I told her about it. At least as much as I could remember. The details were already getting fuzzy, but the feeling of terror still clung to me like spider webbing. “Pretty freaky. It was a nightmare. What do you expect?”

“Well, I don’t have a Technicolor dreamcoat, but that dream isn’t too hard to figure out. You’re scared that you aren’t a boy or a girl and you think this is your fault somehow. It’s not your fault, you know.”

“Yeah, coming from the girl who still feels it is partly her fault that her father slapped her across the face for an accident, I’ll take that with a grain of salt.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth I regretted them. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t right. You’re here trying to help at me and I just bit your head off.”

“Maybe, but you’re right. I was being a hypocrite. I hate that. I get what you mean. Knowing in your head that it isn’t your fault doesn’t always convince your heart.”

“Dad’s going to freak. Grandma is going to freak. Even the fact that I’m growing boobs, a medical problem, is going to make them freak. If I tell them I want to be a girl… I don’t think they’ll allow it. I’m not even sure that is what I want.”

Hailey slid into bed and gave me a hug. “They might freak, but you’re going to have to tell them and soon. You need to tell someone. I think you’re in too deep. You need help. Therapists can help. I went to one. So did Mom. You shouldn’t be trying to decide this alone.”

“My dad thinks head shrinkers are all quacks. He won’t want to pay for one. He’ll tell me to man up and he’ll put me on boy hormones as soon as possible.”

“We could tell my mom. I don’t think she’d freak as bad and she could convince him to get you into therapy. Mom’s big on therapy. Her therapist helped her when her church let her down. She made me go and it does help. Just having someone to talk to about it, you know?”

As I lay there we were touching and I realized I did have someone to talk to about this and she was holding me now. “Hailey, thank you. It means so much to me that you’re my friend through this.” That was truth, but I also realized she was also right. This was too big to lay on her shoulders. She didn’t know what to do about it. Would Julie really help? Of all the adults in my life, she seemed the most likely to give me a fair hearing. If I got her on my side, maybe she could convince my dad.

“I’ll have to tell someone before the end of April. Maybe your mom would be the easiest one to tell, but let’s wait until after Spring Break. Let my dad and your mom have their cruise together first. That would be just two weeks from now, but wouldn’t they both take it better if they had a relaxing vacation first instead of dropping the bombshell on them just before their cruise? Plus Grandma would not take it well and spending a week with her in charge right after coming out — not a good idea.” I was mostly thinking out loud, but it sounded good.

“Hmm, I guess it does make sense to wait until after their cruise and your grandma is old-fashioned. Don’t wait too much longer. What about Cathy? When are you going to tell her?”

I groaned. Cathy was another issue I didn’t want to face. If I went down the girl path, then I was turning my back on her. “I don’t know. I haven’t made up my mind yet. Maybe I shouldn’t tell her until I’m certain. Why should I tell her when I’m not sure and I know it would hurt her?”

“It probably will hurt her,” agreed Hailey, “but not telling her will be worse. You’re playing with fire. You can’t keep major secrets from someone and still have a relationship. She already won’t be happy that I know and you didn’t tell her.”

I knew enough about girls to be sure that was true. I suddenly realized that I had a girl in my bed at night and there was nothing sexual about it at all. We were just talking. Put another mark in the I’m a girl column. I also knew Hailey was right. I had to tell Cathy.

“I’ll tell her. I’m not sure when. It’s certainly not going to be this morning at church.” I could just imagine trying to have that conversation in Sunday School with Cathy’s mom listening in. Inconceivable. “She has some deal with her grandparents this afternoon. I can’t just tell her this on the phone. I guess Monday when we’re walking to the bus stop.”

“I wish I could be there to help, but you need to be the one to tell her.”

“I know.” I just didn’t know what I was going to tell her. We ended up talking about it a good bit longer going around and around in circles over things. Nothing got resolved, but I talking about it helped and Hailey just listened.

Chapter Twenty-Two

As I expected I didn’t have a chance to talk with Cathy on Sunday. There was no real opportunity at church. Her mom didn’t even know we were dating. Then she went to her grandparents. Hailey and I did spend most of the day talking. It seemed we ran around in circles. Taylor felt more real to me than Scotty, but that still scared me silly and I wasn’t sure I had the strength to walk that path. However, we had a plan and that was reassuring. Wait two weeks for Julie to return from the cruise and then tell her with Hailey’s help. After that hopefully get a therapist and let them help me.

Monday morning I was all in knots. I knew I had to tell Cathy but actually doing it wasn’t going to be easy. However, as soon as I greeted her at the door I knew there would be no putting it off. We exchanged our usual hello kiss, nothing that serious, just a light brush of her lips on mine.

That was apparently enough for her to know something was wrong. “You feeling alright this morning?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” I gave a meaningful look at my dad.

She caught on quick and nodded and didn’t say anything more until we were walking to the bus stop. Then she immediately asked, “What’s up?”

Her hand was in mine. The weather was warmer but it was cloudy and the sun had yet to break through the clouds so it was still chilly. I felt queasy. I hadn’t figured out a way to say this that wouldn’t hurt her. So I just spit it out. “Cathy, I think I might be doing more than just growing boobs. I think I might be a girl.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re a boy. A boy with a medical problem, but still a boy. Maybe you should go ahead and tell your father now so they can get you on the hormone shots. I know what you said about Rick telling everyone and being bullied worse, but it’s not clearing up on its own is it?”

“No, it’s not, but that’s not what I mean. Cathy, I think I’m a girl in my heart.”

Cathy squeezed my hand. “That’s just not possible. You’re a boy. You’re my boyfriend.”

“Sometimes it is possible. Sometimes a girl’s soul gets put in a boy’s body. I think that’s what happened to me.”

“Well it’s not.” She pulled her hand out of mine. “First that can’t happen because God doesn’t make mistakes. Second, it’s the hormones that are confusing you. You should really go see a doctor and get them fixed.”

I didn’t want to argue with her about God making mistakes. I had my own beliefs about religion and I knew that Cathy’s were more in line with her mother’s than mine. Whether or not God was responsible there were mistakes in the world. Some kids had birth defects. When possible we let doctors repair those. I suppose I was to blame for this by talking about having a girl’s soul. I’d dragged God into the argument. Still if there was one thing I’d learned from mandatory church attendance it was how to argue using their language. “He may not make mistakes, but he does move in mysterious ways. There is a lot of pain and suffering in the world. It’s not a perfect world. If God doesn’t make mistakes it’s his plan that I’m like this. That I’ve got a girl’s soul in a boy’s body.”

“Would you stop saying that?”

“Fine. Forget I told you. You wanted to know what was wrong with me. That’s what’s wrong with me.”

We walked in silence for a bit. The only sound was gravel on the side of the road crunching beneath our feet. I knew Cathy wasn’t going to take it well, but I’d hoped for something better than this.

Finally Cathy spoke. “Ok, let’s talk about it. What does it mean that you have a girl’s soul? That you’re kinder, gentler, more artistic?”

Coming from a major tomboy that sounded a little out of place, but I recognized an attempt at peace. “I’m not sure what it means yet. I think I need to talk about it with a therapist.” I was giving her half the truth and that made me feel guilty, but she’d rejected the whole truth. Maybe I could give her a little bit now and let her get used to it.

“Therapy?” She reached out and took my hand again. “I’m sorry. I’m sure it must be awful growing boobs. It’s messing with your head. Maybe therapy is a good idea. You know that you’ll have to tell your dad to get a therapist. When are you going to do that?”

I squeezed her hand. Cathy didn’t get it and I felt guilty. Should I set her straight? I didn’t want to fight with her so I let her have her half-truth. “I want to wait until Dad and Julie get back from the cruise they’re having during Spring Break. So I’ll tell them when they get back. That’s less than two weeks.”

“Scott, this has gone on too long. It’s messing with your head. Do you really think you should put it off another two weeks?”

“My dad’s going to freak. He might even cancel the cruise and then that will be on me. I think he and Julie need it.”

“So what you’re saying is that he’ll be more mellow after spending a week boinking Hailey’s mom?”

“Cathy! OMG, I can’t believe you said that.”

She giggled. “Got you out of your sour mood didn’t it?” She stopped and hugged me and held me tight. “Besides isn’t that what you really meant?”

I returned the hug grateful that the rift between us had been smoothed over. “Ewe, just ewe. I know they do it, but don’t put it in my head.”

From the fight with Cathy onward it was a crappy day. We sort of patched things over and that’s what my whole life felt like. I had a huge sucking chest wound and just a thin little bandage over it but no one noticed. I made it through the morning classes, even Gerstacker. God she was making me hate English. Not that it was ever my favorite subject. I made it through lunch and all the way to PE. I hate PE.

Surrounded by all the boys changing out getting ready I was so aware that if they knew I’d dressed up in panties and a skirt this past weekend I’d get the shit kicked out of me. Hell, even just being discovered with the sports bra would be enough. They were vicious wolves all of them and I was a sheep among them. I didn’t belong here.

It suddenly hit me like a bolt of lightning or God whispering in my ears. I didn’t belong here. Not here at school. I didn’t belong here in this room with these boys. I’d never belonged. I’ve known it for ages. Before I was the boy with the bra, the boy with tits, I was the square peg. I’d tried so hard to ignore what I’d seen when I’d dressed up as Taylor but it was all a lie. I didn’t belong here. This wasn’t my place. Why was I even trying to pretend? My Taylor project was a joke. Suddenly it was so blazingly obvious that I would never fit in here. I didn’t want to fit in here.

For a moment I thought of just ripping off my shirt and showing everyone or leaving and going to the nurse, but my sense of self-preservation kicked in. I didn’t belong here, but I had to pretend for now. I wasn’t a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I was a lamb in wolf’s clothing. For now I needed that protective camouflage. I didn’t want PE to turn into the Silence of the Lambs.

Slowly shaking I put on gym clothes. I wondered why no one else saw Taylor. She’d been there all along. Hailey had seen it, in how I acted. Then again they all saw it. Why else did they call me sissy and fag?

Scott> IDK where we R now. Honest.
Scott> We still hold hands kiss hello/goodbye
Scott> But we do not talk about my problem
Hailey> We who? Be specific. Are both of U not talking?
Hailey> Or is she shutting U down when U try to talk?
Scott> Both? I tried a couple of times after Monday
Scott> Now I don’t try anymore
Scott> Subject is off the table
Hailey> Not good, but maybe Cathy just needs more time
Scott> Not sure that I care. 2B honest doing bf/gf thing for her
Scott> Got other priorities. Like who am I?

It wasn’t that I didn’t like Cathy, but I’d also realized that I wasn’t just pretending to be a boy. I was pretending to be Cathy’s boyfriend. I just didn’t know how to get out without ruining our friendship.

Hailey> Understandable. U tell her this?
Scott> No. Don’t want to hurt her
Scott> I don’t think I can be what she needs
Scott> At least not now. Maybe l8ter
Hailey> U2 need to talk
Scott> Not easy. I need more time.
Hailey> Waiting will make it worse
Scott> I’ll try. OK? Got other problems
Hailey> I know. You’re running out of time there too
Hailey> Hiding your boobs is going 2 blow up on you
Hailey> Tick, tick, tick — BOOM!
Scott> Yeah, I’ve got big old boobie bombs on my chest
Scott> More like… (o)(o) tick, tick, tick (x)(x)
Hailey> Ewe. Did not need that image in my head
Scott> I caught in a booby trap!
Hailey> Ow! No more puns!
Hailey> Seriously, what are U going 2 do?

What was she psychic? Did she know I’d reached a decision already? Why wasn’t I telling her? Since my epiphany in gym class two days ago everything seemed clearer. I’d started dressing up in the clothes Hailey had left me in the evening after going to bed. I was starting to get comfortable with Taylor, but it wasn’t the evenings that convinced me. It was every day at school and especially the dreaded boys locker room. I had nightmares about that room. I couldn’t continue to pretend. Yet I hadn’t told Hailey.

Hailey> U R at least GID
Hailey> U know GID?
Scott> Yes. I know. Gender Identity Disorder
Scott> They mostly call it gender dysphoria now
Hailey> It fits
Hailey> You don’t have to decide if you are TG on your own.
Scott> Not a problem any longer. I’ve decided.

There I told Hailey. It would have been nice to have done it face to face or at least on a phone call, but I’d told her. No going back now.

Hailey> AND???????
Hailey> ????????????????????????
Hailey> Boy or Girl?
Scott> Girl, all the way
Hailey> I knew it!
Scott> Yes, you did. U were the 1st one who really saw
Hailey> I didn’t know what I was seeing
Hailey> So when do you come out to parents?
Scott> After spring break, like we planned
Scott> Not going to lead off by spoiling their get away
Hailey> Probably best, but I hold you to that
Hailey> U need a therapist ASAP
Scott> So U think I’m crazy 8-)
Hailey> No just that U need help
Scott> I’ve got help. I got U

It was just a chat window, but I still started to cry. I should have done this in person. This was so distant. I had Hailey, but I felt so lonely.

Hailey> U have all my help, but this to big 4 me
Hailey> U need therapist
Hailey> 4 hormones. 4 Operation
Scott> I know. Not sure about Operation yet.
Scott> May go all girl except 4 the snip and tuck
Hailey> Can you do that?
Scott> IDK. Think so.
Hailey> So you’re not 100% sure?
Scott> 99+% Don’t want testosterone 4 sure
Scott> Don’t know what I’ll do if they put me on T
Hailey> They won’t
Scott> They might. 1st they’ll freak
Scott> Then they’ll try to ‘fix’ me.
Scott> Putting me on T is the easiest fix
Hailey> So don’t let that happen
Scott> I don’t get a say
Hailey> Like hell U don’t
Hailey> Girl lesson: Don’t underestimate the power of a well-timed hissy fit
Scott> I wish it was that easy
Hailey> I’m serious. Shoving stuff in your body U don’t want?
Hailey> It’s a kind of rape. Don’t take it meekly. Kick and scream

Rape? I wouldn’t go that far, but maybe she had a point. I’d try saying no, but if they ignored me and tried to medicate me anyway, what did I have to lose by throwing a tantrum?

Scott> If it comes to that I’ll try it.
Hailey> Don’t get paralyzed by What If
Hailey> U have to come out
Hailey> If U do nothing, your male hormones will kick in NEway
Hailey> Gynecomastia is temporary condition

Witch. Mindreader. I knew that. Sooner or later my male hormones would kick in and then I’d be screwed. If it took that long. I had the deadline with my allergist. I could be caught in gym any day. Plus the most important reason, continuing to be Scott was getting harder and harder every day. I had to come out. Since that day in gym it had ceased being about if and become about when.

Scott> I know. I’ll tell, but no matter what I do I lose
Hailey> Don’t give up without a fight
Scott> I won’t. I’m got to try

I had to pause to wipe my eyes. My tears were still flowing. I couldn’t do this anymore. I needed to crawl under my covers and let it all out.

Scott> GTG TTYL
Hailey> KK. U know I care
Scott> I know. Thank you
Hailey> I’ll try to talk to Cathy about the other thing
Hailey> It’s your job Romeo, but you’ve got enough to deal with
Scott> Bless you
Hailey> Don’t bless me yet. U owe me bigtime for it. JK
Scott> Bye Hailey
Hailey> Bye. TTYL

Chapter Twenty-Three

The week before spring break was a hard one at school. I found my attention wandering during class as I studied the girls. Why had it taken so long to realize that I was one of them? They weren’t perfect by any means, but as a whole they were nicer, more civilized, just plain more grown up than the boys. If only I’d been born one of them. I studied them covertly: their mannerisms, how they talked, what they talked about. At least part of the time I studied them. Par tof the time I was lost in daydreams wishing I was one of them. My homework grades were still high as usual, but I got singled out by teachers several times. I had a hard time taking them seriously. For the most part I already knew what they were teaching. What was going on in my life felt so much more important than what they were teaching.

While I wasn’t really paying attention to the teachers, I still kept alert for bullies. I tried to avoid trouble, but I think the other kids could feel the girl within through the boy clothes that I wrapped myself in. The taunts I received were more along the lines of gay/queer/faggot than Snotty the plaguebringer. I did what I could to minimize it. I wore my baggy clothes and leaned forward to hide my boobs. I kept my head down and my eyes and ears open.

I spotted Kevin Grutz before he spotted me walking ahead of me. I slowed down to keep behind him, but I didn’t need to worry. He wasn’t after me. Kevin was closing in on Oscar moving with a purposeful stride. Oscar was almost swaying as he walked listening to something with his earbuds. I wanted to warn him, but I shouldn’t get involved. I had so much to lose. Screw it. I sped up and tried to catch up. I still had no idea what I would do when I caught up with Kevin. Pound his fist with my face until he begged for mercy?

Too late. I saw it happen. Kevin stepped beside Oscar, stuck out his foot and gave him a shove and Oscar went down hard. It was a smooth move made possible by the way Oscar was paying more attention to his music than his surroundings. I’d watched it go down and Kevin had barely broken stride and was already moving on and away. If I hadn’t been staring at him I probably wouldn’t have seen it. Nobody around seemed to have seen the push and trip. They were just laughing at Oscar sprawled on the floor.

I rushed up to Oscar feeling guilty. I should have said or done something. “Are you, OK?” I started picking up his books.

“Did you get the number of that truck?” asked Oscar as he sat up. His lip was bleeding.

“I did. It was Kevin. You’ve busted your lip. Here I’ve got a Kleenex.” I handed him a tissue from my pocket. “I’ll say it was Kevin if you want to make an issue of it.”

Oscar took the tissue. “Thanks man.” He held it to his face. “And no I don’t want to make an issue. What’s the point. Can I have my books?”

I handed them back. “Sure here you go.”

That was all that happened and I did catch a few comments because of it. Word got around. Not quite Oscar was my boyfriend now, but asking if I was coming out of the closet. Even Dave and Lloyd wanted to know what the hell I was thinking, but I felt like I’d done something. I hadn’t just stood there. Maybe I should have warned him, but at least I did something. I think as bad as things are for me they’re worse for Oscar. Gay marriage may be getting approved in some states, but not in Texas. Tolerance was certainly not encouraged at Pine Hill Middle School.

And while I felt a bit proud of myself for helping Oscar just a little, I really didn’t do that much. I also had to wonder if I really wanted to go the t-girl path. Because as bad as he had it, I would have it ten times worse.

Saturday, March 9th — Taylor Project Day 68

Dad and Julie are left for their cruise early this morning. I thought a lot of what Hailey said about needing to tell them. I’m going to tell. I have to tell soon, but the time wasn’t right. Dad was busy with work and getting ready for the cruise. We’ve done some major redecorating over the past few days. Hailey moved in — more or less.

She was already staying over with Julie from Thursday night to Monday morning, but the adults decided (in some conversation that didn’t involve us) that it wasn’t appropriate for Hailey to spend a whole week in our home and sleep on the couch. Over Rick’s objections the exercise equipment was moved out to the barn. We turned what was once the workout room into a ‘guest’ bedroom. That’s what they kept calling it, a guest bedroom, but it’s effectively Hailey’s bedroom. Which has to be a huge sign that they’re close to moving in. Dad and Rick worked on clearing out the barn and setting it up as a workout space. I worked with Hailey and Julie on the ‘guest’ room. We had some old furniture in the barn. So she now has a twin bed frame, two chairs and a mirror. It’s still very temporary. Instead of a real mattress she has an air mattress on her bed. We got that and and some plastic storage bins to hold her stuff from Walmart. It’s still pretty spartan and obviously temporary, but Hailey hasn’t complained. She’s thrilled to have her own space in our home. We both think it is a major step despite the temporary nature.

Rick made a comment about my chest. He said it was about time that I started filling out. With my boobs strapped down I guess he thinks that I’m growing muscle. He certainly acted that way. He punched my arm. I guess that’s a good thing.

I’m scared about telling them. Even if I go through Julie, I know that Dad and Gradma will freak and Rick will never understand. Hailey thinks I should crossdress more this week that one time wasn’t enough to make decisions. She’s right of course. I’ve been wearing the clothes she left me at night alone in my room, but doing it in front of her will be different than doing it alone. We should have some opportunities this week. If I can’t dress up in front of Hailey, how will I ever speak up to our parents? Everything is happening so fast, but I’m running out of time.

She also thinks I should crossdress for Cathy and I’m not sure about that at all. Cathy’s reaction when I tried to tell her before and the way she’s avoided talking about it aren’t good signs. I’m afraid the boyfriend/girlfriend thing is already unraveling. Crossdressing in front of Cathy might just rip it open. However, Hailey is partly right. I need to Cathy to try to make her understand before I tell anyone else. I owe her that much. I’m not looking forward to it, but it needs to happen.

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 10 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2013 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

 
The Taylor Project
 
 
Chapter Twenty-Four

“Bye Grandma, we’ll be fine.” I waved at her as she walked out to her car.

“Have a good time, Mrs. Miller,” said Hailey.

Grandma got into her car and drove off to church. I stepped back inside with Hailey and closed the door. “Whew, I thought she’d never leave.” While I was nervous, that was completely true. We’d been planning to use this opportunity since we discovered that Grandma was going to evening church without us. I’d been alternately dreading and anticipating dressing up as a girl with Hailey since. Now the pendulum was swinging back to anticipation and growing stronger.

“No kidding. Do you think she suspects us?”

“I think she suspects something, but she doesn’t have a clue as to what we’re planning. If she did, she wouldn’t be going to church. She’d bring the fire and brimstone down on us. Hmm, maybe she just didn’t like leaving us by ourselves. She and Cathy’s mom both seem to share the belief that boys and girls our age should never be left alone together. It’s like they think we’re going to rip our clothes off and pounce on each other as soon as they’re gone.”

Hailey giggled. “Well, actually she isn’t too far from wrong, minus the pouncing. I mean, I like you, but not like that." Her giggle turned to a full laugh. "So, let's go rip your clothes off!”

I wasn’t laughing. I thought I’d decided already that I couldn’t be a boy. Yet now that the moment to get dressed up was here, there was a part of me that still wasn’t ready. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to try changing myself in my room. I’ll call you in when I’m done?”

“Yeah, sure, what-ev-ver. I’ll wait out here. Go already.” She offered with a gentle smile and a light push, barely touching my shoulder with her fingertips.

“OK, OK, I’m going.” I moved to my room on autopilot leaving Hailey behind. Maybe I wasn’t too different than Cathy. It was easier to hide from things, to push them off to the future rather than face them. Alone, I opened my closet and moved a stack of boxes to access my hiding place. Reverently, I brought out the carefully folded garments. I’d worn them several times now: taking them out, trying them on, watching myself in the mirror and walking in them. I’d even slept in the panties. They’d grown in importance to me, but they still made me nervous. Why were they scary now? Hailey already knew and approved. Why was this feeling like yet another bridge?

I took the clothes and laid them out on my bed handling them gently. I felt like one of those cartoons where I had a shoulder angel and a shoulder devil. Both whispering advice at me. One of them whispered, ‘Wear the clothes. You know you want to.’ The other whispered, ‘You can’t. You’re a boy. You fag. You sissy.’

Of course, I wasn’t really hearing voices; just arguing with myself. Yet, thinking about it that way helped. Because if one of them was an angel, it was the girl. She was the one who inspired. She wanted me to be true to myself. The one speaking with the male voice wanted me to live in hate and fear. That voice was the demon, and I wasn’t going to give it power over me. I wish I was an artist like Cathy. It would make such a great picture. I still felt all shaky inside, but I could do this. No, I needed to do this.

Deliberately, I slipped off my layers, lost my two shirts, and my sports bra. With growing excitement I picked up the bra Hailey donated to me. It was a simple white garment, but where my sports bras were plain, this one was adorned with lace. I used the hook in front and spin around trick to get it on. Wearing a real bra was starting to feel natural and comfortable. Not that my sports bras hurt, exactly, but after wearing them all day it always felt good to slip them off at night. It was like my boobs didn’t like being squished all the time. Hailey’s bra lifted my boobs up and gave them some space instead of squishing them.

Panties came next, white panties with little red hearts. I should probably wash them after sleeping in them all night. I made a mental note to return them to Hailey so she could slip them in with her laundry. Hailey had said she couldn’t see my package last time. Looking down, I couldn’t see anything either. I was soft, of course. I don’t remember the last time I got hard down there. That was a good thing. I didn’t want anything poking out, and it meant my testosterone was still out of whack. Looking in my mirror I saw Taylor again and smiled. I could almost hear my reflection whispering at me and asking if I really thought she had ever gone away.

My bad little shoulder demon kept whispering that what I was doing was wrong and a sin, but I ignored him. I had no reason to feel guilty. This wasn’t a sin. I wasn’t hurting anyone. They were just clothes. The whispers faded as I slid into the denim skirt drowned out by a rising roar of freedom in my heart. How could it be a sin or wrong? I was a girl; wasn’t I? Maybe not one hundred percent, but I was already more of a girl than I’d ever been a boy. I pulled on the pink top and felt it settle into place. This was the way a girl was supposed to dress, the way I was supposed to dress. I looked at Taylor in the mirror, and she agreed.

I felt like I was walking on the Moon. My feet and my heart were so light that if I gave a little leap, I’d fly up into the sky. This was me. Taylor was the real me. Why would I want to be Snotty? Why would I want to grow up like Dad and Rick when I could be this? I bounded over to my bedroom door and called out, “Hailey, I’m dressed. You can come in now.”

Hailey wasn’t in the living room still. She was standing right outside my door leaning against the wall across from my door. She looked mightily amused. “Looking good, Taylor. I see you found your happy place.”

I grinned back at her. “It’s just good to be me again! Come on. Show me how to do my makeup! I’ve gotta learn to do it myself.” There was just so much to learn and too little time before Grandma got back from church.

Sunday, March 10th — Taylor Project Day 69

Dear Diary, this is Taylor. I think Scotty is gone for good now.

I struggled with this since last week when I first dressed up as a girl. I think I knew even then that Scott was gone for good. I had my epiphany in gym class, but I still couldn’t let him go. It’s surprisingly hard to shut the door on him. I’ve still got a lot of shoulds and oughts in my head telling me that this is wrong in some way, but despite that I’m going down the t-girl path.

I guess Scotty won’t ever really go away. He’ll always be part of me, but he is in the past now. Taylor is my future and my present. I’m sitting here in my girl clothes, and it feels so right. I guess I finally understood all the stories I read. It didn’t feel right at first. It scared me, but now it just feels comfortable. My boy clothes are like a cheap Halloween costume that I put on because I have to. I might have to hide and pretend I am Scott, but I’m really Taylor all the time.

Hailey showed me how to do my makeup while Grandma was at evening church. I’m still a noob at it, but at least I’ve got some idea about what goes where now. I’m going to need lots more practice. It’s a lot more complicated than I expected. I kept overdoing it, but Hailey says everyone does that at first. It’s just that most girls play with Mommy’s makeup when they’re like five or so. She also explained that if the makeup is the first thing that you notice, then you did it wrong. Makeup is supposed to be subtle and accent your natural beauty. She said it better than that, but it makes a kind of sense. I’m still blown away by finding out that I have natural beauty. I don’t know that I’ll ever be beautiful, but I think I can at least make it to cute.

Afterwards we painted my fingernails and toes which felt weird but looks good. It turns out I have wonderful nails according to Hailey. She asked me if I’d been shaping them and trimming my cuticles and was horrified to learn that I usually bite them. I guess that is a nervous boy habit that I need to break now. At least I used to try to smooth out the ends with my teeth, so they weren't all jagged like on some guys I have seen, and I hadn't bit my nails in a while, so she had something to work with. I had to take the polish off my fingernails when we were done, but I left my toes painted. No one will see them under my socks and shoes, but I’ll know they’re there. That’s something I can hang onto that is girly about me even when I dress up like Scott. Well, that and wearing panties and a bra and having boobs.

Hailey wanted to do a fashion show where I got to try on her other outfits, but we didn’t get very far. I only got to try on her Sunday dress and one pair of her jeans. I really liked her dress. I thought I looked like a girl in the skirt, but a dress is even more girly. I liked wearing it at the time, but looking back, I think it's more impressive that I still look like a girl even in her jeans. They’re a tight fit. I really have to squeeze my fat ass to get into them. No way I could sit down in them. Hailey said I looked good in them. I’m not sure about the good part, but I know I looked like a girl. Still, I prefer being able to breathe. Besides, I hate to admit it, but I think I’m a girly girl. Weird, I know. What can I say? I just like the skirts and her dress better. We had to cut the fashion show short because Grandma came home, but it was great while it lasted.

I still don’t know that I’ll go all the way. The operation at the end scares me. Maybe I’ll do the hormones to just look like a girl and stop there. Right now that would be enough for me. The point of the operation is to be able to have sex like a girl, and I am so not there. Boys still feel like the enemy to me. I can’t imagine kissing one, let alone wanting one inside me. Eww. Maybe I’ll be a lesbian. It’s not like I have to decide now anyway. I read on the net that they wouldn’t let me have the operation until I’m at least eighteen. Plus, it is like, really expensive. So I can wait to decide about that. If it becomes important to me later, then I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.

The next step is a big one. I have to tell my Dad, maybe by telling Julie first. Hailey thinks that will be easier and maybe she’s right. I need to do it soon. Right now I’m developing like a girl, but how long will that keep on happening? My male hormones could kick in any time. So time is important, but I still don’t know how I’ll do it. Maybe it will get easier with practice? I still have to convince Cathy. I told her, but she really didn’t understand. I’ve got time to work on her. Dad and Julie won’t get back until late Sunday night. That gives me several days.

I asked Hailey for a nightgown but she didn’t have one to loan me. She usually sleeps in PJ bottoms and an oversized t-shirt. She did give me some more panties which I’m also wearing. Then she said I needed to stop mooching clothes off her, but she was laughing when she said it.
 
 
Chapter Twenty-Five
 
I woke up to my alarm and slapped my snooze button. I didn’t want to get up yet. Why had I set my alarm? It was spring break. As I snuggled back under my blankets, I remembered why I had set my alarm. I’d slept in full Taylor mode. I didn’t have on a nightgown or girl pajamas, but the oversized t-shirt I was wearing was basically the same thing that Taylor slept in. OK, I had on sweat bottoms instead of flannels, but with panties on, my toes painted, and my boobies flying free it was close enough for me. I certainly felt wonderfully comfortable, but I needed to get up. I didn’t want Grandma to come in and wake me while dressed like this.

Reluctantly I slid out of bed and hid Taylor away. I pulled my boys' white socks over my painted toes, and my regular blue jeans hid my panties. Sadly, it was rather like wrapping my present back up after I’d peeked at it. Now it had to go back under the tree and I had to wait until I could open it. I didn’t have any sports bras today. I’d given them all to Hailey so she could mix them in with her clothes and get them washed today. So I had to use the athletic wrap to bind up my boobs before hiding them under layers of shirts. Layers might be a problem today. Apparently the weather had decided that spring break meant turn up the heat. It was a little chilly now, but it promised to be another warm day. I studied myself in the mirror before I left my room. I really wondered how I was fooling anyone. Even dressed up like Scott, I could see Taylor shining though. Soon, I promised myself.

It was a good thing I set my alarm because Grandma was already at work in the kitchen cooking breakfast. That meant she would have gotten us up soon. She looked very much in her element, cooking up eggs, bacon, and pancakes. That was more breakfast than I really wanted, but it smelled great. Since I was Taylor now, would I learn to cook like that? Not all girls cook. The few times I’d stayed with Mom, she hadn’t cooked, but Grandma and Julie could both cook.

I hovered at the back of the kitchen studying Grandma trying to compare what she did to the way Dad did things in the kitchen. He didn’t really cook. He just made food, usually something prepackaged like Hamburger Helper. I’d never seen either Grandma or Julie consult a recipe. They just threw ingredients together and, almost like magic, out came delicious food. I took my morning asthma medicine and my stomach wasn’t too happy. Neither were my taste buds, as usual. Ick, ick, ick. These pills are working, but why did they have to taste so gross? With all those wonderful smells I wanted more than a horrid pill and a swallow of water. “Hey Grandma, do you need any help?” I slipped around to steal a slice of crispy bacon.

She waggled a finger at me. “No more mooching food before breakfast. I’ve got it under control, Scotty, but you can go get your brother and Hailey.”

Hailey wasn’t a morning person, and she grouched at me when told to get up for breakfast. Rick wasn’t in his room. When I told Grandma, she said he’d probably gone to the barn to workout. So I ran next door to the barn and found him lifting weights.

Rick had stripped down to just shorts. He was lying down on his back on the weight bench doing full bench presses. “What do you want, pest?” He was lifting way more than I weighed and making it look easy.

“Grandma has breakfast ready. She wants you to come eat.”

“I’ve got another set of reps to go, and then I want a shower. Tell her to set me aside a plate. I’ll nuke it when I’m done.”

I couldn’t get away with telling Grandma that, but Rick could. So I’d just pass it along, but something bothered me. “Should you really be doing that without a spotter?”

Rick laughed. “And since when did you become the exercise guru, wimp? Run along.”

A part of me wanted to shout at him that I wasn’t a wimp, that I was a girl. Still, I certainly wasn’t going to out myself to Rick, or at least not today. He’d have to find out some time, but he was way down the list. “Fine, I’ll tell her.”

Grandma wasn’t at all upset about Rick working out. That annoyed me because it was a double standard. If I had been doing something and told Grandma I’d be late for a meal, I’d have gotten into trouble for it. However, Rick did basically whatever he pleased. I left him to his workout and went to enjoy a hot meal with Grandma and Hailey.

We didn’t have any real plans, so Hailey and I were discussing what to do. That was an awkward discussion to have with Grandma present, as I couldn’t say that what I really wanted to do was dress up as Taylor and have more girl lessons. It also turned out not to be the wisest conversation to have around Grandma. As we didn’t seem to have plans, she apparently felt obligated to make plans for us.

“You two should really get outside. It’s such a beautiful day. You shouldn’t spend all your time indoors watching movies and playing video games.”

Hypocritical much, Grandma? I think she just didn’t want competition for the big TV in the living room, but I knew better than to tell her that.

“That sounds like a great idea, Mrs. Miller,” responded Hailey. “Maybe we could get Cathy and take a nature walk. You’ve got all this land and I’ve never seen all of it. Maybe we could even take a lunch and make a picnic of it.”

“What a wonderful idea, Hailey! I’ll pack you three a picnic lunch right up. We’ve got an old quilt that you can use for a blanket. I don’t think we have a basket though...”

Wait? This was already agreed? “Grandma, you know me and the outdoors don’t get along. What if my allergies start to act up?”

“Then you can come back home, can’t you? Hasn’t that new medicine been working out for you?”

“Well, so far, but…” I sighed sensing defeat. “Oh, alright. I suppose we can use my backpack to carry the food in.”

“Are you going to be coming with us, Mrs. Miller?” asked Hailey.

“Heavens no, I think you three can manage alone. You have your cell telephone don’t you?”

Hailey nodded. “Of course, ma’am. I’m going to call Cathy and see if she’s up yet.

“You do that dear. Scotty, you go clean out that backpack of yours, and I’ll get that picnic lunch made up for you three.” Grandma was off and running, making sandwiches, putting sweet tea into a thermos and packing all the trimmings for a picnic.

It wasn’t until I was shoved out the door with a backpack full of food on my back and a folded up quilt over my arm that I finally got to ask Hailey why she had volunteered us for the nature walk. “OK, care to explain to me the sudden urge to go outdoors?”

“Two reasons. One, your grandmother was right the sun is out. It is warm and not raining. I’ve been cooped up indoors too long. It’s a nice day. I’d like to spend part of it outside." She flashed me a sympathetic smile. "I know all about your allergies. If they get bad, I promise we’ll come right back. Reason number two — me, you and Cathy without adult supervision. Hello? Haven’t you been looking for a chance to talk to her? Well, here it is. You and Cathy can talk it all out.”

“Oh.” I still wasn’t happy about it. I think part of the reason my allergies were better was because I’d been staying indoors, but Hailey was right. I did need to talk to Cathy.
 
 
Chapter Twenty-Six
 
Cathy was glad to see us, but naturally she wasn’t too excited to be walking across empty fields. If you’ve seen one empty field, you’ve pretty much seen them all. I guess it was pretty enough, green grass and scattered wildflowers underneath a blue sky and fluffy white clouds. I’d seen it all before, but Hailey had never seen anything besides our house so I gave her the tour.

Our land was part of an old homestead of the Miller family. It had been a hundred and fifty acres back in my great-grandfather’s time, but he’d split it among his ten children. The plots weren’t all the same size. Our twelve acres could be broken down into twelve almost square acres, approximately two squares wide and six squares deep or as we more usually split it: the front four, the middle four and the back four. The front four had our home, Grandma’s house and the barn. Between our two houses was our ‘orchard’. It wasn’t much of an orchard, just some fruit trees that Grandpa had planted not long before he died. The fruit trees were still pretty scraggly and seemed to produce more wasps than fruit.

Behind our houses were the middle four acres. The middle four was mostly pasture for the horses and cows we no longer had. Now it was fallow and just produced hay in the fall. We trudged through the fields following an old cowpath that was getting overgrown. Along the way we startled some birds into flight and one rabbit into bounding away. I led Hailey and Cathy to the only prominent feature of the middle four acres, an old stagnant pond that Grandpa and Grandma always called a tank. It was gross and definitely not for swimming in. Yuck.

After tossing a few dirt clods at the green slime coated water we’d about exhausted the possibilities there, so I led them towards our back four acres. To me, that was the most interesting part of our land. It was all piney woods and around a creek. When I’d been younger, it had been excellent for hide and seeks. Rick used it for paintball sometimes these days. Twelve acres sounded like a lot but it really wasn’t, and it didn’t take long to give Hailey the whole tour.

“This is so cool that you have all this land. Why don’t you farm any of it?” asked Hailey.

“Grandpa used to. At least he used to keep cows and horses and planted a few crops, but it takes a lot of work to run a farm. The days of small farms are pretty much over. Some of the neighbors have vegetable gardens, but it is real hard to make a living at farming these days. A small plot farmer just can’t compete against the big commercial farms.”

Cathy strolled along beside me and was obviously bored. “So what do we do now? It’s hours until lunch.”

I couldn’t blame her for being bored. Despite my initial reluctance I was enjoying being out in the sun. I liked the pine trees on our back four, and the way the creek babbled along was relaxing, but there wasn’t much to do. We were too old to play hide and seek in the woods. I looked over to Hailey and she was looking at me expectantly. I sighed. I knew what she wanted. I was supposed to talk to Cathy, but I wasn’t sure this was a good time. Cathy and I had started holding hands, but she felt distant. We weren’t talking much. “Um, I don’t know?”

Hailey gave an exasperated sigh. “OK, that’s it. Enough. I’m tired of being in the middle between you two. If you two expect this relationship to go anywhere, you can’t keep doing this no talking thing. Scott, you need to talk to Cathy, really talk to her and explain about Taylor. Cathy, you can’t just ignore this and hope it goes away. I think you know exactly what Scott was trying to tell you.”

“I’m not ignoring anything,” protested Cathy. "Things are just on hold for a bit. Scott needs to see a doctor, but I understand why he didn’t want to spoil your parent’s vacation. His dad has expectations. It’s not going to be easy for Scott to admit he’s growing breasts.”

Cathy was neither dumb nor blonde, but she was doing her best to pretend to be both. I’d seen her act this way before when I’d tutored her in math. It had been frustrating then, and it was even more frustrating now. “Would you just stop doing that? It’s more than the boobs. I’ve said that before.”

“Maybe I’m just stupid then. ‘Cause I don’t get it. You’re a boy. Even with your hormones screwed up; you’re still a boy. You can wish and pray all you want, but that won’t make you a girl.”

“That’s the problem. I’m not a boy, not where it counts: not in my head or in my soul. I’m not talking about hoping and praying. I’m talking about getting HRT, hormone replacement therapy. That will make sure that my testosterone stays low and I don’t Hulk out. If I can get the right hormones, my breasts will continue to grow and I’ll become a girl.”

“I know about the breasts. I’m tired of hearing about your breasts. Have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re a boy, B-O-Y, boy.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or yell at her. “Maybe you’re the one who needs to have your eyes checked. I have looked in the mirror. You know what I see? A girl. Have you really looked at me lately? It’s more than the boobs. I don’t know if it’s my messed up hormones or what, but put me in a skirt and I make a pretty good girl, if I do say so myself.”

“OMG, you’re dressing in girl clothes now?! Do you know what that makes you?” She paused suddenly and shot a hateful glance at Hailey. Her tone went from shocked to demanding. “Scott, where did you get girl’s clothes?”

“From me,” said Hailey. “He asked for my help and I gave it to him. He’s right. Put him in a skirt or tight jeans, give him a top that fits him and not those circus tents he wears, and it’s obvious that Scott is a girl. In fact, she prefers to be called Taylor.”

“Taylor?! Hailey, what have you done? I thought you were my friend. You’ve turned my boyfriend into a sissy!”

I don’t think Cathy could have hurt me more if she’d stabbed me. What happened to friends forever? “Cathy, I…” I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t face her either. The woods of the back four acres were there and I started running for them.

“I’m sorry!” yelled Cathy.

“Taylor, wait!” called Hailey. “Don’t run off...”

I heard someone chasing me, and I turned back to look. “I need. To be. Alone now.” I couldn’t seem to breathe and I was crying. “I’ll be in China.”

Hailey stopped, but she had a pained look on her face. “What the hell does that mean?”

I waved at Cathy who was just standing there. “Ask Cathy. If she decides she wants to talk to me, she’ll know where to find me. Just, just, let me be, okay?”

I headed off into the pine trees. Hailey would be fine. Cathy... well, why should I care? Sissy, that’s what she thought of me. My tears flowed freely as I wove my way through the pines heading for Little China.

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 11 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2013 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

 
The Taylor Project
 

Chapter Twenty-Seven

A light spring breeze stirred the bamboo all around making it rustle in the wind. I found the soft noise comforting, as if the bamboo was whispering to me, trying to soothe the great, big, aching sobs of pain that wracked me. I curled up on the ground into a tight ball like a little kitten lost in a giant cornfield. My tears and cries shook me so hard I could barely breathe.

Sissy. Freak. Even Cathy. How could she? How could she? If even she couldn’t accept me… no, not couldn’t, wouldn’t. If even she wouldn’t accept me, then what hope did I have? I was just stupid Snotty Miller playacting at being a girl. Nobody would see me as transgendered; they’d all see me as a freak, a fag, gay. Transgendered was just too much for Pine Hill. Gay they could understand. I’d be the little faggot boy who wanted to wear skirts. That's what they would all see me as, but it wasn't true. I wasn’t gay. I was a girl. A girl!

The bamboo trees whispered soft nothings to me as they danced in the wind. A little bit down the slope from me the creek babbled pleasantly, talking to itself as water flowed over stones. I wished I could join it and meander across the countryside until I reached a river, and then float on downstream like Huck Finn. Drifting away… until I reached the ocean, as wet and salty as the tears flowing down my face. Then I could sink into the ocean depths and just melt away.

I felt so alone. Cathy had turned on me and Hailey had deserted me. Sure, I’d told her to stay away, but when a girl runs away she wants you to follow her. Where had I heard that? It felt like a memory, probably from some forgotten romantic comedy that I’d watched ages ago. Yes, I’d wanted to be alone, but they were supposed to follow. No, Cathy was supposed to follow. She was the one who turned my life into a joke with a single word. She knew where I was. She knew this was my place. Why wasn't she here?

Whisper, whisper, murmured the wind through the bamboo. My aching sobs had stopped stabbing me with their knives of truth and pain. My tears were still flowing, a sad counterpoint to the peaceful babbling of the creek. Slowly, I could feel the knots of pain within me relax. Like a switch had been turned on, I suddenly became aware of the smells of spring around me: the damp rich smell of the earth beneath me, the green smell of growing pine, the wet smell of the creek and, most strongly of all, the smell of the bamboo growing and thriving here in East Texas so many thousands of miles from home.

We called this place Little China. Rupert Miller, who was some kind of great uncle to me, had planted some bamboo on his land a generation or so ago. According to one story he just preferred to fish with a cane pole and wanted his own supply. Another rumor claimed old Rupert grew his own marijuana and thought the bamboo would hide it. Regardless, the bamboo hadn’t stayed in a neat little patch. It started spreading and grew and grew, filling up gaps around the larger and older pine trees. The bamboo thicket had choked out the smaller trees and plants along the creekbed, and it showed no sign of stopping. Grandma called it damn-boo and wanted it all chopped down and plowed under. Me, I loved this place.

This was my place. Here, I could pretend that I had been magically transported thousands of miles away from Pine Hill. The bamboo didn’t look like our native trees. Their stalks seemed too skinny to grow as high as it did, but it shot out of the ground and challenged the sky. I didn’t go outside often, but this place spoke to me at some level. The bamboo was just like me. It shouldn’t be growing here. This was pine forest land where it wasn’t cleared for farmland. There were some oaks and other trees mixed in, but pine was king. Except here. Here, the bamboo choked out the pine. Grandma might call it damn-boo, but I found this a peaceful place. The way the bamboo thrived and grew, despite this not being its home. It gave me hope somehow.

The bamboo took me away in space to China and it took me away in time as well. I remember when Grandpa was alive he used to dabble at farming. He was retired and didn’t need to do it, he just wanted to do something, I guess. For him it was farming. I remember picking and shelling peas, and I recall a patch of watermelon. Most of all I remember corn, a vast field of it, and how we’d played in it: me, Cathy and even Rick. We’d chased and laughed and played hide in seek in the green growing corn. Happier times. I’d been smaller then and the thin stalks of the bamboo reminded me of the days before Snotty, when I’d just been free to be a child and play.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Distantly I heard voices, Cathy and Hailey talking to each other as they made their way to me, something about a fence. That meant they were crossing the barbed wire fence that separated the Riley’s land from my great uncle’s. They were close, and I didn’t want them to see me crouching on the ground like an animal. I took some tissues from my pocket and tried to clean away my tears and snot. I tried to blow my nose quietly without success which meant they knew exactly where I was. I stood up and tried to dust the dirt and leaves off my clothes. I’d had a perfectly good picnic blanket, but I hadn’t used it. I was about to spread it out when the girls walked up.

Cathy was in the lead, and I could tell she’d been crying. She picked up her pace and hurried to me. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me for being a stupid idiot? You’re not a sissy. You’re one of the bravest people I know.”

“Of course I —“ I didn’t get any further than that because she hugged me hard and took my breath away.

“I thought I’d lost you.” Cathy held me tight and started planting little kisses all over my face. Then her lips met mine.

We’d kissed before, many times, but I don’t think I ever really got kissing until that moment. Our lips touched, and all the pain and tears inside me started lifting away. Cathy’s lips were warm and wet and salty on mine. Her mouth opened, and as I tasted her tongue on mine, I felt both blown away and confused. I was certainly being kissed, which felt right because I was a girl, but I also was Cathy’s boyfriend so I should be the kisser, yet this time I was certainly the kissee.

“Awww,” said Hailey.

We didn’t quite jump apart, but our kiss was certainly over. Cathy’s hand found mine and gripped it tight. I gave Hailey a guilty look and a shrug. I was still too overwhelmed from the emotional roller coaster trip to say anything.

Cathy grinned a big grin. “I think I’m forgiven.”

“Yes, you two certainly kissed and made up,” Hailey said dryly.

“Literally!” agreed Cathy.

“It’s good we got the emotions out of the way but let’s sit down and talk this through now – before you two slip back into the not talking thing.”

I took a deep breath. “OK. Yes. Good, even.” Eloquence is me.

We spread out the quilt that I’d just dropped on the ground, and all sat down facing each other. I had no idea where to start, and apparently neither did Cathy because we just stared at each other until Hailey spoke up. “Cathy, maybe you should start with what you told me.”

“Scott-” Cathy sighed and ducked her head like she’d been scolded. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t listening. You were right. You and Hailey were both right. I knew what you meant; I just didn’t want to listen because I want you as my boyfriend. When I look at you I hear theme music and happily ever afters and, and… I think I’m falling for you.”

“Whoa. I…” I had no idea how to respond. Hailey had to smack me up against the head with the clue bat, but I’d finally caught on. What could I say that wouldn’t hurt? I let my mouth stumble forward, trying to find words. “Cathy, you’ll always be my best friend, I totally get BFF, best friends forever. I just don’t know how much further I can go down the boyfriend path you want me to go. I sure felt something when we kissed, but I still don’t know what I am. I mean, I figured out that I’m a girl at heart, but there is so much more to being a girl than just deciding to be one. I’ve smothered the girl inside me for so long. I wrapped her up in boy clothes and stuff. She’s just starting to take her first steps outside into the world. I’m like a newborn deer, walking on instinct, but shaky and unsure and ready to bound off and hide.” That was exactly what I’d done. Cathy had called me a sissy and I’d run off and hid.

A single tear slipped down Cathy's cheek. “I get that. I was trying to shut you down, but I knew what you were saying. I’d just wanted you for so long, but you didn’t seem to have a clue. When you finally did get a clue, we were boyfriend and girlfriend for one whole glorious week -- then you decided you were really a girl. Do you know how hard it is on me trying to just stop and give you space? To crush my dreams, my hopes, just when they seemed to be coming true?”

It was my turn to feel scolded, as well as a little ashamed. No, I hadn’t thought it through from Cathy’s perspective. I thought she was just selfish, trying to force me to be what she wanted me to be. From her point of view I’d made promises and then reneged on them.

“Let’s calm things down a little,” said Hailey. “You two are both hurt, but not really mad at each other. You’re hurt about the situation, which is very different from being mad at each other. You’re both still friends. Right?”

“Yes,” said Cathy while I just nodded my agreement.

“You both have hesitations. Taylor doesn’t know who she is. Cathy isn’t sure she can be in relationship with a girlfriend and not a boyfriend, but you both want to try, right?”

“You want to try? With me being a girl? You’ll let me try?”

“I don’t know.” Cathy sighed. “I don’t know if I can. I like hot boys like Robert Pattinson and Taylor Lautner and Zayne and Liam and Harry. I’ve never felt anything for any girl, but I feel for you. Maybe I can become one of those people where the person matters more than the gender. I don’t know.”

“Maybe we should just step back,” I suggested. “We’ll always be friends. We can just be friends for a while. I need time to get my head straight.” Like a few years. “Maybe then we can try again.”

Cathy shook her head. “No, I want to try now. I don’t want to wait any more.”

“If you’ll let me be a girl, I’ll try.”

“As long as you try, I’ll let you be a girl.”

“Awww, group hug!” Hailey reached out and hugged us both; then we all three hugged each other and laughed. Maybe, just maybe, this could work out.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Our group hug fell apart with Hailey breaking out of it first. Cathy still clung to me but I pulled away. I felt a little awkward hugging just Cathy in front of an audience, even if it was Hailey and she was smiling. I grinned back at her. “Thank you, Hailey. Cathy and I were stuck in some sort of out of control thing, and you saved us before we crashed.”

Hailey blushed. “Hey, that’s what friends are for.”

“You should become a therapist someday,” said Cathy. “You’re really good at it. I bet you’d also make a great marriage counselor.”

Hailey giggled. “And I’m doing such a good job with Taylor running off into the woods. I’d suck as a therapist. I’d chase off all my patients.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Cathy. “I think you were right to push us. Thank you.” She looked at me. “Scotty, I’m sorry again for what I said earlier. I just freaked. It just happened so fast. You were telling us not so long ago about how gynecomastia was a temporary condition; you were working out and going to hide it. It was all a hormone condition and you were a boy underneath. Then all of that just flipped around and now you think you’re a girl inside. Can you really be so sure, so fast?”

Why did she have to ask that question? I wasn’t sure at all. I felt like I’d leaped headfirst off a cliff and there was no stopping things now. I was falling faster and faster, and I didn’t have a parachute. Except I did have a parachute, or maybe rather a bungee cord. If I changed my mind the cord could snap me right back to being where I was. Stuck. As a boy.

“It didn’t happen overnight, Cathy. It started a long time I ago. It took lots of baby steps. I’ve been dreading growing up to be like Dad and Rick for I don’t know how long. I always felt different, which is a big reason that I get bullied at school. People sense that I’m different. They always called me fag and sissy. Turns out they weren’t that wrong. Dressing up helped things along, but I was in a bit of denial. It was gym class that convinced me. I was sitting there changing and I suddenly realized that I didn’t belong there, that I had never belonged, and I’m never going to belong in a boy’s world.”

Even now, was I certain? No. I had major doubts but I couldn’t voice them, not even to Cathy, because if I fed my doubts and gave them power they’d drag me back. I wasn’t sure, but somewhere I’d passed a tipping point. I was more scared of being forced to be a boy than running the gauntlet to becoming a girl.

“But you didn’t feel this way until your hormones got out of whack. Isn’t it possible that they’re influencing you?”asked Cathy.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, I guess they have to be. Don’t our hormones always influence us? This isn’t easy for me!” Damn, I was crying again. Not the big hurtful sobs like before, just too much turmoil and sadness that overflowed and ran down my cheeks. “I don’t think I can go back to being Scotty. There is no future for me as a boy. If I can’t go back then I’ve got to go forward, don’t I? I’m already more than halfway there. I’ve already got boobs and the start of a figure. I don’t want male hormones. I want this to continue as far as it will. I feel like I’m betraying you, but being Taylor just feels right. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” said Hailey. “You didn’t choose this, Taylor. It chose you and you’re trying to do right by Cathy. Maybe you two can meet halfway. I don’t know, but the important thing is that both of you are trying now and if it doesn’t work, you’ll still be best friends.”

I smiled at that. “I’d like that.”

“I’m trying. I don’t know. We’ll always be friends." Cathy gave a weak smile. "So can I see this girlfriend of mine? Apparently Hailey has gotten to meet her twice, but I’ve never even seen her.”

I giggled. “OK, but we’d better ask Hailey if she can help. There is just no way I’d get into your clothes, short stuff.”

That sparked a grin. “Or, like, maybe we’d better ask Hailey because she’s the only one of us that is wearing girl clothes.” Cathy gestured down her body at her clothes. Her t-shirt was unisex, but her jeans were definitely boy jeans and also way too small for my ass. Cathy was a petite little thing.

Chapter Thirty

“Sure, Taylor can borrow my clothes -- again.” With an overly dramatic eyeroll and a shrug Hailey started unlacing her shoes. She kicked out of her shoes before standing up. She shimmied out of her blue jeans and was half-undressed before I’d even started.

Wishing I was as confident as Hailey, I began unlacing my own shoes. I’d agreed to this, but it still felt weird. Not only was I getting undressed in front of Hailey and Cathy, but I was doing it in the great outdoors. I’d been camping before and gone on fishing trips with my dad, but we at least had tents. This might be my special place, but that didn’t mean it felt comfortable getting undressed without four walls around me. We weren’t even on my land. It was already too late to back out. While I had piddled with my shoes, Hailey had already removed her jeans. She stood there holding her jeans, and waited for me to get undressed. I shucked off my boy jeans and took Hailey’s from her.

“Scott, you’re wearing panties?!” Cathy sounded horrified.

“Yes, I’m a girl. Girls wear panties and bras. My toes are painted too.” I sat down on the quilt and started to pull Hailey’s jeans up my legs. They weren’t going to be an easy fit. I think this pair was even smaller than the other pair I’d tried on.

“Taylor, can I put on your jeans?” asked Hailey. “It’s a little chilly here in the shade.”

I had her pants up to my knees. I stood up awkwardly trying to pull them the rest of the way on. “Of course you can wear them, Hailey, but next time let’s do this indoors.” Her jeans were too skinny, or more accurately my ass was too fat. I managed to tug them up my legs, but they were a little too tight in the waist. I sucked in my belly, zipped and buttoned, and somehow they were on me, even if they were painfully tight. I loosely tightened Hailey’s belt, more for looks than from need. There was no way these jeans were going to fall off of me. “Next time we do this, please wear a skirt.”

“Who wears a skirt when walking across fields? Next time you want to play dress up, you hide a change of clothes in with the blanket,” teased Hailey. Once she had my jeans on she slipped off her top, which was white instead of her usual pink, and stood there in her bra.

Cathy looked glumly from one of us to the other. “You two are way too comfortable with this clothes swapping thing.”

“Come on, Cath. Haven’t you ever tried on clothes with a girlfriend?”

“With cousins, but I still think it is weird.”

After our talk I understood her lack of enthusiasm better. Where before I’d seen only rejection, now I could recognize she was taking small steps. For Cathy just not freaking out was progress. She was making an effort and trying to accept me. I was still struggling myself. So I could understand. It was just hard on all of us.

I took off both my shirts and started unwrapping the bandage that held my boobs in place today. Meanwhile Hailey had turned around to remove her bra. Taking my cue from her, I turned around to face the stream as I continued to unwind.

“Scott, wait. Can I see them?” asked Cathy. “I know you’ve got man boobs, but maybe it would help me wrap my mind around it if I saw them.”

I’d flashed Hailey briefly, but it had been awkward. I felt uncomfortable already stripping down in the great outdoors, but if it helped convince Cathy, maybe it would be worth it. “OK, take a good look then.” I turned back toward her but I couldn’t look her in the eye. I looked down at my feet as the rest of the bandage fell away.

“Oh my Jesus, those look so real. No wonder you’re messed up.”

Hailey had her bra off and was facing us.. She was covering her own breasts with one arm, but she took a good look at me. “They look real because they are real. That’s not just fat. They look like mine did when I was growing fast.” She offered her bra to me.

I took the bra from Hailey and tried to put it on quickly. I’d deliberately shown Cathy, but I was still nervous enough that I fumbled the hooks more than once before I got them fastened and got myself covered. I took Hailey’s shirt and slid into it. I wasn’t really complete. I’d like to fix my hair with some gel, add a little makeup and shoes that fit, but this was what I had and lucky to have them. I hoped it was enough to convince Cathy. “Meet Taylor. This is the real me.”

Cathy studied me and as she did her hand rose and covered her mouth. “You’re right. You look like a girl. Your hair needs work, but if I didn’t know you… you’d fool me. Dressed the way we are now you look more like a girl than I do. Not to mention the boobs. Those aren’t man boobs. Scott, you’ve got real boobs. Are you sure that’s normal, because I think you’re bigger than me?”

“It’s not normal. It’s caused by a hormone imbalance, but they are real. I’ve got real boobs.” Looking around, I saw that Cathy was right. Hailey was now dressed in my clothes and looked like a tomboy, while Cathy always dressed like a tomboy. Amazingly, I was the one who looked the most like a girl

“You look so real. Scott, how do you feel about me?”

I looked up meeting her gaze. “I don’t know. You’re my best friend and I’m scared of losing you. I liked holding hands and kissing. I didn’t think I wanted to go further, but I felt something when we kissed today. I like you Cathy. I’m just going to need more time. What about you? This is the real me. I am Taylor. Do you still like me?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a lesbian. I like boys. I’m starting to accept that you’re committed to this, but I don’t even begin to know what it means for us.” She paused for a moment. “If we take me out of the picture, what do you feel about girls in general? I’ve been trying to encourage you for a while now, but you hadn’t taken the hints until recently. Is this why?”

“I don’t know. I felt something when we kissed today, before that I don’t think I really did. I didn’t really notice any hints until Hailey clued me in. I haven’t noticed any other girls at all. Not romantically anyway. When I think of girls it’s more envy. I want to be like you and Hailey.”

“Are you gay then?” asked Cathy.

“Ugh, no!” The reaction was strong and immediate. “Boys are the enemy more than anything. I don’t want to be one and I certainly don’t have any sexual feelings about them. Or about anyone, really. I’ve got too much going on in my head trying to figure out who I am to really think about that seriously, too. I don’t want to hurt you Cathy, but if you want a chance for us to work out you’ll have to be patient and let me sort myself out first.”

We all fell silent for a while. The only sounds were the wind in the bamboo and the babbling of the creek. I was lost in thought. What did it mean for me and Cathy? It felt like we had something romantic, but it was weak and fragile like a soap bubble. Maybe that’s all it was, pretty but fleeting. If I went further, would I like girls? In several of the TG stories I read the main character started off not interested in boys, but that changed. Right now even the idea of cuddling with a boy or kissing him was disgusting.

Hailey eventually broke the silence. “I feel like the third wheel here, but I think you two finally said what needed to be said. Are we still friends?”

“Of course!” I was so glad someone had finally asked a question that was easy to answer. “I’m going to need you two more than ever. Hailey, you’ve already helped me so much. Cathy, I really need your support. Or if not that, then at least your acceptance. I don’t want to lose your friendship over this.”

“I still see you as my boyfriend, but that’s hard when you look like this. Whatever you are, you’ll always be my friend. You were there for me when I needed you. I think you need me now and I’ll be here for you even if I don’t understand. This isn’t going to be easy for me, but we’ll always be friends.” She started crying. “I feel like I’m losing you. I knew Scott, but this Taylor person is a stranger to me.”

“Then get to know me again. I haven’t changed that much.”

“Oh yes you have,” replied Cathy. “You’ve changed a lot more than the clothes. The clothes just make it more real.”

“Then spend time with her. I’ve been trying to teach Taylor how to be a girl, but we could use your help. Why don’t we sit down, break out the picnic, and give it some time?”

“OK,” said Cathy, “I’ll try.”

I smiled. I had no idea what time it was and I wasn’t really hungry, but sitting down and having a picnic and trying to be normal that sounded really good — except for the part where I was wearing jeans so tight I wasn’t sure I could sit down or eat. I plastered a smile on my face. I’d do it for Cathy. “I’m in. Dibs on the tuna fish.”

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 12 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2013 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

 
The Taylor Project
 

Chapter Thirty-One

Tuesday, March 12th — Taylor Project Day 71

Things are still awkward between me and Cathy. I know she is trying to accept me, but it's so obvious that this is hard for her. I’m not finding it easy to be romantic either. We’ve kissed and held hands since, but I haven’t felt that zing since first real kiss. I’m not sure why that one time was different, but it was. I promised to try, but I feel like I’m just going through the motions. I wonder if she is also just going through the motions of accepting me?

We went back out to Little China this morning, and this time we were better prepared. We had two changes of girl clothes for me along with makeup and nail polish. At first there was an obvious difference in attitude between my two teachers. Right from the start Hailey was positive and upbeat. She was quick to laugh and joke, and even when I made a mistake I had the feeling she was helping me get better. Cathy, on the other hand, grew distant as soon as I stopped presenting as a boy. She helped and gave opinions when asked, but she didn’t volunteer as much.

Hailey, who I’m convinced more than ever should become a therapist, helped Cathy get more involved. Since Cathy was the more skeptical one, Hailey challenged Cathy to be my tester. Cathy was to come up with questions and things for me to do that would trip me up and reveal that I was really a boy in drag. Cathy was reluctant at first, but as the morning progressed she became a more willing participant in girl school. I think I surprised her by the things I got right without even having to be coached. That happened a lot more than she seemed to expect, but not as often as I thought it would. Oh, well. Apparently I still have a lot to learn about being a girl. At first Cathy seemed smug to catch me out and find things that any girl would know, but as the day wore on she started to act more like Hailey, finding them amusing or even laugh out loud funny. So I think we made progress.

One big glaring gap in my education shone out above all the others today. Cathy asked a very simple question, ‘What do you think of Hailey’s outfit?’ My reply of, ‘It’s cute,’ got me a big old F on that section of the girl test. Apparently I’m not hopeless since I at least have opinions about clothes. I know what I like and what I don’t like. I like Hailey’s girly girl style a lot better than Cathy’s tomboy look, but what I didn’t have was the vocabulary to talk about clothes. I really needed more words than just cute to describe what I liked and did not. Girls use a lot more words to describe clothes than boys do. We’re supposed to go back out tomorrow morning and this time both girls are bringing some catalogs and magazines. So tomorrow is going to be Fashion 101 for the testosterone impaired.

It was also obvious that I need to practice with makeup some more. While I tried doing it with a hand mirror, both girls agreed that it was best to practice before a full-sized mirror first. If Grandma ever leaves Hailey and I alone indoors that’s what we plan to focus on.

Chapter Thirty-Two

“It’s time. It’s time!” squealed Hailey. “Come on phone, ring! Maybe we should call them. Do you think we should call them?”

While Hailey was one of my two BFFs, at that moment I was about ready to strangle her. Two hours ago Dad had called Grandma and Julie had texted Hailey. That’s why we were back at the house waiting for the phone to ring. We were all supposed to be available for a phone call that should be starting any minute. Apparently Julie wasn’t answering Hailey’s text messages, which might be because she was on a boat at sea, but Hailey was convinced that there could only be one reason to get us all together for a phone call like this. She thought Dad and Julie were engaged. Hailey was bouncing off the walls of the living room and the ceilings too. She even had me half-convinced. I mean, what else could it be? Still, given the way she was acting, I felt like I had to keep my cool. If Dad hadn’t proposed Hailey would need someone to catch her because she was going to be heartbroken. So I was cautiously hopeful inside but trying to stay calm on the outside.

I grabbed her hand for like the twelfth time in the past five minutes. “Hailey, chill, okay? They’ll call any time now.”

Rick sat in the recliner with his arms crossed, obviously annoyed. Grandma looked more composed, but I knew her well enough to know she was probably as excited as Hailey. She just hid it better. Little old ladies didn’t get to act like teenage girls.

The phone rang shattering the tense silence as if it were the bells of Notre Dame. Everyone jumped and Grandma grabbed the phone. “Hello? Yes, Robert we’re all here. I’m putting you on speaker now.”

“Hello, everyone.” The connection wasn’t perfect; my Dad’s voice was broken up by a bit of static, and there was music playing in the background, but it came through loud and clear.

“Hi everyone,” added Julie. “I hope you’re all sitting down because we’ve got big news! Go ahead, Rob.”

“I proposed to Julie and she said yes.”

“Yes!” Loud squeals of joy, which I attributed to Hailey, pierced my eardrums. We hugged and bounced and did a victory boogie. Grandma and Rick tried to shout congratulations. Somewhere in the midst all that happy chaos, I realized that the squealing wasn’t all Hailey. Mortifyingly, half of those girly sounds were coming from my throat.

Julie kept trying to talk and eventually made herself heard. “It sounds like y’all approve. That’s good because there’s more. Rob and I started talking about timing, when to get married and everything. I so didn’t want to do another elaborate wedding. We’re in Mexico anyway, and one thing led to another, and… we eloped!”

“Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!” that was certainly Hailey. My shouts were just squeals of pure glee. I was too incoherent to form words.

Meanwhile Rick blurted out an eloquent, “No fucking way!”

Grandma was saying something, but Hailey and I were both going so crazy that I couldn’t hear her. “Do you realize what this means, Hailey? We’re sisters!”

“Oh yeah! That’s so cool!”

Wait, what did I just say? I just outed myself, but no one seemed to notice. In fact Dad was laughing. “Well, you’re siblings. Step-siblings technically, but I’d appreciate it if we dropped the step part of it and could just be family.”

“So what happens next? I mean, are they like moving in permanently, or are we getting a new place?” asked Rick.

“Yes, they’re moving in as soon as we can manage it,” said Dad.

Grandma finally got a word in. “Congratulations! I’m so happy for both of you, but no wedding?”

“I’ve done the big wedding thing,” said Julie. She sounded very happy and not at all upset about not having a wedding. “Mine turned into a big spectacle for other people. A marriage is supposed to be about two people loving each other. We can have a party after things settle down, but we had a beautiful ceremony on a spectacular white sand beach, and I am happy with that.”

“Oh Momma! Your cruise is now your honeymoon! That’s so cool,” gushed Hailey.

“Look, everyone, we’d like to talk more, but the phone charges are ridiculous and Hailey is right. This is our honeymoon, and we’ll sort out the details when we get home. We know it is a lot to take in, and a lot to sort out, but we’ll get through it. We just wanted to let you know. Hailey, I’m glad you're happy. Rick and Scott, I know we haven’t had much time and I don’t want to take your mother’s place, but I think we can be a happy family. Just give us a chance, please? Bea, you raised a wonderful son.”

They were hanging up already. Oh God, Julie was my mom now. Taking my mother’s place? That wouldn’t be hard. She just had to try sometimes. I realized I missed part of the communications and everyone was saying goodbye. “Bye Dad! Bye Julie!” Was that wrong? Should I have called her mom?

The next few minutes were very disorganized with everyone talking on top of each other. Hailey was over the top. I was almost as bad, but after that slip at calling us sisters I was a bit more controlled. Rick was sulking and Grandma was mostly in shock. However, it was Grandma who finally got it together. “You know what? This calls for a celebration. Everyone get dressed up fancy. We’re going out to dinner, my treat.”

“But Grandma, I have a date,” objected Rick.

“Richard Dwight Miller, how often does your father get married? You’ve been out with that Stephanie girl every night this week. I don’t know how you can call it a date when you never take her anywhere. Regardless, your little girlfriend can wait this once. Family first. You can spend this one night with us while we celebrate. Now go get dressed up.”

I was tempted to applaud her and shout ‘Go Grandma’, but that probably wouldn’t help. Instead I just shared a look with Hailey, then we rushed off to get dressed. About the only thing that could make this day better would be if I was putting on an actual dress instead of a suit, but that would have to wait a while. Tonight was about Dad and Julie, not me.

Wednesday, March 13th — Taylor Project Day 73

Dear Diary, I think I’m still on a happiness high from learning Dad and Julie got married yesterday. The future is looking bright, not just for Dad and Julie, but for me being Taylor. I thought I knew my dad, but the fact that he and Julie eloped shows I didn’t really know him as well as I thought I did. Under all the sports and the 'be a man' stuff there is romance in his heart. Really I knew that. I mean, he’s the same person who used to read me a bedtime story every night until I got too old for it. We don’t always see eye to eye, and I know what he’s said about gay marriage: ‘It was Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.’ But even there, he can’t really blow his top now. Julie walked out when her husband hit her. She wouldn’t really stand around while Dad hit me, I think. No, I'm sure. Not that it would come to that. Or could it? OK, I’m happy and scared both.

I’ve been so happy, and it hasn’t just been from Dad and Julie getting married. I spent the morning out in the bamboo thicket again with Cathy and Hailey getting girl lessons. Today was all about fashion, words to describe clothing and styles, as well as what I liked and what I didn’t. While I love the lessons, I think I’m even more pleased that Cathy seems to be accepting me more and more. I’m trying with the romance thing, but it isn’t working on either side. She only kisses me when I’m dressed as Scotty, and there is a sadness in her even then when she does it, but as Taylor our friendship is blossoming like never before. She even got my unruly black mop of hair to be somewhat girly. Her trick was creating an off-center part and pulling one side back with a barrette. It is still short, but the barrette took it out of a boy look into something resembling what she called a 'modern pixie' hairstyle. I only have to be Scotty where Grandma can see me, and it has been like the whole world is coming alive after winter... and so am I.

I do have a new dilemma to face. Do I tell Dad and Julie as soon as they get back from what is now their honeymoon that I’m TG? I know that I have to tell them soon. I’m running out of time. (a) The weather is getting hotter and I can’t keep up the layers of shirts for much longer. (b) My hormones won’t stay on the estrogen side and I don’t want to go through male puberty. (c) I have a time limit. In six weeks I go back to the allergist. Even if I didn’t have a time limit, I just don’t want to be Scotty any longer. I’ve gotten a taste of freedom the past few days. The thought of going back to School as Scotty on Monday is just bleh. Not that I can get around that; even if I tell them Sunday night, I’m still going to school as Scotty on Monday. But every day that I wait is another day that I have to pretend to be him.

Really, I’ve got to bite the bullet and do it soon, but maybe one more week would be better. That would give things a chance to settle down from the honeymoon, and give us some time to deal with merging the families together. I know I was planning to do it as soon as they got back, but do I really want to drop this bomb on Dad and Julie on our first day as a new family? One more week won’t hurt anything, right?

Chapter Thirty-Three

“The sun did not shine
It was too wet to cosplay.
So we sat in the house
All that cold, cold, wet day.

I sat there with Hailey.
We sat there, we two.
And I said, ‘How I wish
We had something to do!’”

Hailey cut off my modified recitation of the Cat in the Hat by tossing a pillow at my head. “It’s not that bad, you goof. Cathy will be here soon. We can’t go to Little China and let Taylor come out to play, but we can still watch movies. Come on, we haven’t played DDR in a while.”

“I suppose.” OK, we hadn’t had a good DDR session in ages and that could be fun. I bent over and picked up the pillow she’d tossed at me. Hailey was alertly watching, so I held it casually hoping she’d let her guard down. “It’s just that after three days of getting to be myself it feels like a prison sentence.”

Hailey scooped up another of my pillows and held it in front of her like a shield. Clearly she was not buying my casual stance. “Taylor, no offense meant, but even if it wasn’t raining, I would not be going back to those woods to swap clothes. I still can’t believe you didn’t warn me about those things.”

“And I can’t believe you grew up in East Texas and never had ticks before.” I took a better grip on the pillow I was holding. Hailey might not be buying my innocent act, but the mention of ticks distracted her. During her bath yesterday night, she had not been pleased to find a tick clinging to her leg. Her shrieks had been truly epic.

“Well, maybe I did when I was a little kid, but not in years. I don't want those things crawling on my skin and sucking my blood. They’re so gross!”

She had relaxed her guard just a bit and in that moment I attacked, swinging my pillow at her. “Revenge is a dish best served fluffy.”

The line might have gone better if she hadn’t blocked with her pillow. With much chasing and giggling, and very little actual contact, the fight was on.

It really wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. After Cathy braved the rain to come over, we played DDR for a while and I kicked, and shook, serious ass, but still lost out to Hailey most of the time. We nuked some popcorn and watched some chick flicks. In honor of Dad and Julie getting married they all had a stepfamily theme. I felt wrong dressed as Scotty, but I had on panties and painted toenails were hidden under my socks. It gave me something of my inner girl to hang onto.

It was almost noon before Rick returned wet and dripping from his morning workout in the barn. He interrupted the Brady Movie with a sarcastic remark. “Enjoying the movie, girls?”

I know he meant that as an insult and it wasn’t even really about me. He was still pissed that we’d moved the exercise equipment out to the barn to give Hailey a temporary bedroom. He was lashing out at her as much as me. His comment didn't bother me at all. In fact I took his insult for a compliment. “Yes we are. You wanna come join us? We’ve got popcorn drenched in salt and butter.”

“Jesus, Scotty, look at yourself; you look like a girl. Is it any wonder they pick on you at school? No offense to you real girls.”

“What’s wrong with the way I look?” I smiled at him. I was one of the real girls. Even dressed like this, he could see the real me shining through.

“You’re laying there like a girl. Guys don’t lay down like that.”

I took in my pose. I was just laying on my stomach propped up on my arms facing the TV. Just the same as Hailey and Cathy. It really wasn’t that girly. “Oh, what’s wrong with the way I’m sitting? Would this be better?” I bent my knees bringing my feet up and back bouncing them above my ass. Now this was a girl pose.

“God, what a fag. They’re your bruises, Snotty. Anyway, I’m out of here.” He grabbed his jacket. “Grandma, I’ll be home late,” he yelled. He waved at her in the kitchen, then ducked out the door and raced for his truck.

“Good riddance.” Although I waited until he was out of the room to say it. “Would whoever has the remote please rewind.”

“I’ve got it.” Cathy pointed the remote at the TV, pressed pause and then rewind. She lowered her voice to whisper. “You know he has a point. Your grandma is in the next room. Maybe you should be a little more Scott and a little less Taylor.”

“Why bother? I’m out of the closet in three days. I didn’t even realize what I was doing until Rick pointed it out. Maybe it will do some good to drop some hints.”

“I’m just worried about you.” Cathy sighed. “Hailey, what do you think?”

Hailey shook her head. “I think Rick’s a bully and Grandma enables him. That stuff he was spouting was verbal abuse. We’re being quiet, but he was loud enough for her to hear. She could have stopped it or even just scolded him. She did nothing.”

This wasn’t a new argument. Hailey and Rick had ignored each other before, but now that we were a family they had discovered they didn’t like each other much. “Let’s not get into that again, Hailey. Our parents will be back in two days. Can we just play the movie?”

I kept watching Grandma. I knew she wouldn’t nap before lunch which is why were in the living room watching movies. After lunch we went back to my room to play DDR. I kept checking in on her, hoping Grandma would take a nap. Whenever I was the person sitting out and waiting for my turn, I’d creep down the hallway and look in on her. I was starting to think she wouldn’t crash, but she finally did. I hurried right back to my room.

“She’s down. Come on, let’s break out the clothes. I want to try walking in heels.” That was something I really hadn’t been able to try out in the woods. “Cathy, you did bring the shoes didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I brought them. They’re my mom’s shoes so they might fit. You had better be careful with them.”

I quickly had Hailey’s clothes out from my stash. After a few days of changing clothes in front of them, I didn’t feel quite so shy about my body as I had at first. I wasn’t about to take off my panties, but I didn’t bother to hide as I swapped out my sports bra for a regular bra. I managed it easily all by myself. I slipped into the pink top and the denim skirt before sitting down in front of my mirror.

Hailey handed over her make-up. “You do it from scratch this time.”

“Yes!” I eagerly reached for the small bag. I was such a mooch, not that Hailey minded sharing that much. They’d told me that you really shouldn’t borrow makeup, especially eye makeup, but I was fascinated with the stuff. It was a very visible symbol of femininity.

Cathy frowned. “Should you really be doing makeup? You can’t hide that in an instant if your Grandma wakes up.” She stood by the open door to my bedroom to act as a lookout, but she was watching me.

“I’m not putting on much.” At least, I was trying not to put on too much. Hailey was my role model for makeup and hers was minimal: mascara, a touch of blush and lip gloss. Yet, that little bit made a big difference.

“You’re laying it on too thick,” said Cathy.

I put on the finishing touches and looked to Hailey. “Is she right, too much?”

Hailey frowned for a moment. “Yes and no. It’s a better job and passable, but still a bit too much.”

“Ok, I’ll do it again then, until I get it right.” Getting it right took me two more tries before my friends agreed that I hadn’t overdone it. Now it was time for the shoes. The pair that Cathy had liberated from her mother’s closet were a simple white pump with about a two inch heel. The heel didn’t look that bad. What was more important to me was that they were actual girl shoes that could fit me. I slipped my feet into them, feeling my smile slip a little as it turned out they didn’t quite fit right. They were a little big on me, but at least I could wear them.

I took a few steps and immediately discovered that despite having a low heel, there was a big difference in walking in women’s shoes rather than men’s. “Wow, I really feel wobbly.”

Hailey glanced over to Cathy. “I think I would have started him with flats.”

“Hey, he asked for girl shoes so that’s what I got.” She shrugged and looked like she was trying not to laugh. “Try taking smaller steps and more in a straight line.”

“And don’t work your hips,” advised Hailey. “Try to relax and just let it happen.”

“I’m not trying to work my hips! These shoes are too loose.”

“Hands down. You’re not balancing on a tightrope,” called Cathy from her post by the door.

That was easier said than done. I wasn’t trying to work my hips but I felt like I was learning to ride a bike without training wheels. My feet kept moving around inside the shoes, but slowly it started to get easier. “Like this?”

Cathy suddenly whirled around. “Hide, hide, hide!”

Chapter Thirty-Four

I jumped up in sudden panic. Grandma was coming! What to do? I looked around my room as if I had a magic hole or a Tardis to jump into. However, there was only one place to hide, my closet. I rushed toward it or at least tried to. I stumbled on the heels, caught myself on my desk, and banged my hip painfully in the process.

“Oh my sweet Jesus!” Grandma’s hands flew to her mouth as she saw me standing there in girls clothes and makeup. “Scott Taylor Miller! What are you doing dressed like that?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I backed away from her gaze, but I was trapped. I felt like a convict trying to make my escape over the fence, only to get caught in the middle of the yard by a searchlight — nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. I’d backed up to the closet and my back was pressing up against the closed door. No, no, no, this was bad, bad!

“Answer my questions young man! Did you two girls put him up to this?”

As guilty as I felt and as busted as I was, that was still something I could do. Hailey and Cathy didn’t have to go down with me. I grabbed onto that. “No, it was me. I put them up to this. It was my idea. Cathy was against it from the start.”

Grandma glanced at Cathy. “Well at least one of you had some sense. So Hailey has been helping you… do this?” Her gaze turned to Hailey, and Grandma looked at her like she was some cockroach that had skittered out from the floorboards.

Hailey moved over beside me. “It will work out,” she whispered. She turned to face Grandma. “Yes, I’ve been helping Taylor.” She clearly wasn’t backing down.

I hadn’t meant to toss Hailey under the bus. “It wasn’t Hailey’s doing either. It was mine.” I grabbed Hailey’s hand and squeezed it tight drawing strength from the contact.

Cathy backed away from Grandma arriving at my side. She grabbed my hand. “Ma’am it’s not his fault.”

“Cathy Andrews, you get your things and go home right now. I have enough to deal with these other two.”

Cathy squeezed my hand hard, but she stood her ground and shook her head. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I can't do that.”

“It’s OK, Cath,” said Hailey. “We’ve got this. There are enough people involved as it is.”

What? Why was Hailey sending Cathy away? My mind felt like it was running slow, but I suddenly saw Hailey’s point. It was bad enough trying to explain to Grandma. Explaining to Cathy’s mom, the conservative Sunday School teacher who said ‘Oh Sugar’ instead of ‘Oh Shit’? No, we did not need her involved. I managed to nod an agreement. “Hailey’s right. We’re good.”

“All right.” She leaned in, kissed me and took off running. She almost knocked Grandma over on the way out. I heard the front door slam as she went through it.

Grandma looked at us two. “That’s one down. Hailey White, go to your room, young lady. You’re in trouble up to your neck, but I’ll deal with you later. Scotty, get out of those clothes this instant.”

“Mrs. Miller, I don’t mean any disrespect,” Hailey said in a tone that was polite but firm. “But I’m not leaving Taylor right now. She’s my sister and she needs me. I know this will be hard-“

Grandma cut her off mid-sentence. “Sister? She? Scotty is my grandson. I changed his diapers and he’s not a girl. I don’t know what you’ve got him believing missy, but it stops right now.”

“Grandma, no!” Thankfully I found my voice; too bad it was a babbling voice. “She doesn’t have me believing anything. This is me. All of this is me: waist, hips and the boobs. That’s just the outside. I’m a girl inside and that’s what counts. For what it’s worth I was going to tell Dad and Julie when they got home from their cruise. I wouldn’t have told you like this, but the shit was going to hit the fan in three days anyway.”

“Scotty, I’m going to wash your mouth out. This ain’t right. It’s unnatural. No grandson of mine is going to be a cross dressing tranny sissy.”

I held my ground and held hands with Hailey. I didn’t feel as brave as my words. My heart was pounding and I couldn’t breathe. “Actually I’m transgendered, not a transvestite, and I’m not a crossdresser because a girl should wear girl’s clothes.”

Grandma looked liked I’d slapped her. “Scott Taylor Miller, you are being an abomination to the Lord and I won’t allow. You’re putting yourself on the road to hell and I’m putting a stop to it right now. Bend your ass over that bed right now. I’m going to tan the nonsense out of your hide.”

“What?” A spanking? OMG, she was serious. “I’m not a child. I haven’t had a spanking in years!”

“You’re acting like a child. I’m going to treat you like one. It’s what the good book says, ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child’. You’ve been spoiled too long.” She moved forward and grabbed me by the arm.

I yanked myself free and edged away. My sweet Grandma wasn’t big or strong, but she was heavy and angry. I just wanted to get away from her, but she was backing us into a corner of the room. I started mentally weighing the possibility of jumping onto my bed and scrambling away. Maybe I could make a break for it...

Hailey exploded into action while I merely backed away. “Oh no you don’t! Leave him alone you big bully!” She rushed forward and got between me and my grandmother.

I grabbed Hailey. “No! Hailey, stop! I’m fine. Don’t.” I grabbed for Hailey and caught her by her shirt. Everything seemed to be happening so fast.

My grip on Hailey wasn’t that strong but it stopped her or maybe she let it stop her. She and Grandma were staring at each other and I suddenly understood why it is that when girls fight, it is called a catfight. They were eyeing each other like two cats, all a bristle and ready to get into it.

“Don’t do this, you two. Please,” I begged. “I’ll change my clothes. We’ll talk. Please, can we talk like civilized human beings?”

Grandma looked from me to Hailey. “Perhaps we’d all should take a few minutes to calm down. I’ll expect you in the living room, appropriately dressed, in fifteen minutes.”

Hailey still looked like she was ready to go another round. “OK, I’ll do it for Taylor, but hitting her is not acceptable.”

“Hitting? A hand to the backside isn’t hitting. You’re in a world of trouble already. I was raised to respect my elders and I got a switch to my backside when I didn’t. Your defiant behavior is not acceptable, and you might not like it but Scotty isn’t too old for a spanking. He just proved that. You’re not too old either, child, but I will give you some time to cool down.” Grandma turned and stormed away, leaving me with Hailey.

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 13 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2013 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

 
The Taylor Project
 

Chapter Thirty-Five

Hailey shot Grandma the finger after she walked away. “It’s not right that she’s threatening to hit you even if she’s calling it a spanking.”

“I love you like a sister, but that’s not helping.” I sunk down onto the floor where I was and started sobbing. “Oh God, she hates me.”

Hailey rushed over and held me, and I know she said some things, but I just cried in her arms for awhile. I was so out of it that whatever she said didn’t really register. Eventually my sobs slowed down, and I felt a little more rational. It was obvious what I had to do. It had been Grandma’s anger that had terrified me, not her threat to spank me. “Hailey, please don’t get into a fight with my Grandma. If she wants to spank me, I’ll get a spanking. It’s not that bad. I can handle it.”

“Taylor! I can’t just let her hit you.” She had taken out her cellphone at some point and gestured with it. “We can call for help.”

“She may be fat but she’s not that strong and she was just going to spank me. That’s not worth fighting. Legally it’s not hitting, or at least not here. In Texas parents and teachers can spank kids. I haven’t had one in years, but it won’t be the first one I’ve had. If it comes down to it, I’ll bend over and take the spanking. Do you really think a few smacks of her hand or a belt on my ass is going to beat the girl out of me?”

She burst out laughing. “Not when you put it that way, but it’s still not right. You’re not a little kid.”

“What are you going to do? Call our parents and spoil their honeymoon? They’re not even in the country. This is so not the way I want to break the news to them.”

“We could call the cops.”

I stared at her in disbelief. I always thought Hailey was a bit smarter than me, and she sure was better than I was with the whole people skills thing. Yet, she sometimes had this idealistic blind spot. “Get real. The cops show up, and Grandma will tell them she tried to give me a spanking because I was dressed as a girl. They’d probably haul us off and give her a medal. Even supposing they took our side, what would they do? Call Child Protective Services and put us in some halfway house or something until our parents get back? You think I’m likely to get better treated there? I mean, would even you be better treated there?”

Hailey looked less certain, but still argued the point. “I’ve got an aunt and you’re related to half the people who live around here, aren’t you? CPS wouldn’t really put us in a home would they?”

“Do you really want to take that chance? Besides, the cops would take her side. Let’s just wait until our parents get home. If it’s just a spanking I’ll take it. If she starts hitting me, then we can call.”

“I don’t like it,” said Hailey, but her tone said she reluctantly accepted it. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call my mom?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. What good will it do? Is she going to hop a plane and fly back? Send your aunt to come get you and leave me here? Regardless, it will ruin their honeymoon. I don’t want to be responsible for that.”

“Alright, those are good reasons, but we should probably tell someone just so someone else knows.”

“Cathy knows.” While it was probably a good thing that we had a witness safely out of Grandma’s reach, I missed her. She hadn’t really accepted me herself, but she’d stood by my side. No time for that now. “I should get dressed. Would you get me a wet washrag to clean up the makeup?”

“Of course, be right back.” Hailey went out to the bathroom.

I looked at the mirror. I’d change, but Grandma was going to be surprised. Taylor wasn’t going entirely away. I left on the bra and panties and just put my boy clothes on over them. I might not have makeup any longer, but I obviously had boobs.

Hailey knocked before entering. “So you’re not going to hide your breasts any longer?”

“No, my boobs are my most convincing argument. Do I look like a boy?”

Hailey gave a short burst of laughter with a tilted shake of her head. “Actually, you look like a raccoon at the moment. You need to clean your face.” She handed over the wet washrag that I’d requested.

I giggled at that and started cleaning up. Hailey was right;I did look like a raccoon. Too much makeup plus tears equaled raccoon face. I spent a few minutes removing everything, glad that with my dark hair and lashes I did not really need mascara, which I had been told can be hard to remove in a hurry. “OK, how about now?”

“Well, your eyes are still a bit puffy, but that might play in your favor. As for the rest… with that bra and that shirt your boobs are impossible to miss. You look more like a tomboy than anything. I don’t think your Grandma is going to like it.” Her phone suddenly beeped. Hailey brought it out and looked at it. “It’s Cathy. Your grandmother is on the phone with her mom.”

“Crap! We do not need Cathy’s mom involved.” I’d been trying to psych myself up to face Grandma, but I was out of time. “I’m as ready as I’m going to get.”

Hailey’s phone beeped again. She glanced at it. “Cathy wants to know what’s going on. I’ll silence it.” She pushed some buttons. “Done, let’s go face your grandmother. I’ll be right there with you.” She held out her hand to me.

I took her hand drawing strength from that simple contact. While my head was still getting used to the fact that she was now my stepsister, my heart had already accepted her as a true sister. I had absolutely no doubt that Hailey had my back. “I need to do the talking. As mad as she is, she’s still my grandma.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t, but it’s something I’ve got to do.” I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Let’s do this.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

“I don’t know, yet,” said Grandma. She was talking on the phone. I knew Cathy’s mom was on the other end, and that scared me to death. Cathy’s mom might out me to all of Pine County if she reacted as badly as I feared she might. As much as Mrs. Andrews worried me, I had to put it aside because there was nothing I could do about it right now. Grandma’s eyes fell on me, and I deliberately thrust out my chest making my boobs as noticeable as I could.

Grandma looked liked she’d just sucked a lemon. “Carol, I’ll call you back. I need to get to the bottom of this.” She hung up. “That was Cathy’s mom. She’s very worried. Cathy ran home in the rain without her raincoat and wouldn’t talk to her mother about what was wrong.” She stopped abruptly and eyed my chest. “I thought you agreed to dress appropriately. Why are you wearing falsies and a bra?”

I swear I could feel my heart beating in my chest. I had a plan, a half-assed guess of a plan, but a plan. I was going to play the boobs card. It was my only play. “I-, I’m-, I’m wearing a bra, because I have boobs. You said dress appropriately. A bra is an appropriate garment for supporting breasts.” I wasn't trying to argue; I was trying to talk with an adult tone. Yet despite my efforts, I think it came out more of a snotty child than adult.

Grandma frowned at me. “Don’t take that tone with me, young man. I don’t care what you’ve stuffed that bra with. Take it off right now.”

“OK, but remember you told me to take it off.” I knew I was being snarky and that I should be polite, but I was psyching myself up to flash my grandmother. I didn’t think anything less would convince her. I dropped Hailey’s hand, grabbed the hem of my shirt, and pulled it off over my head in one smooth movement.

I had Grandma’s full attention. She stared balefully at my exposed bra and breasts with a sour expression that would have done the Grinch proud. She crossed her arms. “The rest of it too. Those are very convincing falsies, but you’re not fooling me. I know you’re not a girl. I changed your diapers. So whatever you’ve done; take it off.”

“Fine.” This all felt surreal, almost like one of my nightmares. I had a brief bizarre image of Grandma as the Red Queen shouting ‘Off with her breasts!’. Unfortunately, Grandma’s venom was all too real. She was in for a shock, but she’d asked for it. With as much bravado as I could muster I slipped off the bra and defiantly bared my breasts. I could feel my face heating and I wanted to cover up. Instead I thrust them out putting them on inspection. “These aren’t fake. They’re real. We’re guessing a 32A, but I haven’t been fitted. They’re attached. I hope you’re happy now.”

“Sweet Jesus, that’s not possible.” She took a couple of steps toward me with her hands outstretched like a surreal cross between a zombie and sex-crazed boy.

“Whoa, no way!” I stepped back and crossed my arms over my boobs. “You insisted so I let you look, but I’m not letting you feel me up.”

Grandma paused like she’d blown a brain circuit. “No, no, of course not. I don’t understand, but you’ve proved your point. Cover up, please. When did this happen? How did this happen? Are you all girl? Down below too?”

Hailey quietly handed me my bra and shirt. I put them both on while trying to think. Did she really believe my penis could just magically fall off? “I wish I was all girl, but I’m still a boy down there. It’s been going on since January at least. Probably longer, I just didn’t notice it until then. It’s a medical condition called gynecomastia caused by a hormone imbalance. It usually goes away on its own, but I don’t want it to go away.”

“Since January? How do you know all this? Why didn’t you say something? Scotty, we need to get you to a doctor and get this straightened out.”

“Please don’t call me Scotty. That’s a boy’s name. My name is Taylor. I know all this because I did my research. I looked it all up on the internet. I don’t want this straightened out because I want it to continue. I’m a girl inside, and I want my outsides to match my insides.”

“Scotty or Taylor, you’re confused. Lord knows you must be, what with growing breasts and all, but you don’t want to be one of those people on a Ricki Lake episode. They’re jokes. People laugh at them! And it goes against what is written in the good book. If you have a medical condition, then you need a doctor and treatment to straighten you out.”

It wasn’t support, but it was a step forward. I could live with her attitude. She wasn’t screaming or yelling, and seeing a doctor was already part of my plan. I’d need a doctor’s help anyway to keep my testosterone from kicking into gear. Agreeing would stall things until Dad and Julie got home, but from my reading I knew that a medical doctor alone wasn’t enough. “I’ll see a doctor, but I want to see a psychiatrist as well, one who specializes in gender disorders.” I wasn’t really looking forward to seeing a therapist, but I probably wasn’t going to get estrogen without one signing off on hormone replacement therapy.

“I think we might have to wait for your father to talk about that. You know he doesn’t put much stock in head shrinkers.”

Hailey squeezed my hand. “Mrs. Miller, I think Taylor is a girl. It isn’t about the breasts. It’s about the way she talks, the way she moves, the way she relates with others. She fits much better as a girl than a boy. Even supposing you’re right, if Taylor is a boy that needs to be straightened out, do you really want to do it on your own? They have therapists that specialize in these things.”

Grandma frowned. “That doesn’t make it right. Maybe some people need it, but a lot more need to hit their knees and be talkin’ to the Lord rather than putting their faith in some shrink. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. First thing we need is to get Scotty into see Doc Buford. I’ll ask him about seeing a head doctor while we're there.”

I’d rather see someone else than Doc Buford. He wasn’t a bad doctor, but he hadn’t noticed my boobs growing when he saw me before. So how good could he be? Plus, he was almost the stereotype of an old country doctor. It was a step in the right direction, but what if he tried to put me on male hormones? Since the only other doctors I knew were my allergist and my dentist, it wasn’t like I had a lot of choice. “I guess Doc Buford is a start.” If they tried to put me on male hormones, I’d follow Hailey’s advice and pitch a major hissy fit. They wouldn’t medicate me against my will, would they?

Grandma started to get up. “I’ll go see if I can get an appointment today or tomorrow. Then I need to call your father.”

“Grandma, please don’t! Hailey and I discussed telling our parents. We don’t want to spoil their cruise. Can we wait to tell them until they get home? It’s only three days.”

She seemed to weigh that for a moment before replying. “That’s very mature of you two. I suppose it won’t do any good to tell them right now. Nothing they could do but worry about it, anyway. First thing when they get back, though, I’m going to tell your father. We can still get you in to see Doc Buford first. Why did you wait so long, child?”

Cathy spoke before I could come up with an answer. “Mrs. Miller, what did you tell Cathy’s mother?”

“The truth, that I found the three of you with Scotty dressed up like a girl.”

I felt a great feeling of dread. Grandma had outed me. “Grandma! She’ll tell everyone.” This would be bad. I was already picturing the feeding frenzy on Monday at school.

“I thought you said you wanted to be a girl, Scotty. You can’t have that and hide it too.”

“I know, but I didn’t want it to come out this way. You can’t keep a secret in this town. Do you want me to get beat up when I go back to school on Monday?”

“See, I glad you haven’t lost all common sense. I’ll get the appointment set up with Doc Buford. We’ll get this straightened out.” She stopped for a really long pause. Just as I was wondering if I’d broken her brain somehow, she spoke. “You’re right. If it’s something medical, there is no sense in your getting teased and beaten up over it. I’ll call Carol, tell her about the medical condition, and ask her to keep it quiet for now.”

Hailey made a strangled noise, but I ignored it. Grandma’s attitude would be dangerous to me if she was my parent, but I could deal with it for three days. I needed to see a doctor anyway. Doc Buford would no doubt run tests, which would take a few days. Before he got the results back, Dad and Julie would be back and in charge. I had no idea if they would be better or worse. I hoped for better, but basically this was a suspended sentence. Judgment would be passed when Dad and Julie returned. “Thank you. I’d really appreciate it if you could talk to her soon-ish. If she starts telling others…” I didn’t want to think about it. The phrase 'cat out the bag' came to mind, but that didn’t begin to encompass the scale of the catastrophe that would be unleashed.

“I’m fixin’ to call her, Scotty, just as soon as we’re done talking. But I don’t want to hear any more of this being-a-girl nonsense either. You obviously know how bad it will be. It just ain’t done. I’ll talk to Carol. You’d better go do whatever you’ve been doin’ to hide them. I don’t know when your brother is going to be back, but I don’t think you want him knowing, now do you?”

“Not especially, ma’am. I’ll strap my boobs down and hide them again before he gets home.” I thought the ma’am couldn’t hurt even though I’d never meant it less in my life. I wasn’t going to give up on being Taylor because Grandma thought ‘it just ain’t done’. About the only thing we actually agreed on was on keeping Rick in the dark. I seriously did not need to deal with him as well.

“Good, now go get changed.” She turned her gaze to Hailey. “As for you, young lady, I recognize those clothes. You’re in big trouble for fillin’ my grandson full of wild ideas. Your mother gave me a list of punishments I could give you if you needed it. Given the severity of your actions, I’m going to follow her advice. Hand over your cell phone.”

“Is there some other punishment you could give me?” asked Hailey. “I’ll do chores, I’m sure there are plenty to be done.”

I hadn’t left yet and Grandma’s choice of punishment scared me. As long as Hailey had her cellphone, we had a lifeline. We could always call our parents or even 911. Without it we only had the two house phones: one in the kitchen and one in the master bedroom. Neither one was private. Was Grandma deliberately trying to isolate us? Or had she just selected the most drastic punishment that Julie had suggested to her?

Grandma held out her hand. “I believe your mother said that I was in charge and you were to obey me. I’m taking away your cellphone until she returns. After she hears what has been going on, she can return it to you if she wishes.”

Hailey looked over to me. I gave her what I hoped was an encouraging nod. I wasn’t thrilled but we could survive three days. Hailey nodded back to me. “Ma’am, may I please make one quick call to Cathy first, just to let her know things are alright?”

Grandma frowned, but nodded. “In here, while I’m listening, no more than five minutes and make it snappy. I can’t call Carol to explain until you’re done.”

Hailey had her phone out and started pressing buttons, far too many to be a phone number. “I just texted her. I’m done ma’am. Here’s my phone.”

Grandma took it and didn’t look very happy, but she waved at us in a gesture of dismissal. “Back to your rooms, both of you. You’re also both grounded: no more TV, no more picnics, and no more of that dance game thing.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Authors Note: Chapter Thirty-Seven deals with Taylor’s religious beliefs. I understand religion is a touchy subject for some people. Most of the time in this story I have chosen to avoid religion, but it is a very strong part of small town rural East Texas and Taylor’s family. I didn’t feel I could be true to my setting or characters without at least addressing Taylor’s beliefs. If that offends you, then opt out of this chapter.

After I’d changed back from Taylor into Scotty, I sat around with Hailey in my room. Mostly we talked. Hailey wasn’t real happy about my grandmother’s reaction. I wasn’t either, but I wasn’t as worried about it as Hailey. That was because ultimately Grandma’s opinion was just that – an opinion. Dad, and now Julie since they married, would control what happened to me. Whatever Dad decided, Grandma would ultimately accept. She might stew about it, but he was the head of our family. Or at least he was. Hailey was of the opinion that her mother would expect an equal say. I hoped so, as that would be good for me.

After rehashing everything we could, girl school reconvened. I had my breasts strapped down, but since Grandma already knew and Rick was out, we were free to talk. We worked on fashion, hair and makeup mostly. Hailey had a few magazines, plus we used the Sims to do virtual clothes selections and virtual makeup. That was quickly rejected in favor of just surfing the web. We killed some time looking at what celebrities wore and how they did their hair.

Hailey managed to talk me into letting her shape my eyebrows. I only let her clean them up a bit. When she was done, I could tell the difference, but it was nothing major that would undermine Scotty mode. I spent some time studying the result in the mirror. It was subtle, but I looked a bit more girly. As I pondered whether to let her do just a little bit more, I heard a vehicle coming up our gravel driveway. Hailey and I both rushed to the windows expecting to see Rick returning early.

“That’s not Rick’s truck,” said Hailey “Do you know whose car that is?”

Like I pay attention to cars? For me cars were a mode of transportation for adults. “I have no idea, but I have a bad feeling about this.” Star Wars, always good for a quote. The car came to a stop and it wasn’t Darth Vader, but someone almost as bad. “Oh no, it's Reverend Miller.”

Reverend Miller might be related to me in some way as we had the same last name, but it was back so many generations that he’d never been mentioned to me as kin. He was an old man, at least Grandma’s age, with a large bald spot and close cropped white hair. He was also a large man both in stature and girth. He wore a severe black suit and I could almost hear the Darth Vader theme music as he walked up to our house. I knew he was here for me, the sinner who crossdressed and wanted to be a girl. He had a kindly side at times, but the dark side was strong in him. He liked to preach about how Jesus was coming like a thief in the night and we had to be ready.

I’d been ‘saved’ a few summers back during a Vacation Bible School. I really had felt that God had been speaking to me back then. Reverend Miller had baptized me on the following Sunday. For almost a year I’d been very religious, but religion had lost its shine for me within that year. I still believed in God and mostly I believed in Jesus, but I’d sat down and read the bible from cover to cover. I’d also tried to hang out with the church crowd at school. Along the way I’d noticed a big difference between what I read and how Christians acted. I’d come to agree with Ghandi. I liked Christ very much, but I wasn’t too impressed with most Christians. My religious philosophy could be summed up in four letters, WWJD, What Would Jesus Do, but I didn’t focus overly much on it. When I decided my life sucked, I’d started the Taylor Project. I hadn’t just prayed to God to make it better.

However, while I might have made my peace with God and religion, I knew that Reverend Miller had his own point of view. He was very Baptist. His sermons were full of hellfire and damnation and scared the crap out of me when I was younger. He also had a tendency to split religious hairs about why Baptists were right and other denominations were wrong. More importantly, he was probably here to tell me that I was going to hell if I didn’t repent and change my ways.

“Your grandma must have invited him to talk to you.”

“To talk the girl out of me, you mean.”

We heard him knock on the door, and Grandma invited him in. I couldn’t make out their words, but could imagine the conversation. Come in Reverend. Won’t you have some iced tea? Shall I fetch the sinner so you can preach the devil out of her? Sigh. Actually, she would probably say 'preach the devil out of him'.

“Scotty, come out here. Reverend Miller is here to talk to you.”

“I guess I’m not invited,” whispered Hailey. “Tough, I’m sticking with you.”

“Thanks.” I pushed open my door and went into our living room. Grandma was on the couch and the reverend was in the recliner. I’d nailed the iced tea. He had a tall glass sitting beside him on the coffee table. It rested on one of Grandma crocheted coasters.

He gave me a smile that looked friendly. “Scotty, sure is good to see you; and you as well, Hailey. Betty was just telling me that your parents got married. That’s a right good thing. You’ll both have a proper family now with a mother and a father.”

The Texas twang in his voice was particularly strong. I know that I’ve got that twang. I spent a few weeks last summer in California with Mom and it had been painfully obvious then, but compared to others in Pine Grove mine was tame. I’d once been accused of being from England simply because of my lack of accent. I suppose learning to talk in Dallas instead of Pine Hill had something to do with it, or maybe it was lots of reading. Regardless, I didn’t find Reverend Miller’s twang folksy. It sounded hick: ignorant and proud of it.

Hailey saved me from a response by jumping in. “We’re thrilled about it. I really like Robert and I know he makes Mom happy. Plus I get Taylor as a sister.”

“So you and Scotty get along well. It’s good to see young people with such positive attitudes. I’d like to take more time to get to know you Hailey, and I hope you and your mother will be joining our church family soon, but I have something quite personal to discuss with Scotty. I think it would be best if it was a private discussion.”

No way. No how. “I’d like Hailey to stay and I prefer to be called Taylor now.”

“Do you?” asked the reverend. “Even when you’re presenting as a boy?”

The only place I’d ever encountered that turn of phrase was in TG stories. Could he actually be sympathetic? “I haven’t thought about that. I guess it is going to be Scott at school for a while yet. I don’t know.”

“Since you’re presenting as a boy now, may I call you Scotty?”

“I preferred Scott over Scotty even when I, um, present as a boy.” He was being polite and asking and I almost agreed, but it didn’t feel right. “I’d rather you call me Taylor unless Rick or someone else shows up. You obviously already know.”

“Very well, Taylor it is.” He gestured to the sofa. “Why don’t you two sit down? This may be a lengthy conversation.”

I sat down with Hailey by my side. I watched while the reverend took a slow sip of sweet tea. Was he waiting for me to say something? I looked at Hailey and she gave me a weak smile of encouragement. So far so good.

“You look nervous. I’m just here to talk to you. Your grandmother said you wanted to talk to a therapist. Did you know I do couples therapy? Since I’m a reverend we usually call it counseling, but it’s the same thing.”

“Is it? Don’t you have a bias in this case?”

“You might say that, but those therapists you want to see have a bias, too. They have a set of practices, and their guidelines are just as unprovable as my faith in the Lord. Less so in my opinion, because I can feel the Lord working in me. I know you have, too. I baptized you. I saw his light shining in you that day. You felt him moving within you, didn’t you?”

Ow, tough question. Maybe I had. I certainly thought I’d felt something, but I hadn’t felt it much at church. Instead, church felt more about anger and fear and judgment. I deflected his question. “This isn’t what I expected. I thought you’d tell me I was going to hell.”

“You’re not. I’d be a hypocrite if I said that. I’m a Baptist, and so are you. We’re washed in the blood of the lamb. One of the articles of our faith is security of the believer. I think you are turning your back on the Lord. That will bring pain on you and those who love you, but once you made that choice to accept Jesus as your personal savior you were forgiven. Salvation is eternal.”

Sigh, he was splitting hairs about what made Baptists different from other branches of Christianity. “It’s nice to know that you don’t think I’m going to hell, but you still think that it’s wrong that I’m a girl inside.”

“Let me ask you this. Why do you think you want to be a girl?”

“I’ve always felt different and I never wanted to be like Dad or Rick. It wasn’t until I started growing breasts that I realized what was different. I’m a girl inside.”

“You felt different? I think you just described every teenager that ever walked the earth. That’s just a part of growing up. Hailey, have you ever felt different?”

“Well, yes,” replied Hailey, “but Taylor actually is different. She acts like a girl. It’s not just her body. It’s how she relates, how she acts, and even what she likes.”

“Yes, and God made us all wonderfully different.” He turned back to me. “Taylor, you can don’t have to be like your father or Rick. There are lots of boys who aren’t athletic who grow up to be good providers, wonderful fathers, and caring husbands. Why do you feel you have to be a girl?”

“I can’t really explain it. It’s just this strong feeling inside of me.” Wasn’t it?

“Let’s talk about strong feelings. I know you saved your friend Cathy from a very bad man a few years back. You know what a pedophile is, don’t you?”

“Yes, it’s a man who likes to have sex with children, usually girls.”

“Did you know pedophiles have strong feelings inside of them, urging them to have sex with young children? Should they do that just because they have those feelings? Should an alcoholic drink because they crave booze? Should a mother who just wants freedom turn her back on her children and walk away?”

The whole pedophile thing was a cheap shot. He was using Cathy against me and I didn’t like it. I wasn’t ready when he piled another cheap shot on top of the first. “Leave my mother out it! This isn’t about her!” Why I defended her I don’t know. She was far from perfect.

His words kept right on rolling, like a steamroller that didn’t even stop for my objection. “Taylor, sin often feels good and right, but you know there is another voice inside you. God sent us the Holy Spirit. It’s inside all of us, and it speaks about what is right and what is wrong. Can you look me in the eye and tell me that there isn’t some part of you that thinks what you are trying to do is wrong?”

I looked down because I couldn’t look him in the eye and say that, especially now. I felt hurt and dirty and angry. “I’m not sure it’s right, OK, are you happy? I’m worried about getting beat up at school and misunderstood and judged by people like you. I have doubts, but it feels more right than wrong. In fact it feels like the only way...” Oh, suddenly I remembered my thoughts about the shoulder angel and demon. “Reverend, how do I know if the Lord is speaking to me?”

“Taylor, the Lord is talking to us all the time. It’s not a matter of if he is talking. It’s a matter of if we are listening.”

Hmm, well try this on, Reverend. “I think I have heard him speak. I was trying to decide if I should put on girl’s clothes: if it was right or wrong. I heard two voices. One said not to: that it was wrong, that I was gay, a sissy, and a fag for even wanting to try. The other voice told me that I needed to be true to myself and that self was a girl. That’s when I realized how the voices spoke to me. One voice spoke with hate and fear–the voice of the devil. The other wanted me to be true to my inner soul, even when my body didn’t entirely match–that was God speaking to me.”

Did I really believe that? Honestly, I wasn’t sure. I did believe in some kind of higher power, but I didn’t believe in a literal Devil. However, what I did know was that I had actually managed to put what I felt into religious terms. Reverend Miller looked momentarily taken aback, and even Grandma looked thoughtful. Had I actually managed to win?

“That’s a very touching story and you’re right, we shouldn’t act out of hatred and fear, but you also spoke of doubts about your decision. Are you sure that is the voice of the Lord, or are you justifying your own desires? The Lord gave us his Word to guide us in times like this. When we’re not sure if we’re hearing His voice, we can turn to the bible. Let’s see what he has said.”

Then came the sermon that I’d been expecting from the start. He started off with Genesis, the tale of Adam and Eve. He touched on Sodom and Gomorrah and how they’d fallen into iniquity and been destroyed for it, and that’s where we get our word sodomy. He skipped up to the New Testament and started quoting verses from there. Brick by theological brick, he built up his case that homosexuality was a sin and the wages of sin were death. It was worse than listening to a sermon in church because I couldn’t even tune out. I had to follow along and nod at the appropriate pauses. I don’t know if he was in love with hearing himself talk or what, but he’d lost me as soon as he’d retreated to scripture and started sermonizing me.

I could tell by her body language that Hailey was just trying to endure this along with me. She kept a polite smile plastered on her face, but she wasn’t buying what the reverend was selling. Unfortunately, Grandma was. If the reverend passed the offering plate at the end of this private sermon, she’d probably drop a couple of twenties in it.

Maybe Reverend Miller finally realized he was making no headway, because he wrapped it up and ended it with a prayer. “Dear Heavenly Father, this poor child is lost. Send your Holy Spirit to guide him. Help him find the way…”

It went on like that for a very long time. I didn’t really feel lost at all. He’d gotten to me at first by using Cathy and my mom against me, but I felt like my eyes were open about the church as never before. With my story of how God wanted me to be a girl, the Reverend had retreated to scripture to justify his world-view. If the US Constitution had trouble keeping up with changes in a mere two hundred years, was it really a surprise the Bible is amazingly out of step? He was speaking out of fear, doubt and guilt–just like my imaginary shoulder demon.

At least he was finally done and took his leave. “I’ll think about what you said, reverend,” I lied as he left. I had to be polite so as not to piss off Grandma again, but I was so glad to just see him gone. I think the only thing he’d achieved was to kill off what little lingering respect I had for the church. No, that wasn’t all. I was holding to my conviction, but those whispering doubts were back. He’d riled them up like a band of demons and even as I watched Reverend Miller walk away they lingered inside of me, taunting me with guilt and fear. I thought men of God were supposed to cast out demons. Reverend Miller had summoned them to do his dirty work.
 

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 14 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2013 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

 
The Taylor Project
 
Chapter Thirty-Eight

With everything that had happened that day I wasn’t able to get to sleep, so I spent a long time writing in my diary. Typing things out comforted me and helped put it all into perspective. While the day had been a roller coaster ride, I felt one step closer to being accepted as a girl. I had a doctor’s appointment for tomorrow and while Grandma didn’t approve she wasn’t openly hostile. A soft tapping on my door interrupted my writing.

“Taylor, are you up?” asked Hailey faintly.

I opened my door cautiously. I didn’t want Rick to see me. I didn’t have a nightgown on, but I was in Taylor mode with panties and sweatpants, oversized T-shirt and no bra While my sleepware approximated hers, I wished I had the real thing.

Hailey wore a long-sleeved slouchy Tee paired with a casual pair of stretchy leggings that hugged her form. Before my fashion lessons I would have called them both pink, and I might have described the fancy "Kiss" lettering on a giant darker pink heart as ‘cute’. After the past few days of fashion training, I now knew that the Tee was 'scoopnecked' in a 'light peach' color with a 'rosette accent', the leggings were a 'capri' style 'bittersweet' tone, and that both worked for Hailey because she was a 'soft autumn'. The pink and fluffy bunny slippers didn't really match, but they sure looked comfy. Technically the slippers were salmon-colored and not merely pink, but I was still having trouble wrapping my head around a color named after a fish.

I put my daydreams away, opened the door fully, and let her into my room. “Yeah, I was just adding to my diary. Come on in.”

She slipped into my room. “I didn’t know you kept a diary. That’s so girly of you.”

“I used to call it a journal, but I guess it is.” Was that another girly thing I’d always done? Boys did keep journals and logs, didn’t they? “So what’s up?”

Hailey sat down on my bed. “I know it’s almost midnight, but I saw your light on and I was thinking about your situation.”

I noticed I’d left my diary open on my computer. With someone else I’d be panicking, but I trusted Hailey, so I left it there and joined her. “What about? Grandma, the reverend or the doctor’s visit tomorrow?”

“Actually, I was thinking about Rick.”

“Why? I try to think of him as little as possible.”

“I’m thinking it is a mistake keeping him in the dark.”

“Oh, yeah, right. Like I want him to tell everyone, no freaking way.”

“Oh, and just how long do you expect to keep it from him? Seriously, think about it. We’re going to tell our parents on Sunday. What about Rick? They’re driving up from Galveston. They’ll have to unpack and both have to work tomorrow. We drop your bombshell on them; they’re going to freak and focus on us. You don’t think Rick is going to notice?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it. He might not even be home when they get here.”

“True, best case scenario is he’s gone and they agree not to tell him. But how long can you keep him out of the loop? You really think you’ll make it a week?”

“Probably not.” Rick was a jock, but he wasn’t dumb. He’d notice. “So what do you think I should do?”

“Go ahead and come out to Rick now. Give him a couple of days to get used to it. Plus, if Rick is in the know you can dress as Taylor all day. Rick might call you names, but I think if your Grandma could just see what a natural girl you are she’d come around.”

Tomorrow was already Friday so I wouldn’t be able to be a girl for long. There were only three days left in Spring Break, yet even just three days of being myself was very tempting. Hailey was right that Rick couldn’t be kept in the dark long. “Hmm, I see your point. Maybe it is better to have multiple small explosions instead of one big one, but you’re overlooking a major point – I don’t trust Rick.” After all, he was the one who had invented my nickname Snotty and spread it at school.

“I didn’t say trust him. Just tell him. I don’t particularly like him. I think he’s an ass and a bully, but do you really think he’ll tell anyone? Wouldn’t that hurt him as much as it would you?”

I sighed. I could see Hailey’s point. Any rumors about me could easily come back to bite Rick in the ass. The problem was counting on Rick to do the smart thing; I didn’t trust Rick to be that smart. He might be too mule-headed to realize that it could come back to haunt him. Even if he did accept it, what if he slipped up? “It’s a nice thought, Hailey, but I just don’t trust Rick not to blab. Grandma can’t control him but Dad can. I want to wait.”

Hailey shrugged and shook her head. “Look, it’s your call. He’s your brother. You know him better than I do. I was just thinking that if your Grandma saw you dressed up as a girl more, she might get used to it.”

“You’re also assuming she’d let me dress up as a girl. She’d be more likely to send me back to my room to change. There’s no need to rile her up again. She’s settled down now.”

“She thinks you’re broken and that you need to be straightened out.”

I tossed my hands up in the air. What did she expect? “Yeah, I can’t change her attitude, but I can wait her out. It’s just three days and I’ve got a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to wait. I want to do something. All you ever want to do is wait, Taylor. There has to be something we can do right now to make everyone accept you as a girl.”

I shrugged. “Maybe you’re right, but I don’t think coming out to Rick is a smart move. We can talk about it more tomorrow. You’d better get back to your room. Grandma will blow another gasket if she found you in here.”

Hailey got up. “Yes, but why? Because a boy and a girl are in a bedroom with closed doors? Or because she thinks I’m responsible for your girlification?”

“Both.” I got up and we hugged. It was just a friendly sister thing, but it also reminded me that we were cut-off from Cathy. I had no idea what she’d been going through all day. Nor was there anything I could do about it.

“Goodnight, Taylor.” She turned and left closing my door quietly behind her.

“Goodnight, Hailey.” I watched her leave and then glanced at my computer. I hadn’t finished my diary entry, but I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to finish writing in it tonight.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Grandma was a cautious driver in her old age and always drove under the speed limit. Sitting in the back with Hailey, I felt like we were in a funeral procession on our way to the cemetery rather than going to see Doc Buford. Pine Hill wasn’t a big town, but every mile seemed to take forever and we were heading to a big event that I’d really rather not attend. The only funeral I was interested in was the death of Scotty – and my rebirth as Taylor.

Despite the slow pace we arrived at Dr. Buford’s office in plenty of time for my appointment. Grandma went and talked to the nurse, then started filling out forms while I sat by Hailey and watched the fish in the fishtank.

Hailey leaned in to me. “It’s going to be OK, Taylor,” she whispered.

“I hope so.” Yet, I wasn’t convinced. This was a necessary step on the road to getting female hormones, but a scary one. My biggest fear was getting a shot of testosterone today. Since Doc Buford was a general practitioner, and not an endocrinologist, that seemed unlikely. That would come later.

Grandma called over to me, “Scotty, do you know the name of your allergy medicine?”

“No, I’m sorry Grandma, I don’t.”

The nurse and Grandma continued to fill out paperwork. She gave them the name of my allergist, Doctor Bhatnagar, in Longview. The nurse said they’d just call for the records. A little bit later they announced our turn to see Doc Buford, so Grandma and I rose. Hailey had to stay in the waiting room, but she gave me a thumbs up sign as I walked away. The nurse weighed me, measured my height and checked my blood pressure. My height still hadn’t changed. Since I was finally in puberty, I’d expected some growth, but I wasn’t too disappointed to see none. After all, I was already tall enough for a girl my age.

We were shown to the exam room where I got up on the table and waited for the doctor. I’ve been seeing Doc Buford since we moved to Pine Hill. He’s been a doctor since before I was alive. He treated my father back when Dad was a child. Doc Buford was mostly bald, just a thin circle of white hair over his ears and around back. He wore gold rimmed bifocals and a friendly smile. I liked Doc Buford, but he had me shivering then and it had nothing to do with being cold.

He nodded to Grandma first. “Betty, good to see you again. I understand your son just remarried.”

Grandma smiled. “He did. They’re on their honeymoon this week. That’s why I’m here with Scotty.”

Doc Buford turned to me. “Scotty, I guess that means the young lady in our waiting room is your new sister. I hope you two are getting along. You’re looking much better than last time I saw you. So what seems to be the problem, young man?”

“I prefer Taylor now, and it’s kinda personal.”

“Well then, Taylor, I’d like to help you, but you’ll have to tell me what’s bothering you.”

Was he blind? I only had on one shirt and a sports bra to tie things down. I thought my boobs would be obvious, but he didn’t look like he had a clue. “Maybe I’d better just show you.” I pulled my t-shirt off my body which exposed the hot pink sports bra I had on underneath. The pink had been a deliberate choice. Grandma had insisted I wear boy clothes, but had allowed me a bra. Since I wanted Doc Buford to recommend a therapist, the choice of color was an attempt to signal to him that I was a girl. However, I think my cheeks were turning almost as pink as my bra.

“I think I see at least part of the problem, Taylor. Let me assure you that while it is a little unusual and personal, it isn’t all that uncommon. I’m going to need to do a full exam and some blood work, but it looks like you have a condition called gynecomastia.”

I actually giggled. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“Why don’t we start by you telling me what you know, then? When did this start?” He spent a lot of time asking routine sorts of questions; then he started the exam. It started off slow with the usual eyes, ears, mouth and nose check.

“Taylor, I’m going to need to give you a breast exam and genital exam. Would you like your grandmother to stay or have me bring in a nurse?”

The breast exam I’d sort of expected, but not the other. “No, I’d rather not have Grandma or a nurse in for that.” Like I wanted to get naked in front of witnesses? Doc Buford was bad enough.

Grandma rose. “I’ll wait in the lobby.” She left through the exam room door closing it behind her.

While I’d asked for privacy because I didn’t want Grandma watching, I suddenly realized this was my one chance to talk to Doc Buford discreetly and convince him. “Doc? Um, the boobs aren’t my real problem. In fact in a way they aren’t even a problem at all because I want to keep them. My real problem is that I’m a girl.”

“A girl, really? You better tell me about it.” He still smiled his friendly country doctor smile at me, but that smile looked forced. I think I’d rattled him.

“Um, I just did. I never really seemed to fit at school, in sports, or anywhere else for that matter. My best friends are girls. It was all in front of my face, but it was just recently that I understood why. I’m a girl inside. I should have been born a girl and I like my breasts. I’m…”

The words still felt so heavy like I had to lift them out of my lungs to get them out. “I’m transgendered.” I looked at my lap as I confessed that, but that wasn’t good enough. I needed him to make him understand. I forced myself to look up at Doc Buford and put some spine into my words. “I don’t want testosterone shots, pills, or cream. I want to keep growing the way I am. I want testosterone blockers.”

Doc Buford gave me a sharp look. "Have you already been self-medicating? Is that where your 'apparent gynocomastia' actually comes from?"

Startled, I blurted out, "No sir! I don't know why this is happening; I just know I want it to continue." I hesitated wondering if I should explain more about how I’d been confused and unsure when I’d first noticed my breasts growing. On one hand, I didn’t really want to admit that I’d ever been less than pleased at having boobs. On the other hand, if he thought I was self-medicating, then I could be in big trouble.

Fortunately, he seemed to be satisfied, because he lost some of his scowl. “Scotty, I’m sorry, Taylor, I’m not done examining you, but I can already tell you that I’m not going to be prescribing either testosterone or testosterone blockers for you today. I’m also not going to be giving you estrogens today, either, if you were planning to ask about that. Balancing hormones is a tricky business and not something for an old country doc like me.” He said it with a smile and a wink, but both felt phony to me. Calling himself an old country doctor was like his trademark, an act he put on. “However, I would like to examine you. It sounds like you’ve already diagnosed yourself, but I’m going to need more information before I venture my professional opinion. I’d like to start with a few questions of a personal nature.”

I felt put in my place just by his tone. His questions were humiliating. How often did I masturbate? Never. Really, this is for medical reasons, blah, blah, blah. Still never. How about nocturnal emissions? No, never, ever, on those, too. Then he started asking about erections and he went back over stuff, like he was sure I was lying to him. I wanted to crawl under a rock and hide, but I wasn’t lying. Obviously my testosterone was lower than a snake’s belly, because all I could own up to was that I had erections sometimes but not often. I knew why he was asking. I was growing boobs, so my hormones were obviously off. He wanted to know how well the boy parts were working. They were making about as much progress as Congress.

Then, as if the questions were not bad enough, he had to examine me. I’d been so worried about getting put on testosterone, not to mention all the crap with Grandma, that I hadn’t really thought about what an examination would mean. The breast exam wasn’t that bad. I had to lie still on the crinkly paper covered exam table while he felt me up over and over. I tried to zone out while it happened but I couldn’t. The first time anyone else had touched me there, and it was old Doc Buford. I suppose all girls had to go through that, but it sucked. Between the shame and the pain when he pressed down hard on my tender buds, I felt molested. Worse, he wasn’t even done with the exam yet.

I had to stand up and drop my jeans and panties as he examined my genitals. Great, not only was Doc Buford getting to second, he was stealing third! A part of me was freaking because it still thought I was the one who was supposed to be getting to second or third base some day. Instead I got to be the base. Sigh. Not that he wasn’t professional. He was very cold and clinical. I’m sure Mr. Spock would have approved of his lack of emotion, although he sure did spend a long time fondling my balls. He didn’t say a word about my wearing panties. Actually, he hardly spoke at all except to give me instructions.

Finally I thought he was done poking and prodding me. I congratulated myself on it being over, knowing I’d been lucky. From what I’ve heard a full pelvic exam would have been worse. At least my lack of vagina worked for me, and I couldn’t have anything shoved up inside, right? Wrong. That’s when Doc Buford told me that he had to do a prostate exam and explained how it was done. So I got to bend over while Doc Buford slipped on a latex glove, squeezed some gunk from a tube onto his finger, and shoved a cold, slimy finger up my ass. I could hear all the taunts in my head that I was gay, queer and a fag, but I did not like it! At least it was over fast.

As soon as he told me that I could dress, I had my clothes back on. I wanted to curl up somewhere and hide, but there was nowhere to go. So I just sat there on the paper covered exam table and relived the exam. I felt violated. Was this how women felt after a GYN appointment? I should have expected it. I was coming in for an exam. Of course, he was going to look under the hood. It hadn’t been sexual, but being treated like a piece of meat hadn’t felt good either. I wanted to go home and take a hot bath.

After a while I wondered what was taking so long. Eventually he returned with Grandma, who looked really looked upset for some reason. Had they spoken outside? What had they talked about behind my back?

Doc Buford sat down. “Taylor, I’m going to need some bloodwork, but I want to talk to both of you. You have gynecomastia, but I believe it is a symptom of an underlying condition. There are many possible causes of that particular symptom, but from that and a few other things I noticed, I believe you might have a condition known as Klinefelter’s Syndrome.”

“What? XXY? But I looked at that. I’m not retarded. I may not be a straight A student but I’m not retarded!”

“Taylor, this is why it is not a good idea to self-diagnose. While some of those affected have learning difficulties, in practice there is a great variation in the severity of the symptoms and not everyone has every possible clinical finding. Even those that are learning disabled rarely are affected enough to meet the medical criteria of mental retardation.”

“What do you mean, XXY?” asked Grandma.

“In humans there are normally twenty-three pairs of chromosome. One of these pairs, called the sex chromosomes, determines gender. The sex chromosomes have slightly different shapes, with one looking like the letter X under an electron microscope, and the other vaguely like the letter Y. Usually, those chromosomes pair up such that XX is for females, and XY is for males. Usually, but not always." He frowned a little, while pausing to collect his thoughts before continuing. "Sometimes, things don't work exactly like they are supposed to, and instead of two sex chromosomes, an extra one ends up being brought along. So instead of having twenty-three pairs, one 'pair' of them is actually a triplet, or trisomy, giving a total of forty-seven chromosomes instead of the usual forty-six. Klinefelter’s Syndrome is one of the most common chromosomal abnormalities in males. It happens when there are two copies of the X chromosome, and one copy of the Y chromosome. Hence the term, XXY.”

“But he is a male?”

He gave a slight nod. “The Y chromosome is dominant, so the XXY phenotype is male.”

I was still a little mixed up about this. “You mentioned there were a 'few other things' you noticed. Like what?”

“You have true gynecomastia, actual developing breasts. They’re not just the more typical fatty tissue deposits, otherwise known as ‘pseudogynecomastia’ or more commonly ‘man boobs’. Also importantly your genitalia are underdeveloped. Your testes are small and firm. Your scrotal and penile development are both juvenile. That lack of development doesn’t track well with typical adolescent onset gynecomastia, where the testes should have started to grow first. They are usually the source of the hormones creating this condition. Another symptom is that overall your distribution of body fat is more appropriate for a female than a male. There are some other factors that I’ve observed that aren’t probative, like your height and some personality traits.” He shrugged. “Those last things are iffy, though. The testes are more important, and the main reason I want to test you for Klinefelter's as a cause of your gynecomastia. There are a few other things that could possibly do this, but KS is by far the most likely suspect.”

I couldn’t remember all the details about Klinefelter’s, but it hadn’t been good. There had been a lot of other bad symptoms besides just having learning disabilities. “So this bloodwork will confirm this? How long will it take?”

“Yes, the gender karyotyping is definitive. It usually takes a few days. I would also like to do some more tests, standard blood work, to check on your general health and see what exactly is going on with your hormone levels. While KS is the most likely explanation, you’re showing more breast development than I would expect. The other bloodwork will give me some insight into what’s happening there, but the karyotyping is the main test.”

“So does this syndrome explain why he thinks that he’s a girl?” asked Grandma.

“Not necessarily. Children with KS are often less aggressive, more compliant, sensitive children. Those are traits we often praise in girls while fostering independence in boys. However, whether Taylor is transgendered is a question for a psychologist or psychiatrist, not a simple country doctor.”

Compliant? Sensitive? I think I was being insulted, or maybe he’d just insulted the entire female gender, but that was less important than his last statement. Grandma had said that I could see a therapist if Doc Buford recommended it. He just had. “You’re saying I need to see a therapist?!”

“I would say that any child your age who has a strong belief they are of the other gender should consult a therapist.” He still had that forced smile on his face. He turned to Grandma. “I also want you to get him in to see an endocrinologist. Regardless of whether the bloodwork confirms Klinefelter's or not, Taylor is suffering from a hormone imbalance and needs to be evaluated by a specialist.”

Grandma suddenly smiled. “Oh, good. Yes, recommend someone and I’ll get an appointment as soon as possible. Can you also recommend a good Christian therapist who deals with these matters?”

“I can,” agreed Doc Buford with what looked like a genuine smile.

What? Oh shit!

Chapter Forty

Doc Buford apparently couldn’t do my bloodwork on site, so he filled in a bunch of instructions on a couple different form pads. I couldn’t have food after 8 PM and I’d have to go to a lab first thing in the morning to get my blood drawn. Blah, blah, lots of tests tomorrow, blah. I didn’t talk much while we drove home. I only explained the bare bones to Hailey: how I was probably XXY, but had to wait on the bloodwork. I also filled her in about getting to see an endocrinologist and a good ‘Christian’ therapist. Grandma stiffened at my jab, but said nothing. Hailey obviously got the hint that I didn’t want to talk about it with Grandma listening in.

I sulked. I had myself a major pity party on the way home. Grandma’s plan to pick some therapist – with his mind made up that I was a boy before we even started – was a big part of the problem. Yet, it shouldn’t be. She had no time to implement her plan. It was already noon on Friday. There was no possibly way she’d get me in to see a therapist before Dad and Julie got home. I just had to suck it up and outwait her.

For some reason, though, just waiting really pushed my buttons. Maybe it was one of the little things that Doc Buford had said that had gotten under my skin. He’d claimed XXY children were complaint and non-aggressive. OK, maybe I resembled that remark. I hadn’t wanted to tell anyone. In fact even now my plan was to be a good little child, not make any waves, and wait for Dad and Julie to get home. Oh yeah, it fit me all too well and that rankled.

Compliant? Non-aggressive? I’d bet Grandma thought she’d find a good ‘Christian’ therapist and I’d just go right along. Yeah, she was already plotting to give me testosterone. Let her try to make me back into a boy, and she’d see some aggression! To my surprise the car was coming to a halt. We were home already.

I jumped out of the car first and raced inside our house, and there was Rick. Our front door opened to our living room, which was separated from the kitchen only by counters. I spotted him standing in front of the refrigerator with the door open, wearing nothing but his boxers and drinking milk from a jug. Was he shitting me? Could he be any more stereotypical male? There was no effing way I was ever going to be like him. I wasn’t going to let them make me into a boy.

Then Rick opened his mouth and inserted both feet. “Hey Snotty, what’s got your panties in a twist?”

“My panties are fitting just fine, thank you very much. Which reminds me, we need to have a little talk. My name is Taylor now. Tay-lor. Not Scott, not Scotty and especially not Snotty. Oh and by the way, I’m a girl.” I lifted up my shirt and flashed my pink sports bra full of boobs at him.

The milk jug hit the kitchen floor and milk splattered everywhere. “Holy fucking shit! What are you wearing? You fucking fairy!”

Grandma chose that moment to enter with Hailey. She didn’t look happy and jumped on both of us. “Richard Lee Miller, you are not too old to wash your mouth out with soap. Scott Taylor, what in God’s name are you doing exposing yourself like that? Cover up right now.”

I pulled my shirt down, but I couldn’t resist. “But Grandma, if I’m a really a boy why does it matter?”

“Don’t talk back like that to me. You can go to your room right now.”

“Fine with me. I need to change clothes anyway. I’m going to dress appropriately for my true gender. If you don’t like it, then don’t come in my room!” I stomped off down the hallway.

“Would someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” asked Rick

I got the pleasure of hearing Grandma light into him before I slammed my bedroom door behind me. They were still going after it when Hailey quietly opened my door and slipped into my room.. I turned to her. “Hailey, they’re going to send me to some close-minded therapist who already has his mind made up that I need to be turned into a boy.”

Hailey rushed over to my side. “No, no they’re not. Your grandma may want that, but she isn’t going to get an appointment before our parents get back. I’ll talk to Momma. You’ll get a fair therapist.”

“You really think so?” I slumped against the wall feeling drained. I could still hear Rick and Grandma yelling at each other through the walls. Coming out to Rick like that was probably not on the list of the smartest things I’d ever done.

“Yes, I’ll talk to my mother. Your brother and grandmother are really starting to scare me. Momma wouldn’t let me be abused. She had no clue that she was signing up for this, but she signed on to be your mother. She’s not going to stand by and let you be forced into something that you don’t want.”

I slid down the wall and sat on the floor and started crying. “I hope so. God, I hope so.”
 

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 15 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2013 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

 
The Taylor Project
 
Chapter Forty-One

Hailey held me while I sobbed. Grandma and Rick’s high volume confrontation came to an end punctuated by a slamming door. I stopped crying to listen in. I expected to hear a screech of tires as Rick pulled out, but all was quiet. In fact it was too quiet. Suddenly the previous events caught up to me. “Oh God, what have I done? I can’t believe I did that. I yelled at Grandma. I flashed Rick.”

“Nah, you only half-flashed him. You still had your bra on. You would have shown more skin in a bikini.”

Bikini? “I was still insane. Rick will tell everyone. I pissed off Grandma. We were supposed to stay calm and ride it out.”

“I thought it was brilliant,” said Hailey without a hint of mockery.

“Are you nuts? I don’t know what I was thinking, but I screwed up so badly.”

Hailey giggled and smiled at me. “Oh Taylor, you still have so much to learn about being a girl. You think I haven’t ever gone off like that? Didn’t I tell you never to underestimate the power of a well-timed hissy fit? What you did might not have been head smart, but it was so female that you knocked them both off their feet.”

“Really?” Female? Wasn’t that sexist? Didn’t guys have temper tantrums, too? The worst tantrum I’d ever seen had been thrown by an ADHD boy off his meds. Still, I felt perversely proud to have gained girl cred in Hailey’s eyes for acting, well… hormonal.

“Really,” confirmed Hailey. “Remember, I was the one who wanted you to come out to Rick anyway. That may not have been the best way to do it, but it got the job done. As for your grandmother, she’s been punishing both of us as much as she can get away with. Never throw a hissy fit to get something like: ‘I want a pony.’ That never works, but when adults try to push too hard, a good hissy fit can make them back the hell off.”

“Hailey, I never seen you throw a hissy fit.”

She shrugged. “I used to both when we lived with my dad, and just after momma and I moved out. Things weren’t so good then. My therapist helped me with those. She also helped me figure out why I did them – because my parents weren’t listening to me. When Momma started listening, guess what, the hissy fits stopped. Taylor, they haven’t been listening to you. Sometimes you have to make some noise to be heard.”

“OK, that makes a weird kind of sense.” Although I still thought that I had screwed up by outing myself to Rick. “So what do we do now? What if Rick tells someone?”

“We cross the Rick bridge later. It sounds like they’ve stopped fighting. You’d better get dressed up. You tossed down an ultimatum about dressing as Taylor. You had better follow through.”

Ultimatum? Oh right, I’d told Grandma that I was going to dress appropriately. “You think so? Wouldn’t my dressing up as a girl only make things worse?”

She shook her head. “No, I think it is high time you went on the offensive. In fact let’s go all out. I’ll go get my Sunday dress.”

“Alright.” I still wasn’t sure about this, but since I’d already stepped waist deep into the brown stuff, I might as well do it in a dress.

Chapter Forty-Two

We’d both expected Grandma to pay us a visit shortly, but it was Rick who barged in on us without bothering to knock. “Oh my fucking god. What the fuck are you wearing now, you fucking fairy?”

“Drop enough f-bombs?” I hadn’t yet started to apply the makeup in my hand, so I put it down and turned to Rick pretending that I was calm. I missed the moxie I’d felt earlier when I flashed him. I wasn’t in that same fearless place. My heart was skipping beats like a one-handed drummer, yet somehow I held it inside. Trying to project a calm that I didn’t feel, I gave him the best icy glare I could muster. “It’s Hailey’s Sunday dress. You should know that; you’ve seen it before.”

“What the fuck are you thinking, Snott? You’re going to get the shit kicked out of you at school when this gets out.”

“I’m thinking that this looks pretty good on me. What do you think Rick?” I stood up and turned around modeling the dress for him.

“It’s a fucking dress!”

Poor Rick. Honestly, I might have thought it was just a ‘cute’ dress a few days ago. Since my girl lessons, I appreciated that it really suited Hailey better than me. The dress technically had a hot pink base, which should have worked for me. Vibrant tones were part of the 'recommended color palette' for my 'cool winter' color season. However, a white lace ‘chocheted overlay’ covered up the hot pink base so that little pink showed through. That muted the hot pink so it almost looked like a deep rose instead, which softened the shading to better suit Hailey’s coloration. Regardless of the color scheme, it was still a cute dress with a 'belted A-line' flaring skirt, 'crew neckline' and 'keyhole back'. While Hailey had a bit more bust than I did, I could fill it out. The color didn’t entirely suit me, but I most definitely looked like a girl wearing it.

Focusing on how the dress looked helped me remain calm despite Rick’s barrage of uninventive profanity. There was something in his tone that said freaked-out instead of angry. Maybe it was some little sibling instinct, but I knew that seeing me like this was getting to him like nails on a chalkboard. The Scotty part of me was terrified, but the Taylor part of me sensed that in some strange way she had the upper hand. So I simply shrugged at him. “Yes, but how does it look on me? Hailey, what do you think?”

“It does look good on you, but that’s not what I was thinking.” She looked at Rick with cold dislike. “I was thinking that someone has a potty mouth and shouldn’t come into bedrooms when the doors are closed. You should get a lock on your door, Taylor. I’m certainly going to be asking for one.”

Rick snarled at Hailey. “Don’t you start with me. You’re encouraging him in his freak behavior.”

“Hailey, could I borrow your shrug? I think this dress would look better with it.” I wondered if I kept pushing his buttons if Rick’s head would explode. Maybe I was still being a little nuts, but it felt like I had discovered some kind of power, some kind of kryptonite, that I’d never had before. Maybe it wasn’t smart. He could still out me, but after all the grief Rick had given me I couldn’t resist pushing his buttons. Besides, I might have to listen to Dad, Julie and even Grandma, but Rick wasn’t on the short list of people who got to tell me what to do. He could yell and swear all he wanted, but I suddenly realized he couldn’t make me do anything.

Hailey gave me a warm smile and handed over her pale yellow-ish 'buttermilk' shrug. “Sure, no problem.”

I slipped Hailey’s 'elbow sleeved Bolero' shrug on and deliberately studied the result in the mirror. It didn’t really help. It still suited Hailey better, but this was all really just a show for Rick anyway. I turned back to him trying to do that coldly aloof thing Hailey did to him. “Why are you here, Rick? You must have heard this from Grandma by now. So did you just come in here to insult me?”

“Insult you? You’re insulting yourself, parading around like that. I came to talk some sense into you. This is a major mistake. There's no coming back from this. As soon as word gets out, you’re gonna get pulped. Why are you doing this? You complain about being bullied and then dress like this. It's like waving red in front of a bull.”

“More like waving pink in front of them. Not that the shade matters. Cattle are colorblind anyway.” Cows were, but neanderthals like Rick weren’t. “I get your point, but I have to run the gauntlet every day already. I don’t think it can get that much worse. Or are you threatening to rat me out?”

“Rat you out? Who talks like that? I’m not gonna tell anyone. I’m trying to protect you, dumbass. Do you know what kind of shit I put up with for your sake already? I’m warning you now, Snotty. I’m not going to say anything, but I’m also not going to protect you from the shit storm this is going to stir up. You’re on your own. Do the smart thing, pass this off as a joke. Get the hormones Grandma was talking about. Work out some, for Christsakes. I’ll even help you.”

“I’ll have you know that I have been working out.”

“Working out what? Your tits? You’re a freak, Snotty, but it isn’t too late to get help.”

Hailey glared at Rick. “He’s got help. He’s got me. It’s sad that I’ve known Taylor only a few months, and I know her better than you do. You’re not really a part of this family, are you? Why don’t you go run off like you usually do? This is the most you’ve spoken to her all week. Not that you’re really talking to her now. You’re yelling at her. Taylor was right about you. This isn’t about her. It’s all about you, isn’t it Rick?”

“Wow, what she said... and she’s right. Go hang out with your friends or hump whatever your current flavor of the month is.”

Rick looked pissed. “I’m not leaving until you see the light. Think you can make me, pussy?”

There was no way I could physically remove him, nor did I intend to play by his rules. I yelled out, “Grandma, I’m trying to change clothes and Rick won’t leave. The pervert is staring at my boobs.”

“She’s half deaf and on the phone with the reverend.” Rick folded his arms and looked smug. “And I’m not looking at your man boobs, faggot. You might be into shit like that, but I don't stare at boys.”

I gave them a jiggle on purpose. “You are so staring, perv. Fine, I’ll go tell her then.” I tried to slip past him.

Rick stuck out an arm and blocked my path. “See, that’s your problem Snotty. You’ve got one move, tattle. What're you gonna do when there are no adults around? Maybe I should kick your ass and give you a taste of what you’ll get at school.”

Despite him blocking my path and hinting at kicking my ass, it still felt like just words to me. There was something in the way he was standing that said he was a wall that wouldn’t budge. Rick was certainly capable of fighting, and he definitely was an ass, but for years his hostility had been limited to things like wedgies and noogies. He’d even protected me on some occasions. “Rick. You’re not going to beat me up. Whether you can admit it or not; I’m a girl. I think a part of you knows that. You’ve never hit a girl in your life, and I don’t think you’re going to start by hitting me. This is my room and I want you to go now.”

“You’re not a real girl. You’re just a fag in a dress. That makes it OK to hit you.” For a moment there was a bit of fire in him, and I worried I’d taken it too far, but he didn’t move. He just stood there, blocking my doorway and not leaving. “You really shouldn’t push me, Snotty. I don’t hit girls, but I don’t hit wimps either, not even my wimpy fag of a brother. Maybe I should make an exception. It would even be a favor. I wouldn’t hurt you as much as they will at school, but you still don’t get it, do you? Besides, getting a good asskicking isn’t what you really need to worry about. It’s what happens after. What will you do when they decide that since you’re a faggot, you might as well suck cock or spread your ass? Are you ready for that, Snotty?”

I could all too easily imagine that kind of scenario with Kevin Grutz. In the past rape had just been a scary word. Rape was wrong, even evil, but I’d always thought of rape as something only girls had to worry about, not me. Suddenly it wasn’t just a word. It was all too easy to picture myself as the victim. The pretty dress I was wearing didn’t feel like armor any more. I felt dirty and unclean just thinking about being forced. “Get out. Get out. Get out!”

“You sick bastard!” screamed Hailey charging towards Rick and getting in between my brother and me. “She’s your sister. How dare you threaten to rape her?”

Rick focused on her but still didn’t budge. “I didn’t say me. I said others. It happens to faggots all the time. That’s the path you’re putting him on. Hell, even if they don’t force him, that’s the path he’s heading down. He’s gonna be a cocksucking fairy.”

Slap! Hailey’s hand cracked across Rick’s face. “Asshole!”

Rick froze for a moment, then stroked his cheek. He looked more surprised than angry, and Hailey looked even more surprised than he did. She opened her hand and stared at it like she didn’t recognize her own hand.

“Rick? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Before my eyes Hailey started to break down and cry. “I’m not like him. I’m not.”

I suddenly realized she wasn’t talking about Rick, but her father. I ran to Hailey and hugged her, ignoring Rick. “You’re not like him. You’re not. You’re right, Rick was being an asshole.”

Rick rubbed his scruffy jaw. “Why is she crying? She hit me. I didn’t lay a finger on her.”

I kept stroking and reassuring Hailey who was having a meltdown. As I held her I gave Rick a dirty glare. “Go. You’re not welcome here.”

Rick raised his hands. “I didn’t touch her. I’ll go, but you should think long and hard about what I said.” He left, closing the door behind him.

Chapter Forty-Three

I don’t know how many crying jags Hailey has helped me through, but I’d only seen her breakdown once before when she told the story of her abusive father. Still, I found comforting her to be very natural. I just sat with her and repeated things like: ‘You’re not like him’, ‘It’s OK,’ and ‘Rick went too far; he earned that slap.’ The last one finally got her attention.

“It’s never OK to hit someone. No matter what they say, it is just words. That’s what my therapist said. Physical violence is a line you simply can’t cross... and I crossed it. He was a rude asshole, but I’m the one that crossed the line.”

I had the strongest feeling this wasn’t really about Rick; it was about her father slapping her. In Hailey’s mind physical violence had become a line that must never be crossed: That was why her mother had been justified in leaving, that was why she was so upset when Grandma had threatened to spank me, and that was why she was freaking out now. Rick had been all bark and no bite. She’d struck first.

Actually, no, that wasn’t quite true. “He crossed the line first, Hailey. I asked him to leave more than once, and he wouldn’t go. I tried to get by and he wouldn’t let me. If a person won’t leave and won’t let you leave, then they’re over the line. Nobody should have to just stand there and be insulted. We tried to leave. He wouldn’t let us go, and he kept on and on.”

“Maybe,” she replied. She didn’t sound convinced. “But if it's OK to hit people for just words they say and being stubborn, then where is the line? I wish I could talk to my therapist.”

“Can you call her?”

“I have her number, but I’m only supposed to use it in case of emergencies.”

I might have laughed if it wasn’t so serious. “Hailey, this is an emergency.”

Hailey sighed. “It doesn’t matter. It’s on my cell phone. Do you think your grandmother would let me use it?”

“Probably not, you know what she said about therapists.” For that matter where was Grandma? Had she really not heard Rick and us getting into it, or had she chosen to ignore him? “I’ll go ask her.”

Hailey laid her hand on mine. “Don’t. Just stay. I don’t have the energy for another round of arguments right now. Let’s just stay in your room awhile.”

I nodded my agreement. “Sure, we can do that.” Hailey’s breakdown really made me aware just how much of our friendship was about me. It had been more balanced at the beginning, but from the time I’d first crossdressed as Taylor it had become mostly about me. I’d neglected to be a good friend for Hailey. That wasn’t fair to her. I stayed with her and focused on her. We talked about her life: her friends back in Whistlestop, how she really felt about joining our family, and more. Surprisingly it wasn’t her friends she worried about. While she had friends, many of them had deserted her when her mom got divorced. She’d moved out of a nice neighborhood and into a trailer park and apparently that hadn’t been good enough for most of her friends. She had a few that remained true and she would miss them, but she was more worried about her cat. Mouseytongue, aka Mao Tse Tung, aka Mr. Chairman, was an indoors cat. I didn’t have any good answers for her. With my allergies I couldn’t live with an indoor cat, but we had plenty of room outside. Mostly I just listened. That’s what she’d always done for me, after all.

Chapter Forty-Four

Saturday, March 16th — Taylor Project Day 74 (like it matters)

Dad and Julie get back tomorrow.

I feel like I know what it means to be in a fortress under siege. My room is my safe haven, and Hailey and I spent most of today locked in. Mostly we’re avoiding Grandma. Rick has been gone who knows where. He hasn’t spoken to either me or Hailey since yesterday. At least he said that he wouldn’t tell. I'll just have to hope he doesn’t say anything.

In my room I can be Taylor. Outside my room I have to be Scott. The worst part was the terribly awkward two hours when Grandma took me in to get a couple tubes of my blood drawn, and I peed in a cup. Hailey came with us, of course. I don’t think Grandma trusts either of us alone.

I’m sure Grandma knows I’m dressing as Taylor in my room, because she doesn’t come in. She knocks on the door when she wants us to come out and tells me to ‘Get dressed’. However, she doesn’t say a word when I take my time before coming out. She softened a little when Hailey and I did the Saturday house cleaning. Grandma actually helped us. She didn’t say a word, but she helped clean. I haven’t a clue what that means. For my part I’m not really giving her the cold shoulder; I just can’t think of anything nice to say to her any more. Dad always said if you can’t say something nice don’t say anything at all. So, that’s what I’m doing. Honestly, I don’t think there is anything I can say at this point that will make it better with her.

Hailey and I spent the most of the day talking. We roleplayed my coming out as trans several times. Mostly with Hailey playing our parents, but we even tried it with Hailey playing me and me playing my dad. Honestly, I think she did a better job arguing than I did, although the whole thing might well be academic. I can only hope Grandma will let me tell them myself, rather than trying to bias them with her own slanted version of things first. We tried to play DDR even though Grandma specifically grounded us from it, but neither of us could get into it. Not with our parents return and their judgment hanging over me, like one of those cartoons where the shadow of the falling rock grows bigger and bigger as the boulder endlessly falls.

Grandma also pulled the plug on my internet. I’m not sure when she did that. I know it was sometime late on Saturday morning because Hailey and I spent some time reading up on Klinefelter’s Syndrome before then. When Hailey went on my computer this afternoon to IM with her friends in Whistlestop, we discovered the internet was down. I’m not positive Grandma did it. I’m not sure she even knows how to take down the internet. Sometimes our router simply gets stupid and has to be reset. I suppose it is possible it went down all by itself, but the timing was suspicious. Regardless, that’s yet another step towards isolation. I just have to make it through one more day.

Not that our research on KS helped that much, either. Klinefelter's was on the list as an intersexed conditions, or 'Disorder of Sex Development' to use the latest medical jargon, but other places we looked said that being intersexed required ambiguous genitalia at birth. So am I intersexed or not? And there was a lot of talk about body proportions being odd, with KS folks being taller than most, which doesn’t fit me very well. I was a tiny bit taller than average growing up, but nothing remarkable -- and lately not only are the girls catching up to me, but most guys are taller than me now. Plus I did not change height at all, when the nurse measured me at Doc Buford's office. I just don't know what to think, now. I guess I will just have to wait and see.

Grrr, is that being 'compliant and non-aggressive'? I found that in the KS profile, and it is really messing with my head. On one hand waiting is the smart thing to do, right? Showing up at school Monday dressed in Taylor mode with no doctor diagnosis to back me up would be stupid. On the other hand, Hailey thinks my flashing Rick was brilliant and I should go on the offensive more. That makes me feel like my life is some war movie. Waiting feels right, but if I don’t speak up, I’ll be shot full of boy juice. I can’t let that happen.

I should get to see Cathy tomorrow. We still don’t know what has been going on with her. Hailey got a brief text off before Grandma took her phone, but Cathy didn’t come over again today. At least I assume we’ll see Cathy tomorrow at church. Her mother is still the Sunday School teacher, and I can’t imagine Mrs. Andrews not teaching. I’m not sure if we’ll actually get to talk or not. Hailey and I have both written out notes for Cathy. If Hailey has the chance, she’ll pass them on to Cathy.

The worrying is getting to me. Too many people know: Grandma, Rick, Doc Buford, Reverend Miller, and Mrs. Andrews. If just one of them talks to the wrong person then within twenty-four hours I’m out everywhere in Pine Hill. Rick and Cathy’s mom are likely my biggest risks, but I have no control over any of them. Locked up in my room with no outside contact, for all I know everyone in Pine Hill could already have heard about me by now. That’s one good reason to go to church tomorrow. I’ll find out within five minutes if the word is out.

Worse than my fear of being outed is the dread about Dad and Julie returning home. What if Dad acts like Grandma or Rick? Hailey says her mother won’t let me be abused, but how much power will Julie actually have? I’m not really worried about my dad hitting me. I don’t think he’d do that. I’m worried about him forcing me onto testosterone. What if Julie isn’t as liberal as Hailey hopes? What if she thinks that putting me on testosterone is a great idea?

I did a nine minute mile today. That’s my best time ever. I’m not sure if that is a good pace or not. Cathy would know. I got on the treadmill and put all my frustration into running as fast as I could.

I’m really not into writing in my diary tonight. Everything feels like it is frozen until tomorrow. I’m in limbo. Tomorrow morning – church. At least I’ll see Cathy and know if the rumors are flying. Dad and Julie will already be driving back by then. Tomorrow afternoon – my big coming out party. I just wish it was over. I have a really bad feeling about telling Dad and Julie. Coming back from their honeymoon to this? If Grandma hadn’t caught me, I wouldn’t do it like this. I’d wait a week, let them settle in. Now, it is too late. I have no choice. All this stuff is in motion, and I have to stand up for myself, or Grandma will run me over with the testosterone train.
 

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 16 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2013 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

 
The Taylor Project
 
Chapter Forty-Five

Sunday breakfast before church was mandatory family time. Grandma had cooked our usual full breakfast. We all sat around the table, and Grandma had Rick say grace. I took my nasty tasting asthma medication, chased it down with grapefruit juice, and followed that with eggs and bacon to get the taste out of my mouth.

“Thank you for cooking, Grandma. It’s good.” I’d been raised to thank the cook and I was speaking the truth, even if my heart wasn’t in the words. Despite the groundings, cold shoulder and scheming to turn me back into a boy, Grandma had continued to cook and clean for Hailey and me. I think it would have been easier on me if the food sucked.

“You’re welcome.” Maybe my words had made some difference, because after taking a few more bites Grandma paused and looked at me. “Scotty, I grew up on a working farm. My father still had a job, but we grew crops and raised animals to help make the ends meet. As part of my chores I took care of a lot of young animals: calves, foals, puppies and kittens. Sometimes an animal would just be born small, the runt of the litter. Most of the time they stayed smaller than their littermates all their lives. We don’t raise cows any longer, but I've heard that farms these days give animals hormones to make them grow big. You aren’t an animal, but it’s similar. You’ve always been smaller and gentler than Rick and your father. It’s not normal for boys to grow breasts. We don’t know yet if it’s the Kline-feller’s thingie or not, but whatever it is, doctors can treat it. It is no different from your allergies. I know you’re confused right now, but you’re not getting the hormones you should. You don’t have to become a girl. We can get you the right hormones to straighten you out.”

I knew what I wanted to say to her. That I liked my developing curves, and I didn’t want them 'straightened out'. What was I? Some lumpy bit of metal that needed to be heated in a furnace, and then pounded with a hammer, until my curves were gone? However, picking another fight on Sunday morning before church wasn’t smart. So I didn’t say that, nor did I tell her just how hick her mispronunciation of Klinefelter sounded. Instead I changed the subject. “Did you tell that to Cathy’s mom? Am I going to walk into church this morning and get stoned?”

“Don’t sass me. Nobody gets stoned anymore; not even those who deserve it. I told you already, I talked to Carol. She’s knows we’re getting you help. She promised to keep your condition quiet.”

“Mrs. Miller?” asked Hailey. “What about Cathy? We haven’t heard from her. She hasn’t even called and you won’t let us call her.”

“She’s grounded just like you are and for the same reasons. Even if she wasn’t, her mother doesn’t want her around Scott until he gets his condition sorted out.” Grandma looked over to me. “You’ll be in her classroom today. Be on your best manners at church, and maybe she’ll change her mind.” Then she shifted her gaze to my brother. “Rick, I expect you to keep an eye on these two in Sunday School. I want all three of you to go straight to the sanctuary after Sunday School.”

"What?" Rick protested. "Jeez, Gran, it's bad enough you're making me go to church at all, do I really hafta hang out with the dorky little kids for an hour too?"

"Watch your language, Ricky. Although if you showed up regular, and with Hailey joining our family, there are four of you older kids now. They should really split you older ones off into a separate youth group..."

I found myself tuning them both out as they started back into the same old arguments about Rick's haphazard church attendance, letting my mind wander to other things. I don’t know which was worse: Rick being put in charge today, or having Cathy dangled in front of me, like some doggy treat that I could only have if I was a good boy. I was about to tell her I’d just skip church, but what was the point? She wouldn’t let me. Besides, even though Grandma said the rumors were under control, I wanted to see for myself. Plus, I wanted to talk to Cathy or at least slip her a note.

Chapter Forty-Six

Authors Note: Chapter Forty-Six again touches on Taylor’s religious beliefs and those of others. I feel this is appropriate to the characters, plot and setting. If this offends you, then opt out of this chapter.

From a distance Faith Baptist Church looked much like any old rural church in the area. It was a case where TV actually got something right: wooden walls painted a brilliant white, a basic square and a steeple on top. Unlike TV it didn’t have a bell, but it would have looked pretty on a postcard. Up close, the image still held up pretty well although the paint job was fading. It was inside that our church really showed its age. Instead of one big sanctuary narrow little corridors led to the nursery, fellowship hall and classrooms. The polished wooden floors weren’t quite even and creaked underfoot. The walls themselves weren’t quite square, and the whole building had a musty smell that made it feel as old as its mainly elderly congregation.

Others were arriving as we did. Most of them came in pairs, Grandma’s age or older, but there were a few families, singles and some younger adults mixed in. I’d been worried about the possibility of rumors despite Grandma’s assurances. I studied faces as we walked inside, half expecting them to react rudely, but we were greeted with nods, smiles and the usual well-wishes as we entered. Apparently Mrs. Andrews had kept her mouth closed. As long as I kept hidden, I should be safe. I had on four layers to hide my boobs: sports bra, white t-shirt, dress shirt, and jacket. So I felt pretty confident no one would see anything. I just had to act casual, just like a school day.

Our Sunday School room showed its age more than the rest of the building, or perhaps it merely seemed that way, largely because it was no longer age appropriate for me. One wall was full of old toys donated over the years, and most of them were too young for my age. A long and low table with small chairs better suited for elementary aged kids took up the center of the classroom. I suppose it was appropriate in a way, since there were more little kids than the rest of us put together.

As we entered, I immediately looked around for Cathy, but ended up meeting her mother’s gaze first. Mrs. Andrews didn’t look like she was happy to see me. In fact she looked liked she’d just smelled something foul, and she thought I was the source.

I buried my resentment and put on my polite face. “Good morning, Mrs. Andrews.”

Mrs. Andrews smiled back, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Scotty, so good to see you in the House of the Lord.” I could hear the capitols. “And you brought Hailey back, too. It’s good to have more young people here. You two have a seat over there.”

I knew Cathy’s mom would be trouble, but I was hoping she might be more accepting. I’d been in her home more times than I could count, I tutored Cathy in math and science, and I’d even saved her daughter from being molested. Didn’t that rate some consideration? I knew she was religious, but what had happened to ‘Jesus loves the little children’? Did he not love trans-kids? And kid was probably the right word, because I was pretty sure that I was still a child in her eyes. I’d expected this attitude, but it still bothered me. Wasn’t everyone supposed to be welcome at church? Clearly that didn't really apply to me.

At least she was being polite on the surface. I wasn’t sure if that was Grandma’s influence, or simply because she didn’t want to make a scene in front of the younger kids. Either way, I wasn’t going to start trouble, so I went over to the children's table and sat down. Cathy was already sitting at the table and I wanted to go up and hug her, but didn’t want to antagonize her mother any than I did by simply breathing.

“Good morning, Cathy.” I tried to put as much about how I really felt into it, but no matter how I tried, those three little words couldn’t say that I’d been worried sick about her.

“Good morning, Scott. Good to see you and Hailey.” Her words sounded as tense as mine, but what did they mean? I couldn’t make it out.

The situation wasn’t helped by the fact that we had an audience. It was bad enough that Rick and Mrs. Andrews were watching, but we also had a half-dozen elementary kids ranging from Suzy, who was busily coloring on a piece of paper, to Paul, who would be in junior high next year. I could feel the tension, but I didn’t want to dump out a truckload of my drama in front of the younger kids. I hoped that Mrs. Andrews felt the same. As far as I knew the church didn’t pay her, but she seemed to treat being a Sunday School teacher as her career. She may not like me, but I doubted she would be openly hateful in front of the younger kids.

I tried to put my worries about Mrs. Andrews away. Things weren’t good there, but they seemed to be holding for now. There was a chair open beside Cathy, however, Hailey and I had agreed that she’d be the note passer. So I let Hailey sit beside Cathy and I sat down one seat over. I was dying to ask what had been going on with her, yet I couldn’t. This wasn’t how I’d pictured seeing Cathy again and it was intensely frustrating.

“How have you been?” asked Hailey.

“Good,” replied Cathy, although she didn’t sound sincere.

I strained my ears hoping to hear more, but that’s when Mrs. Andrews decided it was time to start class. We sang the usual happy Sunday School songs. Then we had a lesson which was about Noah’s ark. I caught a lot of pointed glances from Mrs. Andrews when she talked about how the animals arrived two by two. At least, it didn’t go beyond hard looks. After that we moved on and did some bible drill where she called out verses, and we had to look them up and read them. I played along. It helped pass the time while I waited for an opening to talk with Cathy.

“Deuteronomy 22:5,” she called out.

I flipped through my bible quickly and found the passage. I raised my hand and waited for the others. As I waited I skimmed the passage. Oh she did not!

“Time’s up. Very good, class. Scotty, would you read the verse?”

I knew that she’d done this on purpose. There was no way she picked this verse at random. Instead of feeling like crying I was angry. Why did this bother her so much? She’d used to think I was good enough for her daughter. Nothing I did had affected her in any way. Why should it matter to her what I did with my life?

“Scotty? Would you read the verse?”

I read the words almost biting them off. “The woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man, neither shall a man put on a woman's garment: for all that do so are abomination unto the Lord thy God.”

She smiled at me. It wasn’t a nice smile at all. “Isn’t that a great verse, Scotty?”

A lot of things flitted through my mind that I might tell her: That she was a bigoted old bat. That there were a lot of verses in the Old Testament that nobody followed but orthodox Jews. That Joan of Arc had been burned at the stake because she wore pants, and not for any of the other things she’d done. “No ma’am, I don’t think that’s a great verse.”

Her look went from smug to angry fast. “And why not? Do you doubt the word of God?”

“Do you? I’ve seen you wearing pants many times.” True she had on a dress today, because it was church, but she often wore pants at home. I’d even seen her in overalls when she was working in her garden.

Hailey burst out laughing. Cathy had her hand over her mouth and looked like she was trying not to laugh. Surprisingly, even Rick had a coughing fit. The younger kids were just puzzled. Nobody had ever said a bible verse wasn’t good before during Sunday School.

“Don’t be impertinent with me, young man. You go sit in the corner.”

Was she freaking serious? Sit in the corner? Was this kindergarten? I was about to tell her to shove it when I remembered that this woman knew my secret. I couldn’t afford to piss her off any more than I already had. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Andrews.” I got up and went to sit in the corner.

“Facing the corner, Scotty.”

Really? How old did she think I was? However, knowing the damage she could do to me, I turned and faced the corner. She started in on some babble about how all bible verses were good verses, and the bible was the Word of God. It was a good thing she couldn’t see the look on my face. I’d actually read the whole bible cover to cover and some of it was hard reading. How do you reconcile the loving god of the New Testament, with the one gloating of the suffering of evil doers in the Old Testament? Mrs. Andrews in her self-righteousness was perfectly happy to toss out scriptures condemning me, but had gotten offended when I pointed out the same verse should equally apply to her. That made her a hypocrite in my book.

I don’t know if it was being in church, but after a while I started to feel guilty. It wasn’t that I thought Mrs. Andrews was right. I didn’t believe that verses like that were divinely inspired and to be followed to the letter. However, I did believe in WWJD and one of the things that Jesus did say was turn the other cheek. That wasn’t easy, but I’d accomplished nothing by smarting off to Mrs. Andrews except to piss her off further. I didn’t like her attitude or her keeping Cathy away from me, but maybe this was a good time to practice being compliant and non-aggressive.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Cathy’s mom called an end to class. “Scotty, you can come out of the corner now.”

I turned and rose. The younger kids had taken off and it was just Mrs. Andrews and us teens now: me, Cathy, Hailey and Rick. Everyone in the room knew about me and all eyes were on me. I also knew what was expected now, an apology.

“I’m sorry for my attitude, Mrs. Andrews.” I honestly meant it. I didn’t think it was right or fair for her to single me out like that, but I was willing to let it go.

“It’s my responsibility to teach the class, Scotty. I was making a point about what the Bible says.”

Hailey moved up beside me. “You live just across the street, Mrs. Andrews. If you wanted to talk to Taylor you could have at any time during the past few days. You didn’t have to ambush her like that.”

“Her?” Mrs. Andrews turned to Hailey and hissed at her. “Scotty is a boy.”

“Hailey, it’s okay. I was out of line. Just let it go.” I appreciated her defending me, really I did, but this was not the time or the place. I turned to Mrs. Andrews. “But she’s right, if you want to talk after church maybe that would be best.”

Organ music started drifting in from the sanctuary. Mrs. Andrews looked sour. “It is almost time for the sermon. I can’t come by today. I wish I could. I’m sure Betty could use the support dealing with the two of you, but I’ve got plans. Cathy, with me.” She walked off with her shoes clacking on the old wooden floor. Cathy followed without saying a word but she did give me a sad backward glance as she hurried after her mother.

I looked at Rick who was watching me with a funny expression on his face. “I suppose you’re going to go tell Grandma?”

“Snotty, I don’t tattle.” Rick said with a puzzlingly fond tone, “Besides, what’s to tell? You got snotty, you apologized, but damn, that was a sweet smackdown. You pulled her holier-than-thou stick out of her ass and whacked her thick skull with it. I wish you’d given her a few more thumps like a piá±ata. This doesn’t mean I agree with the rest of your whatever, but that was sweet.”

Hailey looked floored at Rick’s sudden reversal, but it made sense to me. Mrs. Andrews had been less than happy with Rick for some time. He wasn’t happy being stuck in with the little kiddies and she didn’t like his attitude or his playing the field. She’d pulled the same bible drill trick on him in the past, except she’d picked out verses dealing with ‘fornication’. I gave Rick a nod. I was a girl at heart but there was enough boy left to know that Rick had just made a big step. It wasn’t an apology or approval, but maybe, just maybe, we could agree to disagree.

I felt pretty good as we took our seats near Grandma. The unexpected truce, or whatever it was, with Rick gave me hope that perhaps things would work out. I glanced over at Cathy. I hadn’t gotten to talk to her but hopefully Hailey had at least slipped her the notes. Cathy didn’t meet my gaze, but her grandparents (on her mother’s side) were looking at me with open hostility. Apparently they knew about me. Had Mrs. Andrews just told them? Or had they already known? Worse, if they knew, who else did? Or soon would...

I looked around, seeing if anyone else was hating on me, but didn’t see anyone else paying any attention to me. At least not until Reverend Miller made his entrance. He gave me a stern look. I began to worry then. Was he going to do in a big way what Mrs. Andrews did in her classroom and sermonize me from the pulpit? I had a long wait to find out, as we had to get through the musical half of the service first. We sang hymns, stood up and sat down, and prayed. All the time I felt like I was more in a court of law being judged than in a church. Finally, the sermon came.

It wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. We were a week out from Easter and it was a Gethsemane sermon, not my will oh Lord, but yours. I still had the feeling that I was a target in the sermon, but I wasn’t obviously singled out. Still, there was a strong message that even if we don’t like or understand God’s will, we should do it anyway. Translation, even if I wanted to be a girl I should suck it up and be a boy. I got through it and was just glad to be out of there when it was finally over. It could be worse. In fact I knew it was going to get worse. Not just Cathy’s mom but her grandparents knew. How long could my secret last?

As we pulled away from the church Hailey suddenly announced, “I’m not going back to that church. That was ridiculous.”

“You’re part of our family now young lady, you’ll go to our church.”

I reached out and put my hand on Hailey’s. “It’s okay.”

She snatched her hand away. “No, Taylor, it’s not okay. That sermon was all about you. What Cathy’s mom did was over the top, but the preacher was only a little bit more subtle. He was preaching about you. He stopped barely one step short of outing you.”

My grandmother glanced back at us, or more specifically at Hailey. “If you felt God talking to you Hailey, maybe you should listen. The reverend didn’t single out my grandson.” She kept driving.

“Please, can we all just stop fighting?” Maybe I was wrong. I didn’t think so during the sermon, but if I was causing all this fighting maybe I should just learn to live with being a boy. What would I do if Julie left because of me?

Thankfully we lived less than five minutes from the church, so the car ride was over before tempers could flare any more. I rushed inside and changed out of my Sunday clothes into something more comfortable: blue jeans, T-shirt and a real bra. That was the one concession I had left from Grandma. I got to wear a bra which made me look like a tomboy. I was expecting Hailey to join me but Grandma drafted her to help with Sunday lunch. That spoke volumes. Sunday lunch was women’s work at our house. Julie and Hailey had both helped Grandma. I wondered what was being discussed, but I was grounded... and knew only too well that I would not be permitted were I to try to help in the kitchen.

Somewhere out there my dad and Julie were driving home from Galveston. In a few hours I’d have to tell them everything, and there was no turning aside or going back. If I didn’t do it, then Grandma would. What would Dad say? What about Julie? Welcome back from your honeymoon, I want to be a girl. Yeah, right. That ought to go over real well. Not.

Chapter Forty-Eight

I think that afternoon of waiting for my dad and Julie to return was the longest afternoon of my life. Hailey stayed with me the whole time. We debated on my look for a long time. Would it be better to go full-out Taylor? On the plus side, I’d look like a girl, but on the minus side it would slap them in the face with it hard. At the other extreme, I could go all wrapped up in Scotty mode and try to tell them first. That might be an easier way to break it to them, but it ran the risk of Grandma getting in the first punch and framing things her way. I’d asked her to let me tell them, and she’d half-way agreed as long as I didn’t drag my feet too much. I don’t think there actually was any good way to tell them. The only advice I remembered about coming out had been to do it in a public restaurant. That way they were less likely to make a scene. There was no way that was going to happen and with the internet shut down I couldn’t do more research.

In the end we decided to compromise. I’d go in Scotty clothes with a bra and a tight cotton T-shirt, then cover up with a windbreaker I could take off easily. That would let me meet them mostly in drab, but when the time was right I could quickly unwrap and reveal the real me. Boy’s clothes with my breasts showing had worked with Grandma, more or less, although I hoped this time around there would be a little less drama. I did try to skew things to appeal to Dad as much as possible. I was wearing my old little league shirt from last summer. It was good for my color, emerald green, but it had shrunk and I had grown. It was now tight on me and made my breasts very obvious. I thought that with Dad the sport-look couldn’t hurt, and just might help. Since I was going incognito, we decided against makeup and to leave my hair in its usual state of disarray. It wasn’t an easy call. I wanted those little touches that made me look more like a girl, but they didn’t fit the plan.

After we had my appearance set, there wasn’t much to do except wait and wait and wait. We talked about Cathy, and wondered how she was doing. Hailey had passed her the notes, and we both agreed that she was acting for her mother’s sake. There had been enough real glances that we both were sure she hadn’t gone over to the dark side. We talked about Rick, and if the moment in church had been an important first step or just a onetime thing. Mostly we talked about our parents getting home. For better or worse, my life would soon change.

I wasn’t at all sure how Dad would react. I knew it would likely be bad, but Grandma was so awful and so was Rick. There was a big part of me that wanted him to welcome me as his little girl and make all the bad stuff go away. Yet, I had no idea if he would ever accept me.

Finally the crunch of gravel and the honking of a horn announced their arrival. The wait had been killing me, but I felt like I was walking to my execution as I followed everyone outside. I tried to hang back from the others so I wasn’t so obvious. I couldn’t help but think of ‘The Wizard of Oz’. Dad and Julie had been in Technicolor land, on their honeymoon cruise all happy and smiles and rainbows. It was even a perfect day: the sun was shining and the sky was blue with just a few white puffy clouds in it, the grass was turning green and flowers were blooming. Yet they were coming home now to us, actually to me. There were no smiles, or rainbows, among the four of us waiting for them. We were the cold and bitter black-and-white of reality. I felt so guilty that I was going to take their happiness and smash it into pieces. I clung to Hailey’s hand and waited for the inevitable moment when Dad and Julie spotted that there was something different about me.

Grandma looked at me with distaste. “What’s with the windbreaker? I can still tell you have breasts. Shouldn’t you have them hidden until you break the news?”

“I’m hoping they won’t notice first thing, Grandma.” Was it a mistake? Maybe it was. I didn’t know, but it was too late to change now. I squeezed Hailey’s hand and watched as Dad’s truck pulled to a stop.

Dad jumped out of his truck waving excitedly. “Hey everyone! We’re home! Rick, Scotty, grab our bags. I’ve got the bride.”

He ran around to the passenger side where Julie had removed her seat belt, but was waiting with an excited smile and dancing eyes. He opened the door and reached in and scooped her up, taking her into his arms. I suddenly realized what he was doing. He was carrying the bride over the threshold! I’d forgotten about that tradition. While Rick raced for the luggage, I hurriedly held the door for them. They looked so happy.

Dad paused in the doorway. “Ready, Mrs. Miller?”

“Oh yes!” She was smiling up at him with a look that was pure love. The kind they only try to capture in Hollywood when the couple kiss at the end of the movie. Dad maneuvered her carefully through the doorway.

Despite my nerves I couldn’t help but smile at their antics while I closed the front door on them and went out to help Rick with the luggage. As I passed Grandma I stopped and begged. “Let them have a few minutes, please. I’ll tell them. Just not yet, please?”

Grandma stared at me. “If you think what you are doing is so wrong that you can’t tell your father, then why are you doing it?”

Rick walked past us with some luggage while I struggled with her question. I didn’t have a good answer. Hailey stepped up and got between us. “Do you even see how much you’re hurting Taylor doing this to her? It’s not her fault.”

“Maybe it isn’t entirely his fault, Hailey. You’ve greatly encouraged this, but it is his decision. If he isn’t ready for the consequences then maybe that is a sign that it is a bad decision.”

Rick came back out the front door. “Are we gonna unload the truck or just stare at each other?”

“I’ll help.” As I walked to the car I started crying. How was I going to manage this? Rick grabbed two suitcases and I got the last one, closing the truck's door. I walked back toward my house with Grandma watching me with her arms crossed intimidatingly. I wasn’t going to win this, not with her poisoning the conversation. I followed Rick into Dad’s bedroom where he set down the two suitcases he was carrying.

Dad and Julie were kissing, but they stopped and Dad stared at me. “Scotty? Why the long face? I thought you and Hailey would be happy about this, and what’s with the jacket?”

“I am. I’m very happy for you and Julie. I’m thrilled to have Hailey as a sister.” That just made me cry more because I was ruining it.

“Then what’s wrong?” asked Julie. Her voice was soft and gentle as a feather, the voice used by moms everywhere to calm upset children.

Rick snickered. “Go on Scotty, tell them.”

“I think I’d better show you both. Just try to stay calm.” I unsnapped the buttons on my windbreaker and tossed it aside. I was very much aware of how obvious my breasts were with the bra and shirt I had on. With Grandma I’d flaunted them. Now I almost wanted to hide them, but they were my most convincing argument.

My father looked angry. “Oh. My. God. Scotty why are you wearing a bra and what did you stuff it with?”

I’d practiced this with Hailey enough, but even so I the words felt stuck. “I’m wearing a bra because I have b-breasts. I’m okay with them, because I’m not really a boy. I’m really a, a girl inside and my name is Taylor.” I’d stumbled through the words, but I’d finally told my father and that was a huge relief.

Dad looked at Julie and she looked back and shrugged. He turned to me. “You’re not making any sense. Why do you have on a stuffed bra? Are you gay?”

“Dad! I’m not gay. I’m transgendered. I’ve got a girl’s mind in a boy’s body. Well, not quite a boy’s body. I really have breasts. Grandma found out and took me to Doc Buford. I’ve got a medical condition, well probably three of them: Gynecomastia – which means I’m growing breasts. Transgendered – like I said, I have a girl’s mind in a boy’s body, and probably also Klinefelter’s Syndrome – which means I’m XXY.”

“You’ve seen Doc Buford, and those are real?” asked Dad.

“Oh, they’re real!” Rick replied before I could. “As for the rest, he’s messed up in the head. He thinks he wants to be a girl. He wants a sex change.”

Hailey, who I hadn’t even seen join us, butted in after Rick. “That’s because Taylor is a girl, and she isn’t asking for a sex change yet. She just wants respect and to see a therapist.”

Grandma jumped into the conversation with both feet. “What he needs is hormones. We get him on the right drugs, and he’ll straighten out!”

Dad held up his hands. “Everyone, please. Clear the room. I want to talk to Scott right now. Everyone else go.” He was clearly frustrated, but as soon as he said it he softened his tone. “Jules, you can stay if you like.”

Julie shook her head. “I think you need to have this conversation with your son. I’ll talk with Hailey. You take all the time you need. Then we’ll talk.”

“Good. Everyone else out!” Dad made shooing gestures with his hands.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Suddenly I was all alone with my father. I was very much aware that I was on his turf, as Dad’s bedroom is his man cave. One wall has his guns and even a stuffed deer head on it. However, the room wasn’t as bad as his physical presence. Although Dad no longer plays football, he is a big man, and he still works out. He has always been larger than life to me. Usually that is a comforting presence, but now I felt like I was in the shadow of a mighty mountain.

Surprisingly the mountain lowered itself. Dad sat down on his bed and patted the mattress. “Sit down and tell me about it. When did this start? You’re not just gay?”

I took a seat beside him, but not too close. “I’m not gay at all. I might be a lesbian; I’m not really sure about that.” I eyed him carefully. He seemed more stunned than angry, but he was hard to read. Dad was a salesman after all. Still, he seemed to be giving me a chance. “It started some time ago. Back in January I noticed that my boobs were growing. I hid them from everyone and hoped they’d go away, but as time passed I realized I liked them. I liked the way I was growing and developing. I want it to continue. I want to be a girl.”

“Scott, you know that you’re a boy. You can’t ever be a girl.”

“Please Dad, call me Taylor. And yes, I can be a girl. It happens every day. As Rick put it, a sex change... although it’s usually called SRS today, Sex Reassignment Surgery.” For a moment I thought about going on to mention some of the other names for that procedure that I had seen used occasionally online, then decided against confusing the issue. Besides, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go that far yet, but that also was so not a good point to bring up right now. “However, it starts with HRT, Hormone Replacement Therapy, and for whatever reason I’m already partway there. I want to continue growing like I am now. I want female hormones, not male hormones.”

“What did Doc Buford say? I’m not following all of this.”

“He said that I probably have Klinefelter’s Syndrome, which means I have XXY chromosomes.”

“I remember XX is female, XY is male, so this XXY means you’re halfway between?”

I would have loved to say yes to that. It would be so much easier, but the truth wasn’t that simple. “Not really. It does give a reason for me growing breasts and some other things, but look beyond that. What matters to me is that I’m a girl.”

Eventually he spoke. “So what about Cathy? I thought she was your girlfriend.”

This wasn’t in the roleplays. So what to say? I decided on honesty. “I’m not sure anymore. She’s trying to be understanding, but I’m not sure if she can accept me as a girl.”

“But you still like her then?”

I shrugged. “Cathy is my best friend, but I’m not sure I ever liked her like that. Cathy was far more into the boyfriend/girlfriend thing than I ever was. We never got past kissing and I never wanted to go further than that.”

“So you’re saying that you’re gay then?”

Really? Back to the gay thing again? “No Dad, it’s not about my sexuality. I like girls better than guys, but I like them as friends. I don’t like boys much at all. I don’t have much of a sex drive at all.” I started to explain to him that I probably had low testosterone, and that hormone powered most of the sex drive. However, I didn’t want to give him ammo for dosing me with male hormones.

“So what is it that you want?” He had his salesman face back in place, all smiles and impossible to read.

“It boils down to one thing. I’ve realized that I’m a girl inside and I want my outside to match my inside.”

“You mean you want a sex change. I don’t think my insurance will pay for that. Besides you’re way too young to be deciding on things like this. You’re still a kid. Scotty, this is just a phase.”

“A phase?! It’s not just a phase and SRS is way down the line. I just want HRT, hormone replacement therapy, so I can continue to go through female puberty – and I want a therapist.” Which was getting the horse ahead of the cart since I needed a therapist to sign off on HRT, but... not a good plan to confuse the issue, or at least not even worse than it already was.

“Just HRT and therapy? And to be treated like a girl? You’re asking an awful lot, Sco... umm, Taylor. That sounds like a lot of money. I’m not sure my insurance will pay for it. We may not be able to afford it.”

“Oh, but you were able to afford a cruise to Mexico?” I knew that was snarky, but really I was talking about my fundamental core gender identity and he was quibbling about money?

“I got them off eBay at a very good price, another couple cancelled at the last minute. I paid half of what they were worth — not that it is any of your business.”

“So if we could afford it, you would allow me?”

“I didn’t say that.” He looked rattled and Dad rarely looked that way. “I just pointed out that what you are talking about sounds very expensive. A sex change is also irreversible. I don’t think you’re really understand what you’re asking for. You know what they do in a sex change? I've heard they chop off your balls and dick and make some kind of hole. That won’t make you a girl.”

I stood up which let me look down at him. “You’re right! It doesn’t make me a girl because I already am a girl. All it will do is make my body match my mind.”

Dad stood up looking angry. “Where did this come from? Taylor, I’ll listen to what Doc Buford has to say, but this being a girl business needs to stop. I’ll talk to him, and we’ll figure out how to straighten you out. If they can give you girl hormones, then they can give you steroids or something to help you fill out right and bulk up. We can fix this!”

“NO! I don’t want to be fixed! Testosterone won’t fix me. It will ruin any chance I have at developing a normal female body. I’ll grow in places I shouldn’t. Right now, I have a chance to grow up looking like any other girl.” I was losing this. It was all falling apart. “Please, let me see a therapist, a good one who knows about gender disorders, not some closed-minded fraud. I’m sure a good therapist will tell you that I’m transgendered and I need HRT.”

“No. No way. No how. Not now. Not ever.” Dad seemed to grow both in stature and anger. “I’m not sending you to some self-indulgent head-shrinker who will tell encourage you to do just as you please, and damn your obligations to your family and everyone else. I’m not letting some quack sign off on your selfishness.” Surprisingly he pulled in his anger and softened his tone. “Taylor, I know things have been hard on you at school. I know you’ve had bully problems, and that you haven’t bulked up. Now we know there are medical reasons. We can fix them. Becoming a girl isn’t the solution, it’s running away. You can’t run from your troubles. You have to face them. That’s what being a man is about.”

No therapy, just plain flat out no. Instead, testosterone shots and be a man – my worst-case scenario come to life. “No! I won’t do it because I’m not a man! I’m not even a boy. I’m a girl.” I backed away from him. “If you’re not going to help me, just leave me alone!” I broke for the door, stumbled through it, and slammed it behind me.

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 17 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2013 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

 
The Taylor Project
 

Chapter Fifty

I didn’t walk; I ran. When I reached my room, I slammed the door closed behind me. I crawled into my bed, pulled my pillows over my head, and just cried for the longest time. Big shaking sobs that had me coughing up snot.

“Taylor?” asked Hailey gently. “I knocked, but you didn’t answer. Are you okay?”

I vaguely recalled her knocking and then entering my room, but I’d been too lost in tears for it to really register. Now I had a sense that she was close by my bed. I tried to burrow deeper under my pillows, but there weren’t enough pillows in the world. “Go away. It’s over. My life is over.”

Of course, she didn’t go away. She came over, sat on my bed, and began rubbing my back. “Taylor, it’s not over, not by a long shot. Momma and your dad are shut up in their bedroom, and I don’t think they’re having extra honeymoon rounds. I couldn’t hear what they’re saying through the walls, but at least they aren’t screaming at each other. I know what that sounds like.”

I started crying again. My dad finally finds someone and I’m breaking them up. That was the last thing I wanted. “I’m sorry, Hailey. I’m so sorry. I’m ruining everything. Maybe I should just go somewhere far away.”

“If you’re going to run, then pick some place to run to like a women’s shelter or something. Have a goal. You don’t want to be a homeless runaway do you? Live off the land, eat out of the garbage, maybe get picked up by a pimp and made to turn tricks? With your asthma, just how long do you think you’d last sleeping outdoors?”

Hailey was sadly right. I wouldn’t last very long sleeping outside. I’d enjoyed camping sometimes when I was younger, but more often than not I’d had trouble breathing. Once, I had even ended up in the ER. Me and the outdoors got along best in moderation. Even if I took my asthma medicine with me, it wouldn’t last forever. Actually, I’d probably run out of food long before I ran out of pills, since Dad had just given me another bottle of the stuff a couple weeks ago. Regardless, it was a stupid idea. I didn’t really have anywhere else to go. I dug out from under the pillows so I could see Hailey. “It’s no good. I’m too young to go to a shelter in Texas. I checked the rules before we lost the internet. Child Protective Services would pick me up and toss me into the foster home system.”

“Can’t you get a lawyer, divorce our parents, and get yourself declared an adult? I’ll testify for you.”

“It’s called an emancipated minor, and it’s not that easy to get. I’d also have to be at least sixteen.” It might as well be sixty. Two and a half years of testosterone would destroy me. I don’t think I could stand to watch myself slowly turn into a boy. Maybe the foster care system wouldn’t be that bad.

“Is there any place else you could run to? Anyone who would take you in? What about your Mom? I know you said she skipped out, but could she be an option?”

“She’s in California…” Although, why not Mom? There was no doubt she wasn’t the greatest mother in the world. Dad sometimes called her a ‘self-centered manipulative bitch’ when he thought us kids weren’t around. Sadly, there was more than a bit of truth about the self-centered part. Still, she was still my mom, and that meant she had to love me at least a little, right? I was grasping at straws, but maybe it could work. Rick was better at playing her and Dad against each other, but maybe she would do it just to spite Dad. “She did skip out on us, but she is still my mom. That’s what Mom’s are supposed to do, right?” I snuffled back tears, grabbed the box of tissues beside my bed, and started blowing my nose.

Hailey sat right there and comforted me, not at all judging me for being snotty. “Would it hurt to try? What’ve you got to lose?”

I took another tissue and wiped at my face. “One problem, I’d have to get access to a phone to call her.”

Hailey giggled and pulled out her cellphone. “You mean a phone like this? Mom got mine back for me just before you ran by. You can use it, if you want.”

“Are you sure? It’s long distance.”

“I’m certain.” She shrugged and handed her phone over. “If I get heat from Momma, I’ll deal with it. I don’t think I will though. You know, if your mother says yes… I’ll really miss you, Taylor. But good luck.”

I took the phone but held it off to my side as I hugged Hailey. “Oh God, I’d have to leave you. Hailey, I don’t know that I could go on through this without you.”

Hailey hugged me back. “Hey now, it’s okay. This house is turning poisonous. I think there’s still hope, though. I had a good talk with my momma, and she’s probably giving your dad an earful right now. Still, if your mom will take you in and won’t judge you, then you should go. We can always still text and IM and stuff, right?”

“I suppose so, although that won't be the same at all. Her number is on my computer. I guess if I am going to do this, I had better do it now while I can.” I felt a lot less certain than I was acting for Hailey’s sake. The idea of leaving her shook me. I looked up mom’s phone number, but I didn’t dial it yet. Hailey had said something that had almost slipped by me… a good talk with her mom? “Well, maybe things aren’t totally lost. What did go on with your mother, anyway?”

Hailey let out a big breath. “Well, Momma asked a lot of questions at first. She wasn’t at all happy about the bullying or with your grandma, to put it mildly. We talked a lot about you: how it started, how you’re a girl on the inside and want to be one on the outside...”

“So how did she react? What does she think of me?”

“She said you needed therapy!” said Hailey happily. “Although she wasn’t sure that you really understood what it would mean to become a girl.”

“Dad said something like that, too.” Although it was good that Julie wanted me in counseling. That was the direct opposite of what Dad had said. “Is she going to tell Dad that I need a therapist?”

“I don’t know.” Hailey looked upset. “I thought she would be more supportive. I hit her up with the idea that she’d signed up to be your momma when she married Robert. She agreed, but said something about it not being that simple, and that there was more to being a mother than a marriage certificate. Anyway, she did say that the bullying had to stop and that you should get therapy. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that’s a good thing.” But would it be enough? I didn’t know. I looked at the phone in my hand. Calling my mother and asking for her help still felt like a long shot. On the other hand, what did I have to lose? The worst she could do was say no, and I’d be no worse off if that happened. “I’m going to try my mom.”

Hailey bobbed her head in agreement. “I think you should. Do you want me to step out?”

“No!” I replied with an intensity that surprised me. “I mean, I’d really like you to stay.” I dialed my Mom's number, wondering if I could really leave Hailey and Cathy. It would really suck if I had to choose between being a girl and my two BFFs. Although it was probably a non-issue, as Mom likely wouldn’t take me in. She might not even pick up the phone.

However, to my surprise she answered on the third ring. “Hello, this is Vivian.”

“Hello Mom, it’s Scott, but actually I go by Taylor now.”

“Well hi then, Taylor. What’s the occasion? Not liking your new stepmom?”

“Oh, you heard about that, did you? How did you manage that?”

“Facebook. Your dad changed his profile and everyone that he knows is posting congrats to the happy couple. You would think that one of you might have bothered to tell me. I know that I’m not married to your father any more, but couldn’t you or Rick have called to let me know?”

“I'm sorry Mom. There has just been a lot going on, and letting you know slipped my mind. That’s not why I called, though, or maybe sort of it is. I mean, all that other stuff that has been happening. Taylor is more than a change of name. It’s a change of lifestyle. I want to be a girl.”

“You’re a transvestite?” That was followed by loud laughter.

WTF? Of all the reactions laughter was not one I’d ever expected, and I was so not a transvestite. I loved girl’s clothes because I wanted to be myself and not a boy. There was nothing sexual about it. “Mom, it’s not funny.”

“Oh, it is in a way. You just have to be outside of it all to appreciate the humor. Robert, the ultimate jock and ladies' man, has a son that wants to be a girl.” She giggled again. “Plus the signs have been there for so long, when I think about it. That’s funny. So how is he taking it?”

“He’s not. He flat out refused to let me transition or even see a therapist. I was wondering if I could come stay with you? Would you support me?”

“Whoa, whoa, Scotty. No, I’m sorry, I mean Taylor. If you want to be Taylor, if you want to be a girl, you can be. Go for it. Be the girl you were meant to be. I know a tranny, and she’s a good person. She couldn’t pass on a moonless foggy night, God bless her, but she’s still a good person. We’ve all got our kinks. You’re just a little more out there than the rest of us. Some people may not understand, but if that’s what you want, then I’m all for you. I just can’t take you in. I have no ground to stand on legally. I signed the sole custody agreement and I’m behind on child support. That won't play well in court, at all. Besides, for all his faults Robert is a good father, a shitty husband, but a good father. Even if that wasn’t the case, I’m living out of a suitcase. I don’t really have a place even for myself, let alone for you here. There is no way I could support you in a transition. That shit is expensive. I don’t even have insurance. I’m sorry, but no.”

That had to be the longest, most honest speech I’d ever heard my mom make, and I found myself crying all over again at the unfairness of it. My mom had no problem with me wanting to be a girl, even if she was obviously clueless about her vocabulary, but she wouldn’t lift a finger to help me. “Maybe he’s a good father to Rick, but he wants to put me on male hormones. He doesn’t understand me. Can’t you do something? Talk to him at least?”

“Oh Scotty, no baby, I can’t. Really, I’m doing the best thing for you by staying out of it. If I try to support you, even just by talking to him, it will just piss him off and make him more dead set in his ways. That man could out-stubborn a mule, and you take after him in that. I can give you some advice, though. Don’t take him head on. You can’t win that way.”

“I just can’t win, period.”

“Yes, you can. Just use that inner girl of yours and wrap him around your little finger. Look, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to run. I’ll call you soon, and I’ll make a trip out there as soon as I can. You stay in touch. Bye, baby.”

“Bye, Mom.” I’m not even sure if she heard me. The cellphone clicked, in that way that means the connection was broken, as I was speaking.

Hailey had been sitting beside me the whole time. As soon as I hung up she hugged me. “I take it she said no.”

I nodded and wiped at my tears. “The crazy thing is she didn’t care at all about me being transgendered, but she still won’t help me.”

“Can’t or won’t?” asked Hailey.

I shrugged. “How can I tell? She says can’t. Can’t afford it, and doesn’t have any legal standing.” I wasn’t sure I believed her.

“Doesn’t matter, it’s not over yet. My momma and your dad are still talking. They aren’t going to easily find a doctor who will give you hormones against your will. Even Doc Buford said you should have therapy, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, he did, but I’m still just thirteen. I don’t think I’m allowed to say no if my dad insists.” I wish I knew one way or another. I remembered reading about how some parents denied their kids vaccinations and even medical treatment due to their religious beliefs. I didn’t remember the details, but there was some sect that thought you had to pray your way to health.

“Maybe you can’t say no, but your father would still have to find a doctor who would agree with them.”

I shrugged. Even if she was right, and I wasn’t at all sure that she was, it didn’t matter. “Hailey, if it comes down to that then I’ve already lost. It won’t be hard to find a ‘good Christian’ doctor in Pine county that thinks I need testosterone shots.” From what I’d read testosterone was the standard treatment for Klinefelter’s. So it probably wouldn’t even be that hard.”

“I don’t think there are that many doctors like that, but even if there are, I don’t think Momma will allow it. Anyway, you need to work on your dad. Now, what is your next move?”

“Me? Why do I hafta come up with the next move?”

“Because it’s your life, Taylor, or would you rather just give up and be Scott?”

“Well, when you put it that way. Of course, I’m going to fight for me.” I’d come too far to go back to being Snotty.

“Good! So what’s your next move?”

Chapter Fifty-One

“I don’t know yet. You heard how he reacted. He didn’t listen. I could go back out there and talk to him, but that would make things worse.”

“Worse how?” asked Hailey.

“I-“ Hmm, she had a very good point. What else could he do? Ground me? Grandma already did that. Take away my computer? So what? Spank me? A few swats wouldn’t change my mind. He could try seriously beating the crap out of me, I suppose – I had read about that sort of thing happening to other trans-kids before. But Dad had never struck me or Rick in anger before, and I didn’t honestly think he would start now. No, the worst thing he was likely to do to me was force me onto male hormones. He was basically already doing that anyway by refusing to send me to therapy. I had nothing to lose. “I’m going to go wash off my face. I’m going to change my clothes into full Taylor mode. I’m going to put on some make-up, fix my hair, and then I’m going to go see what’s for dinner.”

“So you’re going to just give your Dad the middle finger? Are you coming out at school, too?”

“I don’t know.” I felt oddly light and giddy. I’d never been a big fan of poker, but I was basically going all in, calling my Dad’s hand to see if he was bluffing. Why not? I truly had nothing left to lose. “I don’t plan to go that far, but if that’s how far I’ve got to go, then maybe I will. I’ve spent two days hiding in my room, and I’m done with that.”

I needed to show Dad that I wouldn’t change my mind just because he yelled. He said that I never stood up to my problems? Right now he was the problem and I was standing up to him. It had my stomach flipping inside out, but I didn’t see much choice. Mom wouldn’t approve. She told me not to take him head on, but he was backing me into a corner. I might be about to find out how bad things could really get, but Hailey seemed to think I was doing the right thing, and that was good enough for me.

Hailey and I briefly discussed how to go Taylor. I only had two real choices: Hailey’s Sunday dress or a blouse and skirt combo. I decided on the blouse and skirt, just like I’d first worn as a girl. Hailey’s dress was more feminine, but I wasn’t entirely comfortable in that yet. When I wore the skirt and blouse, I felt like the real me. I switched out my clothes, washed the tears off my face and rearranged my hair into my more feminine ‘modern pixie' style. Under Hailey’s watchful eye I applied just a bit of makeup. Besides, with my dark lashes I don’t really need mascara and Hailey’s eyeliner wasn’t waterproof. I didn’t want to go all raccoon-face if I started crying, and that seemed entirely too likely to happen.

“You look good. Are you ready to go back out there?”

I nodded yes, even though I wanted to go hide. I also wanted some shoes to go with my outfit, but I was not going to wobble out there in Mrs. Andrew’s heels. “I’m not ready, but then I don’t think I’m ever going to be, so… May the odds be ever in our favor.” I pushed myself up to my feet.

Hailey smirked at me, obviously catching the reference to The Hunger Games. “Do you want me to go scope things out, Caitness?”

“No, I need to go now before I change my mind.” This wasn’t really a plan. This was provoking a fight. “You can hang back, if you want. This is my battle.”

“It’s ours, Taylor.” She grabbed my hand. “We’re sisters.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay. Yes. Good. Let’s go then.” Apparently though, just saying the words didn’t get me to the living room. I actually had to lift up my feet and set them down to move. I forced myself into motion and took one step at a time. Step, step, step, and there was the living room. Step, step, step, and no Dad and no Julie, just Grandma and Rick sitting there talking quietly to each other. They both looked up when Hailey and I walked in.

Grandma frowned at me. “Didn’t your father tell you to change?”

My feet wanted to get up and run away. So I sat down. “Not really. We said a lot of things, but he didn’t tell me that I couldn’t dress like this.”

“Well, I told you not to dress like that. Scott Taylor, go to your room and change your clothes!”

This was where I’d normally run off, however, this was a conflict I couldn’t avoid any longer. Going back to my poker analogy, I could fold or go all-in. My heart was racing but I looked her in the eyes. “No.”

“Young man, you will do what you’re told. I’ve been very generous because you have a medical condition, but now you’re being downright rude.” Her frown had become a glare, and her voice was rising in both volume and sharpness, like a fast approaching train hurtling towards me.

I shrugged and sat there, trying to pretend my palms were not sweating. Her move.

“Scott Taylor! Get up out of that chair and go change your clothes.” She stood up and walked towards me.

“Or what? Are you going to hit me?”

“I’ve never hit you, but you just might get a major spanking out of this, see if you don’t. Your father won’t tolerate this kind of disrespect.”

The door to the master bedroom opened then, and Dad stepped out followed by Julie. Neither one of them looked very happy, although I wasn't sure if that was from what they had been talking about, or from overhearing Grandma. Dad spoke first. “Mother, what’s going on?”

Grandma gestured at me. “That’s what’s going on! Look at the way he’s dressed. This is what I’ve been dealing with for the past three days. I’ve had it up to here. Now he won’t even go change. Do something about your son!”

“Do something?” His tone was the low rumble of distant thunder, promising an approaching storm.

I cringed before him, but stayed put largely because I was too scared to move. Maybe I’d made a mistake in pushing my father when he was near his limit. Like a passenger in an car heading for an accident, I braced for impact, squeezing both Hailey’s hand and the arm of the chair.

My dad took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Very well, Mother, I’ll do something.”

He looked calmer on the surface, but I wasn’t fooled. The warning flash of his anger had been closer than I thought. The storm was here.

Chapter Fifty-Two

"This crap ends now," Dad thundered still glaring at Grandma. "No one will be driven out of this family while I'm head of this house, and that's what you're doing. We're not going to exile Scotty to his room and badger him constantly. We both know how that story ended. You're not going to push him out of my house like you did Dee Dee."

Say what? The storm was here and lightning had struck, but it was Grandma who was scorched and blackened, and what did Aunt Dee Dee have to do with anything? I hadn't seen her since Thanksgiving.

Grandma, however, wasn't giving up without a fight. "That was completely different. She sinned against God, but she was a young woman and at least old enough to make her own choices -- even if they were terribly, horribly wrong. Scotty is still a child. He doesn't know what he wants. Do you mean to tell me that you're actually considering supporting his insanity?

"It's not that different. For now I'm granting the possibility that he might become a girl. I don’t like it, but badgering him isn't going to change his mind."

"So you're going to allow him to parade around in skirts and disrespect me?"

"Mother, you disrespected him first. We’re not going to set the ball on Scotty’s five-yard line and call that fair. He gets to start on the fifty. That means he can wear dresses and not get punished for it, or made to hide in his room. Am I clear on this?”

I clung to my chair and watched the fireworks. I wasn't sure what all was going on, or why, but I sure heard the parts about possibly allowing me to transition and letting me wear skirts.

“If you’re not going to support me, and you're going to allow him to dress like that, then I don’t know that I want to be here any longer. I’m going home.”

“If you can’t at least treat Scotty like family, then maybe you should. Do I have to remind you, of all people, what’s written on Dad’s grave?”

That took the wind out of Grandma’s sails. The fight just went out of her and she sank back down into her chair like a deflated balloon. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Good, then stop acting like you have. I was blindsided by this an hour ago. You’ve had days to get used to it. I’m not asking you to give up your beliefs, and I damn sure haven’t decided that Scotty will be allowed to be a girl, but we will treat him as family no matter how he is dressed. Mother, don’t ask me to choose between you and my son. That’s a battle you won’t win.”

Damn, I always knew that Dad was the head of the house and that Grandma followed his lead, but he’d put her in her place like a child. It was good for me, but still shocking to have witnessed. Everyone else seemed subdued as well, after witnessing her smackdown.

I felt something stirring inside me, a warm happy feeling called hope.

Dad took a deep breath and slowly let it out, closing his eyes briefly as he did so. He rubbed his beard stubble with both hands and sighed. When he opened his eyes his anger was leashed again and his salesman face slipped back into place. “Taylor, you look… nice." His tone didn't hold the same harshness he'd had when he'd verbally bitch slapped Grandma, but I didn't think he was at all sincere.

"Thank you." I had to at least give him points for trying, and reining in Grandma.

Julie cleared her throat. "I don't think this was what we discussed."

Dad barked out a short, bitter laugh. "No, it sure the hell wasn't. Mother, Taylor I'd like to apologize to both of you for losing my temper. This isn't the way that I want to handle this. All this yelling, screaming and rudeness needs to stop. It wasn't the way I was raised or the way I've raised my kids. Everyone take a seat. We’re going to have a family meeting about this. We’re all going to sit down and talk this through. There will be no screaming, yelling, or rudeness.”

Dad just apologized? It sounded a lot more sincere than when he said I looked nice. I was still a little shell-shocked, but I was liking this direction. It was good for me – no, it was a miracle. “Y-yes, I’d like that.”

Grandma frowned. "I don't know that I have a say. Perhaps I'd better just go."

"Mother, stay, please. We're going to talk. We all need to do more talking and more listening. Rick, pull up a chair and sit down."

Chapter Fifty-Three

Dad sat down on the couch and Julie joined him, but they weren’t cuddling this time. He might have apologized, but he didn’t look happy. Grandma was obviously sulking, but she shut up and sat down. Hailey and I remained where we were on the loveseat. Rick grabbed a chair from the kitchen. He thumped it down facing it away from us, and casually straddled it backwards while resting his arms on the seatback. He was the only one who seemed unphased by the situation. He had a smirk on his face while everyone else looked serious.

“So, we all know what this is about. It’s about Taylor. I just apologized for my behavior. I wasn’t ready and I haven’t had time to understand things. Hasty decisions are usually bad decisions, and I proved that. We’re going to talk this through.” Dad spoke as if he was placing each word with great care, giving them all special meaning. “I want everyone to have a chance to speak, but under the circumstance, I think Taylor should go first.”

I wasn’t at all sure where I stood now. On one hand, Dad had said I’d be given a chance. On the other hand, Dad had also made it very clear that he disapproved. This didn’t feel like a meeting. It felt like a trial. Dad was the judge, stern but attempting to be fair. Grandma was the prosecution, but was playing it soft for now after almost being found in contempt of court. Hailey was my defense attorney. Rick was the uncertain mob sitting in the gallery, waiting to see justice done. Julie was the wildcard. She didn’t fit into my courtroom analogy, but she mattered a great deal. Regardless, if this was my trial, then I welcomed the chance to speak in my own defense.

“Dad,” your honor if it pleases the court, “to start with, thank you for calling me Taylor. It is my name. I ask everyone to at least respect that. As for the rest… I didn’t plan this. It just happened. I was scared when it first started. That’s why I didn’t say anything. At first I wanted my breasts to go away. Now I think they’re the best thing that ever happened to me. If I’d never grown them, I might never have realized that I’m really a girl at heart… and never have known just why I was so unhappy. I don’t know if I’m Klinefelter’s or not. Partly it doesn’t matter, because whether I am or not, I still want to be the girl I am inside.”

Not enough. I had to make this good.. “I don’t know if I can say this strongly enough. I’m not a boy. I used to pretend to be a boy, but I was never any good at it. Now that I’ve admitted to myself that I’m really a girl, it’s getting harder and harder to even pretend that I’m Scott. I can’t go back to being him full-time. I just can’t. If you put me on testosterone, you’ll be killing the real me. I want to go to doctors and a therapist – and I mean a real therapist. I know you all probably think I'm nuts, and maybe I am, but I want a neutral third party who specializes in this sort of thing, to help me figure out if I am or not. Not just someone who will have already decided one way or the other before I even begin to speak.

As tense as things were in the room, a part of me wanted to shrink away, but I forced myself to study Dad closely for his reaction. I felt like my entire future was on the line and rested on his next words. I had no idea what was going on inside his head. It seemed like forever before he spoke. “I think that I’m going to need more time to decide how to deal with this. I’ll admit I was wrong earlier to rule out the possibility of a therapist and to simply dismiss what you were saying. It’s not like there haven’t been signs. I worried that you might be gay before you and Cathy started going out. I think I could have dealt with that. I just wasn’t ready for this.”

I felt a knot loosen inside me. Dad hadn’t said yes, but he had said he was wrong to say no – which was almost the same thing. Then he bounced right back to the gay thing. I sighed. “It’s not about my orientation, Dad. I might be a lesbian. The idea of being romantic with a boy just doesn’t appeal to me at all.”

“Then why-“ Dad started off angrily and then stopped himself, doing the whole deep breath and release thing with eyes closed again. This time Julie stroked his arm and when he opened his eyes he looked at her for a moment. Watching them, I could almost believe in telepathy. He resumed speaking in a more controlled tone, “I’m still having trouble with this. If you’re attracted to girls, then why become one? What do you expect to get out of this?”

“I just want to be me.” A part of me wanted to cry or run away. This was better, he was trying, but Dad still didn’t get it. He might be handling it better than Rick and Grandma, but he didn’t understand.

“Mr. Miller?” asked Hailey.

Dad sighed. “I thought we already agreed you would call me Robert. That’s doubly true now that your mom and I are married.”

“Yes, um, Robert. Anyway, have you looked at Taylor? I mean, really looked at her? Just watch the way she moves and acts. It’s not hard to see the girl in her, if you just open your eyes. You said that you thought Scott was gay. I thought the same at first.”

What? She did? Hailey had never told me that.

“Then as I got to know Taylor I thought she was just an effeminate boy, but being a girl fits her so much better. She doesn’t act like a boy; she acts like a girl because she is a girl.”

“I see where you’re coming from, Hailey, and I have to admit he looks the part. If I didn’t know that was my son sitting there, I’d see a girl too, but wanting something isn’t always enough. Sometimes we want things that aren’t good for us, or that we simply can’t have no matter how hard we try.” My father sighed and glanced at Julie.

Julie apparently took that as her cue. “Robert and I are trying to keep an open mind about Taylor’s wishes. These aren’t easy questions, and we weren’t ready for them. We’re going to need some more time. Do you understand?”

Hailey nodded and so did I, although I didn’t really get it. I also wasn’t getting a clear answer on whether I’d be allowed to transition. This ‘family meeting’ felt like something Julie had arranged, but Dad’s smackdown of Grandma had been all him. My Dad was a man of his word, and that was a part of what was scaring me because he was carefully avoiding saying I could transition. Maybe this felt a little artificial and like I was on trial, but they were trying. That had to count for something, didn't it?

Dad reached over and took Julie’s hand. “Coming back to that point, we do have time to figure this out, don’t we? I understand that you want to keep this hidden for now? You’re not going to be walking around the neighborhood in skirts, or going to school in a dress, are you?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m not ready to come out yet.”

“See, that’s my point.” Like a pot cooking on too much heat, Grandma had finally boiled over. Her tone was more sulky now than angry, but she was making her opinions known. “If he didn’t know it was wrong, he wouldn’t be ashamed of it and try to hide it. He hid it from us, and now he wants to hide it from everyone else. It goes against the Lord’s word! I can’t believe you’re giving in and allowing this… this... spectacle to continue.”

“I don’t want to get beat up! If I just go to school in a dress tomorrow, that’s what will happen. When I come out I want it done right, with a note from a therapist and a diagnosis of transgendered, so the school has no choice but to accept me.” That was one reason at least. There were others, but that sounded good.

Rick laughed. “You could have a hundred notes from a hundred doctors, and you’re still gonna get beaten up at school!”

Dad raised his voice, with a stern glance alternated between Rick and Grandma. “Keep it polite. Everyone will get their turn. Mother, did you have anything more to say?”

“Just that he knows it is wrong, and regardless of the cause Doc Buford identified a solution – hormones. Scotty may be confused now, but if we put him on the right hormones, he’ll straighten out.”

“I don’t think it’s wrong!”

“Taylor, please,” said Dad in a tone that sounded more exasperated than reasonable. “We’re all trying to keep an open mind. Now, do you have something to say, politely?”

Politely? Why did I have to be polite while Grandma could be rude as all get out? “I don’t think that what I’m doing is wrong. I just think bigots will have a hard time accepting me. That’s a completely different thing. Also, what Grandma calls ‘straightening out’ will deform my body. I’m developing into a girl. I’m lucky in a way. There are a lot of transgendered women out there that didn’t come out until after puberty. Going through male puberty will damage me in so many ways.” My voice was getting more and more shrill. I so did not want to look like Dad or Rick. Their heavy boned bodies and angular faces showed all too clearly that the testosterone was strong in my family. I wanted to scream or run away and cry, but this was my chance to make my case. Dad was listening and I was blowing it. “You just don’t understand me!”

Hailey slid an arm around me and hugged me. “Shh, shh, I understand. They’re trying. They didn’t say no.”

I snuggled into Hailey’s grasp, let go, and started crying. Not what I wanted to do, but I couldn’t help it.

Chapter Fifty-Four

“Are you happy now?” Hailey sarcastically asked someone as she held me and rocked me. I couldn’t see because my head was buried in her neck, and I wondered who that was directed at.

“No, we’re not happy,” said Julie. “Maybe we should take a break.”

I sniffed up my tears. “No, I’m sorry. I want to continue. Let’s do this.” I scooted out from Hailey’s embrace and rubbed away my tears.

Dad looked less stern and more human. “Ok, we’ll continue. Your grandmother has her opinion. You have yours. We’re going to consider your feelings and listen to doctors.” He paused and looked around. “Rick, did you say all you had to say?”

Rick shook his head. “No, but I’ve done some thinking about this. I’ve got an idea that would solve all this, but… you’re not going to like it, Dad.”

Dad sighed. “Sure, why not? Let’s hear your idea.”

“I was pretty hard on Scott when he came out, but after seeing him/her/it around the past couple of days, he’s serious about this stuff. Besides, didn’t we all think he was gay, I mean, really down deep? It’s not like this is a total surprise. The drag queen part is a surprise, but really this trans stuff is just, like, gay squared. Anyway, he’s never going to be accepted here in Pine Hill. He’s my brother, yet even I want to hurl seeing him walking around with a bra full of tits and having weepy fits. The other kids are going to pound the shit out of him on a daily basis. Remember my freshman year? That Bruce kid that came out? He didn’t make it a month before he withdrew from school.”

“Rick, tone down the language, but yes, I remember. What is your point?” asked Dad.

“My point is this. That…” Rick waved his hand making it clear he meant me. “…is never going to be accepted in Pine Hill. We might accept him in time, but others won’t. I think the best thing is if he goes and lives with Mom.”

“What?!” Dad half rose out of his seat, but Julie pulled him back down.

I felt like laughing, but I still hurt too much. So Rick wanted to get rid of me, did he? Too bad Mom wouldn’t take me. Then again, why should I blame him? I’d been on the phone not half an hour ago asking her to do just that.

“I told you that you wouldn’t like it, but seriously, think about it. He’ll never be accepted in Pine Hill, but in California he’ll blend right in. He can put on a dress and prance around like a fruit as much as he wants, and no one will care. Mom even has some gay friends. I’m sure one of them can coach him on how to be a whatever the hell he is.”

Dad gave Rick the evil eye of parental unhappiness, but chose to ignore his language. “Assuming your mother had a stable address for six months running, a job and could actually manage to be a responsible parent, I’d consider that – if it was something Taylor wanted to do. However, let’s keep to alternatives that don’t involve ripping this family apart, please.”

I couldn’t help but take that as a positive sign. Dad was standing by me. Once again I was tempted to speak up and say that Mom didn’t want me, but the conversation was already moving on.

Rick snorted. “Good luck finding one.”

“That’s enough, Rick.” Dad paused to breath yet again, and then shook his head. “No, wait, that’s not enough. Tone it down. I haven’t decided yet how I feel about what Taylor is going through, but he is still my son and your brother. He is still family. Don’t insult him to his face. If we’re done here, Julie and I have more to discuss.”

“Wait,” blurted Hailey. “I never had my turn.”

“I thought you had.” Dad waved to her. “Go ahead then, and say what you need to say.”

“Okay, I will. Tone it down isn’t strong enough. I know what you just said to Taylor’s grandma, but this wasn’t really a polite conversation. What’s been going on around here is verbal abuse. Taylor and I have spent the last several days grounded, all outside communication cut off, and why? Taylor is just being who she is. I’m being punished for being her friend. Cathy left here three days ago running out into the rain and we still haven’t been allowed to call her. She is Taylor’s best friend and we don’t know what’s going on with her. I had my cellphone taken away – even the internet was cut off. Rick barged into Taylor’s room, threatened her with rape and wouldn’t leave. Is this bullying going to be allowed to go on? Is Taylor going to continue to be punished just for being herself?”

My Dad grudgingly nodded along as Hailey spoke, acknowledging her points. “You’re right. I was wrong. Mother was wrong. Rick was wrong. I’ve already apologized and I meant what I said. I may need time to understand what Taylor wants, but this I can address here and now. Taylor is part of this family. The punishment stops now. The rudeness stops now. I don’t expect all of you to approve. I’m not sure that I approve, but I expect everyone to be at least civil. Is that clear?”

Rick nodded. “Yes, sir, and just to be clear, I didn’t threaten to rape him/her. I said that the path he’s going down could end up getting him raped if he wasn’t careful.”

Dad sighed. “Rick, unless you’re a politician trying to lose an election, just don’t bring up rape in mixed company. It’s not as bad as the n-word, but it’s best not to go there.”

Rick shrugged and Hailey snorted. Clearly she wasn’t impressed.

Meanwhile Dad was turning to Grandma. “Mother, I meant family first and you’re family as well. Can you at least agree to be civil?”

Grandma frowned. “I still think you’re giving into him. This isn’t placing the ball on the fifty yard line. Boys shouldn’t be running around in skirts. I’ll honor your rules under your roof, Robert, but I’m not going to pretend to approve. In fact, I think I’ll be spending less time under your roof. If we’re done here, I’m going home.”

“I’ll walk you home, Mother.”

Grandma rose stiffly. “That won’t be necessary.”
 

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 18 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2013 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

 
The Taylor Project
 

Chapter Fifty-Five

Julie spoke up breaking the silence that had fallen after Grandma’s departure. “As long as we are all gathered here together, we need to talk about some other details as a family. Hailey and I will be moving in permanently; although we’re not entirely sure how that will happen yet. Hailey, we need to talk about where you will go to school. I’m planning to keep my job at the bank in Whistlestop. That means I can take you with me in the mornings, and you can keep going to school in Whistlestop for now, if you want. We can try to stretch that out for a while, but at the latest you’ll be starting your freshman year at Pine Hill. I think it would be a good idea to do it even sooner than that, though. Do you have an opinion?”

God I loved how Julie treated Hailey, laying out the facts and letting her have a voice.

Hailey smiled. “I’ve had a few days to think about it. I’ll miss my friends in Whistlestop, but Taylor is my sister and she’s going through a difficult time right now. She needs me more than they do. It’s good for me, too. I’ll get the new girl thing over now, in junior high instead of having to deal with that while starting high school.”

I frowned. “Hailey, you don’t have to give up your friends for me.”

“I’m not. Whistlestop is only a thirty minute drive. I can still see them. Plus there is Facebook, texting and the phone. I can stay in touch.” She turned to her mom. “I’d like to start as soon as possible.”

Her mom looked thoughtful. “I’ll have to find out what has to be done to transfer you then. The school asks me for a utility bill every year as proof of residency. Hopefully they’ll take our Mexican marriage certificate. We’ll probably need your shot records and transcripts. I’ve never done this before, and I have a lot of other things to handle. I’ll try to get it done this week.”

Watching the two of them work it out was so refreshing. I was used to a little dictatorship. Dad decided, while Rick and I obeyed. Julie and Hailey had a different dynamic. Julie had clearly been in charge, but she’d treated Hailey like a little adult, giving her the facts, asking and respecting her opinions. Why couldn’t my family be like that? Or maybe that's what the family meeting had been supposed to be like, but it had felt terribly harsh compared to what I’d just witnessed.

Julie was talking again. “After dinner we’ll drive out to Whistlestop so we can pack up enough clothes to get through a week, and check up on Mousey Tongue. We’ll probably be making a lot of trips back and forth for a while to pack up and move out. When we’ve got all the small stuff moved, we’ll rent a U-haul and move the big stuff. So you’ll be in temporary quarters for a week or two, Hailey.”

“The big stuff?” Rick asked our father. “How're we gonna fit all their furniture in our home?”

“We’ll move Hailey’s stuff to her room. The rest… well, we’ll mix and match. Julie, you had some ideas about that?”

Julie nodded. “Actually we’ll be keeping most of your furniture. Overall, it's in better condition than mine. Plus, even if we treat our furniture, I don’t know if we can get the cat dander completely out of the upholstery. That could be a problem with Scotty. There are some pieces that I know we want to keep, like I just had to buy a new fridge a little while ago when our old one died. It’s going to take time for me to go through all our stuff to decide what we keep and what we sell.”

Rick didn’t look pleased, but he nodded. I really didn’t care that much about furniture, but I was happy that Julie was taking cat dander into account. Even better, something besides my transition seemed to have taken center stage.

“So, if there are no other questions?” Dad looked around. “Good. This family meeting is over. We’ve got a lot to work out with merging our families and with Scott’s-” He caught himself and sighed. “I mean Taylor’s issues. So we may have others later, but that’s all for now.”

Julie rose. “I’d best get dinner on. Hailey, come lend me a hand.” She turned to me. “Taylor, would you like to help?”

“Sure!” I sprang up excitedly. This was big. Grandma had sometimes drafted Hailey to help cook, but had pointedly snubbed me. Julie was moving beyond just words to actually accepting me as female. I felt such a great surge of gratitude well up inside me that it almost spilled over into tears.

Dad sighed. “You sure you want to cook, Juliette? We can eat out.”

“I’ve got this, Romeo.” She stepped up to Dad and they traded short kisses before she headed for the kitchen.

Chapter Fifty-Six

Dad took Rick off to the side and they went for a ‘walk’, which was actually Dad-speak for having a little talk. I wondered what would be said, but Dad had backed off on the ‘just say no’ approach. Anyway, I was more excited at my sudden change of status. I was being admitted to the kitchen. Not that Dad never cooked or that I’d never helped before, but with my gender front and center this was a deliberate choice by Julie.

“Hailey, Taylor, would you go ahead and set the table?” She opened the fridge and poked about. “Hmm, looks like it’s going to be pork chops. Hailey, what do you want with porkchops?”

“Mac and cheese,” cried Hailey with childish glee.

“Really?” asked Julie. I don’t know why she was surprised. With Hailey mac n’ cheese was predictable.

“Yes, mac and cheese goes with anything. Besides, we need a carb don’t we?”

“Fine, but you’re making it. Taylor what goes with pork chops and mac ‘n cheese?”

“Umm…” Was this a girl test? I couldn’t cook. I stalled trying to remember what Grandma made with pork chops. “Potatoes and rolls?”

Julie pulled a bag out of frozen dinner rolls out of the freezer. “I guess we can have rolls, since I just found this bag, but we’re not having three starches with one meal. I’m going to make some changes in the eating habits around here. Pick a veggie.”

“Okay, green beans?” That went with pork chops, right?

“Fine, get two cans from the pantry and reheat them. Hailey, another veggie.”

“Broccoli?”

Julie gave an approving nod. “Much better choice, I saw some in the freezer. You girls…” Her eyes flicked over to me and she frowned briefly. “…you girls, get the sides. I’ll broil the porkchops.”

She might have stumbled over calling me a girl, but it still felt like Julie was treating me as one. I got the green beans. Even I knew how to open two cans, dump them into a pot and set them to boil. Only to find out I was wrong. Julie gently corrected me, and explained that we wanted to time everything to be done at once. My pot of green beans only needed to be reheated and could wait. The priority should be getting the pork chops to broiling and to boil the water for the mac and cheese. Hailey had already started that. With three of us working together, we quickly reached a point where everything was cooking and only needed a minimum of attention.

“Julie? I just want to say thank you. For everything. Letting me help in the kitchen and treating me like a girl, but most of all whatever you said to my dad that made him change his mind about me.”

“You’re welcome, but you’re giving me too much credit and your father too little. He’s a good man, Taylor, and he regretted losing his temper even before I talked to him.”

“Somehow I have trouble believing that.”

“He did. Your father is a good man. I wouldn’t have married him if he wasn’t, and he has strong convictions. A man who won’t stand up for his principles isn’t much of a man at all, but it takes a stronger man to swallow his pride and admit he was wrong. You took him by surprise and he let his prejudices speak for him, but you’re still in skirts aren’t you?”

There was no arguing that point. Not only was I in skirts, but I was helping in the kitchen. Dad had done a one-eighty. I was still convinced that Julie was greatly responsible, but something else had been going on based on how he’d jumped on Grandma. “Julie, what happened with Aunt Dee Dee?”

“Hmm…” She paused and glanced at the stove. “Hailey, your water is boiling. You going to cook that macaroni?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Hailey hurriedly poured the noodles into the boiling water, and stirred them for a bit to keep them from clumping together.

Julie looked back to me and sighed. “It’s not really my place to say, but your father has enough to deal with and I don’t want you pestering Dee Dee about it on Tuesday when she comes to dinner.”

“Aunt Dee Dee is coming here for dinner?” We saw my aunt maybe four or five times a year, usually on holidays. She’d never driven up on a weekday before just for dinner. “Is this because of me?”

“No.” Julie broke into a friendly laugh and shook her head. “Your father and I just got married, remember. She’s coming up to congratulate us and to meet me.”

“On a Tuesday evening?” I blushed as I realized that I must have sounded like Emperor Kuzco, thinking that everything was about me.

“Your aunt works weekends, and she wanted to meet me.” Julie shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea this morning when we talked to her, but I didn’t realize we’re almost out of food. I’m going to have to fit in a grocery trip between now and then. I’m not putting a dinner together for my new sister-in-law out of odds and ends.”

I realized that we’d drifted off-topic. “Okay, so what did happen to Aunt Dee Dee?”

She sighed again, pausing her dinner preparations for a long moment while she solemnly looked me straight in the eyes. “This happened years ago, before you were even born, back when your aunt was in high school. She made a mistake, one that has happened to thousands of other teenaged girls. She got pregnant. I think Betty might have forgiven that, but your aunt also had an abortion – do you know what that is?"

I merely nodded in confirmation. Of course, I knew what an abortion was and it didn’t take a genius to see where this was heading. Along with being anti-gay anything Grandma was prolife.

At my nod she continued, "Your grandparents found out. Your grandfather wasn’t happy, but he was able to forgive. Apparently Betty wouldn’t let it drop. She badgered Dee Dee so much that she left home.”

Wow! That explained so much. Aunt Dee Dee and Grandma barely got along at all. They were polite to each other, but I’d always sensed some feud between them. Thinking about it stirred dim memories of Aunt Dee Dee being around a lot more when I was little and we lived out by Dallas. When Grandpa’s got sick four years ago and we moved out here, she’d stopped coming by as often. I thought it was just the distance, but maybe it had more to do with us moving next door to Grandma. Although it didn’t explain why Julie knew this about Aunt Dee Dee and I didn’t. I’d been born to this family. She was still… new.

“So she ran away?” asked Hailey. “Is that why Robert jumped all over Grandma?”

“Yes and no.” Julie made a quibbling motion with her hand. “That is why Rob was so angry with Betty, but Dee Dee technically didn’t run away. She hadn’t graduated from high school yet, but she was over eighteen. So she was legally an adult when she left home.”

I nodded in understanding as the pieces fit together. Aunt Dee Dee hadn’t been in quite the same situation as me, but at least I understood why Dad could be so passionate about meeting me halfway while he clearly didn’t approve. “Julie? You never took a turn to speak earlier. Do you approve of me?”

“I said my piece. I am trying to keep an open mind, Taylor.” She looked me over and I could feel her eyes taking in the way I was dressed. “I never really had a chance to get to know you before, and this is a lot to take in. I’m just not sure yet. I want to read up about this trans-stuff first. I want you to see a doctor and a therapist; I want to know what they think. Hailey also challenged me to open my eyes and watch you. I’m trying that, so give me some time, okay?”

“Okay.” That slipped out in a small voice and was harder to say than it should have been. My heart sank within me at her qualified response – definitely not what I had hoped to hear. While her answer sounded good, there was something in her delivery that made me feel like she didn’t really approve.

“Hey.” Hailey poked me in the ribs with a finger. “I had a question from all that. What’s written on your grandfather’s headstone, anyway?”

“Oh, that.” That was an easy question, but it meant a lot more in light of what Julie had revealed about Aunt Dee Dee. I just didn’t know if it meant enough. “Just two words: Family first.”

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Monday, March 18th — Taylor Project Day 77

It was weird going back to school today. With everything that happened it felt like I’d been gone all summer long and not just for spring break. It felt good waking up in Taylor mode, but I then had to hide her away. I couldn’t even wear panties or have painted toes because of gym class. In hindsight, I should have asked Doc Buford for a note excusing me from gym. Even without the test results to say whether or not I have Klinefelter's, he should have been able to give me an excuse just for gynecomastia. He’d seen me naked. It is pretty obvious that me and my boobs don’t belong in a boy’s locker room. However, I didn’t even think about it when I saw him. I’ll have to make a point to ask that when I go back to see him on Friday

Anyway, getting dressed in Scotty mode this morning, complete with whitey-tighties and my boobs strapped down, just felt wrong. I’d won the right to be myself with my family, but I had to hide that all away and pretend to be Scotty again in public. While I was presenting as a boy, I was very much aware that I was acting. Now that I’d had some freedom to be Taylor, I just couldn’t put myself back into being Scott. I was Taylor now, pretending to be Scott.

I was able to use Hailey’s cellphone to talk to Cathy for a little bit on Sunday night, which was good, but she’s very down in the dumps. Apparently her mother has her grounded for an entire week, which is typical of her mother, but her mother is going beyond grounding this time. She’s lectured Cathy about me more than once, and Cathy has been warned to keep away. She not supposed to even talk to me. Fortunately, her mother is clueless about technology and didn’t block her cellphone. So as long as I call from Hailey’s phone and the caller shows up as Hailey White, we can talk. Anyway, her mother is a little loopy fruits about everything. She’s even pulling Cathy off the bus. Her mother is going to drive her to and from school now. She did this before right after Cathy was attacked. Supposedly, it was all for Cathy’s protection, but it didn’t last. After a couple of weeks of dropping Cathy off and picking her up, her mother had relented and Cathy had started riding the bus again. Cathy thinks that will happen again and her mother will move on to something else. I’m not so sure.

Regardless, that meant I didn’t even have company on the bus. I rode in by myself in boy mode and it was just a crappy start to a crappy day. I thought it would get easier once I was out with my family, but pretending to be Scott was anything but easy. I couldn’t even blend in. Word had spread at school that my Dad and Julie got married. I slipped up and made it worse by mentioning Hailey and that she’d be starting at Pine Hill Junior High soon. Big mistake, I had lots of people pestering me for details. Mostly it wasn’t negative, but Kevin had to talk about how I had a new snot-sister and booger buddy. I don’t think Hailey has any clue what she’s walking into changing to my school.

Dave and Lloyd were probably the worst for asking questions. I spent my entire lunch hour getting grilled about Julie, Hailey and stuff. I think part of the reason they badgered me so much was because I was holding back, and they could somehow sense that. So much of my life is hidden now. I couldn’t exactly tell them that I was really a girl and couldn’t wait to transition. Somewhere in there I described Hailey as cute, which at least distracted them. Once they’d heard that, they wanted to know about her which was at least a safer topic of conversation. I got through it, but lunch is really starting to become un-fun. There was a time when I looked forward to lunch because there were no teachers and Dave and Lloyd protected me. But more and more it seems that I had almost nothing in common with them.

As annoying as Dave and Lloyd are, PE is still sucks more. I’m a girl. I have no business being in the boy’s locker room. I changed as I always did, quickly and facing the corner, keeping on my undershirt, but today was worse than ever. I don’t belong there and I’m just one mistake away from a beating. It’s really too hot now for the layers I’m wearing and sooner or later someone is going to question that. The next time I see Doc Buford I am so asking for a medical excuse out of PE.

Oh and I’m behind in all my classes. With all the drama that I had going on last week I forgot the assignments I’d been given to do over spring break. Like it is even fair giving assignments over a vacation, but now I’m behind in a lot of my classes, especially English, and I really did not need another reason for Gerstacker to single me out.

On a brighter note, Aunt Dee Dee is coming to dinner tomorrow night. She doesn’t know about me yet, but we had another informal ‘family meeting’ at the dinner table and that topic came up. Dad agreed that I should tell her, that it was too big a secret to try to keep hidden and she’d be sure to notice. He thinks she’ll be understanding. I hope she will be. Maybe the fact that Grandma is against it will be enough to convince her? I hope so.

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Cathy’s mother picked her up from school again Tuesday, so I had to take the bus home alone. I jogged my way home from our bus stop looking forward to getting out of my boy clothes and getting comfortably Taylor. I was surprised to spot Aunt Dee Dee's little red car, but no one else parked in front of our house. It wasn’t that unusual for me to beat everyone else home, but Dad was supposed to be early to meet Aunt Dee Dee.

As I walked down our drive, I wondered what I should do. The plan had been for me to reveal myself to Aunt Dee Dee, but I wasn’t sure that I wanted to do that without backup. Aunt Dee Dee was pretty cool even though she was almost as old as my Dad, she didn’t really look it or act it: She worked at Hooters to Grandma’s shame and Dad’s amusement; she drove a little red sports car; and she was openly a Democrat – almost unheard of around Pine Hill. She was practically the polar opposite of Aunt Elaine, my mother’s tight-laced sister. However, despite all that liberal attitude, I still felt nervous. Just about everyone I’d told about being Taylor had a major freak out over it. I’d like to go ahead and get girly, but maybe all things considered it would be better to wait. Or was that my passive and non-assertiveness rearing its ugly head again?

I still hadn’t decided yet when I opened the door and almost walked into Aunt Dee Dee. She gives me hope that if I can get HRT I might someday actually be pretty. There is a strong family resemblance between Dee Dee and my dad, it shows up in the shape of their eyes, and the overall cast of their faces. There is no doubt they are brother and sister, but looking at Dee Dee was like looking at Dad in a fun house mirror set to estrogen. Dad is all muscles and angles with a strong jaw and browline. Dee Dee is very curvy with one of those hourglass figures. It’s an old joke, mostly repeated by Rick, that her name is also her bra size. Dad’s facial features were repeated but all softened and feminine. Personally, I think her best feature is her long, dark and curly hair that cascades and swirls down her back like a black waterfall.

“Scotty! Good to see you.” Aunt Dee Dee swept me up and hugged me with enthusiasm.

“Good to see you, too, Aunt Dee Dee.” I returned the hug with equal enthusiasm. I might not have grown any when Doc Buford had checked my height, but at least I was no longer at that awkward height of a couple years back that had put my face right at the level of my aunt’s ample chest. As I was hugging her I realized that we weren’t alone. Grandma was here and watching us from the kitchen with her usual frown on her face. I wondered why she was here? She had stayed away all day on Monday and didn’t even get along with Aunt Dee Dee very well. Now she was giving me a sour frown. I also smelled ham cooking and I was pretty sure that Julie had intended to cook herself. Seeing her pretty much ruined the hug.

Aunt Dee Dee pulled away and looked at me with concern. “Hey kiddo, are you okay? You’re not upset about your dad getting remarried, are you?”

“No, it’s not that.” I shook my head and snuck a glance over at Grandma. Aunt Dee Dee looked genuinely concerned and clueless. Apparently Grandma hadn’t told her yet. “I’ve had a lot going on. Maybe I’d better change first. Then I’ll tell you.”

Grandma put a spoon down with a loud clank. “Scott Taylor, your aunt is here to congratulate your father and meet her new sister-in-law. You’re dressed just fine as you are.”

I hadn’t really decided yet if I was going change into Taylor mode before Dad and/or Julie arrived, but all it took was Grandma telling me no to make up my mind. If Grandma said no, I was going for it. “I’m going to go get comfortable. I’ll be right back.” I let Taylor shine through and flounced out of the room.

I changed as fast I could. I was pretty sure that Aunt Dee Dee would be asking questions about what was going on with me. I had no idea how Grandma would answer those questions or how Aunt Dee Dee would react. So I stripped out of my boy clothes and pulled on a pair of panties as fast as I could. I struggled out of my tight sports bra and put on a real bra, something that would make my boobs hard to ignore. I’d borrowed a new outfit from Hailey and this was the perfect occasion to try it out. It was pretty simple and quick, just a lemon yellow tee and a navy sleeveless jumper dress over it, but it was certainly feminine. I still didn’t have any girl shoes, so instead of my boy sneakers I went with my houseshoes which were a brown moccasin style. They were the most unisex shoe I had.

As I was fixing my hair I heard I cry of “What?” from the kitchen. That had to be pretty loud for me to have heard it clearly. I was pretty sure that meant Grandma had told Dee Dee, so I quickly put my hair into place and hurried to the kitchen to see how bad the damage was.

Aunt Dee Dee and Grandma were talking rapidly to each other as I reentered the kitchen. Aunt Dee Dee froze speechless and simply stared at me. Grandma had no problem finding her voice. “Scott Taylor Miller! You should be ashamed of yourself. I specifically told you not to dress like that!”

I’d rather expected that kind of reaction from Grandma. That made it easier to respond calmly. “Dad said I could dress as I pleased and you promised to honor his rules.” I turned to my aunt. “I heard the yelling, so I guess she already told you, but this is me now.”

“And you couldn’t wait to show it off!” Grandma turned to my aunt who was still staring at me. “I’m sorry you had to see this. As I was saying, Scotty has a condition. We’re working to get it straightened out, but he’s a little mixed up right now.”

“My name is Taylor.” I put my hands on my hips and realized I was doing the classic pissed off teen girl pose. I started to hide my hands behind my back, but what was I hiding?. I was a pissed off teenaged girl. Let my body language show it. “Is it so hard to remember that I’m a girl now?”

“How could I ever forget? You never let it drop. Why are you be so selfish? Your Aunt Dee Dee didn’t drive two hours to deal with your neurotic behavior. She came to congratulate your father and meet Julie.”

“Mom? It’s okay.” Aunt Dee Dee had finally found her voice again. “I’m glad this came out. If something is going on with… Taylor, then we shouldn’t hide it under a rug. We do too much of that in this family. I did come here for Robby and Julie, but this is obviously important.” She turned to face me and took a deep breath. “I just got a lot thrown at me, but I take it this is more than crossdressing? You really want to be a girl?”

“I don’t just want. I am a girl. I want to stop pretending I’m a boy.” Okay, not angry. Hands off the hips. What to do with them? I crossed them under my boobs.

“Okay.” She paused for a moment. “Well then, can I have a hug from my niece?”

Really, just like that? I swooped in and hugged her. “Thank you, Aunt Dee Dee. Thank you.”

She returned my hug. “You’re still family. Now you’re just my niece instead of my nephew.”

“Thank you. Thank you.” I hung onto her, extending the hug.

Grandma wasn’t happy. “Dee Dee, please don’t encouraging his behavior. Scotty has a medical condition that needs to be fixed, not humored.”

Aunt Dee Dee squeezed me again and broke the hug. I turned away wiping away tears. From the sound of things the discussion wasn’t over just yet. I was sure there would be consequences, but I was so happy that I didn’t care.

“Mother, I got that part: female hormones, growing breasts, medical mystery, etcetera. You should have mentioned the trans part in there. The part I didn’t follow was that Rob knows and approves, but you don’t?”

Trans? I heard trans. Did Aunt Dee Dee really get me?

“No, I do not approve! He’s growing breasts. Scotty has a hormone imbalance that is messing with his thinking. We need to be the responsible adults here and encourage him to get help.”

“Mother! Rob knows and approves?”

“He knows and he doesn’t really approve. He’s ‘keeping an open mind’, which means standing on a slippery slope.”

“So Taylor wants to be a girl, Robby is undecided, and you want her to be a boy.”

“No, Scotty is a boy. It’s the hormone imbalance that has him acting like this. We get that fixed, and he’ll straighten out.”

“I don’t want to be straightened out! I want to be curvy like Aunt Dee Dee.”

Aunt Dee Dee laughed at that one. “You’ve got a way to go yet, kiddo, but you’ve made a good start. Is what I’m seeing all natural or are you padding?”

“They’re all mine. One hundred percent natural and proud of it.” I wasn’t as big as Aunt Dee Dee, or even Grandma, but what I had was real.

“Scotty, those aren’t natural. You’ve got a condition.”

“Mother, dead horse. I thought you and I had an agreement that you would stop beating the dead horses. You’ve made your position quite clear. Maybe you haven’t realized it, but times are changing. Gay marriage is going to happen in your lifetime. I don’t know much about the T part of LGBT, but I do know that the kind of bigotry you’re showing doesn’t fly any more. If one of my employees acted as hatefully as you are, I’d let them go.”

“Your employees? What do you know? You work at Hooters.”

“Where I am an assistant manager. I make hiring and firing decisions. Our customers are mostly straight and male, but if I had a waitress with your attitude she’d be out the door.”

“That’s religious persecution! You can’t discriminate against people for their beliefs.”

“You're right. I can’t and I don’t, but I don’t tolerate hateful words or actions. Our customers are mostly straight and male. They come to Hooters to eat food while staring at our waitresses. If they wanted a sermon, they’d go to church.” She paused and then sighed. “Now I’m the one who is beating the dead horse. You know what, the players have changed, but this conversation reminds me a lot of ones we had years ago. I think I need to just walk away for a little bit.” She softened her tone and turned to me. “Why don’t we go to the living room and you can tell me your side of things? Sound good?”

“Yes, it does. I’d like that.” I didn’t add that getting a cavity filled would be more fun at this point than staying with Grandma, but I really wanted to.

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 19 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2013 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

 
The Taylor Project
 
Chapter Fifty-Nine

Tuesday, March 19th — Taylor Project Day 78

So Aunt Dee Dee knows now. Grandma was a butt-munch again and tried to turn my aunt against me. That blew up in Grandma’s face. Aunt Dee Dee wasn’t buying what Gran was selling and instead took me off to the side, where we had a great talk. She asked good questions about why I wanted to be a girl, and she didn’t judge me. I wish we’d had more time to just talk, but Dad and Julie arrived home about the same time and then the brown stuff hit the rotating blades again.

Actually, Grandma managed to piss off just about everyone – she seems to have a real gift for doing that. First, Aunt Dee Dee and I were already tired of being lectured by her. Then when Dee Dee filled Dad in on how Grandma had gone off on how I was dressed, he was royally pissed. Dad chewed her out again about honoring his wishes. Next it was Julie’s turn. She was upset because she had her own plans for dinner, which did not include Grandma cooking a mini-Thanksgiving with ham, rolls, stuffing and sweet potatoes, plus dessert. Julie didn’t shout. She thanked Grandma in an icily politely way, while still making it crystal clear that this wasn’t Grandma’s kitchen or house any longer.

At the time I loved seeing Grandma get put in her place. However, the fallout was pretty bad. Julie and Grandma’s dispute over the menu carried over into the meal. Julie held up dinner while she prepared extra vegetables. Julie filled up her own dinner plate with the veggies she’d cooked, and pointedly only took tiny portions of what Grandma had made. Suddenly, just picking what to eat felt like choosing sides. While I love ham and stuffing, I followed Julie’s lead and took only small portions of what Grandma had served and large portions of veggies. Aunt Dee Dee and Hailey did the same. Rick and Dad didn’t seem to get it. They took huge helpings of Grandma’s dishes. I don’t think they were picking Grandma’s side; I think they were just clueless. Julie was so not impressed when Rick thanked Grandma for cooking.

Thankfully, Grandma left right after dinner. Hailey and I were tasked to clean the kitchen, which took a while. After dinner I was sent off to do homework, so I didn’t get to spend any more time with Aunt Dee Dee. Not that she stayed much longer anyways. She had to work the next day and left early to drive back to Dallas. She promised to come back again soon on a weekend, the next time she gets one of those off. I hope that happens soon and so I can see her again.

I’m feeling a bit guilty. I still want to be Taylor and I know this isn’t all my fault. The Grandma vs. Aunt Dee Dee thing happened before I was even born. Still, I understand better now what Hailey meant about feeling responsible for breaking her family apart. It wasn’t Hailey’s fault then, and it isn’t my fault now, but I’m still the cause. There are so many rifts in my family right now. I really worry about Dad and Julie. If they break up because of me, I won’t ever forgive myself. If I agreed to be Scotty, then so much of this drama would go away. Dad keeps saying family first. If I put my family first, I’d stay Scotty. Yet, even as I’m writing this, I just can’t do it. I’m just pretending to be Scotty now. Taylor is out, and there is simply no going back.

Why can’t they see that? Grandma is the worst, but even Dad and Julie would really rather I’d just be Scotty. It’s like I was once a caterpillar and now I’m a butterfly. Even if I ripped my wings off, that wouldn’t make me a caterpillar again. I’d just be a crippled butterfly, flightless and pathetic.

It’s still only Tuesday. I don’t have a follow-up appointment with Doc Buford until Friday. They haven’t made the other appointments yet, neither the endocrinologist nor the therapist. Dad and Julie want to talk with Doc Buford first, before they set those up. Back on Sunday, being accepted this much would have been a dream, but I still have to pretend to be Scotty. I’m in limbo again. They want to take things slow, while I’m worried about how much time I have. Too many people know: Reverend Williams, Doc Buford, Cathy’s mother and grandparents, Rick, Dad, Julie, Hailey and probably more. No, certainly more. I left off Aunt Dee Dee.

Chapter Sixty

Wednesday after school I was the first one home again. This time there was no Aunt Dee Dee or Grandma to meet me, just an empty house. Despite the way Grandma had acted, I was disappointed she wasn’t there. Dad had asked her to stay home if she couldn’t be nice. It wasn’t like I needed a babysitter, but it hurt that she didn’t want to see me anymore.

Instead of changing into Taylor mode, I decided to workout. Because of being grounded to my room and Aunt Dee Dee’s visit, I’d fallen behind in my Taylor Project Step Three exercise routine. Oddly enough, I actually wanted to work out, which was a little bit scary. That was too much like Dad and Rick for comfort, but I thought a good run might help me burn off the blahs.

I changed quickly and headed outside. With my allergies and asthma I should probably be jogging inside on a treadmill away from the spring pollens. Unfortunately for that plan, our treadmill was now set up in the barn as our former workout room was now Hailey’s bedroom. There was no point whatsoever in jogging in place in the stale and stuffy air of the barn when I could jog outside with a changing scenery, sun and a breeze. I do enjoy getting outside occasionally – it’s just my allergies that have always driven me back indoors. I did some minimal stretching to avoid cramps, and then hit the road. I had maybe an hour to go jogging if I wanted to be sure I made it home before Dad did. Even though I was out of the closet about being transgendered, I still hadn’t told him about my workouts.

It was a good day to go jogging outdoors. The sun kept playing peek-a-boo with the clouds. Birds sang. Flowers bloomed. Spring had sprung. Appropriate, since it was almost Easter. For me spring also meant pollens in the air, but so far my allergies weren’t so bad. I was really liking my new medication. Maybe I wouldn’t need allergy shots at all? Or maybe my workouts were paying off. I so do not wanna have to admit that possibility to Dad, after all these years of his pushing sports and exercise on me. He's gotten better about that sort of thing the lately, but still... I just don't want to go there, or at least not yet.

As I left our driveway the crunch crunch of gravel beneath my feet turned to the slap slap of my shoes on the blacktop road. I quickly fell into a rhythm, and my mind began to wander. Should I tell my father about my workouts? The original reason for hiding them was probably still true. He’d try to take control, while I wanted to set my own pace. However, given that he’d already shown an open mind to me being transgendered, maybe I actually should tell him? It could be a peace offering. 'See Dad, I’m going to be a girl, but I’m finally exercising.' It was just crazy enough that it might really work.

I was so caught up in my own thoughts, and the steady rhythm of jogging, that I didn’t hear the quiet sound of a bike behind me until it was almost upon me. I hurried cut to my left and into the weed choked drainage ditch to avoid being run over. I was pulled from my musings as I struggled to keep my pace through knee-high foliage. It was only then that I noticed who was on the bike. “Cathy!”

“Taylor!” She grinned at me and braked her bike, hopping off before it had even come to a complete halt. She held it steady with one hand and flung out her other arm wide as the pair continued to move towards me in loose formation.

I went for the hug, although with her just launched off a bike and me stopping dead still, it was more of a collision than a hug. “Ooph!”

“Hi there.” Cathy grinned up at me with one arm wrapped around my waist. Then her other arm went around me. Her bike tumbled over and crashed, and I was suddenly the kissee. I tried to respond like I should, tilting my head, meeting the kiss, but everything felt off. My head wasn’t in a romantic place, but Cathy practically plastered herself onto me. Her lips moved on mine, her tongue darted forth, and her hands began roaming.

It felt nice, but it was also overwhelming and too sudden. I started squirming, and she eased up. I stepped back, and suddenly I was out of her hold. “Glad to see me?”

“Yeah! Aren’t you glad to see me?”

“Yes, but…” But what? Honestly, I’d missed Cathy, my friend, a great deal. Walking to the bus, riding to school with her, then riding and walking home again, all of that was a part of my school ritual. Being with Cathy was the bookends of my school day. Yet, it was my friend that I’d missed. With everything that had been going on, I hadn’t missed Cathy, my overeager girlfriend, at all. I suddenly realized then and there, that not only did I not miss it, but I didn’t want it now. Unfortunately, Cathy seemed even more eager than ever before.

Of course, I couldn’t tell her how I really felt that would devastate her. I had to come up with something else to say. “… I was just confused. I thought you were still having trouble with, you know, that I wanted to be a girl.” God, I was lying to her.

Cathy didn’t seem to notice. She was smiling at me with an eager excitement that scared me a little. “Oh, I'm still having trouble with it, but when Mom said that I couldn’t see you… Well, let’s just say that having you taken away from me really made me realize how much you meant to me. I’m really sorry for being a bitch before. I was an idiot.”

“Huh?” How did I get myself into these things? “What do you mean?”

Cathy moved back and picked up her bike. Rather than parking it with its kickstand, she held it with one hand while we talked. “My mother, the past few days since she hasn’t let me see you, has been awful. I’m not all that comfortable with the your-being-a-girl thing, but one thing I have realized – I’m crazy about you. This may end up with us being best girl-pals and BFFs forever. The thought of that makes me wanna break down and cry sometimes, because that’s totally not how I want you. That’s not the point. The point is that I’m not my mother. I won’t turn my back on you no matter what. I like boys, but maybe I can be one of those people where the person they’re with matters more than the gender. Maybe I can’t do that, and we’ll end up bridesmaids at each other’s weddings and buying cute little houses next to each other. I can live with that, but I can’t live without you.”

Wow. How often does someone say that to you? In the movies there would be a happy little love song playing and we’d kiss and be happy. Instead I felt almost swept away by Cathy’s gushing declaration of… love? She hadn’t used the L-word but isn’t that what she’d just said? I fumbled for words. “Um, Cathy, I don’t know how to say this, you are and always will be my friend.” What? No, tell me I did not just channel Spock – this was so not the time for Star Trek quotes. “But I’m trying to figure out who I am at the moment. I don’t even know if I like boys or girls in a sex kinda way. It’s just. It’s...”

“Friends?” She looked liked I’d just kicked her. “I thought we promised to try? That was the deal wasn’t it? I don’t know that I really meant that when I first said it, but I do know now with all my heart. I won’t lose you as a friend, but are you giving up on me as a girlfriend already?”

Shit. Damn. Why did I screw up everything? “Cathy, it’s not that. You’re just coming on too strong. I haven’t seen you in days, and I really really miss my friend. I just need you as that friend right now. I know that I promised to try, and I meant it, but I don’t know who I am. Can we slow down a little? Please?” I was crying. Again. Didn’t the waterworks ever stop? If I was this hormonal on my own, how bad would HRT be? I wiped at my eyes.

“Oh, just slow down.” She might have said it was okay, but her body language still looked like she was hurt. Her smile looked strained as she pulled away. “I can slow down. I guess I did come on a little strong. I’m sorry. I hadn’t seen you in days and I was out riding and you were just there, and it all came spilling out, you know? I do get that you’re in between now, and that you have to sort that out first, but will you just promise to give me a try? That’s all I want; we give it a try. If it doesn’t work then we at least tried, right?”

“Of course, yes, we can try.” I agreed immediately, but it felt more like giving in than because it was what I really wanted. I just couldn’t bear to hurt Cathy. Even more I couldn’t lose her as a friend, not now. I’d torn my family apart. I couldn’t lose Cathy as well. Maybe I could discourage her? “You know when I come out, they’ll call you a lesbian.”

“Already thought of that. Don’t care.” Clearly she didn’t. It bounced right off her.

“Your mother will care.”

“Fuck her.” The words popped right out of her mouth without a blush. I’d seen Cathy accidentally kick a Texas bullnettle once. She’d been rolling on the ground in pain from the horribly stinging glass-like bristles, and all she’d said was ‘Ow, Ow, Owie, Owie’. She never so much as said crap or damn, and she dropped the f-bomb like it was nothing. Apparently she realized she’d shocked me, as when she continued she spoke in a softer tone. “Taylor, what I’ve realized the past few days is that you’re more important.”

“I’ve never been anyone’s more important before.” And while I was feeling a bit overwhelmed, that still felt pretty good.

“Well, you are now.” She paused a moment, then smiled. “Say, we’re not far from your house. How about we go get your bike? Then we can both ride together.”

“I’d like that.”

Chapter Sixty-One

I started out Thursday feeling a bit more hopeful. I still had to pretend to be Scott, but it felt like there was light at the end of the tunnel. I think talking to Cathy had helped some, but what really helped was that I only had one day left until my meeting with Doc Buford. Dad and Julie were both going to take time off work and Grandma was not invited. All in all it felt like they were starting to accept me. I’d managed to maintain my optimism all the way through my morning classes. Even though I had to pretend to be Scott, I wasn’t required to do much to maintain my disguise. No one spoke to me except to call roll. I was in my own bubble where I could daydream that I already was Taylor.

Towards the end of Gerstacker’s English class my good mood began to sour. It was almost lunch time. Not so long ago eating lunch with Dave and Lloyd had been the high point of the school day. No teachers or lessons and the guys were a safe harbor from all the bullshit and bullies that I had to dodge throughout the rest of the day. However, we’d been drifting apart for some time. Other than being a social outcast, what did I really have in common with them? Or was it that I was simply dreading having to actively pretend to be Scott? I couldn’t just passively wear the costume and make it through lunch. I’d have to put on his mannerisms and try to talk like a guy. That was feeling more and more like lying. It wasn’t surprising that even Dave and Lloyd picked up on my mood.

I found myself glancing over at Oscar. He was sitting with Tamara and Paula talking and laughing. He usually sat with them and they didn’t seem to mind that he was gay. What would they say if I went over there and joined them? I had Hailey and Cathy, but I wanted to be one of the girls. I wanted to belong. Why was I pretending to be friends with Dave and Lloyd?

“Earth to Snotty, what’s with you today? Is it your stepmom or this new cute stepsister you claim to have?” asked Dave.

“I dunno. I’m just out of it.” Which was true enough, just not all the truth. That had become my unofficial policy the past few days. The Truth, and nothing but the Truth... but not the whole Truth. Telling half-truths was better than lying, but not by much.

“So when do we get to meet Hailey the Hottie?” Dave made it sound like she was something good to eat.

“Friday, maybe. She starts school tomorrow morning, but I’ve got a doctor’s appointment. I don’t know if I’ll be back by lunch or not.”

“They’re going to start her without you around?” He glanced at Lloyd who shrugged. “Well, any day out of school is a good day, right? So what’s going on? More allergy shit?” As soon as he was done talking Dave stuffed the rest of his cheeseburger in his mouth and chewed with bulging cheeks.

“No, it’s something else.” Shit! Damn! Why the hell hadn’t I just lied and said it was allergy stuff?

“Scotty, whaw ifs it?” asked Dave around a mouthful of food. That was gross, but worse was the suspicion in Dave’s eyes.

“Nothing, just some tests and stuff. Nothing big.”

Dave swallowed his food and chased it down with coke. “Just tests? I smell bullshit. You’re not acting like it is nothing.”

Lloyd finally decided to speak. “Yeah, I definitely smell shit of the bull. What’s up, dude?”

Shit, shit, shit! What should I say? It was too late to say it was just allergy stuff. I had to give them something. “It’s my hormones. They’re out of whack. They took a lot of blood and ran a lot of tests, but they don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Whoa, is this serious shit?” Instead of Dave’s usual bullshit and swagger he was showing some real concern.

“Maybe, probably not. There is a chance it is something serious, but most likely I just need the right hormones and…” The words that popped into my head were ‘straighten out’, probably because I’ve heard them enough. However, I didn’t want to be straightened out. “… I’ll be okay with the right hormones.”

“Huh, does this go back to the allergies? Is this why you are sick all the time?”

“I don’t think so. This is something else at least that’s what the doctors say. Hey, can you keep this quiet. I don’t want all the Snotty stuff to start up again.”

Dave nodded. “Yeah, sure, who would we tell anyway?”

Lloyd piped in. “Hey, do you know how to make a hormone?”

“Um, no.”

“Don’t pay her!” Dave chortled as he delivered the ancient joke's punch line, as if it were something new and funny.

I forced a smile. On one hand, I was relieved because things were back to normal. On the other hand his joke was just crude. They often told jokes that weren’t just tacky but offensive. To be fair, they seemed typical examples of eighth grade boys. Out of earshot of teachers my other classmates were just as bad. Why did girls find boys interesting rather than disgusting? I didn’t get it. What did that say about me? Why had I ever attached myself to these two? Was having them as friends really better than having no friends? Except that I did have friends, good friends, best friends forever. I thought of introducing Hailey to Dave and Lloyd, and could just imagine the disaster. “Are you two going to act this way around my sister?”

“Huh, what do ya mean?” asked Lloyd.

“My new step-sister, Hailey, the one we were talking about. When she starts school here, I’m going to eat lunch with her. Are you two going to be like this then? Cracking dirty jokes and talking bullshit?”

“Wow, your sister. It will be so cool to have a stone cold babe eating lunch with us.”

I sighed. I had never described Hailey as a babe or a hottie. I’d used the word cute maybe once in describing her. Somehow in the retelling she’d grown into a goddess. “Hailey’s a nice girl, Dave.”

“Yeah, yeah, they’re all nice girls until they aren’t. Of course we’ll keep it zipped when she’s around. You don’t talk like that to girl’s faces. You gotta be all polite and fake that you’re interested. I’m not going to ask if her if she spits or swallows.”

“Does she?” asked Lloyd. “Does she spit or swallow?”

The original warm blush of embarrassment sunk down into the pit of my stomach and caught flame. “What the fuck? That’s my sister you’re talking about, asshole.”

Lloyd looked about to punch me, but Dave held up his hands. “Whoa, whoa, Lloyd was just teasing you. Weren’t you Lloyd?”

“Yeah. Can’t you take a joke?” He didn’t sound at all sorry. He took a sip of his drink while eyeballing me the whole time. It felt like he was daring me to make an issue out of it.

I grabbed my tray and stood up. “I’m outta here.”

“Hey, if you’re not going to eat your brownie, give it to me.” Dave reached out his hand.

I passed it over to him and left. God, I so couldn’t grow up to be a boy. It was so blazingly obvious that I would never belong.

Chapter Sixty-Two

Thursday, March 21st — Taylor Project Day 80

I’m so nervous. Tomorrow we meet with Doc Buford to go over my test results. In this case, we means Dad, me, Julie and definitely not Grandma. That strikes me as a good thing. Julie won’t be riding in with us. She’s taking Hailey in to Pine Hill to register first thing in the morning, but as soon as that is done she’ll join us. I get to stay home, so unfortunately I’ll miss Hailey’s first morning at Pine Hill.

I tried to tell Hailey again that she didn’t have to admit to knowing me at school. It would be bad enough for her to be Snotty’s step-brother. When I finally get to break out as Taylor, it isn’t going to be pretty at school. Hailey shut me down fast. She made it clear that there was no way she was going to disown me and that I’d better drop the step from step-sister. Of course, I got weepy about that and we ended up hugging. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have Hailey. To cheer me up, she distracted me for most of the rest of the evening with Dance Dance Revolution.

Considering that I also went bike riding with Cathy right after school for an hour or so, I should be exhausted, but I can’t shut down tonight. I keep worrying about tomorrow. I don’t think it really matters to me if I am Klinefelter's or not. I know that it should matter. After all, strange things are going on in my body. I’ve spent a lot of time reading about XXY and I think it fits me, but diagnosis matters less to me than treatment. As long as I’m allowed to go through female puberty, I’ll be happy.

Then there is everything going on with Cathy. I went bike riding with her again this afternoon and it was fun, but she keeps looking at me like Julie looks at Dad. She’s holding it in and I should give her credit for that, but I really don’t need the pressure to be her boyfriend. I need my friend. I feel like I’m lying to her, but I don’t know how to stop things without hurting her. I think it would help if I was dressed as Taylor. However, her mother is still being a wicked witch. That means I can only see Cathy when we’re both slipping out to ride bikes, and I have to present as a boy then. I wish we could just be friends until I sort out who I am. I promised her that I’d try, but I lied. I’m not really trying. I’m afraid that all this boyfriend/girlfriend pressure is going to cost me Cathy as a friend.

Sorry diary, I lied to you, too. I’m not just nervous. I’m scared. I’m so freaking scared. Dad isn’t exactly in my corner yet. He didn’t rule out therapy, but he hasn’t scheduled an appointment yet either. Doc Buford was all too eager to recommend a good Christian therapist to Grandma. The normal treatment for Klinefelter’s is testosterone shots. What if he recommends that I be given testosterone? Even Julie wants to follow a doctor’s advice. I’m terrified. I’m tired, but I just can’t sleep. I just want to be me. I don’t want to do this wait and hide, wait and hide, jump through the hoops thing, any more.

Chapter Sixty-Three

I’d given a lot of thought about what to wear to see Doc Buford. He already knew, as did Dad and Julie. Maybe wearing a bra and tighter shirt would help me look more female, but there was no telling who else might be in his waiting room. In the end I’d compromised. I was wearing a sports bra and only one shirt that hung loose on me. My boobs were visible if you looked, but not too obvious. As it turned out, there wasn’t anyone I knew in the waiting room, but it wasn’t empty. So I’d made a good choice after all. It still didn’t help my nerves while we waited and waited.

Finally, his nurse opened the door and called us back. “Mr. and Mrs. Miller, Scott, the doctor will see you now.”

I still wasn’t used to Dad and Julie being Mr. and Mrs., but that was the least of my worries. I followed her back as she led us not to one of the exam rooms, but to what was obviously Doc Buford’s office. I’d never been here before. A large desk dominated a small room. I spotted the expected diplomas on the wall, but the decorations also included family photos and a mounted fish. It looked real instead of one of those awful plastic singing fish. “Um, no exam today?”

The nurse, whose name I still didn’t know, shook her head while placing a file folder on the desk. “Not today. Come inside and have a seat. He’ll be right with you.”

After she left, I sat down in an uncomfortable chair and waited. Julie reached over and patted my hand.

Doctor Buford entered before I could squirm too much. “Thank you for coming in Robert. I haven’t seen you in a while. This must be your lovely new bride.”

Blah, blah, introductions. Doc Buford did his charming country doctor shtick. Enough already. What was going on with me? No, he didn’t tell me. Instead he opened up the file and looked at several different sheets in it, leaving me in suspense as he carefully studied whatever he was looking at. He closed it and looked at my dad. “Let’s cut to the chase. As I suspected from my previous examination, Taylor has Klinefelter’s syndrome.

“I understand.” My dad still looked a little stunned. “Is there any doubt?”

“None whatsoever, the genetic karyotyping shows 47-XXY. Your son has KS.”

“KS? I thought he had…” Then my dad got it. “Oh, KS is Klinefelter's Syndrome.”

“Quite right. Now, I had my suspicions that there was more at work with your son. The other tests I ran have confirmed that your son’s hormone levels are way off where they should be even for Klinefelter's. KS patients often have low testosterone levels, and estradiol to testosterone ratios that are severalfold higher than normal males, but his estrogen levels are elevated far beyond what I would expect even with his condition. Taylor has thirty-four nanograms of testosterone per deciliter, which as expected is a bit low for a pubescent boy, and fifty-seven picograms of estradiol per milliliter – which is a little high even for a girl his age. These are values consistent with female puberty, not male. To reach these levels strongly suggests that your son probably has either an internal or external source of estrogen.”

I nodded along. The numbers were just so much gibberish, but I understood the rest – I was going through female puberty. Did this mean I was even more intersexed than I thought?

Doc Buford fixed me with a hard look. “Taylor, we discussed this before, but we need to go back to it now. Have you been taking any medication, whether prescription, over-the-counter, or herbal, to cause this?”

“What? No, I haven’t. I didn’t even realize that I was transgendered until I started growing breasts. I haven’t taken any medicine but my allergy medicine.”

Doc Buford didn’t seem convinced. “Taylor, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth. If you’re taking anything, now is the time to come clean.”

Dad looked over to me. “Taylor, if you have, just please tell us now.”

I crossed my arms defensively and blinked back tears. “I haven’t. Really, I have not. Please, you hafta believe me – I wouldn't lie about this!”

Dad nodded and looked to Doc Buford. “If my son says he hasn’t, then he hasn’t.”

Doc Buford sighed. “I’ll take his word for it. I had to ask, though, as it was by far the most likely explanation. We’ll need to do more tests. The bloodwork rules out many possible causes. The remaining several causes are all rare, so it may take us some time to get a diagnosis. The first is that Taylor has an ovotestis or an actual functional ovary. We can test for that with ultrasound and a biopsy of his testes.”

I crossed my legs at hearing that. I knew what a biopsy was from my reading, and I was still male enough that the idea of having a needle stuck into my balls scared me. But the other part? I could have an ovary?! That would mean I really was part female...

“What is an ovotestis?” asked Julie.

“It’s hybrid gonadal tissue that has aspects of both ovaries and testes. It isn't really half ovary and half testicle, but I suppose you could think of it that way if it helps you to visualize things. Anyway, it’s unlikely but a possibility perhaps worth investigating at this point.”

Okay, good. Not quite as good as having an ovary but it would still mean I’m part female, right? Surely that would help convince Dad and Julie to let me transition.

“The second possibility that I want to consider is environmental. In particular, there are some pesticides that have been known to have estrogenic properties... umm, feminizing effects. Do you have any pesticides stored on your land? Anything Taylor might have played around, or even with, at a young age?”

Dad looked stricken. “There might be some in the old barn. I’d have to check.”

“You should do so. You can arrange to have your soil tested for them, as well. I’m a doctor, not someone who does that sort of thing, so I don’t know how much that could cost, but it is a possibility that I think you should look into."

Mentally I reviewed what was stored in the old barn. I had played there and I did recall large plastic bags full of something. Maybe it had been fertilizer or potting soil, but it might have been pesticide. Had I done this to myself by playing hide and seek in the barn years ago?

“I’ll check the barn.” Dad didn’t sound very happy. “I’ll make some calls about having the soil tested for pesticides as well. You mentioned there were several possibilities, is that it or is there a third one?”

“Yes, Taylor’s allergy medicine. We received a copy of his prescriptions from your allergist and I now know he’s on Prednisone for his asthma.” He paused and gave my father a stern look. “That’s really something I should have been informed about when you brought him in for that cold. Prednisone is a steroid and lowers his immune system, as well as being potentially dangerous when used with some specific antibiotics, although fortunately not the one I gave him back in January. Anyway, I didn’t know it then, but I do now, so we can avoid that issue in future. More to the point right now, it is rare, but Prednisone can cause gynecomastia and other related effects.”

“A steroid?! Why aren’t you looking at this as the primary cause? Bodybuilders who abuse steroids grow boobs. Why the hell do they prescribe that to children and not say anything?”

Doc Buford shook his head. “Different kind of steroids. Bodybuilders use anabolic steroids, which are all androgenic, chemically related to testosterone. Those can be metabolized in the body to form estrogen. If Scott was on something like that he might have elevated estrogens, but he’d also have more testosterone in his system. Prednisone is a corticosteroid. It’s structurally similar, but chemically unrelated in the sense that it is down a different enzyme synthesis pathway, with no easy way of converting one into the other.”

“But, it is still a steroid and still might be what is causing Scotty’s manboobs?”

“Slow down, Robert. I can understand your being upset, but this is just one possibility. Also, your son doesn’t have manboobs. He has Tanner stage three breast growth. He is developing true breast tissue. There is a possibility that it is his allergy medicine causing this, but it is very unlikely – so rare a side effect that gynecomastia is not even listed on many of the usual warning sheets for that product, although there are a few documented cases under unusual circumstances. Regardless, I’d recommend weaning off the Prednisone just to be sure.”

“Why wean him off? If there is even a chance that it is his allergy medicine causing this, he can stop taking it effective immediately.”

“No.” Doc Buford was surprisingly firm. “That would be very dangerous. Prednisone is addictive. Taylor has been on Prednisone for five months now. It is likely that his body isn’t producing enough natural cortisol to function without that medicine. If he quit Prednisone cold turkey, he could go into adrenal shock. He could pass out, slip into a coma, and even death is possible from it if not treated properly. Prednisone is a very serious medication. His dosage will need to be slowly tapered off before it can be discontinued.”

“Death?” Dad had been working up to a good mad, but that was gone now. “Why wasn’t I told how serious this medication was?”

I had to agree with Dad. Death was pretty scary. Then again it didn’t have to be, or at least not so long as I didn’t quit the pills. Really, was it any different than carrying an inhaler in case of asthma attacks and an EpiPen in case I got stung by a bee?

Doc Buford shrugged. “You’ll have to talk to your allergist and pharmacist about that. Honestly, I wouldn’t have prescribed Prednisone to a preadolescent. It has other side effects that are more common, like stunting growth. It’s a serious medication, but all common and even most rare side effects should have been listed in the drug facts sheet, which is always included with all medication's these days – even far less potent ones. Also, I should point out that from what I’ve seen it has been highly effective at controlling his asthma. According to his respiratory peak flow measurements, he is staying in his green zone. Have you made an appointment with an endocrinologist yet? I’m tossing out possibilities, but Taylor’s hormones are not normal even for a KS patient. He needs to see a specialist.”

“We’ve picked one out,” said Julie. “We have an appointment Thursday next week.”

What? When were they planning to tell me about that?

“Good. Anyway, as long as Scott continues his current course of Prednisone he is in no immediate danger. Indeed, from what he’s described it has been very effective in controlling his asthma, which is a far more medically serious issue than his gynecomastia and hormone imbalances. As awkward as his breast development may be, it is not life-threatening in any way. At worst, the risk is that Scott appears to be going through female puberty. Unless action is taken promptly he will probably continue to experience changes to his body. His breast growth is merely the most obvious symptom, and the most reversible. Due to his age and stage of pubertal development, his bones will be growing in important ways soon, if they have not already begun to do so. Such changes to skeletal structure are more lasting and permanent.”

Booya! Yes! I wanted to get up and do the Snoopy dance. I thought that I was on a time limit, that my male hormones would reassert and I’d grow more masculine. If Doc Buford was right, then stalling was actually to my benefit. The longer things went on as is, the better it was for me.

“Can you do anything to halt that?” asked Dad.

Doc Buford shook his head. “If this was simply a case of Klinefelter’s Syndrome, then I’d recommend starting him on testosterone.”

“No! I don’t want testosterone!” Yeah, he said if, but I wasn’t going to let that be unchallenged.

Doc Buford sighed. “I’m not recommending it. Frankly, I don’t understand why his estrogen levels are so high. I’ve offered some possibilities, but he needs to see a specialist. I would not recommend giving him any kind of hormones until we have a complete diagnosis. However, that being said, I think a diagnosis of being transgendered is premature.”

My father sat up straighter. “Why is that?”

“I’m very much aware of Scott’s preferences in this matter, but that kind of decision shouldn’t be made until his hormone imbalance is corrected and he has experienced normal male hormone levels for several months. If at that point he still feel that he should be a girl, and if a therapist concurs, then perhaps he could be put on a course of hormone replacement therapy.”

There was so much in there that I didn’t know where to respond. Being on male hormones for months would mean going the exact opposite direction from where I wanted to be.

“So you’re saying the female hormones in his system could be responsible for his recent behavior?” asked Dad. He seemed eager all of a sudden.

“His estrogen levels could certainly be influencing his thought processes. Estrogen may be a hormone found naturally in the human body, but it is also a psychoactive drug. Which is to say, it crosses the blood-brain barrier and can affect brain function, potentially resulting in changes of behavior, mood, or even cognition.”

I had a hard time not jumping up out of my seat. “Then I like my thought processes influenced, thank you very much. I want to stay Miss Jeckle! I do not want to be shot full of male hormones and turned into Mr. Hyde!”

“Taylor,” my dad said exasperatedly with that almost growl which warned that I was maybe two seconds from being in big trouble.

“Taylor, please calm down,” added Julie with a voice that was both composed and reasonable. “Doc Buford, is that a psychological diagnosis you are qualified to make? Or should we take Taylor to a therapist?”

“As I told Beatrice last week, any child who professes a strong belief that they are of the wrong gender should definitely see a therapist. Now that KS has been confirmed, that is a second reason he should see a therapist. A comprehensive psychoeducational evaluation to identify any learning disabilities is standard practice for Klinefelter's patients.”

I felt a little insulted by the learning disability crack. I was no Brainiac, but I was a good B average student. Still, it wasn’t worth fighting. I’d just received the green light for the therapy I wanted. This was a time to shut up.

“Good, we have an appointment for Tuesday night with Dr Yeatts.”

Appointment? What appointment? Why did nobody tell me anything? I kept my lips zipped, though, as I recognized that name. Dr. Yeatts was good news. She wasn’t a ‘good Christian therapist’. She was the therapist that Julie and Hailey had seen.

"I’m not familiar with Dr. Yeatts. Is he a psychiatrist?”

“She,” said Julie with emphasis, “is a psychologist.”

Neener-neener. Better her than a good Christian therapist any day.

“Then she can’t prescribe medication, but I’m sure she will be able to work with an endocrinologist.”

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New Years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 20 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2013 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

 
The Taylor Project
 
Chapter Sixty-Four

I tuned out for a bit as Doc Buford started to go back over the same old ground again with Dad and Julie. It all sounded familiar, but all in all I couldn’t help but feel good about what I’d heard. I didn’t need to push for HRT. All I had to do was avoid testosterone. I did need to ask for an excuse out of gym class, but the adults were talking to each other and I didn’t want to interrupt. However, after talking about ultrasounds and biopsies Doc Buford mentioned lowering my allergy medicine dosage.

“I’ll be issuing a new prescription today to start the process of weaning Scott off Prednisone, but he needs to continue under supervision of an endocrinologist. Now, he’s taking twenty milligrams every other day. I’m going to lower that to fifteen milligrams every other day. I also want another blood test run to get a good measure of his cortisol levels. Taylor, when do you take your pills – in the morning, or in the evening?”

Say what? “Both. I take one pill in the morning and one in the evening.”

Doc Buford froze up and made a little cluck sound with his tongue. “Run that by me again, you’re taking pills twice a day?”

“Yes.” Why was this surprising? Doc Buford was acting funny.

“And that’s what’s printed on the bottle? Or perhaps I should say bottles – when did you last get a refill?”

“Yeah, that’s what’s been printed on both of the bottles, and it was refilled a month ago.”

“Is something wrong?” asked Dad.

“That’s not the prescription that your allergist sent us. Taylor is supposed to be taking one pill every other day. That’s recommended for Prednisone. If he is actually taking Prednisone, then he is taking well above the prescribed dosage.” He turned to me. “Do you know if the label on your bottle actually says Prednisone?”

“Yes, it says Prednisone tablets, twenty milligrams, and take one tablet twice daily."

Doc Buford took a deep breath and let it out. “Then you’re taking four times the intended dosage.”

My father looked alarmed. “Is that dangerous?”

“Not necessarily. It is still within recommended safe dosage limits, but that high a dosage regimen is much harder on the adrenals. This medication is typically given every other day, especially in juveniles. It does not necessarily mean that Prednisone is the cause of Scotty’s condition, but it just became a whole lot more likely.”

My dad looked furious. “I want him off that shit now! Who is responsible for this?”

“Now Robert.” Doc Buford was doing his country doctor act again. “As I just told you, we can not take him off it abruptly. That is even more true if what he says about his dosage is correct. Taking him off suddenly might kill him. As to who is responsible, I can’t tell you that. You need to check the bottle. Maybe your son read it wrong. Maybe the pharmacy issued it wrong. Maybe your allergist wrote it wrong. There are too many unknowns at this point for me to even venture a guess – you need to do some investigating first.” He paused for a brief moment staring off into space, before looking back and continuing. "When you go in to see the endocrinologist next week, make sure you take the bottle of medication with you as well as any other medications you are taking. He will want to confirm that what is in the bottle is actually what is on the label, although I believe it probably is Prednisone from the effects it has had on Scott... umm, Taylor."

“But he’s taking far too much of a powerful drug?”

Doc Buford hesitated and then nodded. “That would be my opinion, although I am not a specialist in allergies. Standard protocol for administering Prednisone for juveniles is to start at a low dosage and work up to the minimal dosage needed to be effective. It should also be administered every other day, to minimize impact on the adrenals. I can only more strongly repeat my earlier recommendation that you take him to an endocrinologist and get this sorted out.”

“How dangerous is this?” demanded my father. “Should we be taking Taylor to a hospital?”

Doc Buford hesitated again before responding. “It is serious, but not critical. I’ve reviewed his blood work and general health. Other than going through female puberty, he is healthy. In fact he is healthier than I’ve ever seen him before. His dosage may be set too high, but the Prednisone has clearly helped his asthma. In my professional opinion, his treatment does not require hospitalization at this time.”

“I still want to know whose fault this was.” My father sounded only slightly less angry than before. “If he is being overdosed, is this malpractice?”

Doc Buford shook his head. “I would not necessarily characterize it as malpractice. I would have prescribed a lower dosage of Prednisone if I had used it at all, but it is still within recommended dosing guidelines even for children of Taylor’s age. Even if that wasn’t the case, do you think you can win a lawsuit while Taylor is eager to announce that he wants to be a girl? Exactly what damage has been done?”

My father frowned. “Growing breasts isn’t a minor side effect! You’re saying the overdose of this stuff is changing his body. Worse, his mind! You said it is the damn estrogen on his brain making him want to be a girl. This is my son’s life we’re talking about not some minor oopsie.”

Apparently Dad’s mind wasn’t all that open. I was also surprised at the malpractice talk. Dad usually had a low opinion of lawyers as well as people who scream for a lawyer. In a way this was out of character for him to be screaming malpractice. While he was defending me, in his way, I didn’t like the way things were going.

Doc Buford held up a hand defensively. “Slow down, Robert. I understand your frustration, but I’m not your enemy. You are welcome to consult a lawyer and pursue it in a court of law, but please take careful note that I never said that the Prednisone is causing this. The dosage may be higher than intended, but is still within recommended limits. Even if the Prednisone is contributing, that still doesn’t fully explain what is going on with your son. Taylor’s estrogen levels are very high. If Prednisone were solely responsible, I’d expect Taylor’s estradiol numbers to be much lower. It still doesn’t all add up. As for the estrogen influencing your son’s belief regarding his gender, your wife is correct. That is an assement a therapist should make.”

Dad grumbled. “If this was someone’s screwup, then they should pay, damn it.”

Julie reached over and took my Dad’s hand. “Rob, let’s wait until we know what happened before we worry about that sort of thing."

My father nodded reluctantly and settled down.

Doc Buford cautiously picked back up the earlier thread of the conversation. “I still want to lower the dosage. We can start that today. I’ll issue a second prescription for fifteen milligrams. I want Taylor to go down to thirty-five milligrams a day. He can take his normal prescription in the morning and the fifteen milligram dosage in the evening. They don't make a fifteen milligram tablet, unfortunately, but I can prescribe three of the smaller five milligram tablets easily enough. I’ll write it up for you.”

“Plus the ultrasound and the biopsy. What about the blood work?” asked Julie. “Are you still going to want another round of tests?”

Doc Buford shook his head. “I don’t see any point. If the endocrinologist wants additional tests, he can order them.”

They went back and forth again. All in all I was pretty happy. My allergy medicine was being reduced, which might be the source of my estrogen, but going from forty down to thirty-five didn’t sound like a big reduction. In fact, because of the whole addiction thing they literally couldn’t take me off my medication even if it was causing my high estrogen levels. So I didn’t have much to fuss about.

Eventually Doc Buford was tired of hearing himself talk. “So, any questions?”

“I have one.” I’d gotten sidetracked, but there was one important thing I hadn’t asked yet. “Doc, can I get an excuse from PE? Please?”

He fumbled with his papers. “I’ll be glad to write you a note diagnosing you with Klinefelter’s Syndrome, but there is no medical reason you can’t do any physical activity. Now there may be a psychological reason relating to body image, but that would be a note for a therapist to write, and not me.”

“You had to think about whether I needed to be hospitalized, but I’m not that sick? You don’t think having breasts in a boy’s locker room is a good reason?”

Doc Buford looked over his glasses at me. “The school may very well consider that a valid excuse. I’ll make sure my note says that you have KS with gynecomastia. However, there is no medical reason you cannot participate in physical activity. It will be up to the school or a therapist to determine if that should excuse you from PE.”

Dad gave me the look again. “Taylor, exercise is good for you.”

“I get more exercise outside of school than I do in PE.” Maybe I should have told him about my exercise plan.

“We’ll talk about this at home.” Dad told me before turning back to Doc Buford and asking more stuff that he’d know already if he’d been paying attention.

Chapter Sixty-Five

Dad rushed off to work right after the meeting was done and left me in Julie’s hands. Somewhere I had missed that she was taking the whole day off, so she could take care of other details, such as changing her name and address on her driver’s license. She took me to Sonic, Pine Hill’s one and only choice for fast food; we don’t even rate a Dairy Queen. Being alone with Julie felt a bit awkward. Although she’d supervised Hailey and me in the kitchen and generally been around, I think this was the first one-on-one time I’d had with her.

Julie pulled into the retro 50’s drive-in and parked. After we’d placed our orders, my need-to-know outweighed the awkwardness. “Why wasn’t I told about the appointment with Dr. Yeatts on Tuesday, or the one with an endocrinologist on Thursday?”

Julie glanced at me. “Your father and I agreed to talk to Doctor Buford first. If he didn’t think you needed to see specialists, then we would have cancelled the appointment.”

“That didn’t really answer my question. Both of you already knew Doc Buford had recommended both an endocrinologist and a therapist. Why keep me in the dark?” I thought I could trust Dad and Julie, but what were they hiding? If there was a hidden agenda, it was probably about how to force me onto testosterone.

“Your father and I are still playing catch up with you.” Julie gave me a longer, more thoughtful look. “This isn’t covered in basic parenting. We’re having to feel our way as we go. So we made some plans, but we had them on hold until we talked to Doc Buford. Maybe it wasn’t the best way to go about things, but it was what we decided. Also, your father and I aren’t going to consult you about every decision we make.”

“These particular decisions are kinda important to me!”

“I know, Taylor, I know.” Julie sighed. “So… you want to get out of PE?”

I blinked at the change of topic. “Duh, I’m a girl. I don’t belong in a boy’s locker room. Every day I’m running the risk of getting caught. I think that would be about the worst place to get caught. I could easily get beat up before an adult intervened.” If Coach Teller even intervened. He might just cheer them on.

Before Julie could respond, a carhop skated up with our food and our conversation got put on hold. We’d both ordered chicken. She had a chicken sandwich and I had a grilled chicken wrap. I was no longer trying to lose fat in my breasts, but now that I was trying to be a girl I had more reasons to watch my diet. It amused me that I was eating healthier than Julie. I thought Julie was kinda of a health nut, but she had ordered cheddar fries with her meal.

Then she surprised me by placing the cheddar fries between us. “Help yourself.” She pulled one off and started eating.

Was sharing food a female thing? We didn’t eat out all that often, but when we did Dad and Rick didn’t share. Dave was all too glad to finish my meals, but neither he nor Lloyd shared. Grandma loved to cook and was always pushing food at us. Regardless of whether it was female or not, it would be rude not to accept. So I pulled myself a sticky mess of cheddar fry goodness. “Thank you.”

“So… the PE thing. We have a note from Doc Buford diagnosing you as Klinefelter's with gynecomastia. It doesn’t say anything about you being transgendered, but I can go in and have a talk with the principal, try to get you excused from PE.”

“Would that work? Doc Buford said I was healthy enough to attend PE.” I picked out some more cheesy fries. That was the polite thing to do. I may be new to the girl thing, but I’d had years of being around Grandma.

“I think I can change their minds. Look at it this way: If we ask them to take you out and they refuse, then if anything happens it is on them, right? I bet they’re more interested in covering their butts than forcing you to take PE. Besides, we’ll be doing a complete psych eval thing on you for the XXY. This way, when you get your therapy sessions nobody has to know it is about being transgendered until you’re ready to tell them.”

Put that way it was quite clever. Hey, where had all the fries gone? I got out my chicken wrap and rolled back the paper. “Thanks Julie, if you can get me out of gym that would make school a lot more bearable.” I took a bite of my grilled chicken wrap thing and it was pretty tasty, too. Much better than cafeteria food.

“You’re welcome.” She flashed me a smile.

“And thanks for talking Dad into Doctor Yeatts. Hailey liked her.” I was just glad to have a neutral third party. “And thanks for getting my dad to agree to therapy.”

“I didn’t do much. Mostly I’ve acted as a sounding board and let your father talk things through. I think he would have agreed eventually. It might just have taken longer.”

I ate a bit of my food and washed it down with my diet cherry limeade. “Do you know what my dad has against therapists?”

I had to wait for an answer while Julie chewed her chicken melt. She seemed to take an awful long time. “I know part of it. He and your mother went to therapy before they divorced. He feels the therapist they saw basically encouraged her to leave.”

“Oh.” That made a certain kind of sense. My mind flashed back to what Dad had thundered at me when I told him I was a girl. He’d yelled that being a man meant facing up to your problems, not running away. “He thinks I’m just like her, doesn’t he? Just running away from things instead of sticking?”

“No sweetie, he doesn’t think that at all. It’s just hard for him. He’s been raised that you don’t question some things. I think he’d have just about as much trouble if you’d merely been gay. Give him time. He really loves you. He is already coming around.”

He was? I thought of what he’d said in Doc Buford’s office. It hadn’t sounded like coming around to me. I ate my food quietly.

Julie broke the silence. “Hey Taylor, there is something else your Dad and I planned that we had on hold. I think you’ll like this one. You’ve basically got just a few outfits that you’ve borrowed from Hailey, don’t you?”

I nodded agreement. “A few tops, a skirt and her navy jumper dress is pretty much all that fits me. Plus assorted bras, panties and a nightgown.”

“A girl should have her own clothes. Not to mention that you’re also sharing makeup which is unhygienic. What do you say we go shopping this weekend? We’ll drive in to Dallas where you won’t be recognized.”

“Oh my God! Yes, please!” Was she kidding? Shopping in Dallas for real clothes! Something that wasn’t borrowed and really fit me. Shoes. I might have real girl shoes that fit me. More than just a skirt, and more than that: she was approving of me. I felt the tears starting again and grabbed a napkin.

“Sweetie?” Julie leaned forward and touched me. “Are you, okay?”

“Yes, these are happy tears. I didn’t think you really approved. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me so quickly. I have to be honest. I’m not really sure I do approve.” She held up her hand as I started to talk and then laid it on my arm. “Wait. Please hear me out. I’ve been watching you, trying to see what Hailey sees in you. She’s right and you’re right. You don’t really act like a boy, but you don’t act entirely like a girl either. I think you really may be transgendered, but I’m not sure and I’m still worried. Not because I disapprove of you being transgendered. I’ve learned enough in the past few days to know that’s like being gay – it’s not really a choice thing. If you are really a girl at heart, I’ll support that. However, you’re awfully young to be making this kind of decision. Most teen marriages end in divorce, and you’re setting on a path that is even more permanent than marriage when you’re only thirteen. Your father and I have done some research. The kind of decision your making is normally only made after years of therapy.”

She sighed. “It’s really a tangled mess, trying to do the right thing. I want to do the right thing for you, Taylor, really I do. I believe you should be allowed to explore this possibility. That includes going to a therapist and dressing as a girl in a safe environment. But I also think this is a hard decision and that you’re rushing into it too headlong. Not to mention that I’m scared for you. Violence against gays is bad enough. Transsexuals have it worse, and we live in the deep red neck of Texas. We’re in no position financially to home school you or relocate. If you transition, you’ll transition here in Pine Hill... and that won’t be easy. I’m on your side, Taylor. I’m just worried.”

I started to be upset with her, but I couldn’t be by the time she was done talking. She was being honest and was slowly coming around to my side. Plus she was going to buy me clothes. “Alright then. I hope that in time I convince you. So… who all is going and does Dad know?” What if Dad vetoed it?

“Your father knows about the clothes. We talked about it. He approves less than I do, but he is trying to be fair to you. I pointed out that you can’t keep borrowing Hailey’s clothes. He agreed that you needed your own clothes and couldn’t wear the same clothes every day. He certainly won’t be coming shopping with us. Like most men, the very idea of a day spent shopping for clothes makes him twitchy. Shopping for girl’s clothes – for his son – is more than he can take at this point. We’ll make it a girl’s day out, me, you and Hailey. Saturday we’ll be busy moving furniture, so it will have to be Sunday. If you like, we could meet up with your Aunt Dee Dee. She lives in Dallas, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, she does and I’d love to have her along!” This was such a turnabout. Not too long ago, the thought of spending all day shopping for clothes would have made me twitchy, too. However, right now I didn’t care about the shopping part. I wanted the clothes. Not borrowed clothes that didn’t fit right. My own clothes! And with Dad’s permission if not acceptance. That was the biggest turnaround of all. Having Aunt Dee Dee along would just be a really nice bonus. Not to mention that somewhere in there Julie had included me as ‘one of the girls’. Then a thought struck me. “But not Grandma, right?”

Julie laughed. “I think your grandmother is having enough trouble accepting things as it is. I don’t think she would be able to take a day of shopping for girl clothes for a child she still views as her grandson. However, seeing you in those clothes might be very good for her. It helped me see that there was a lot of girl in you. Now that I know what to look for, I can see that girl even now. She’s not buried very deep.”

“Really?” It sounded like Julie had almost accepted me, but was holding back. Was it really because of the reasons she gave me? Or was she holding back until my Dad accepted? Either way, she was certainly an ally now and not an enemy.

“Yes sweetie, really.” She folded up her trash. “Now as much as I would love to spend more time with my new daughter, we need to get you to school and I have a lot of things to take care of. So, let’s go.”

She might as well have been driving a chariot pulled by winged horses rather than driving an old sedan, because I felt like I was floating on air. She’d called me her daughter.

Chapter Sixty-Six

When we arrived at Pine Hill Middle School, we went straight to the office. Julie badgered the office ladies for a bit and got us both in to see Principal Oak. I wasn’t real happy to be seeing him again, actually, since the last two times I’d seen him I’d ended up in detention. Principal Oak honestly scared me. He was a huge man who had once been a coach and athlete but had turned soft. Now he was fat, but underneath that fat was still a lot of muscle. He reminded me of a sumo wrestler. My eyes wandered to the paddle mounted on his wall labeled 'Board of Education'.

Julie seated herself after introductions. “Thank you so much for making some time to meet with me. I wanted to talk about Taylor.”

Principal Oak frowned. “And who is Taylor?”

“I’m sorry, I forgot. Scott goes by Taylor at home. It’s his middle name.”

Principal Oak nodded. “I can make a note of that in his file. I think it is good that you came in. We’ve had several incidents with him over the past few weeks. He’s been disrespectful to his teachers and used foul language in the classroom.”

That wasn’t the way I remembered the ‘incidents’ happening. Kevin had been the instigator of both of them. He’d just been clever. No scratch that. I’d just been stupid.

“I’m aware of the incidents, but that’s not why I wanted to speak with you. We just got back from the doctor. Taylor has been diagnosed with Klinefelter’s syndrome with associated gynecomastia.” She removed the note from Doc Buford from her purse and slid it toward Principal Oak. “Taylor didn’t know what was happening and has been hiding his breast growth. He is very self-conscious about his condition.”

Oak took the note and read it through. “I’m familiar with gynecomastia. I’ve encountered it before. I’m not as familiar with Klinefelter’s Syndrome, but I’ve heard of XXY. Will Scott require any special accommodations?”

Julie smiled. “Yes, he will. Klinefelter’s Syndrome is often associated with learning disabilities. We’re having him tested for those. If he has any learning disabilities, then we’ll talk about what accommodations are needed for them. We’d also like to have him removed from PE. Taylor has B-cup breasts. It’s amazing to me that he’s managed to keep them hidden for this long, but he’s very much afraid of what will happen if he is discovered in gym class. I think you would agree that a boy with breasts would disrupt the class.”

“Perhaps, but physical education is state mandated. Let me take a look at this.” He waved the doctor’s note and then read it. “Hmm, it is just a diagnosis. This doesn’t give me a basis to remove Scott from PE. Does his condition make him physically unable to participate?”

“It’s not his physical condition. It’s about him being teased and picked on. You know that is likely to happen. Can you guarantee his safety?”

“We have a zero tolerance policy for bullying.” He said it with a rumble and a straight face, yet I wanted to laugh. Sure they did.

Julie paused. “Let me put it this way. If you won’t remove him from PE, I want to put a written statement in his student records. My statement is going to read that I am concerned for his safety and well-being and that I’ve asked you to remove him from PE due to his gynecomastia.”

I studied Oak as Julie played her card. He didn’t look upset, but he did look thoughtful. He folded his massive hands together and leaned back. “Very well, Mrs. Miller, I see your point. I’ll have Scott removed from PE effective immediately and transferred to study hall. Will that be satisfactory?”

“Very much, thank you.”

“Good, that’s settled. Now while you are here, perhaps we could discuss his behavior. While I appreciate that he has a medical condition, that does not excuse how he has been acting at school…”

Oak continued on in that vein for quite a while. Julie nodded along. I kept my mouth shut. Julie may have ‘won’ by getting me out of PE, but apparently Oak didn’t like being pushed and now he was pushing back at me. I got the message loud and clear. If I put a toe out of line, he’d throw the book at me.

“… Furthermore, any future violations of our code of conduct will be dealt with by our policy. Since Scott has already had two detentions, that will mean ISS–in school suspension.

Julie frowned. “Principal Oak, that seems a bit harsh when the previous offenses are only use of profanity.”

“It wasn’t only the use of profanity. It was his disrespect for the authority of the teacher.”

“Since Taylor has only had issues with that one teacher, perhaps it is more of a personality conflict. Maybe a transfer to another English class would be more appropriate.”

I was a little surprised Julie knew the details of why I’d been sent to detention. I’d never told her and I didn’t think Dad cared that much. At the mention of getting out of Gerstacker’s class I held my breath and crossed my fingers. Please, please, please.

Oak slammed the door on that hard. “We don’t allow schedule changes in the middle of the term.”

“Your rules don’t seem to allow a lot of flexibility.”

“We’ve found that children respond better to firm policies.”

“I see. I think this would be a good time for me to point out that Taylor’s condition is a private matter and covered by patient confidentiality. I hope those firm policies will also protect Taylor’s privacy.”

The ghost of a frown crossed Oak’s face and was gone to be replaced by a poker face. “Of course, we always follow patient confidentiality. I’ll have a copy made of this to be placed in Scott’s file and the original will go into his medical records kept with our school nurse.” He rose. “It was good talking with you, Mrs. Miller.”

That sounded like a dismissal, and despite the threat of future punishment I’d gotten what I wanted. I was out of PE. I’d have given Julie a hug if we hadn’t still been in Oak’s office. As we walked away I leaned into Julie so I could whisper to her. “That was awesome! Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, Taylor.”

Ah screw it. I hugged her anyway. Only the office ladies could see us. “Thanks… Mom.” I almost felt like crying, but she’d deserved it. I’d asked my real mother for help and she’d laughed at me and said no way. Julie didn’t even entirely believe I was transgendered, but she had still gone to bat for me in so many ways. So what if she just married Dad last week? She was acting more like my mother than my birth mother ever had.

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 21 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2013 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

 
The Taylor Project
 
Chapter Sixty-Seven

Julie/Mom left after her battle with the dragons of the Pine Hill Middle School administration, but I was forced to trudge through paperwork. I was sent to the nurse’s office to drop off my paperwork and receive an exam. Apparently the school wasn’t content to take Doc Buford’s diagnosis without confirmation. Nurse Sewell did not see well. The old biddy wore thick coke bottle glasses and wanted me to strip. I drew the line at my whitey-tighties and sports bra and refused to go further. She wasn’t too happy about it, but let it go. She took my chest measurements with a tape measure. While I doubted it was medically relevant, I didn’t complain because I was curious as to the result. She measured my breasts at a 32A. I’m not so sure she got an accurate measurement, though, since I had on a 32A sports bra and I think my boobs were compressed some. She wrote it down in my file. I had to wonder if real girls ever had their bra size put in their medical records, but I practiced being passive and non-assertive. I was getting out of PE like I wanted, and Oak had made it clear that I was on thin ice.

When Nurse Sewell was done with me, I was sent back to the office where I received an indefinite excuse from PE. I was assigned to study hall instead, which was to be served in the library. By the time we were finished that’s where I headed with my schedule change in my hand. After the roller coaster of a morning that I’d had, I couldn’t just shut it down and study. I tried for a while, but I was going nowhere. Since I was in the library and almost alone, I decided to see if they had anything on being transgendered or Klinefelter’s Syndrome. I wasn’t surprised to find nothing in the time I had available. I’m sure I could find something in one of the big general medical or genetics books, but there were no friendly books for transgendered students. Maybe I would have more luck with the high school or public library.

The bell rang and it was time for my last class of the day for me. It was also my favorite, science. We were covering ‘traits and how they change’, or in other words evolution. That was proving to be a real fun class, since we had a few fundies in the class who kept huffing and puffing about the lessons. Personally, I never understood why evolution clashed with the bible. If you take Genesis as metaphor instead of literal fact, the descriptions didn’t really disagree that much. However, what made today even better was who walked in after I’d taken my seat.

“Hailey!” I was up and out of my seat as soon as I saw her walk in the door.

“Taylor!” she replied, and met me halfway – right in front of Mrs. Pruitt’s desk. “So how did things go?”

“Good. I’ll fill you in on that later.” Not like I could talk about it now. I was aware that there were eyes upon me, processing both my un-Snotty behavior and that a girl was being openly friendly with me. I started walking back with her towards my desk. “How’s it going, being the new girl?”

“Different, but mostly good. People do not believe you’re my brother.” She glanced down. “You sit on the first row? Teacher’s pet.” She smiled as she said it, just plain teasing with no malice intended.

“Only in science. I’m not much of pet elsewhere, believe me.” I hoped things really were going okay. I’d been afraid that my reputation would rub off on her.

I looked around and saw everyone watching us. I remember being new back in fourth grade. In many ways I was still the new kid. I didn’t know what they were doing then, but I could see it now. They were trying to put Hailey in her slot. For me it had only taken them a few days. When my nickname Snotty had filtered down, that had just cemented it. I was an outcast.

Aglance around at the classroom proved my fears were right. Everyone was watching us. Most looked curious, but there were exceptions. Ashley, the blonde cheerleader who acted the stereotype and tried to hide the fact she got straight A's, stared with a sneer on her face. She leaned over to whisper to her boyfriend, John the Jock, who was the kind of boy that my father probably would rather have for a son than me. He laughed at whatever catty comment she said.

I forced a smile and tried to ignore the stares. “I’d sit with you, but seats are assigned. You’ll have to sit at the back of the class where there are some empty seats. I’ll help you find the bus after class, and we can talk more then.”

Hailey looked at me oddly. “Okay, sure.” She gave me a smile and a wave, before walking to the back of the room.

I could almost hear the sharpening of the knives to stab her in the back. I knew it was happening and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I returned to my seat, acutely aware of the conversation going on around the class. I tried to ignore it, but then I made the mistake of glancing at Winston as Hailey passed him. While the overweight I-love-Jesus boy wasn’t in the same league as Kevin in terms of taunting me, he’d been moving up the ranks lately. I just knew he was going to say something before he even opened his mouth.

“That girl seems a bit confused about your name.” He taunted me in a carefully calculated pitch, calling over from his seat just loudly enough that that I could hear. “You should clear that up with her, Snotty.”

For some reason the hypocrisy of it bother me more than the actual insult. Winston was a card carrying member of the God squad. They were his clique, but he was nonetheless fast to insult me. WWJD, What Would Jesus Do, my ass. In what part of the bible did Jesus snub and insult the outcasts? I had a real problem with hypocrisy. When I’d gone through my religious period, I’d tried fitting in with that Christian clique. The best thing they had going for them was the way they’d all accepted me with open arms when I told them that I was ‘born again’. However, it didn’t take long being among them before I started to smell the ripe smell of bullshit. For most of them being a Christian had nothing to do with what Jesus taught. It was all about being ‘saved’, and hence better than everyone else. My religious phase had ended months ago, and now I was just another sinner fallen from grace to them.

I sat down and tried to ignore what Winston had said. After all, Oak had just put me on notice and Mrs. Pruitt apparently hadn’t noticed the taunt. I don’t think Hailey heard either. It would be best to let it go, but it curdled in my stomach and wouldn’t stay down. In a sudden flash of anger I turned to him and slapped my own cheek. “Would you like to verbally slap my other one?” And then I deliberately turned my head, exposing my other cheek.

“The devil can quote scripture, too,” he whined at me.

I just smiled. I don’t think I could have said it better myself.

Chapter Sixty-Eight

It turned out we didn’t ride the bus home, as Julie was still in town. She texted Hailey and picked us both up, so Hailey and I got to talk while driving home. Although she insisted that I go first and tell her about my doctor’s appointment, she was already going crazy from just hearing about that. Once I got to the part about shopping in Dallas, she went into hyperdrive. When we arrived home and got out of the car, I realized that I hadn’t asked about her day.

I grabbed her by her hand and halted her as Julie headed on into the house. “Hailey, that talk was all about me. What about you? How was your first day at lovely Pine Hill Middle School?”

Hailey sighed. “Not as exciting as your day. Go get girly, and we’ll talk about it then. Okay?”

A little later, wearing Hailey’s skirt and one of her blouses, we sat on my bed and I asked again. “Enough about me. Tell me now. How was your day? All my stuff is rubbing off on you, isn’t it?”

Hailey shook her head. “You worry too much. It came up, and I made it pretty clear that insulting my brother to my face was not cool. However, it wasn’t like that all day long. Mostly, it was just being new. We’ve lived in Whistlestop all my life, so I’ve never been the new kid before. People kept talking to me and I couldn’t remember all the names. I think I’m friends with this one girl named Mandy already. We had lunch together and this other girl, Tamara, was pretty cool.”

There was only one Tamara, so that had to be Tamara Olsen. She was Oscar’s friend so that was a plus. Mandy, on the other hand, could be good or bad news. “Mandy Spears or Mandy Puckett?”

“I’m sorry. I had too many names thrown at me. Auburn hair, pale with freckles, blessed with big boobs?”

“Mandy Spears. She’s cool. Mandy Puckett, not so much.”

“I don’t remember another Mandy. There might have been one. As I said, way too many names.”

I tried to work out the school politics. Tamara was less than half-black. Maybe she was a quarter or even less; I didn’t know. To be honest she looked white with a great tan, but everyone knew. What would be no big deal in Dallas was a huge deal in Pine Hill. Our school was integrated like a zebra. We had black stripes and white stripes running side by side, but no gray allowed. So Tamara didn’t fit. The fact that she hung out with Oscar was proof enough of that. Mandy, on the other hand, was harder to pin down. We’d talked a few times and I liked her. She had a little bit of geek in her, but I honestly didn’t know where she stood. However, I did know she’d never put me down. That was good enough for me.

“So those are girls. Any boys talking up the new girl?”

Hailey gave me an odd look. “You like boys now?”

“No, but I know you do, and I like you. Come on, it isn’t like this is the first time you’ve ever talked guys around me.”

“I guess not, but I think it is the first time you started it.” She shrugged. “Anyway, there may be this one guy. What do you know about Jase Adams?”

She knew his last name and she had an eagerness in her voice, but that name brought bad memories. Still, looking at Hailey’s hopeful expression I couldn’t just torpedo him. “Well, he’s a jock to begin with, and I rarely get along with jocks. In his favor he is more of a baseball jock than a football one.” Although he played both. “He was on my little league team that my dad tried to coach.” That hadn’t turned out well. I’d sucked. I struck out most of the time, and couldn’t field at all. Yet, Jase hadn’t been one of the ones who got in my face. That had mostly been Kevin. That little league season was the source of his anger with me. He blamed me for losing, but hadn’t been able to do much on the field – my dad was the coach. Jase had just been one of the others on the team. Had he booed me? Maybe, but he hadn’t been one of the ugly ones.

Hailey’s face fell a little. “You don’t like him, do you?”

“I don’t really know him. I don’t like jocks in general, but he never did anything particularly bad to me. I don’t want people to judge me for my past, so I guess I have to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“Fair enough. So let’s talk shopping. How much do you think we can get you on this trip?”

That night proved to be interesting. Grandma was conspicuously absent and that didn’t bother me in the slightest. Dinner without her was so much less tense, even though it was another informal family meeting about me again. Mostly this meeting was just to go over my doctor’s visit with Rick and Hailey, and discuss what all it meant.

Dad seemed a lot calmer than he had with Doc Buford. There was no talk about malpractice, or estrogen affecting my brain. Dad had found time to check out the barn and had found some pesticides as well as fire ant poison in there. He thought the containers hadn’t leaked, but he still sent the chemical names to Doc Buford to have them checked.

Even Rick was mostly polite and interested. At least until the topic turned to the Sunday shopping trip. “You’re kidding me! Tell me the freak isn’t getting a whole wardrobe of girl clothes?”

“Rick, stop right there.” My dad’s voice was his firm, no-nonsense tone that meant Rick was in big trouble. “Family first, always. I don’t particularly like or approve of Taylor’s experimentation, but I’ve promised to keep an open mind. This may yet be a phase, but it is pretty clear it isn’t just going away any time soon. So Taylor will be allowed a small amount of clothes. We can’t have him wearing the same clothes every day. I’ve agreed to five outfits. Now, I want you to apologize, and I don’t want to hear you calling him a freak again.”

Five? I hadn’t heard a number before, or heard my dad defend me like that. It might not be approval, but it felt pretty awesome to have him take my side about presenting as a girl. Not to mention he’d just given Rick an epic slap down, which was always a plus in my sibling rivalry scorebook.

Rick didn’t look happy. “I’m sorry, Scotty.”

It didn’t feel like a real apology. He didn’t sound sincere and he’d called me Scotty, which may or may not have been intentional. “It’s okay, Rick. Would you just give me a chance? That’s all I ask for.” Maybe I was asking too little, but throwing Rick's apology back in his face at the dinner table felt wrong even if it was a mealy-mouthed apology.

“That’s not my call. Dad decided you get a chance. If I had my way, they’d ground your ass until you’re thirty. You still have no clue the kind of pain you’re gonna unleash upon yourself, and probably the rest of us as well.”

I looked at Dad waiting to see if he was going to let Rick’s snarky tone and half-assed apology fly.

However, it was Julie who spoke up next. “Let’s not bicker at the dinner table, please. Rick, did you like your chicken?”

“It’s very good, ma’am.”

I wasn’t really happy at Rick’s attitude, but I smirked at his reply. I wondered if he’d still think it was good if he knew that I’d helped cook it, albeit under Julie’s supervision.

Chapter Sixty-Nine

Saturday, March 23rd — Taylor Project Day 81

Does it even matter to count the days of the Taylor Project any longer? I started off this project with the resolution to stop being Snotty any longer. I had goals, but I didn’t have a destination. Now I have a destination. I know who Taylor is. I’m still keeping up my goals: diary, allergy free home, exercise, don’t cry and hide my boobs at school. They just aren’t as relevant any longer. Becoming Taylor is the all-important goal now. That makes all the others a lot less significant. Yet, tonight, I find myself wondering. Am I doing the right thing?

And I’ll say it here because I can’t say it anywhere else. Not to Hailey, not to Cathy, and certainly not to my Dr. Yeatts when I see her Tuesday. I’m not one hundred percent sure I’m doing the right thing. I don’t think I have the strength to go the full distance and have the operation. I want the hormones and to look like a girl, but the surgery scares me. What about children? I’ve done some reading and Kleinfelter’s patients aren’t that fertile to begin with, but many of them can have children with medical assistance. If I go this road I’ll never have kids. I always thought I’d be a parent some day.

Plus, there is the whole bit about estrogen affecting my thinking. I’m not sure how much it changes things. Obviously hormones can’t be everything. There are too many transgendered who are naturally on the wrong hormones, but still know in their hearts what they should be. Yet, estrogen is obviously affecting my mind as well as my body. I like how I feel now. I feel more connected with life and in touch with my feelings. I feel more alive. It’s so much better than before even if I do cry more. LOL. Okay, even if I cry a lot more. Even with the crying fits, I don’t want to go back to the way I was.

I suppose that Doc Buford does has a point. The only way to be certain that it isn’t the estrogen making me think I am a girl would be to try life on testosterone. If there was a magic way that I could do that for a couple of weeks and not screw my body over, I’d might even consider it if that was what it took to convince them. However, there is no freaking way that I can let it happen. I’m in the middle of female puberty now. Switching to testosterone would have permanent consequences for me. I like the way I’m growing, and I don’t dare mess with that.

I wish I could actually admit that I’m scared and have doubts, but it feels like I have to be absolutely certain all the time. Because if I ever falter, then Dad and maybe even Julie will have me on testosterone before I can blink. OK, I’m not certain I’m on the right path. I’m even less sure about going all the way and having the operation, but I’m damn sure I don’t want to be on testosterone and get turned into another copy of Dad.

Anyway, I suppose I should write about what happened today. Mostly today was a moving day. I got put in charge of cleaning house and stuff, while everyone else made trips back and forth to Whistlestop. I unloaded everything in our fridge so we could take it out and replace it with Julie’s. There was a ton of stuff in boxes that went into the barn. The barn is pretty full now and there is still stuff left at Julie’s trailer. Julie’s trailer park has a massive yard sale in a few weeks, so the plan is to sort through everything and sell what we’re not keeping cheap. Until then, both our barn and Julie’s trailer are storage.

Also, I have a new allergy menace – Mousey Tongue. They finally brought the cat with them. The plan is to turn Mousey Tongue into an outdoor cat. They even bought her a doghouse, which Rick insists on referring to as our cathouse. I hope it works. Even if I can’t get close to the beast without sneezing, Hailey is obviously attached to her. I’m afraid that little furball will run off and get lost, or worse.

I wasn’t there, but they tried everything on Hailey’s mattress: HEPA vacuuming, wiping it down, and then using a special allergy relief treatment – it didn’t work. When I go into Hailey’s room, it just takes a few minutes before my allergies start acting up. I’ve told Dad and Julie, and they’ve promised to get Hailey a new mattress. They even offered to do it tomorrow, but that would mean postponing my shopping trip to Dallas for girl clothes. I turned it down. The mattress is only bothering me in Hailey’s room, and I’m not even sure it really is her mattress although it is the most likely culprit. If Hailey and I want to hang out, we can do it in my room.

Tomorrow we go shopping for clothes. I should be looking forward to that. So many of the TG stories I’ve read have shopping sprees in them, which usually seem like a lot of fun. Hailey and I spent the evening surfing on the web getting ideas. We also spent some time strategizing. Hailey thinks we can easily bend the five outfit limit my dad imposed. We’ll see tomorrow. We’ve already planned out what I want from the five outfits. Three of them were easy to do: two skirts, one short and one long, plus one pair of blue jeans and three tops to mix and match. The fourth item wasn’t too hard either. I want one nice dress, something I could wear to church or dressing up to go out. For the fifth outfit Hailey suggested either blue jeans or shorts with another blouse. I want something even more formal: a skirted suit. Maybe I’ve read too many stories about transitioning, but from what I’ve read they’re often very confrontational. What if I need to appear in court, or before the school board? Hailey thinks one nice outfit is enough and I should have more variety for day-to-day wear. I haven’t decided entirely.

Actually, I think that I’m scared about going shopping tomorrow. It’s a very big deal, both getting clothes for me and it being my first time out in public. I should be excited. I’ve already said good-bye to Scotty. I don’t feel like him any longer, but what if I’m really making a big mistake? Maybe I am rushing into things.

Chapter Seventy

For most of the drive I was able to bury my fears, and focus on my excitement. There was a lot to be excited about. I was getting clothes – real girl clothes that would be just mine and not something borrowed. Plus, Hailey used the time to work on Julie-Mom. She wasn’t even that hard to sell. In addition to the agreed upon five outfits, she had already planned on including bras, socks, panties, two pairs of shoes and make-up. As soon as we asked, she readily agreed to include sleepwear as well. I came clean to her about my daily exercises, and she easily signed off on some work-out clothes, too. However, she drew the line when Hailey suggested a swimsuit. I didn’t say it, but I was secretly rather relieved not to be shopping for one of those.

Julie also proved to be a good source of fashion advice. She listened to Hailey and I debate a while about the way to use my five outfits. Hailey still thought four daily wear and one nice dress would be best, while I still wanted three daily, one for church and one for court. We went back and forth on this a bit before Julie finally stepped in.

“You’re both more or less right. Hailey’s right that it would be best to get four outfits for daily wear, and only one nicer dress. Taylor’s right that at her age, what most girls wear to her Faith Baptist church is a bit of a different look than what she’d need to wear to court, or any kind of formal meeting for that matter. However, you don’t necessarily need a different outfit to change a look. The key is learning to accessorize. I think we can find one nice dress that is suitable for a family dinner out, but swap the accessories and you can wear it to church or court. I promise you, that if you need to go to court, and if whatever we find isn't suitable, I’ll buy you something appropriate.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” I was a little blown away by Julie’s talk of accessorizing. Hailey and Cathy had mentioned it, but I was still a fashion noob. This sounded like intermediate or advanced fashion sense and I was eager to learn how it was done. I was also reassured by the promise of court appropriate clothing. While I hoped that I wouldn’t need them, I’m not expecting my transition to be met with approval by the powers that be at Pine Hill Middle School.

The rest of the trip passed pretty quickly as we discuss fashion and music. Julie revealed a small surprise; we weren’t actually going to Dallas. Aunt Dee Dee had suggested it would be better to meet us partway, at an outlet mall to the east of Dallas. Hailey was apparently familiar with the mall and Julie assured me that there would be plenty of variety of shops.

As we got closer and closer to our destination, I began to worry about getting out of the car dressed in Hailey’s pink top and denim skirt. I thought I looked good, but I still had boy’s shoes on. What if someone noticed? Or what if I made another mistake that made it obvious that I was just a boy in a skirt? I was relieved when we exited the highway, but surprised when we pulled into a Walmart instead of the outlet mall that I’d seen billboards for.

“Mom? Why are we stopping here?” asked Hailey. “I thought we were going to an outlet mall.”

“We will,” agreed Julie. “However, Taylor needs some basics: panties, socks, bras, work-out clothes and such. We can get all those cheaper at Walmart. Selection at Wal-Mart is limited, but we also might get lucky with some of the other clothes she needs. Don’t worry, you’ll still get to hit the mall later for some brand names. Dee Dee won’t meet us for an hour or so yet. Besides, this is a good shopping lesson for both of you.”

I was a little disappointed. I just spent two hours driving in a car to go to Walmart? As smart as Julie dressed, I didn’t think her stuff came from Wally-world. However, I didn’t object as I was too nervous at this point about getting out in public. So I kept it zipped and took slow deep breaths as Julie parked the car. She and Hailey got right out. After a moment of hesitation, I followed.

“Taylor, you feeling okay?” Hailey looked at me with concern.

“It’s… it’s my first time out as me.” It was a typical-for-a-Walmart parking lot, already filled with quite a few cars even though church was still in session. People were walking in and out in singles and families, and none of them gave me a second glance. The formerly warm weather had turned cold and windy, and everyone seemed in a bigger hurry to get to and from their vehicles. The cold air swirled around my bare legs and chilled me. I liked the look of skirts, but on a day like today pants were certainly more practical. Only Hailey was paying attention to me. Even Julie, walking in front of us, seemed oblivious to my distress.

“Oh.” Hailey took my hand and squeezed. “I didn’t even think of it. Taylor, nobody is going to see anything but the girl you are.”

“What about my shoes?”

“What about them? Plenty of girls wear ugly shoes and they’re white. They don’t scream boy.”

“I guess.” By this time we were approaching the door and, while I was nervous about being inside and surrounded by more people, the chill of the wind convinced me to hurry on inside. I walked in and no one seemed to pay me any attention. No scratch that, a scrawny guy was staring at me. Afraid of his attention, I moved around to the other side of Julie. “Hailey, that guy is looking at me.”

Hailey looked back. “Was he? Perv. He’s too old for you.”

“W-what?!” This was obviously going to take some getting used to.

Maybe it was a good thing that we went to Wal-Mart first. There were people all around. While I still felt like I was wearing a big sign saying ‘boy in a dress’, no one seemed to care. People looked at me, but they mostly looked on past. We got bras, panties and sleepwear. Even though they were just ‘basics’, they might as well have been silks and furs to me. They were girls' clothes, and they were all mine.

Hailey mentioned my boy shoes to her mom, so we detoured to the shoe department and picked up a cheap pair of girl’s size 8A tennis shoes. I was learning my sizes as we shopped. For clothing I wore a junior’s size 5 or a woman's size 2, depending on the garment. However, Julie warned me that those last ones were Wally-world weird sizes, where they try to convince women that they are not as fat as they really are by using smaller size numbers. She said that at some of the other stores we would be at later, I should expect to need a larger size than that. Sigh. What is with women's clothing sizes, anyway? Why can't they be more rational than that? Apparently my bra size was ‘that awkward in-between size' thing, between an A and B cup. Since Julie expected me to grow(!), she bought an assortment of 32B bras for me.

I made my very first trip to the little girls room with Hailey by my side after receiving a firm 'No peeking' prior instruction from Julie-Mom. She’s trying to help, but sometimes she still doesn’t get me. I was expecting to step directly into the bathroom, but instead we passed through a mini-lounge sort of area with comfortable chairs and stuff. A woman diapering a squirming baby intrigued me. While I’d seen baby-changing stations in men’s bathrooms before, I’d never actually seen one in use. However, Hailey wasn’t slowing and I followed her on into the restroom proper.

Once we were past those oddities at the entrance, though, it seemed fairly normal. Other than the lack of urinals, which I had expected, it looked pretty much like the boy’s side, only cleaner and with a couple of more stalls. It lacked the reek of urine that the boy’s restroom had at school, but I didn’t miss that at all.

Hailey stopped me before I entered my stall. “Wait, a sec.” She dug out a little pocket-sized bottle of hand sanitizer out of her purse, quirted some out onto a folded handful of toilet paper, and handed it to me.

I looked at it in puzzlement. “What is this for?” I whispered it to her. The only other person present was the mother changing her baby and she looked distracted, but I certainly didn’t want this conversation overheard.

Hailey leaned into me and whispered in my ear. "Wipe the seat before you sit. Some women don’t sit down all the way in public restrooms. They squat over the seat and… well, it can get messy.”

“Really eww.” TMI – Too Much Information! And I thought sharing a bathroom with Rick was gross. He splattered sometimes, and left the toilet seat up, but at least he knew how to lift the seat in the first place. As much as I hated to give him credit, he was apparently more housebroken than I thought. I carefully wiped the seat with the disinfectant Hailey had given me before I sat down. I emptied my bladder sitting down, but that was nothing new. I avoided sitting down at school, because of the gross and disgusting factor, but at home I usually sat even before I’d started my journey to girl-land. I think it started because I usually took something to read with me. It didn’t take me long. I didn’t have the gross upset stomach stuff that I’ve had all too often lately.

I spotted another difference inside the stall. In addition to the usual toilet paper dispenser, there was a little bins mounted on the wall labeled 'Napkin Disposal'. To me napkin meant a paper food napkin, but that obviously couldn’t be right. I had to think about that one for a moment before I figured it out. Eww, again. I thought those things were flushable. Apparently not.

Hailey smiled at me as e both exited our stalls. “You managing okay?”

“Um, yeah.” Alright, I’d read this in stories that going to the bathroom was almost social for girls. Was that what was happening? It didn’t feel natural to me. I’d been doing my best to ignore the sounds she had made in the neighboring stall. Peeing together wasn’t exactly a bonding experience for me.

Hailey went on while washing her hands. “Just try to relax, you’re doing fine.”

I took a moment to wash my own hands before responding. I wasn’t so sure that I was doing fine. There were more differences than I’d expected after all. This was perhaps the biggest, boys almost never talk or even make eye contact in the restroom. Our previous conversation had been more educational. She’d explained a health hazard to me. This felt more like friendly chatter, so I played along as best as I could. “I’m excited about the clothes.”

“Good, let’s go get some more.”

To my relief we dived right back into shopping, which was a lot more comfortable than bathroom conversation. This time it was exercise clothes, and then we looked at skirts and jeans. We didn’t find a skirt in my size, but I got luckier with jeans. Julie loaded me up with three different pairs.

“Go try these on and see if you like any of them.”

“But…” So far I hadn’t tried anything on, other than shoe which I had just put on while standing in the shoe aisle. I knew how changing rooms worked at Walmart. I’d have my own private cubical, but this is still new territory.

“Hailey can go with you, if you like.”

“Yes, please.”

A few minutes later, I was trying on jeans back in the changing rooms. The first pair didn’t fit, but the second pair fit too well. They were tight, but not like squeezing into Hailey’s jeans. They fit like a glove. “I can’t wear these. They make my ass look huge.”

Hailey laughed. “No they don’t, they’re perfect! These are definitely the pair for you.”

“But, but…”

“Yup, that’s what they showcase all right.” Hailey giggled and then quieted down to a whisper. “Seriously Taylor, that’s how girl’s jeans are supposed to look. Are you a girl, or aren’t you?”

I studied my reflection in the mirror. I still thought my ass looked huge in them, but they fit me better than my old boy jeans did, that was for sure. While they were tight, they didn’t hurt at all. “I’m a girl,” I whispered back to her. “And I’ll take them.”

Chapter Seventy-One

Sunday, March 24th — Taylor Project Day 83

Today I learned a lot shopping with Julie(Mom), Aunt Dee Dee and Hailey. I was the young apprentice learning at the feet of three masters. At first I was disappointed that we weren’t going to Dallas, but rather to a Walmart plus an outlet mall, however given that it took us all day to do just that one mall, I’m not sure I could have handled shopping in all of Dallas. The lessons from Walmart were more about pricing and quality, what can be bought cheap and what can’t. We took a break and picked up Aunt Dee Dee for lunch, and then the real shopping began.

I thought at first it was all about outfitting me, but no, they were all picking up a few items. I think we hit just about every store in the outlet mall. The lessons there were more about fashion, picking clothes that work for you. I was surprised to find that Aunt Dee Dee didn’t use the color season thing that Hailey and Julie did. I thought all girls did, but they explained to me that it was only one fashion advice model and that most women learn what works for them through a lot of trial and error. We did a lot of trials, and I made a lot of errors. Aside from some exercise clothing, shoes, and assorted undergarments, I ended up with three skirts, one pair of jeans, four tops to mix and match with, and this adorable fitted pencil skirt dress thing.

Hailey would so chew me out for calling it a ‘thing’ after all our lessons, so I’ll try that again. The whole fashion vocabulary topic seems a lot more complex than I originally thought it would be, but I think that I’m getting the hang of it now. My new dress is a two-tone bodycon dress with raglan cap sleeves and an integral accent belt. The 'bodycon' thing is something I picked up from Aunt Dee Dee today. I think it means 'body conforming', or something like that. Basically, the dress gently hugs my curves without being too tackily tight.

The skirt part is a dark black, as is a band around the neckline, but most of the bodice as well as the two inch wide belt is what Julie called an 'ice grey'. Technically it has a 'scoop neckline', but there is a second band of ice grey material outside the black accenting trim which sort of creates a cool cowl neckline effect. That isn't the only thing cool about it, though, as the belt, or maybe I should say 'belts', cross over in an 'X' at the middle in front and back, sort of like a pair of gunslinger's holster-belts without the holsters. (LOL) If all this sounds like I really like this thing, I don’t–because I love it! I never realized clothes could be this cool.

To be honest, it wasn't my first choice, though. As we walked into the outlet mall I saw the perfect outfit that I will never buy. They had it set up on a mannequin and it was like the clothes called my name. It had all the colors that fit my Deep Winter: dark black pencil skirt with a bold white broad horizontal stripe at the upper thighs, white silk spaghetti strapped camisole top, and a hot pink bolero jacket with three-quarter sleeves and accented with black buttons. It was daring and bold and all the things I am not. Julie pointed out the flaws: the hem was too short, it was a power suit and not church or age appropriate, and it was a designer outfit that cost way more than our entire budget for shopping today. Aunt Dee Dee and Hailey called her a spoilsport and wanted me to try it on anyway, but I chickened out.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m thrilled with the dress that Julie helped me find. It's nice and feminine, without being 'hey, look at me' feminine. I think it’s really me. Jullie was a little uncomfortable with the length of the skirt, but it just looked so cute that Julie caved in and bought it anyway. Not that it is a mini-dress or whatever, it is just that the skirt only went to a couple inches above the knee, with a small slit in the back to make walking easier. I think Julie would have preferred something below knee length. She said something about that being the trend this year, but I also think she’s a little uncomfortable with me in short skirts still. In the end she relented and said it was okay as there is a lot of variation in the spring and summer lines this year. All I know is that I liked it, a lot. Especially when we picked up a couple different cropped rib-knit cardigans to go with it from Old Navy, as well as several chunky bracelets in different colors from Claire's.

I learned some lessons on accessorizing and I’m starting to get it. With what we bought I can easily see how I can swap from good little girl for church, to rocking my look at a party, and back to sweet and innocent, but serious for court. Although I’m still learning the accessory thing. We had a horrible time trying to find shoes to match. Most of the outlet mall's stores either had boring flats, which I didn't really want, or high stiletto heeled shoes that Julie just gave me the evil eye when I even suggested them. Or they did have something I liked, but the cost was truly mind-boggling. We ended up going back to Walmart again, where we picked up a nice comfy pair of moderately low two inch heeled, peeptoe slingback wedge sandals for me in a basic black that goes well with this outfit – and cost way less than anything similar we saw at the other stores.

I also learned that Julie had a method to her madness in starting at Walmart. Some of the prices I saw today simply stunned me. We were at an outlet mall, which meant we were supposed to be buying direct from the factories and cutting out some of the middlemen prices, right? Wrong. Being a girl definitely isn’t cheap. Although it is occasionally free. I got a free makeover in one store, but Julie wouldn’t buy what they were selling. I was upset at the time but she explained to me later that I was going to make a lot of mistakes and try out a lot of different styles starting out. It was better to do that with cheaper makeup. When I settled on what worked for me, then I could think about upgrading my makeup.

I’d wanted Aunt Dee Dee along just to spend time with her, but she’d ended up buying me still more stuff. She’d sprung for accessories. Besides the stuff already mentioned, I now have a purse and bangles and necklaces and clip on as well as magnetic earrings and hair dealies. She also got me a book, ‘Curly Girl’, which she claimed is the bible for curly hair. My hair isn’t really long enough yet, but I’m determined to grow it out. This may cause me some trouble in the short term while I'm still pretending to be a boy, but tough.

Oh, and we had lunch at a Tex-Mex place I never heard of before but was wonderful. Aunt Dee Dee and Julie-mom got along great. Important things I didn’t know, but learned today: Aunt Dee Dee is thinking of opening her own restaurant (not a Hooters), and Julie isn’t a bank teller – she’s a loan officer. She and Aunt Dee Dee had a long conversation about the merits of Aunt Dee Dee taking out a small business loan. I think Julie-mom about talked Aunt Dee Dee into it, which would be great.

I had a great time shopping most of the time. While the day was focused on me, everyone did some shopping for themselves which made it a lot more fun for everyone. Even when it wasn’t about me, I was interested because there is so much to learn about teen girl’s fashions. They are a lot more complicated than boy’s fashions, and adult women’s are even more complicated. Even within my Deep Winter recommended colors, I found I have a lot of choices. I’m still working out what kind of message that particular clothes communicate to other people, though. Julie was pretty cool, but some of my choices were overruled with, ‘Not until you’re older’. Since Hailey sometimes got the same response, I can’t complain too much. I’m being accepted as one of the girls.

Also, girl’s clothes fit me! All I had to do was get the right sizes. Hailey is close to my size, but the difference in having clothes that really fit is amazing. I look more like a girl than ever. Of course, that’s partly because I avoided anything unisex like the plague, but even with my hair no one questioned my right to be shopping for girl’s clothes, or to be in the girl’s changing rooms.

In retrospect, that might be the best thing of the entire day. I adore my new clothes, but I was welcomed as just one of the girls for the entire day. I know Julie-mom said she thought I was rushing into things, but she didn’t act like it today. As for Aunt Dee Dee, she was pushing the envelope. She tried to talk Julie into getting my ears pierced. While I’d love to have my ears pierced like other girls, it scared me as well. There aren’t any white guys at Pine Hill Middle School with pierced ears, so I shouldn’t do anything that permanent yet.

Which brings me down some, because the ball is over and I don’t get to wear my rocking dress to school. Tomorrow it is back to pretending to be Scotty. That bothers me a little, but I’m flying so high today it’s only a little downer.
 

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 22 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2013 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

Today started off awesome. I wore a real nightgown that was mine to sleep in. I had painted toes inside my shoes and panties on under jeans. That was three touchstones: boobs, panties and shoes, my little security blankets. For the first time in a week I had a BFF with me on the way to school. Granted it was my BFF and sister, Hailey and not my BFF and girlfriend, Cathy. I was still in boy mode and I missed Cathy, but it was good not to be alone again.

“So explain to me, why are you wearing that particular outfit?” I asked.

Hailey was wearing the pink blouse and denim skirt that I’d first saw her in. The same set that was my first girl clothes ever. I’d returned them to her once I’d had my own clothes, but I hadn’t expected to see her in them this morning. She gave me a grin. “It’s a show of support for you. First, they’re the clothes you wore, so it’s a reminder to you that I’ve got your back. And second, this is one of my favorite outfits. It’s girly with being soft. I want to look especially good today. By now the rumor mill should be churning that I’m related to you.”

Ouch. My good mood crashed on the hard rocks of reality. The gossip grapevine had been a problem on Friday in just the one class we had together. What was it going to be like today? “You know, you can always distance yourself from me.”

“I’m not abandoning you, Taylor. If people try to put you down around me, they’d better watch out. I try to avoid the whole 'mean girl' stuff.” Hailey made little air quotes with her hands as she said ‘mean girl’. “However, I’m not going to stand by and let you get slammed.”

“And I appreciate that so much.” Deliberately I reached out and touched Hailey’s arm briefly to emphasize my point. Watching Hailey do the air quotes thing had reminded me that I needed to use my hands more while talking. Girls did it so naturally, but I still had to think about it. Although maybe I shouldn’t be practicing that while I was supposed to be in boy mode. Anyway, this time I got it right because Hailey smiled at me.

It was interesting to watch Hailey operate. I’m not good at meeting new people, but Hailey was a social butterfly. She nodded hello to everyone on the bus as we passed them and talked with everyone who spoke to her. I sat between her and the window, and it felt like I had a social bodyguard. It didn’t take long to prove she was serious about defending me. Twice she was invited to swap seats away from me. The first was a polite offer, and Hailey politely declined.

Lisa Rudrow, sophomore and ex-girlfriend of Rick, wasn’t as nice. After she did the introduction thing, she got straight to her point. “You should come on back and sit with us. You can’t pick your relatives, but you can pick where you sit. You look too good to be Snotty’s sister.”

“Look, Lisa.” Hailey’s claws came out quick, and she sliced back. “I know how my brother got his nickname. As you said, some things we have no control over. Allergies and asthma are a medical condition. So I’ll pick my own friends, thank you very much, and I pick him. And you can go pick your nose, because from where I sit you’re the one who’s being Snotty.”

“Bitch. You’re making a huge mistake in your choice of friends. When you wake up and realize you’re just Snotty’s Sister, and it’s too late, don’t come crying to me.” Lisa spun on her heel in a huff, and stalked back to her seat.

“Wham!” I congratulated Hailey. “You might not like the mean girl thing, but you do it so well.”

“Yeah? Well, look out Pine Hill. They so didn’t pick the right day to pull that shit on me.”

It took me a moment to work that out. “You mean you’re… Um.”

“On the rag, having a visit from my Aunt Flo, bitchy as hell and stay out of my way? Yeah, I’m all that today – with a side of Midol. It’s the downside of being a girl.”

“Oh-kay.” The bus was moving again so we were mostly private. “Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t do it, and you’ll never have to experience it.”

How was I supposed to answer that? I don’t think she had any clue how much that little remark hurt. The truth was that I’d trade what I had for what she had in a heartbeat. She’d probably have children some day. It was doubtful I ever would. Klinefelter males were often sterile, and being a T-girl turned not likely into no chance at all. However, that was a more theoretical, sometime worry. I just wanted what she had. I’d swap malformed boy parts for her functional girl parts even on a bad day. Well, assuming it was some magical genie wish swap. I still wasn’t at all sure about SRS, real surgery was real scary. Freud wrote about penis envy: I had a bad case of vagina envy. If only I’d been born a girl...

“You know, it’s not really something that I’m proud of,” continued Hailey. “The battle is just beginning. I’m not really alpha girl material. I’m just bitchy today. I sing in choir. I don’t want to be a cheerleader or rule the school. I’ll probably end up in the choirgirl clique. I’m okay with that, but I won’t sit still while people insult you to my face.”

“So is choir its own clique?” I hoped she did end up in the choir clique... instead of being a loser like me.

“Yes and no. From what I can tell Pine Hill is about the same as Whistlestop. There are girls who just happen to be in choir, there are the religious choirgirls who are part of the religious clique, and there is a choir clique. That’s how I met Mandy, by the way; she is in my choir class.”

“Mandy’s in choir? I did not know that.” Although it made sense. Hailey had choir just before lunch, so it made sense that she’d followed Mandy out and they’d had lunch together. Which brought me to another topic. “You sure you want to eat lunch with me, Dave and Lloyd?”

“Of course. I want to meet your friends... even if you've said that you’re not really that close.”

“Okay.” I had a bad feeling about that. More and more I’d come to realize that Dave and Lloyd weren’t really my friends. They were also clueless about girls, and being seen with them wouldn’t help Hailey’s reputation any. Still, I had made my objections known and she had insisted.

Hailey and I had first, second and seventh periods together. She stuck by me like glue until we had to go our separate ways at third period. I was rather expecting another incident like the one with Lisa on the bus, but no one was rude to her face. There were whispers going on around us, but no one else confronted us. Hailey did her social butterfly thing and a lot of people who ignored me were polite to her. Maybe there was hope, or more accurately Hailey was my hope.

I expected trouble from Kevin in English, but he didn’t do a thing. Perhaps that was because Gerstacker was ripping the whole class up and down about a major writing assignment. She’d graded our drafts over the weekend, and it was very clear she wasn’t impressed as she handed them back. My draft got a C, which is what I’d come to expect in her class. I’m pretty sure she graded me harshly because she didn’t like me. I really needed better coursework grades because I could count on my test grades sucking – they always did. With my borderline grades, I could fail English if I didn’t pull my grades up. So I shut up and paid attention.

Chapter Seventy-Three

Lunch found me lingering around the doorway to the cafeteria, waiting for Hailey. We’d agreed to meet up here. She was going to eat lunch with me and tentatively with Dave and Lloyd. I had already introduced her to Dave in second period, but I had a bad feeling about this lunch. It was less about Dave and Lloyd not really being my friends, than about them being clueless jerks when it came to girls. I just hoped they kept a lid on it this time. This was going to be interesting, as in the Chinese curse kind, not the Vulcan one.

To my surprise, Hailey showed up with Mandy walking beside her. “Hey, Hailey. Hey Mandy.”

“Hello you, hay is for horses. Anyway, is it okay if Mandy joins us as well?”

“You mean just the three of us eat lunch together?” Did she just change the lunch plan? Maybe that was for the best.

“No, we’ll join you, Dave and Lloyd. Right Mandy?”

Mandy rolled her eyes. “Oh, sure.”

“Oh, okay.” What popped into my head was the time Mandy had worn a tight green sweater. Dave and Lloyd had called her a slut simply because her sweater was tight and she had boobs. This could so turn out awful. I pushed those doubts aside and tried to make conversation. “So… how are your classes going?”

That got Hailey started, and she and Mandy did most of the talking as we went through the line. Apparently she liked her classes and people were mostly being friendly. Once we’d picked up our food, I guided us over to Dave and Lloyd. “Hailey, you've met Dave, this other clown is Lloyd. You two, this is my new sister, Hailey. You know Mandy already, right?” I sat down and waited for the rocks to start falling.

“Of course, have a seat ladies.” Dave was surprisingly smooth. “So we were discussing the mystery meat. Do you think it’s actually beef?”

No tacky comments? I was surprised. I sat down, started eating, and mostly listened to the conversation. It seemed to be going well. It wasn’t even derailed when Dave started talking about his character from World of Warcraft, how he had a Pandarian monk – basically he played Kung-fu Panda. I think Dave was trying to show off, but neither Hailey nor Mandy seemed very impressed by his videogame accomplishments. Lloyd was an even bigger surprise. He went silent and barely said a word. Things seemed to be going good.

“You should try WoW sometime. It’s really cool.” Dave urged Mandy. “Which reminds me... Snotty, when are you going to use that free trial?”

“I’ve been busy.” That was a polite and true answer to an old argument. Dave would ask me to play and I would make noises about it. I had already done one free trial. WoW had been fun for the two weeks it had lasted. Unfortunately I didn’t have the monthly fee and had to quit. I had zero interest in doing another free trial. That had been true even before my life started changing. With everything I had going on the real world, there was no way that I was going back to WoW.

“Wait a minute,” interrupted Hailey. “What did you just call my brother?”

Dave looked puzzled. “Um, Scotty. That’s his name.”

Hailey shook her head. “No, you didn’t. You called him Snotty. His name is Scott, not Scotty, and certainly not Snotty. I thought you were his friend.”

“I am. It’s just kidding. Guys do that, Miss Politically Correct.”

“Oh, just kidding. I see.” She looked Dave over like he was an insect she was about to crush under her shoe. She did the air quotes thing again as she said, “So, would it be 'just kidding', or 'politically correct', if I decided to start calling you 'Fatty'?”

Lloyd laughed. He licked his finger and made a hiss sound as he carved an imaginary mark in the air. “She burned you, Fatty.”

“Lloyd, shut up.” Dave gave him a glare then shrugged at Hailey. “I said I didn’t mean nothin' by it. You should see what goes on in the Barren’s chat. Sheesh, don’t have a cow. Scotty, tell her it’s okay.”

This is where I could be one of the guys, stick up for Dave, and say it was no big deal. “No, it’s not okay. It’s never been okay.”

Mandy looked distinctly uncomfortable, but Lloyd was loving it. Hailey didn’t let up. She had her gaze fixed on Dave. “I think you owe my brother an apology.”

“Look here now, we didn’t invite you over here. You can crack the pussy whip somewhere else – I’m not your boyfriend. Who appointed you Miss Manners, anyway?”

This was all going bad, just like I feared it would. A part of me wanted to say it was okay just to defuse the situation, but I couldn’t do that. Hailey was sticking up for me, so I felt I had to do the same for her. “Maybe you’re not her boyfriend, but you are supposed to be my friend.”

“I am your friend. What is this? Hos before bros?”

“Ooooo”, said Lloyd with a grin.

“Did you just call my sister a ho?!” I stood up and leaned over the table.

“It’s just an expression, but hey, if it fits!” Dave stood up and glared back at me.

“Well that it’s then. We’re done, Dave. If you wanna be friends again, let me know when you’re ready to apologize.” I softened my tone. “Hailey, Mandy let’s go.” As I looked around, I was suddenly aware that everyone was watching us. To make things even better, my bestest teacher pal, Mrs. Gerstacker, was heading this way. I started shaking, but tried not to show it. I grabbed my tray and headed for the return line. I was vaguely aware of Hailey and Mandy falling in behind me, but more aware of everyone watching us... and Mrs. Gerstacker getting closer and closer.

“Is there a problem, Scotty?” she asked crossly.

“No ma’am. No problem here.” I glanced at Hailey, wondering if she’d make an issue about bullying. She said she’d make a stink, but Mrs. Gerstacker was not the person to do it with.

She looked over to Mandy and Hailey, before speaking in a slightly-less-grumpy way to them. “Girls, is there a problem?”

“No ma’am, just a discussion about some videogame,” Mandy replied in an innocent tone. She shrugged. “Boys, what can you do? We were just leaving.”

“Very well, but I’ve got my eye on you, Scotty.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Like I didn’t know that. I took my tray back to the drop off counter, and left it to be washed and cleaned off to start fresh tomorrow. Too bad I couldn’t also start fresh on Tuesday.

Hailey laid her hand on my arm. “Taylor? I’m sorry I broke up your friendship. I’m just bitchy today. Let’s go back and I’ll apologize. I came here to help you, not make things worse.”

“Don’t. It’s okay. He was never really my friend. You didn’t do anything that I shouldn’t have done years ago.” And that was nothing but the sad truth.

Chapter Seventy-Four

I was incredibly nervous about my first visit with Dr. Yeatts. With her mother’s blessing Hailey had already called Dr. Yeatts last week to discuss her feelings about when she slapped Rick. I hadn’t been present for that phone call, but Hailey thought her old psychologist was the best possible choice for me. While I would trust Hailey with my life, the stakes were so high. I felt like my whole future rested on the outcome of this meeting. It was ever so important for me to make a good impression, and how could I do that in boy mode? Dad had insisted, and Julie had agreed, that I show up as Scott for this first meeting. How was Dr. Yeatts supposed to see the real me when I had it all hidden away?

I expected an office building or at least one of those little business annexes, but Dr. Yeatts worked out of this old wooden two-story house that was painted a bright and happy lemon yellow. Other than the sign in her yard, there was nothing about it that looked like an office. Instead of a lobby she had a little parlor with rocking chairs and toys for younger children. The doctor herself was also a surprise. She looked too young be a doctor and dressed more like a teacher. She had on blue jeans, a nice white blouse and one of those brown professor jackets with the patches on the elbows. I’d never seen a woman in one of those jackets, but it made her look very intellectual. Her glasses only further accentuated her look, as did the way she had her chestnut hair in a chopstick updo. She’d greeted Julie like an old friend, trading hugs with her. She shook my father’s hand while introducing herself to him, and then faced me with a warm smile.

“Taylor, I’m so glad to finally meet you in person. I was hoping I’d get the chance.”

“Thank you.” I forced a smile while wondering just how much she knew about me and how this was going to work.

Fortunately for me, she explained it to all of us without my having to ask. “For insurance purposes I’ll bill this as one hour of individual therapy with Taylor. However, I’d like to actually split the time differently. I want to talk with Taylor first for about twenty minutes or so, then I’d like to talk with both parents together for another twenty minutes. After that I’d like to bring all of us together at the same time to discuss what we’ve learned today. So, Taylor, if you’d follow me.”

I followed and the room we entered looked more like another room of her home than my idea of a psychologist’s office. It was just a sitting area with a few chairs and a couch arranged around a coffee table. Along one wall there were more toys and, surprisingly, an easel with arts supplies stood in the corner. She took a seat and I sat down across from her.

“Taylor, I’ve already heard a little about you from Hailey and Julie. You sound like a very interesting person and I’m looking forward to us getting to know each other better. However, instead of starting with the usual history questions, I’d like to start with what I consider to be a very important question that makes all other questions possible: Do you feel safe?”

That wasn’t how I expected this to start. Although now that I thought about it, I should have expected it. After all, Dr. Yeatts learned about me from Hailey. The time Rick had barged into my room and threatened us had been pretty awful, but things had changed. “Yes, I feel safe. Some bad stuff was going on when Grandma was in charge. The visit by Reverend Miller, and Rick’s threats, and Grandma basically punishing Hailey and me for being transgendered… but that’s in the past. Grandma has backed off, and Rick got scolded. I'll admit Dad did some yelling when he first found out, but he never hit me and he’s softened a bit. I don’t think anyone at home is going to hurt me.”

“At your home? Do you worry about people outside your home hurting you?”

“Well yeah, kids at school mostly. I mean, I wear a bra to school, and that alone could get my ass kicked if word got out. I finally got out of gym class and that’s better, but it still isn’t safe. Especially considering that I’m transgendered and what will happen when I transition.” I thought it was important to get that in there.

“I think you have a legitimate concern, and one we certainly need to explore. We can talk about how to deal with bullies at schools. Other than that, do you have any fears?”

“Yeah, I’ve got one really big fear. I’m scared of being put on testosterone. Doc Buford said it was the normal treatment for Klinefelter's Syndrome and that I should be put on it for several months. That I was under the influence of estrogen, so anything I said about wanting to transition didn’t count until I was on testosterone. It’s scary enough he said that, but I think what is more scary is that Dad seems to be listening to him. Dad said he’ll keep an ‘open mind’, but that means he still hasn’t made a decision yet. I feel safer, but as long as putting me on testosterone is still an option on the table, I’m not safe.”

“Good. We’ll need to talk about that, too. Anything else?”

What? Wasn’t that enough? “I guess I’m scared that everyone will hate me. There are just a few people that have accepted me. Even in my own family, I’m still treated like a freak.”

“That’s certainly one to address. And I think that is enough for us to talk about, at least for now. Before we get to that, though, let me explain why I started out talking about safety and fear. Are you familiar with Maslow's hierarchy of needs?”

“Um, no.”

“Maslow thought that we psychologists spend entirely too much time studying those who have psychological problems. Instead, he looked at what he called exemplary people and tried to figure out what they had right in their lives that let them excel. In the process he built a hierarchy of needs, which others who've built on his work usually represent with a pyramid. At the bottom are the basic things we need in life: food, water, oxygen, and shelter from heat and cold. Higher up on the pyramid are things like self-esteem and self-actualization, becoming the best person you can possibly be. For example, suppose a man had a dream of being a great painter. If he lived on a desert island and had to scramble just to find food to eat, he wouldn’t have much energy left to focus on painting, now would he?”

“No, I guess he wouldn’t.”

“One of the most basic needs is safety. So do you understand why I started with asking you if you felt safe?”

I’d been following the discussion, but now it turned back to me. “Um, I guess it’s because deciding to be a girl instead of a boy is one of those higher needs. I mean if I was starving I’d be scrounging for food, and if I don’t feel safe, then I guess it’s kind of hard to think about wanting to be a girl.”

“Exactly.” She smiled at me. “I want to make sure we first take away your fear for your safety. Then we can discuss what kind of person you want to be when you grow up, and if that person is a boy or a girl.”

That sounded really good, especially since one of my fears was testosterone. “But your hierarchy thingy doesn’t quite work, because by seeking to transition I’m putting myself in more danger. So doesn't that make gender identity a more basic need than safety?”

“My, that’s a very interesting question, Taylor. What do you think?”

Chapter Seventy-Five

I’d felt pretty good about the way my first appointment with Dr. Yeatts had gone. It had been confusing at the start with the talk about fears, but it had made sense after she explained and after talking about my fears it was a lot easier to tell my story. Best of all she promised that she wouldn’t put me on androgens unless I agreed, like that would ever happen. So I was feeling pretty good when I walked out. I even wished we had more time. But that was before she gave me the Girl Test.

She’d handed the Girl Test to me casually and told me not to worry as there were no right or wrong answers, but just to do my best to answer honestly with what I truly felt. That had sounded good, until she left me alone in her cozy living room/waiting room with the Girl Test while she went to talk to my parents. That was when I had a chance to look through it. It looked easy. Only twenty-seven multiple choice questions. However, it was pretty damn obvious from reading those questions what this actually was. This was the Girl Test. If I answered it right, then I was a girl. If I answered wrong then I was just a boy pretending to be a girl. With the sole exception of science, where the questions were always straightforward, I sucked at tests. This one looked just as unfair as all the others. Every single question started off with “In the past twelve months”. Why hadn’t any of the stories I’d read prepared me for the Girl Test?

“In the past 12 months, have you felt satisfied being a boy?
(1) Always; (2) Often; (3) Sometimes; (4) Rarely; (5) Never."

How was that fair?! Since I’d only figured things out a few months ago, was the honest answer Often? Because for nine out of the last twelve months I’d been stupid? But that was the wrong answer. It was obvious the right answer was Never. Yet, I didn’t dare put Never, because Dr. Yeatts knew this was recent. Could I mark it Rarely because even when I had been a boy, I hadn’t been much of a boy? And that was just question one! They were all like that.

There was a question about whether I’d dreamed of being a girl. Well, I’ve had dreams where I was in a dress and had boobs, but I didn’t lift my skirts to check. So did that count? And to be perfectly honest, those dreams were recent. That stupid “in the past twelve months” clause ruined everything. It wasn’t fair to hold it against me that I’d just now gotten smart! Why did it only count if I’d been suffering in silence for more than a year? By the time Dr. Yeatts returned with my parents, I was almost in tears.

“Scott, are you okay?” asked my father.

“My name is Taylor!” I threw that at him, then turned to Dr. Yeatts. “I hope that’s the right answer for that one!”

“Taylor, what’s gotten into you?” asked Julie.

Dr. Yeatts laid a hand on Julie’s shoulder and made a calming gesture to my father. She came over to me and knelt down beside my chair, getting on eye level with me. “Taylor, there are no right or wrong answers to that test. You just have to write what you feel inside.”

“Yes there are! It’s a Girl Test. It’s all to see if I’m a girl or not, and I’m going to flunk it because I always suck at tests, and it’s not fair! I am a girl inside. You saw that before, didn’t you? When we were talking?” I was screwing this up, and I knew it, but somehow I was just so wound up that I could not keep myself from totally freaking out.

“I’m not going to make a diagnosis one way or the other right now. I need to get to know you a lot better to do that, but I’ve already seen a good deal and I’m seeing even more now. Taylor, what kind of grades do you get in school?”

I was crying. When did that happen? I wanted to hide it. Dad was watching me. It was one thing to cry with Hailey; it was another to cry in front of my father. “I get mostly B's. Sometimes A's and sometimes C's.”

“Do you do better on homework or tests?”

“Homework, duh. What does that have to do with anything?”

Dr. Yeatts smiled at me. “A great deal, actually, so please bear with me. How do you do on tests?”

I wiped my tears, although I don't know why I bothered. Dad already knew I was crying. “I suck at them. They’re full of trick questions like the ones you gave me. Can we please, please, just talk?”

“Taylor, I’m not ready to pronounce you a girl today, but I am willing to make one diagnosis already. You have test anxiety.”

“Isn’t that a bit like having an angry fight or a sad funeral? If you have a test, you’re going to be anxious.”

Dr. Yeatts nodded. “True, but not to the extreme you’re showing. Let’s not worry about the test right now. We have more important things to discuss. That test is just a tool and we’ll talk about it another time. Why don’t you take a few minutes to splash some water on your face, and then we’ll talk.”

“Okay, I can do that.” I headed off to the bathroom to clean up.

As I walked away I heard Dr. Yeatts speaking to my parents. “Test anxiety is a very common learning disability, so don’t be overly concerned about it. We can consider various coping mechanisms, and I can also intercede with Taylor’s school to arrange appropriate accommodations.”

I ran some water and washed off my face. So apparently I was learning disabled, after all.

Chapter Seventy-Six

It felt awkward going back in there to face Dr Yeatts and my parents since I had overreacted a good bit, but surprisingly they didn’t make a big deal of it. We just all went back into Dr Yeatts office, and she picked right up where we left off earlier.

“I feel we made a lot of progress today. I pushed the agenda more than I will in later sessions, but we had to put some safety nets in place and I think we've made great strides. The theme of today’s talk was fear, and what we needed to do to feel safe. I’d like us all to share those safety nets. I’ll start. Taylor, I made a promise to you that I won’t recommend that you be put on androgens unless you ask to be put on them.”

And that was oh-so-important to me. That meant I was safe for at least a while because there was no way I was going to ask to be put on androgens. With my body somehow making estrogens, my female puberty was going to continue for the foreseeable future.

“Robert, would you share the safety nets you agreed to put in place?”

My father nodded. “Taylor, we’re not going to force a decision on you. We’re not having you put on androgens, either. I was harsh, and maybe even cruel, when you first told me. I’m sorry for that. I was surprised and I didn’t handle it well. This isn’t easy for me, but I’m not going to force you to be a boy if that really isn’t what you want. We’re also not going to let Grandma or Rick get out of control again. I won’t say that you won’t be punished if you break the rules, but it isn’t acceptable to yell at, or mistreat, you because you’re considering this change in your life. I am worried that you're making a big mistake. Your body is changing and I realize you’re worried about not being able to be a girl. I get that, but I also think your time is running out on your chance to be a boy. This is a huge decision, and you need to think it through–”

“Thank you, Robert.” interrupted Dr. Yeatts. While her tone was polite, it was also firm, like a teacher calling down a student. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we’re short on time. Your fears are important and legitimate, and Taylor is prepared to address them. Taylor, we talked about your parent’s fears and what kinds of safety nets you could give them. Would you tell them what you said to me earlier?”

Wow. I was a little taken aback by the way Dr. Yeatts had just put my father in place. I’d talked this over with her, though, and it was only fair. In fact, it played right into what my dad had just said, but all eyes were on me. “So… um, I know that your fear is that I’m rushing too fast. I’m going to try to slow down some and be sure about my decision before I take any irreversible steps.”

I had to give them that, but it felt like I was lying. I wasn’t at all sure that I could slow down, but they were promising me no testosterone. I could promise to go slower, at least a little, in return. Maybe. Besides, according to Dr. Yeatts they couldn’t plan my treatment yet anyway, because my diagnosis was incomplete. Until my medical doctors understood why my estrogen was so high, there was no possible way to treat me... or at least no safe ways. Bottom line, I was going through female puberty – and that wasn’t going to change any time soon. For now, that was enough.

Dr Yeatts took control of the conversation again. “Now, you all expressed fear about what transitioning will mean for Taylor in terms of bullying and bigotry. Those are valid fears and we’ll work on those in weeks to come, but for now Taylor is content to present as a boy in public. I would, however, like to see Taylor as a girl next week. After that we’ll see. We’re running short on time, but there are a couple of things left to deal with. First, Robert, you had something to ask Taylor?”

Robert nodded. “Taylor, I’m trying to keep an open mind... but I think that should go both ways. Would you come on a fishing trip with me, as my son, this weekend?”

Ugh, fishing? Yet phrased that way, how could I say no? Did he really think a fishing trip would change anything? “I don’t really like fishing, Dad, but I’ll try.”

“Is there something else that you’d prefer more, Taylor?” asked Dr. Yeatts.

“Well, I like it when we go water skiing, but it isn’t warm enough yet. Maybe camping? Fishing is just so boring.” Camping? Why had I said that? I didn’t really like it that much better.

“We can make it a camping trip. I’d like that.” My dad smiled at me. “Just me and my boy.”

I rolled my eyes, but I’m not sure he noticed. Julie and Dr. Yeatts did, though.

“So, last item, next visits and insurance…” Dr. Yeatts started talking about deductibles, and how she wanted to see me alone every week for an hour. She also wanted to add another hour long family therapy visit, with different family members, for an hour on top of that... at least for the next session or two. I really expected Dad to object, but surprisingly he agreed. I wasn’t looking forward to a camping trip with him this weekend, but I felt I’d gotten a good deal all things considered. Especially when I heard that Dr. Yeatts wanted to see Rick and Hailey next week. That should be interesting.

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 23 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2013 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

 
The Taylor Project
 
Chapter Seventy-Seven

I waved at Hailey and Mandy as we met up for lunch. After Monday’s blow-up I was not talking to Dave and Lloyd, so yesterday we three had eaten by ourselves. I’d expected to do the same today, and that was fine by me. I felt like I had gotten rid of an anchor that was holding me back.

Hailey had other ideas. “So, Tamara invited us to come sit with her. Would you two be okay with that?”

Mandy shrugged. “Sure, I like Tamara.”

I had to think about it. Tamara sat with Paula and Oscar. For girls it was acceptable to have a gay friend... but, unfortunately, there was more risk involved for me. On the other hand, if Tamara and Paula accepted Oscar then maybe they would accept me too. “I guess so.”

We went through the food line where they both picked up the chef salad and added the mandatory fruits and veggies. I used to consider that something only to be eaten when on a diet, but watching Julie and Hailey I’d come to realize it was also simply girl food. I decided to be a good girl and got the same rabbit food. Sigh. A sprinkle of ham chunks decorated my chef salad, but to be honest the BBQ sandwich sure looked a lot more tempting to me. Maybe that was one thing I would miss about being a boy. Being a girl apparently meant being on a perpetual diet, constantly watching my weight if I didn’t want to balloon out like Grandma.

Through the line and out into the cafeteria, we headed toward our seats. I already knew where Oscar, Tamara and Paula sat. I used to watch them from where I formerly sat two tables over with Dave and Lloyd. They looked the same as they usually did, three friends laughing and chatting. I didn’t really know much about them despite having known them for years. They didn’t really belong to a clique... unless you count being an outcast as a clique. Oscar was an outcast for being gay. Tamara didn’t fit because she was a little bit black, but acted white. As for Paula, I had no idea why she was an outcast. I loved her hair. Hers was just a few shades lighter than mine, a rich dark brown, the color of strong coffee with just a drop of milk. However, it was the length and not the color that I envied. She'd grown her hair out until it almost reached her ass. While her hair was the most remarkable thing about her, she wasn’t in exile with the rest of us outcasts just for having hippie hair.

I noticed Dave watching me as we approached. He probably thought we were joining him, but we stopped a few tables away when we reached Tamara and sat down.

Tamara waved. “Hey, y’all; thanks for joining. Hailey, this is Oscar and Paula. You two, this is Hailey.”

“The new girl, we know,” said Paula.

I almost giggled at that. I knew they were talking about Hailey, but in many ways I was the ‘new girl’. Of course, I couldn’t admit that here.

“So Hailey, what do you think of Pine Hill?” asked Oscar.

“To be honest, I thought Whistlestop was the back end of nowhere... until I moved here. At least Whistlestop rates a Walmart and a McDonald’s. Not to mention I’m living out in the country now instead of in town. As for the school, it isn’t all that different: new mascot, new teachers – but same old tired subjects.”

“So… what was with the blowup on Monday?” Paula nudged her head over towards Dave and Lloyd, making her meaning clear.

“Oh, that.” Hailey looked down, clearly embarrassed.

I guess it fell to me to explain. “Well, Dave and Lloyd were their usual selves, except they did it around Hailey. Y’all know she’s my sister now, right?” A chorus of nods greeted me. “Anyway, Dave made some tacky comments concluding with calling Hailey a ho. That pretty much ended it. I wasn’t going to sit still for that, so we left.”

“I think you’re better off without them,” said Tamara. “Dave’s an ass and Lloyd's a creeper. You’re much too nice for either of them.”

I nodded in agreement, more to fit in than because I agreed. Not that I thought Tamara was wrong: Dave actually was loud and opinionated, and Lloyd definitely was a creeper. I wasn’t ready to forgive them for what they’d said about Hailey, either, but they’d been the closest thing I had to friends at school... and now that was gone. Now I was sitting with a bunch of new people, and they were being friendly, but that didn’t make them my friends. I wasn’t really a part of their group. Besides, I was sure Hailey could do better. She was pretty and could talk to people. She shouldn’t be sitting here with me at the loser end of the cafeteria. Then again, why did anyone sit here? What decided who was a loser and who wasn’t?

“Scott, so how come you haven’t been in PE?” asked Mandy.

Whoops. I’d been drifting in my thoughts, and that brought me back to the conversation. Mandy was in my former gym class. Something that I’d forgotten until now. “Um, what do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve been eating lunch with you the past couple of days so I have sorta been looking for you, but you don’t show up for PE and coach Teller doesn’t even call out your name when he checks roll.”

I had never even considered that anyone would notice, or care, that I wasn’t in PE. I had to say something. “I’ve got a medical issue.” That was true and nicely vague.

“Yeah? What is it that you can’t do PE? Even when April got mono and couldn’t participate, Coach Teller still made her dress for gym every day just to sit and watch. How did you manage to escape suiting up?”

I was totally unprepared to answer that question. What, exactly, could I say? I obviously didn’t have a broken leg or anything that would prevent me from suiting up for PE. I sure wasn’t about to tell her that I was transgendered and growing boobs, though...

“It’s personal,” blurted Hailey.

I winced at that fail. That wasn’t going to make them less curious. “I’d rather not talk about it.” Oh, yeah, like that was any better, or going to shut them up.

They all looked concerned now, but Tamara spoke first. “It’s not cancer, or something serious like that, is it?”

“No, it’s not cancer,” said Haley quickly.

That much was true, or was it? I hadn’t considered cancer, but Doc Buford didn’t think KS alone explained my estrogen levels, and he’d only guessed that my asthma pills might be the cause. I’d been so happy to find out I was going through female puberty that I hadn’t worried about why. What if I did have cancer? Surely Doc Buford would have brought it up and tested me, if there was a chance I could have some deadly disease... right?

Oscar frowned thoughtfully at me. “She didn’t say that it wasn’t serious, dude.”

“It might be serious.” That was yet another half-truth. At least from my point of view, changing my gender was pretty serious. “Look, they’re not done with the tests. I don’t know yet, and I don’t want everybody asking me. Can you just keep it quiet? When I’m ready to say something, I’ll let you know.”

There was a chorus of agreement ending with Oscar. “Of course I’ll keep it quiet.” That was followed by an curious exchange of looks among Oscar, Paula and Tamara.

“So, I need to freshen up before next class,” Tamara suddenly announced. “Paula, you want to join me?”

“Sorry, I’m not done eating yet.”

Tamara shrugged. “Mandy, Hailey, how about you?”

Mandy rose. “Sure, allons-y.” She tossed the rest of us a little wave.

Hailey hesitated a long moment before answering. “I’ll… take a rain check. Catch up with you later, Mandy?”

“Dokey-oaks.” Mandy gave Hailey, and maybe the rest of us, another finger-wave before heading off to the little girl’s room with Tamara.

I watched the whole exchange with interest, taking mental notes. Running off to the bathroom together was a very girl thing, and that was apparently how it was done.

Chapter Seventy-Eight

As soon as Tamara and Mandy left, Hailey leaned forward across the table towards Oscar and Paula. “That was smoothly done. What did you want to talk about, and why can’t Mandy hear it?”

What? Suddenly I had the feeling that I’d been taking mental notes about the wrong thing.

“I like Mandy. She’s never been anything but nice to me, and doesn’t care about how I swing.” Oscar’s being gay wasn’t really a secret, but it sounded like his voice had changed. He wasn’t lisping or anything that flamboyant, but he just sounded swishy. “However, she’s a bit of a gossip girl.”

“I don’t think it’s intentional,” said Paula. “She’s not a hater. She just talks... but I’d be worried if I were you. The fact that you’ve got a serious medical condition is just too juicy for her to keep a lid on. She’ll tell a friend or three – in strictest confidence, of course – and then be surprised it 'somehow' got out.”

“Oh crap. I’ve got to go track her down and put a lid on her.” Hailey started to rise.

Oh crap was about what I felt, too. I was not ready for word to get out around school about my medical status.

“Wait,” called Oscar. “Go if you think you have to, but we wanted to talk to Scott and you about something.”

Hailey paused. “I got that when Tamara led Mandy off, but can’t it wait?”

I had a feeling that I was missing volumes of what was going on here, but there was an obvious solution. “Go Hailey. I can’t follow you into the girl’s bathroom, but I can stay and find out what the big deal is here.”

“KK. Get my tray for me?” She waited briefly for my nod, and then she was off.

As I started gathering things from Hailey’s tray and stacking them up on mine, I looked over to Oscar and Tamara. “So… you’ve got me alone now. What did you want to talk about?” I was still nervous about Mandy. I hadn’t realized she was such a big gossip, but it fit.

“Well, it’s like this... You wouldn’t happen to be interested in GSA would you?”

GSA? I knew BSA was Boy Scouts of America. That meant GSA was Girl Scouts of America. Was he accusing me of being gay, or had he somehow spotted me as a T-girl? “Um, you mean Girl Scouts of America, right?”

Paula had a fit of the giggles and Oscar broke out laughing. “No, not that GSA, although at least most of them aren’t bigots like the Boy Sprouts. No, I meant the Gay Straight Alliance.”

The what? I’d heard of LGBT, but not GSA. Still, he was effectively asking if I was gay, wasn’t he? “I’m not gay.” Although I wasn’t so certain that was true. Technically I might be lesbian, since I was a girl and Cathy was still my girlfriend. “Umm, I mean that in the clarifying way – not in the something wrong way. I’ve got my own issues.”

“Everybody’s got issues, but GSA isn’t just for gays and lesbians. It’s for straight people who support equality. It’s for anyone who believes people should be treated as people first, regardless of sexual orientation.”

That sounded like a recruitment speech. “Is this, like, an official school club?”

“We’re not an official school club. It’s more of a secret club. We’re not even affiliated with the national organization. Right now, we’re just a message board where we can get together to chat and post things. It’s all really hush-hush. Most of our members are so far in the closet they can see Narnia.”

I looked from Oscar to Paula. Oscar was gay. I’d never heard him openly admit it, but he didn’t deny it either. Paula on the other hand…

She must have sensed me wondering about her. “Surprised?” she asked.

I nodded. Yes, I was surprised, but also impressed by the way she had outed herself without freaking out. I wish I had that kind of courage. I’d heard about Lily ‘the lesbian’ over at Pine Hill High, but Oscar was the only one I knew who was out of the closet in middle school, or at least almost out. Wait, Paula’s best friend was… “What about Tamara?”

Oscar shook his head. “She’s straight and supporting.”

I obviously did not have gaydar, but I was pretty sure that we were having this discussion because I showed up on their gaydar. I was a square peg that didn’t fit the round hole, and it apparently came off as gay to them. I’d been right. I was being recruited. Which was way cool in a way. This was like that movie about the Skull and Bones society. I felt like I should speak up and confess that I was transgendered, but I held back. I wasn’t sure how gays and lesbians felt about trans-people. I couldn’t remember the story, but I had the impression from somewhere that LGBT was not all one big happy family. This club/group/whatever didn’t even have T in the title. Of course, they didn’t have L in the title either and Paula had just outed herself so… what did I do? Just about everyone had told had freaked out. I so didn’t need a freak out in the cafeteria.

“Um, I don’t know what to say. I don’t really know what I am.” That was literally true. I thought of myself as a T-girl, but KS was on the intersexed list.

Oscar didn’t seem offended by me not getting specific. “That makes sense. You’ve always given off this confused vibe. If you’re questioning, there's room for that too. I just thought that, whatever you’re going through, it might help. Sometimes it really helps to talk with others who understand. So, are you interested?”

“Yeah. I’m interested.” Hell yeah. Blind, but interested. “What about Hailey?”

“We discussed her beforehand,” said Paula. “She’s only been here a few days, but she’s already getting a reputation for the way she’s stuck up for you. I’m making no judgments about you, but Hailey’s got this strong anti-bully thing. Even better, she’s willing to get in people’s faces about it. That’s something we absolutely need in our GSA. That’s what it’s supposed to be about, not sneaking around and hiding.”

“So that’s why you approached us? You didn’t want me at all?” They really wanted Hailey?

Oscar laughed. He made the wibble-wobble hand gesture that meant quibbling. “Yes and no. We were impressed with Hailey, but we’d talked about approaching you before. The main reason we didn’t, to be honest, was because of Dave and Lloyd.”

I considered that for a moment, and couldn’t really blame them. The noise level of the cafeteria was starting to go up, though, and I noticed that more and more people were getting up to return their trays... so we probably should wrap this up, too. “Um, so what do I do to join and who all is in the club?”

“You just joined, congratulations,” said Paula.

“We are the club. At least in middle school, us three, plus Tamara, and Hailey if she wants to sign up. There are more of us in Pine Hill High, but many of them are anonymous. We have a private forum online where we post and chat. Here.” He handed me a business card.

I looked at it in disbelief. “You have business cards?” But when I looked closer there was no logo or anything printed on it, just a URL handwritten in neat block letters.

Paula raised a hand over her mouth and stifled a giggle. “I told you those were silly.”

Oscar threw up his hands. “My dad had some blank ones, sue me.”

Chapter Seventy-Nine

I didn’t have a good chance to talk to have a quiet conversation with Hailey during school, but the bus was noisy enough that we could lean into each other and talk privately.

“How did it go with Mandy?” I asked. The news about GSA was interesting, but outweighed in my mind by the risk of Mandy spreading rumors about me.

“I don’t know. I told her it was private and personal, and she promised not to breathe a word, but now that I am thinking about it, she was so eager to tell me everything about everyone here before that I don’t think her promise will hold her back for long.”

“So what do we do?” I had been trying to think up some medical condition that would get me excused from gym altogether, but I couldn’t think of any. If my asthma isn’t bad enough, what would be?

“I had a radical idea, but have you considered just letting it happen, and that if it does, it may not be that bad for you?”

“What?” Pod people had replaced Hailey. “How could it be good for me?”

“I didn’t say good. Just not bad. Look, you’re planning on coming out sometime, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Where was she going with this?

“Before you graduate Pine Hill High?”

“Much sooner.” I hoped. Although I at least wanted Dr. Yeatts' support and diagnosis first.. It wouldn’t matter much with my wonderfully bigoted classmates, but the school administration should care that I had a diagnosed condition. Should.

“Then rumors that you’re sick might be in your favor. You could play the intersex card. You didn’t choose it. It just happened to you.”

“But…” I thought about it. I didn’t like it. Okay, so KS was an intersexed condition. I didn’t feel intersexed. I was MtF, male-to-female. It felt like lying even if it was technically true, but more importantly, did it even help me? “What good does that do? Many, probably most, intersexed people are treated as freaks too, just a different kind of freak.”

“For some people, it'll change nothing. For others, it may make a difference that this is a condition instead of a choice.”

I frowned at that. It didn’t feel like a choice, or at least not a fair one. Stay male and stay miserable versus go female and maybe be happy someday. Did I really have a choice? On the other hand, if I could frame my transition in a way that would confuse the haters, then shouldn’t I jump all over that? Yet, I just didn’t see how it would work. “Okay, maybe some people will hate a little bit less, but won’t it speed up my coming out?”

“Just don’t say anything more. If they ask, just admit you have a condition and say it’s personal. That’s all, no more. It may not be a good thing, but it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Try to look on the bright side for once.”

“I do look on the bright side. Someday this will be behind me. There. That’s a bright side.”

She just rolled her eyes at me. “What-ev-ver. So... tell me about the hush-hush thing that Oscar and Paula wanted to talk to you about.”

So I filled Hailey in on that conversation while we rode home. She had a lot of questions, which took the rest of the bus ride. When we finally climbed down off the bus and started walking home, I asked her the question that was in my mind. “What do you think? Should I join?”

“First off, it sounds like you already did. Second, hell yeah!”

“A club for gays and lesbians? What if they don’t like trans? And they’re a secret club. What all good can they do?”

“Taylor, you’re missing the point. They’ve banded together and they’re against bullying. Why would you turn down possible allies, if not outright friends, that have offered a hand out to you? Unless they have some rule that transgendered aren’t allowed in their club, you should join. I plan to.”

“I suppose we could look them up on the internet first.”

Hailey shook her head in mild exasperation. “Okay, we’ll look them up first. Then we join.”

When we looked GSA up, they were easy to find. It turned out that they were friendly to both trans and intersexed, so my excuses went up in a puff of smoke. We tried to check out the forums, but there wasn’t much publicly available. We had to request IDs first. That led to a short debate on whether we should use our real names or not. Hailey wanted to use her name and argued that Oscar and company would know soon and the idea was to make allies. While she had a point, I put my foot down, and we both made aliases.

Chapter Eighty

Wednesday, March 27th — Taylor Project Day 86

No school tomorrow... which should be a good thing, but I’m not looking forward to it. I have an ultrasound and biopsy scheduled in the morning. In the afternoon I see my endocrinologist for the first time. I know it is a minor medical procedure, but I am not looking forward to having needles stuck in my balls. On the other hand, Doc Buford apparently thinks there is a chance that I have ovaries or an ovotestis. I hope so. On a more positive note, I can’t help but think of the intersex tagged TG stories that I’ve read where the T-girl turns out to be a real girl. Please let it be. That would make the needle biopsy worth it.

Dad checked the pesticides and fertilizers he found in the old barn, and none of them are known to have feminizing side-effects. Dad still hasn’t gotten our soil tested, though. Apparently that will be expensive and he wants to wait until the medical tests are done first. So pesticides are mostly likely a no, but can’t be ruled out entirely just yet.

Bottom line is, I still don’t know why I’m going through female puberty. Partly that’s a good thing. I want to go through female puberty. As long as they don’t know why, they can’t stop it. However, not knowing, being in limbo again, is getting to me. I may not like Doc Buford, but it probably isn’t a good thing that he can’t explain why my hormones are screwed up. Maybe I’ll find out tomorrow afternoon when I see the endocrinologist. Or maybe the endo won’t know squat until the test results are in, or he’ll want other tests before he offers an opinion. Apparently I’m really messed up inside. Like I didn’t know that already.

I’m also worried about Mandy Spears keeping her mouth shut about my ‘serious’ illness if I’m out sick another day, but there is nothing I can do about that. I’m going to miss more time as well, besides the doctor stuff tomorrow. Julie has been talking with Dr. Yeatts and she wants me to take a bunch of tests. I have to retake the Girl Test and also the whole psychoeducational assessment thing. However, because of my test anxiety she thinks a psychologist needs to give the tests verbally, and Dad’s insurance doesn’t want to pay for that. It was a dinner conversation topic tonight and apparently the Girl Test is a big deal, at least as far as my family is concerned, but everyone is trying to pretend it isn’t because they don’t want me to get anxious about it. Like that’s working.

Update about the Pine Hill GSA forum: Hailey and I got our accounts approved in just a few hours. We spent some time reading their forum and checking them out. They’re aren’t that many of them. From what I can tell they have less than a dozen members and fewer active posters. Several of their members are anonymous, but Oscar uses his real name. He’s also one of the admins. Most of them have a short bio in their profiles, and there is an intro thread were people post about themselves and everyone says welcome. I read all the profiles I could find. In the LGBT mix, they are mostly L&G, with only one who claimed B. They also have some straight members. There were no transgendered or intersexed members, or at least not obviously. Some were just lurkers and hid behind aliases.

I spotted Tamara despite her alias. From her posts it was clear that a user named Marata was close friends with Oscar. Marata is an anagram of Tamara. She is also listed as a straight girl, so… Marata=Tamara.

From what I can tell they’re basically a secret club. Despite what Paula said about wanting Hailey to join because she stands up to bullies, there is no plan for GSA to come out and register as a student organization. Everyone seems happy to stay in the closet. There was a lot of complaining about the school and the teachers, as well as links to resources on the web. There were also a number of personal stories posted about prejudice at Pine Hill.

So what should I do? I can try to be anonymous, but if I start sharing the stuff that is going on with me, I am pretty sure that my identity will be revealed pretty quick. On the other hand, this is a chance to make friends with other people who might understand me. When we ate with Oscar, Paula and Tamara today, they were nice to me. Nicer than Dave and Lloyd were on a good day. Hailey’s right that it would be good to have friends or at least allies. The problem is that if you want friends, then you should tell them the truth. I don’t know the truth. What the hell am I? Am I T for transgendered or I for Intersexed? Or both? Maybe my endocrinologist can tell me tomorrow. That’s what I told myself, and that’s why I didn’t post anything yet.

And that brings me back to where I started. Please, let me be a real girl. Let me have ovaries inside me. Or if not that, at least let me have an ovotestis and be part girl. I’m hoping and wishing, but I know that most likely I’m just plain transgendered, a girl’s mind in a boy’s body. I can live with that. It’s this tiny sliver of a chance that’s driving me crazy. I’m like some twisted Pinocchio story. Maybe if I hope and pray hard enough, then someday I’ll be a real girl.
 

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 24 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2013 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

 
 Chapter Eighty-One

As my father and I sat in the waiting area beside the changing rooms for the ultrasound technician to show up, I fiddled with my Nintendo DS. It was next to impossible to focus on playing Harvest Moon. I really liked Harvest Moon, but planting crops, raising animals, mining and deciding which of the eligible bachelors my character would marry didn’t really distract me. It merely killed time; I wasn’t truly into the game.

“How you holding up, Scott?” This was my dad’s fifth, or maybe sixth, attempt to start a conversation this morning.

“I’m fine.” He had used my boy name, but I just let it go. I didn’t want to talk about it, or anything else, with my father. I was caught between hope and dread: There was the tiniest chance that I might have real girl parts in me, but the needle biopsy scared the crap out of me. I really shouldn’t have watched the procedure on YouTube. However, as scary as that was... the worse fear was that they would test me and find nothing but boy parts. Sigh. I had hardly slept at all last night. I just wanted it all over with. I wanted to know one way or the other. Maybe if Julie had been here I could have talked with her, but my father wouldn’t understand.

No small part of my discomfort was due to the way I was dressed. I don’t think anyone likes wearing a hospital gown, but I couldn’t help feeling it was worse for me. I’d started off the day in boy mode, since the clinic was a public place. Now, I was kinda in an awkward half-way place, whitey-tighties, a sports bra full of boobs and only a thin gown to cover it all up. I was also wearing it backwards, as they’d told me to put the opening to the front. I was holding my arms and the DS up to mask the bra as much as I could, but it still felt pretty obvious that I wasn’t boy or girl, but something in between.

The receptionist had even noticed before I had changed. I wasn’t sure what to make of that. She’d taken us into the rear change rooms and private waiting area earlier, and told me how to put on the grown. Then she had paused and given my chest a thoughtful look and added a belated comment about it being okay to leave a bra on for this particular test. I'm not sure how I felt about that. It was the first time that anyone had ever read me as a girl while I was in boy mode. A part of me was pleased that she had noticed... while the other half had wanted to die of embarrassment, since I was supposed to be being a boy right now. Oh, well. At least it was only a medical professional that noticed, and not someone at school. Or sort of a medical professional. Clerks and receptionists deal with confidential patient data all the time, so they must have some sort of oath about that sort of thing... right?

A young blond woman wearing faded green scrubs popped into the room. “Good morning, I’m Pam Roberts, call me Pam. You must be Taylor. I’ll be doing your ultrasound today, if you would like to come with me. Please bring your things with you." She lead the way down the hall to an unoccupied exam room, asking the usual more formal patient identification stuff of me while we were walking before adding, "So, how are you doing this morning?” She was amazingly chipper and upbeat with the sort of body I hoped I would one day have. Beautiful, curved in all the right places and large breasted, she could have been the life-sized version of Ultrasound Tech Barbie.

“I’m fine,” I replied, repeating my mantra for the day. Maybe if I told everyone that often enough, I might start to believe it myself.

Closing the door behind us and gesturing for me to place my bag of clothing in the corner, she spoke briefly to Dad about having a seat on the chair by the door, then turned back to me. “Why don’t you make like a bunny and hop on the table? I’ll just take another quick look at your chart.”

Hop like a bunny? Oh my god, was she a candy striper pretending to be an ultrasound technician? Or did she think I was six or something? I climbed up on the paper covered table, trying not to flash the world while wearing that stupid exam gown. “You know, I’m not a child. I’m thirteen years old and I know why I’m here.”

She closed the file folder she was looking at and gave me a smile. “Do you now, Taylor? So why are you here?”

“My doctor thinks that I might be intersexed and he’s having you look for female parts inside me.” Please, please, let there be.

Dad coughed. “It’s a possibility that needs to be investigated.”

A little bit of her perkiness faded, but she still smiled showing rows of gleaming perfect teeth. “Well, let’s investigate it then, shall we?”

She turned on the machine and computer screens came to life. One of them looked like just some kind of control menu, while the other was the actual imaging monitor. I didn’t get to look at them long because she adjusted the screens to angle them away from me. Handing me a towel to drape over my lap for modesty, she had me lie down and open the front of the gown to expose my abdomen. I stopped short of my bra, but I’m sure she knew it was there. That thin gown didn’t hide much. Then again, she likely knew already. My diagnosis of KS with gynecomastia was probably in that file she’d read.

After squirting some cold jelly stuff on my belly, Pam began running the ultrasound wand across my abdomen. “Just try to relax, Taylor. This won’t take long. So, what grade are you in?”

“Eighth. I start high school next year.” I couldn’t see the monitors so I strained to hear anything going on, but the machine was very quiet. It didn’t beep or ping like the medical equipment on TV. The only sound it made was a slight whirring noise that sounded like a cooling fan.

She moved the wand slowly about my torso, paused while telling me to take a deep breath and hold it, and then typed some keys. “That’s a great age. Are you in any sports?”

Taking that as a clue that it was okay to breath again, I did so before answering. “No.” Certainly not. I was frustrated by the way this test was going. I’d watched some videos of ultrasounds on the internet, so I had a pretty good idea of what she was doing. She was taking pictures of my organs. “Can you tell if I have any girl parts?”

“I’m still looking.”

“Yes, but what are you seeing?”

She repeated the holding breath instruction and typed on her keypad a few more times, then glanced at my file again, before she answered. “You should discuss that with your family doctor, or as I see your file is marked for a duplicate copy to go to Dr. Wexlar, possibly discuss it with him instead... but I’m not seeing anything to be worried about."

I couldn’t help sighing in disappointment. I knew the chance of having even a malformed ovary was small, but I’d still hoped for a miracle like in some of the TG stories I’d read. The ones where I might have all the working girl bits – ovaries, womb and vagina – hidden up inside me.

Although she had started higher up on my abdomen, she had been steadily working her way down my body and had gradually pushed the towel far enough south to reveal my underwear. “Taylor, I’ll need you to remove your underwear now. Did the receptionist forget to mention that you should take those off?”

Actually, she hadn't. I just had been hoping that it wouldn't really be necessary. “Huh? Why? You’ve already done the ultrasound.”

“I’ve done part of the abdominal ultrasound, but I also need to see your pelvic area... which means the shorts have to come off. Besides, you’re also down for a testicular ultrasound.” She wasn’t looking at me or my father when she said it.

“Oh, will that show if I have an ovotestis?” I was half-eager to know now, but I was also curious as to why they needed to stick needles in my balls if an ultrasound could tell.

“Perhaps, that would be for Dr. Wexlar to interpret. Would you remove your underpants, please.” She was still looking down and not at me.

I lifted my hips enough to let me wiggle out of them, then pushed them down past my knees and slipped them off, hiding them under the towel while feeling awkward. Not that the towel stayed in place much longer anyway. First she kept pushing it down further and further while doing the rest of the abdominal stuff, but then she had me spread my legs and started imaging the dangly bits. Embarrassing, although not as bad as it was with Doc Buford. Even though I still had my useless boy parts, it wasn’t as weird having a woman touching me there as it had been when a man did. With Doc Buford it had felt almost gay. With call-me-Pam touching me with her gloved hands and the ultrasound wand, I was just uncomfortable. Well, until I saw my father watching me. “Dad! Don’t look!”

“Sorry,” he apologized as he turned away in his chair, and pointedly looked at the door to the room returned to his corner.

I’m sure I was blushing now. I could feel my face getting hot. “Can’t you give a girl some privacy?”

Call-me-Pam gasped and flinched enough that she gave a little tug on my balls.

She didn’t hurt me, but it sure got my attention. “Did you find something?!” Hope bloomed within me.

“No,” she responded in a strained tone. Then she gave a nervous titter that better suited her Barbie doll appearance than her profession. Then she blushed. “I’m sorry, that was unprofessional. You startled me. I’ve had the training, but you’re my first transgendered patient. I was skeptical. I just realized that you’re the real deal.”

My father stood up. “What do you mean? What did you find?”

Pam glanced back at him. “No, I haven’t found anything physically. I'm sorry; I just...” She looked back at me and sighed. “Most of my patients are pregnant women, but I do have other patients both male and female. I’ve done other testicular ultrasounds and the men always... react... to having their private parts handled by a woman like me. You haven’t even twitched, and you’re embarrassed by your father seeing down there.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t even thought about her fondling me as anything close to sexual. It was just a procedure that I had to endure, and she was just moving things around as necessary to do her job. I was more interested in the outcome. Leaning over me like she was, I could even see some of Pam’s cleavage through the neckline of her scrubs. The only thing the glimpse of her perfect breasts stirred in me was jealousy. I wanted to be like her.

“You can get dressed now. I’m done.”

As much as I was interested in the results just a moment before, I found myself awkwardly aware of the implications of my disinterest. Even though Pam was too old for me, I should have felt some lust for her. I liked girls. At least I liked Cathy... didn’t I?

“So what were the results?” asked my father in an irritated tone.

Pam hesitated for a minute, chewing her lower lip thoughtfully before she started spewing medical babble. “Policy is that you should direct those sort of questions to your physician... but I suppose there is no harm in telling you this much. Taylor’s testes are abnormal in a manner that is consistent with his previous diagnosis of Klinefelter’s syndrome: they exhibit microorchidism and apparent hypoechoic striations indicative of fibrosis of the seminiferous tubules. The good news is that there are two well defined testicular masses in the anatomically correct locations. I see no indications of additional streak gonads or other genital abnormalities. So, I think that our staff consulting radiologist will recommend skipping the X-ray genitography and the MRI that your file has optionally indicated. That will save y’all at least a little in copay fees. As for ‘girl parts’, I didn’t see any anomalous abdominal masses, nor were any observable ovarian follicular characteristics noted by myself on the testes.”

All that gobbledygook was hard to follow, but I think I got the gist. “So no girl parts?”

She looked me in the eyes and gave me a sympathetic smile. "No girl parts... sorry." With a shrug, she looked back at Dad before continuing. “Or at least, not so far as I can tell, but the radiologist will, of course, review the sonograms taken. Maybe he’ll see something I didn't. He’ll present his findings to your own doctor... or rather, Dr. Wexlar in this case, since I see from the file that Taylor is scheduled to consult with him next." She offered me another sad smile. "Dr. Wexlar will need to interpret these results, but basically what the technical jargon means is that your testicles are very small for your apparent stage of puberty. He’ll also need to discuss the more unusual aspects with you.”

I sighed. “I understand.” Or at least I hoped I did. No obvious girl parts, but maybe, just maybe, still a slim chance of an ovotestis.

Chapter Eighty-Two

My urologist for the day was Dr. Wexlar. He wasn’t as old as Doc Buford, but he was close. He had a slight Eastern European accent, German or Russian or something. I could imagine him being an escaped Nazi from one of those old movies I used to watch with Grandpa on television. “We have ways of dealing with girlie boys,Ja. Now we will slice open the boy’s scrotum, Ja. Und then we will stick the needles in his testicles.” Okay, so no, he didn’t really talk like that – that was just my demented imagination running wild. He was actually far too professional to show the secret joy I knew he felt over turning my balls into pin cushions.

“Is the needle biopsy really necessary? You already said my testicular ultrasound showed no sign of an ovotestis.” Dr. Wexlar had just completed the job that call-me-Pam had started. My dreams of being like one of those TG miracle stories where I had girl parts had been crushed. I had no womb, ovaries, or a closed off vagina hiding anywhere up inside of me.

“Your testes appear to be abnormal in a manner consistent with Klinefelter’s syndrome, although histopathological and cytological examination of a tissue specimen would still be preferred. While the ultrasound showed no sonographically apparent signs of ovarian tissue, given your estrogen levels, the biopsy is a justified step. Microscopic examination of extracted samples will allow us to be certain, and it will also let us know if you are infertile. I would think that would be something you would like to know.”

I shrugged. I wasn’t sure with all the fancy words, but apparently I still had a small chance of having ovarian tissue, even it hadn’t been visible on the ultrasound. That should be worth knowing. Didn’t I want to be certain?

My dad spoke up. “Yes, that is something we need to know. We also need to be certain.”

The doctor smiled, and nodded. "Good. While some of my colleagues might do a simple pure needle biopsy, I always feel more confident of my diagnosis when I do a visual inspection as well. I trust that meets with your approval, since you want to be certain?"

I could tell that Dad was out of his depth here. He just nodded and said, "Whatever you think is best."

I sighed. I didn’t really give a damn whether I was fertile or not. Actually, I’d rather not know. If I was fertile, that would be a tiny reason for staying a boy. Since I wasn’t going to stay a boy, it was easier not knowing. Regardless, I wasn’t looking forward to the surgery. Even if it was supposedly a minor procedure, it was a pretty big deal to me. I wasn’t real clear on what the difference was between ovarian tssue and an ovotestis, but apparently there might still be a little girl in me. I suppose that was something, but I just had the feeling they were grasping for straws. Unfortunately my objection had been brushed aside. It didn’t matter what I wanted. Dad and Dr. Wexlar had decided. It was going to happen. The only thing I had to compare it to was a visit to the dentist for a filling: I knew it was going to be painful, but I’d been told it was necessary. My parents and the doctors all agreed it was necessary... and that was that.

That’s how I found myself lying on my back looking up at the bright lights and waiting for the surgery to start, and deciding it wasn’t all that bad. Sure, having a nurse shave off what few pubes I had managed to grow, and scrub my private parts, had been awkward and embarrassing... but once they’d given me a tranquilizer everything got better. Whatever they gave me wasn’t supposed to knock me out. It was just supposed to help me stay calm. It certainly did the trick. I felt all floaty-like. It was sorta like being on cough syrup with codeine, except nicer.

I could hear them talking as they worked on me. It just didn’t seem to matter that much. I knew what was happening. I was too smart for my own good. I’d looked it up on the internet and even watched a video of the procedure. While I couldn’t really see what was happening, I knew what was going on. They gave me a local anesthetic first, just like at the dentist, something to numb the area. Except when the dentist does it, it goes in the jaw. They shoved a needle down in my scrotum and that was an entirely different level of pain than I had expected. It got through the fog of the happy pill, but I didn’t cry out, just made a little ‘ooft’ noise. I recall this was only supposed to be a ‘moderately uncomfortable procedure’. Whoever was in charge of the pain scale obviously needed to recalibrate...

While the surgical drapes blocked my view, I noticed the bright lights they had pointed at me also had a polished chrome framework that was almost mirror-like in places and if I looked carefully, I could see somewhat. I noticed this just in time to watch Dr. Wexlar take a scalpel and cut open my scrotum, otherwise known as my ball sack. It didn’t even bother me as the blood began to flow. Did that mean I was a girl or were these really good drugs. The only thing that bothered me was realizing that I was going to have a scar down there. Not that I was vain, as scars go it would be pretty well hidden. However, if I ever had SRS – not that I had decided to have it yet – but if I did then that was the ‘donor material’ and I didn’t want a big old scar on my future vagina. Hopefully that wouldn’t be a problem. I really should have asked about that before they were cutting me open...

Under the outer skin there were a couple of more layers with fancy medical names I vaguely remembered reading about, but it was too hard to think right now. Whatever. Ouch. Hey, I thought they said I wouldn't feel a thing? Liars. Not that it was bad or anything, but I could sort of hazily feel pressure as he was cutting through things until he got to my testicle. And what was that smell, anyway? Are my balls supposed to be smoking like that? I think I remember seeing a couple tiny puffs of smoke on the video, but somehow I didn't really connect that to their burning me deliberately. Well, I suppose that would be their cauterizing things so that I didn't bleed too much. Dr. Wexlar did say something about doing that when they stuck that big patch on my leg and hooked up a wire to it. Still, it can't be good when you hear that crackling, popping sound of frying bacon coming from your own body...

That drug must be really good stuff, as when he’d squeezed my little testicle out into the open, all I could think about was how funny that was, and how it looked like a weird grape dangling there. Sigh. Well, okay, more of a big raisin in my case. I was mesmerized enough to watch as he brought out the biopsy needle.

Fuck! It wasn’t supposed to hurt! That’s what the local was for, but it hurt like crazy. Then he did it again. What the fuck?! Didn’t he know I felt that? No, apparently he didn’t, because he did it again. And again. And again. How many times did he need to stab me in the balls with a sharp needle anyway to get a sample? It was like I was stuck in some horror film. I could see him stab me, feel the pain, but other than some huffing and puffing I couldn’t seem to engage my vocal cords or move. Maybe they expected guys to just 'take it like a man', but I wasn't a man, and that hurt! I closed my eyes and that helped a little, but I could still feel it. If I couldn’t take it like a man, maybe I could take it like a woman. My mind flashed to what they always tell women to do when showing a birth on TV. I started taking long slow deep breaths: breathe in slowly, let it out slowly, focus on breathing. It helped. I still felt the stabbing pains but they felt farther away. I tried to just breathe. It would be over soon. It had to be over soon.

Up until they’d given me that pill, I’d been worried sick about things. Now, I kinda felt like telling him that as long as he had my balls out that he might as well just chop them off instead of sewing them back in there. For some reason that even felt funny. Why did I need my balls anyway? I was a girl wasn’t I? Wasn’t a girl with balls an inherent contradiction? There had been a reason for keeping them, but right then I couldn’t remember what it was. Oh, because they might be ovotestes… or at least ovo-something. That would be a reason to keep them. So maybe I shouldn’t tell him to make with the snip-snip yet.

“Taylor, we’re done.”

“Oh-kay. T'ank you, herr Doc-e-tor.” Oops. Did I say that last bit out loud? When had he finished? I remembered the stabbing pains, but when had he slipped things back in and sewn me up? Oh well at least it was over. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be stoned? I felt pretty good as I was wheeled down the hallway on my little gurney. The orderly pushing the gurney wasn’t Dr. Wexlar. He was young and muscular. He reminded me of Kurt on Glee. He was probably gay like Kurt. What a waste; he was really cute.

Chapter Eighty-Three

By the time Dad drove me to my appointment with Dr. Flynn, my endocrinologist, the happy floating feeling was gone. I wanted it back, because it felt like Rick had used my balls as punching bags. They didn’t have that sharp, oh-my-God, pain that came from just being racked. Rather they were at that tender, please-don’t-move-fast, please-don’t-touch-anything stage that followed. Dad’s truck didn’t have the best shocks in the world, and every time he hit a bump I’d wince.

“Do we have to do this today?” I knew that I was whining and I didn’t give a damn. I hurt and I wanted to go home. To just take the painkillers they’d prescribed for me, and sleep.

Dad looked sympathetic. “I know you’re in pain. It hurt me just to hear what they were going to do to you, but it isn’t easy for me or Julie to get time off. This is important. Something is going wrong with your body and we don’t know what it is. We need to find out.”

“Okay.” I agreed, but I didn’t like it.

I played Harvest Moon on my Nintendo DS while I waited. I’d been playing all day, on and off to distract myself, but with the happy pills I’d lost track of what I’d been doing. What had I planted? When we got called back to see Dr. Flynn, I put my game away immediately. I needed to pay attention. Dr. Flynn was important. He was the endocrinologist. I knew that word very well from TG fiction: He was the one who controlled the magic drugs that would let me stay a girl, or force me into being a boy.

I walked as slowly as I could, but tried to hide the pain I felt as his nurse put me through the usual intake measurements. She noticed my pain, but understood when I told her that I’d undergone a testicular needle biopsy just a few hours ago. Eventually, I got to sit on yet another paper covered examination table. I was getting wearily familiar with exam rooms. This one was much like any of the others, just large enough for an exam table, a sink and some counter space. I was collecting quite a stable of doctors. Hopefully, my endocrinologist would be the last.

While Doc Buford had his country doctor thing, Dr. Flynn seemed to have aspirations on being the cowboy doctor. He wore expensive boots, which isn’t that unusual for Texas, but he also had on a string tie. I could tell it was a deliberate look. While my fashion lessons had focused on women’s clothes and not men’s, his shirt and pants were clearly chosen for style and not practicality. His hair also looked too dark for the wrinkles he had. He probably dyed it. Oh well. Maybe it was for the best that he was a drugstore cowboy, as goodness knows I was waddling around as bowleggedly as a real cowboy right now.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Flynn, good to meet you all. I take it that you are Robert and you are Taylor?” He shook my dad’s hand first and then mine. “I’ve received your medical records from Dr. Buford and I’ve just spoken with Dr. Wexler, as well as reviewed the documents and images he had you bring over for me in that sealed envelope. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to speak with your psychologist yet, but I understand you’re seeing Dr. Yeatts?”

“That’s correct,” said my father. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at this stage. What is more important right now is solving this medical mystery. Did you bring in Taylor’s prescriptions like I asked?”

My father nodded and held them out. “These are the original prescriptions, and these are the ones that Doc Buford issued.”

“And these are the only prescriptions that Taylor’s on?”

“Yes,” said Dad as I shook my head no.

“Taylor, I see you shaking your head. What else is there?”

“I have my inhaler which I use as needed and an EpiPen just in case I have an allergic reaction.”

“Can I see the inhaler as well?” He took my inhaler, examined it, and made a notation on my chart. Then he launched into a series of questions, some aimed at me and some aimed at my father, all about my medications. Who administered them? How often did I take them? Did I always take them as prescribed? Blah, blah, blah, all the same stuff that Doc Buford had asked, although he was a bit more elaborate about asking if there were any over-the-counter remedies that I might of taken... which I haven't.

“I’m concerned about the overdosing of my son. Doc Buford said that he was taking four times the recommended dosage. I want something done about it. Did the medicine do this to him?”

“We are already tapering Taylor off the medication as fast as it is safe to do, and I haven’t made that determination about his medication yet. At this point there are still a number of other possibilities that need to be considered first. Speaking of which..." He turned away and made a long arm over to a rack of forms and things mounted on the wall over the counter, lifting out a clipboard with some papers on it already. "Please look this list over, and see if you recognize anything on here as something that you regularly encounter or take."

Curious, I found a questionnaire with several columns of weird foods and things on it. Bizarre. Okay, I have at least heard of alfalfa and clover... although the type of clover I remember is green rather than red... but what on Earth is dong quai, fenugreek, or mung beans? And those were just a few of the odd things in that table. Ginseng quercetin and ginkgo biloba sounded sort of familiar, although I thought a ginkgo was a type of lizard. Or is that a gecko? Soybeans and soy products, okay – those I remembered from an article I read about gynecomastia, so that actually made sense. I smirked and tried to stifle a laugh as I saw coffee on the list: I wonder what macho Rick would think if he knew his favorite morning beverage was considered potentially man-boob causing? Carrots and apples, oats, barley and beans? Are they serious? Was there anything not on this list?

The more I read, the more I started to wonder: did I actually do this to myself, with my Taylor Project? I have been consciously trying to eat healthier, to avoid setting off my allergies, for months now. Eating rabbit food, such as alfalfa sprouts. Not everyday, but not avoiding that sort of health-food-nut stuff the way I used to. And soy products... I suppose that includes soy milk. I have a lot of allergies. I am not exactly lactose intolerant, but if I have too many dairy products it does upset my digestion. We have always kept some soy milk in the fridge for me, and as I have been having digestive problems for months now, I had been drinking more of the soy, and less of the dairy, to try to help with that. Was that part of my problem?

Whoa. Wait a minute. Grapefruit and grapefruit juice are on here too? That isn't just a sometime sort of thing for me, like the other stuff: I have been so thirsty lately that I drink big glasses of that several times a day. Was this important? The choices were rarely, monthly, weekly, and daily.

"Umm, Dr. Flynn? Is it important if I drink a lot of grapefruit juice? There’s not a choice for multiple times a day.”

“Multiple times a day? Just how often do you drink grapefruit juice?” He had his pen out and was scribbling notes down.

“At least twice a day, every morning and evening to wash down my medication, and often a glass in the afternoon besides. I like grapefruit juice. It’s not as sweet as orange juice.”

“What does grapefruit juice have to do with anything?” interrupted my father with a growl.

Dr. Flynn smiled. “Possibly nothing, but I believe there is a good chance that grapefruit juice has everything to do with Taylor’s problem."

Chapter Eighty-Four

“What?” My dad sounded upset. “We’ve already been through blood tests, ultrasound and surgery. Now you’re telling me something as common as grapefruit juice made him grow tits?”

“Actually, it’s quite possible. Medical science has known for decades that some foods interact with medications, and in fact grapefruit juice was the first of those food-drug interactions documented. It may sound harmless, but it is anything but harmless in reality. There have been actual fatalities from mixing this particular beverage with some medications, although fortunately not the one Taylor is taking. Grapefruit juice is contraindicated for many medicines because in some individuals it is a very potent inhibitor of the CYP3A4 enzyme. That’s an important enzyme and particularly relevant in Taylor’s case as it is the enzyme that breaks down estrogens. To put it in layman’s terms, grapefruit juice clogs the drain and prevents estradiol from leaving the system. So it stays around longer and hormone levels rise.”

“Lot’s of men drink grapefruit juice, and they aren’t growing tits or wanting to become women.”

Dr. Flynn actually laughed shortly at that one, although he quickly reassumed a more sober demeanor before continuing. "That is true, and by itself grapefruit juice would not do this. Even if grapefruit juice is involved, there would have to be other factors involved." Turning to me again, he asked, "Taylor, were you about done with that list? I see you marked up some other things that you take on a regular basis.”

"Yes sir. Not often, but I have been trying to eat healthier lately. I’ve been doing apples and carrot sticks as snacks instead of junk food. That’s almost daily, then there are the assorted legumes, alfalfa sprouts and soy milk. I’d guess I’m eating those maybe three or four times a week? Except the veggies are sort of a more recent thing. I already was growing boobs when I started eating those. And I don't know if it is important or not, but the amount of grapefruit juice I drink is also going up. I used to drink a lot of it, but now I drink even more as I always seem to be thirsty.”

Dr. Flynn gave me a nod of approval. "And eating all those is a good thing, which you should try to continue. By themselves, those would not be a problem, either. I wish more of my patients ate that well: it would make the job of the medical community a lot easier. They do have phytoestrogens in them, which are basically organic estrogen-like compounds, but the quantities you are ingesting are not normally significant enough to worry about. Most people would probably digest them with little to no effect."

His eyes lost focus for a moment as he chewed on his lower lip in thought. "I think it is significant that you mentioned already having breast development before starting eating some of these things, though. They might be contributing slightly to whatever is going on, but it seems unlikely they are the source of the problem. It's not really important, but just for your information that thirstiness and your digestive problems are likely caused by how much Prednisone you have been taking... as those are known side effects. You probably noticed those listed on your medication's fact sheets."

Fact sheet? Nope. I didn’t remember a fact sheet.

He frowned a little then. "The grapefruit juice, on the other hand, is another story. There are several versions of the usual drug fact sheets for Prednisone. Some of those sheets specifically mention grapefruit juice as something to avoid with your medications, some of them do not. You did not bring the sheets with you today that should have accompanied your medication. Did you read those instructions? And did they mention not taking grapefruits or grapefruit juice with your medication?"

We’d just gotten busted. I looked down avoiding his gaze."No sir. I never even saw them. Umm, Dad? Did you see anything like that when you received the packages?"

Wow. I don't think I have ever seen Dad actually blush before. He squirmed in his chair a bit before finally saying, "Err, there may have been some sheets of legalese that were in the boxes, but those things are impossible to read. I usually just toss those away."

Dr. Flynn just gave Dad a long, silent look... while Dad slowly turned an ever deepening shade of red. Finally, Dr. Flynn gave his head a little shake, and continued. "Be that as it may, since Taylor has been drinking grapefruit juice, there are some things about it that we have to consider. It may be a naturally occurring substance, which makes some people think it can't harm them, but that’s bunk. There are all sorts of things we eat that can be medically active or even poisonous if prepared wrong.”

“Like green potatoes?” I remembered that one from boy scouts, years ago.

Dr. Flynn nodded. “Correct, raw green potatoes contain solanine, which is a poison. Grapefruit juice isn’t a poison, but the point is just because it is natural doesn’t mean it is harmless. There are several active compounds found in grapefruit juice that can act as strong inhibitors of the CYP3A4 enzyme. Now here is where it gets a bit more complicated.”

If I didn’t hurt so much, I might have laughed. He thought it was just now getting complicated? It wasn’t complicated enough before?

“The CYP3A4 enzyme is found mostly in the liver and the small intestine. Now, moderate amounts of grapefruit juice, say one glass a day or less, affects the enzyme in the intestines, but not the liver. The CYP3A4 that is in your gut's walls normally protects you from a broad range of things, including estrogens, which might be swallowed as part of things you eat. It does that by breaking those estrogens, and other things, down before the body can absorb them... but it can't do that when grapefruit juice is around. There are things in grapefruit juice that sort of 'stuns' the CYP3A4 enzymes, making them stop working for up to three days after you drink this beverage. Which is to say, it can and probably does impact the phytoestrogens from the foods we highlighted. The protective shield of the CYP3A4 has been broken, so those are not being digested properly and are entering your blood. That’s adding some more estrogenic effects to your system.”

He shrugged. "Don’t worry too much about phytoestrogens. Even with the grapefruit juice you’re not getting enough phytoestrogens to make a significant change in your estrogen levels. Besides, the problem started before you changed your diet. You just go on eating healthy foods. They’re not the culprit.”

He dismissed that line of thought with a little wave of his hand. “However, returning to grapefruit juice, you haven’t been drinking one glass a day of that; you’ve been drinking two to three glasses a day for so long that there would be a cumulative effect extending into your body and affecting the hepatic CYP3A4 in your liver. It is your liver that normally flushes estrogen out of your system. That’s what I meant when I said your estrogen drain is clogged.”

I could tell Dad was lost in all the medical technobabble, but he was still gamely trying. "So you are saying that it isn't the medication overdose at all, and it’s not the soy milk or health nut foods, but all the grapefruit juice that Taylor has been drinking that did this?"

Dr. Flynn pursed his lips and stared off into space. “No-o-o... I would not go that far. In fact I don’t have any proof yet that the grapefruit juice is doing anything. Remember I said that grapefruit juice doesn’t effect everyone. I just think it is highly likely that it is one of the contributors in this case. Even if it a major contributor, grapefruit juice alone would not elevate Taylor’s estradiol levels anywhere close to the levels we see in Taylor. Plus, another thing about the CYP3A4 enzyme, it doesn’t just break down estrogen: it affects all sex hormone levels... including testosterone levels. For a normal male whose testosterone levels are far higher than their estrogen levels, the suppression of CYP3A4 causes an increase in estrogen that is usually fairly harmless – if it happens at all – as the testosterone levels are so much higher than the estrogen ones. But Taylor's case is not like that."

Straightening up, he turned back to me, looking me in the eyes. "What I believe we have in Taylor’s case is a confluence of factors: First, his Klinefelter’s Syndrome resulted in an underproduction of testosterone and a natural severalfold increase in the estrogen to testosterone ratio. Second, Prednisone disrupted the enzymatic balance of Taylor’s adrenal glands in particular, and indirectly of his body in general, resulting in further reductions in his androgen levels. Third, his age is also a consideration here, as at the start of male puberty the male body needs a much larger amount of estrogen that normal to induce the start of the bone growth spurt... and it gets that estrogen by use of another enyzme, aromatase, to produce estrogens from testosterone. That process would also use up even more of Taylor's limited supply of testosterone, by the way, further dropping his testosterone levels while boosting the estrogen. But by itself, even all that wouldn’t drive his hormones levels to what has been seen. That’s where you add the fourth factor, grapefruit juice inhibiting the metabolism of estradiol and greatly magnifying the effects of the other factors. It’s not one thing. It’s a superfecta of genetics, medication, age and metabolism.” He sounded excited about the whole thing.

I didn’t share his excitement. I could follow his explanation more or less, but it was disappointing. What he was saying was that I had no girl parts. I’d suffered through that surgery for nothing. I was just a freak accident. No, make that just a freak. Although there was one good thing if he was right. “So if I keep eating the way I have been, and drinking grapefruit juice, my estrogen levels will remain high?”

“Only until we restore your adrenals to proper functioning. We’ll do that as quickly as possible, but we have to be safe and it will likely take months of slowly tapering you off that drug down to a more appropriate level. However, in the mean time, I want you to discontinue grapefruit juice immediately. There is no readily available clinical test for a poorly functioning CYP3A4 enzyme, but that does not matter. We remove grapefruit juice from your diet, and if there is a significant drop in estradiol levels, then we have our culprit.”

I crossed my arms and was about to tell him that I didn’t want my estrogen levels reduced, but why bother? They weren’t listening to me. They’d already sliced me open once today over my objections.

Dr. Flynn eyed me suspiciously. “Is something wrong, Taylor?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I just had needles stuck in my balls, then was bounced around for an hour to get here, and I hurt. Now you tell me that, oopsie, just stop drinking grapefruit juice. Should everything be okay?”

“Scott, don’t snap at Dr. Flynn,” scolded Dad. “It wasn’t his fault. He’s trying to help you.”

I transferred my glare to my father. “My. Name. Is. Taylor.”

“This was probably not the best time to have this examination. I’m sorry that you are in pain, Taylor.” Dr. Flynn looked over to my father. “Didn’t Doctor Wexlar prescribe some pain medication for Taylor?”

My father sighed. “He did, but we haven’t had an opportunity to get it filled yet.”

“Let me see the prescription. I’m sure we have some samples that I can give Taylor.”

I decided that I’d had just about enough of them talking past me. “Excuse me, but if it’s this superfecta thing that is causing it, and I go off the grapefruit juice, will you be giving me the hormones I need to stay in female puberty?”

Dr. Flynn turned back to face me. “I’ll need to consult with Dr. Yeatts first, and make a diagnosis. Until we’ve determined the cause of your elevated estrogen levels, we cannot make a recommendation for treatment. I can also only present options. Ultimately it will be your parents who must decide on a treatment plan.”

Alrighty then. I gave Dr. Flynn a nod, but in my mind I was giving him the finger. He might not be planning to give me the HRT that I needed, but he’d told me enough to do it myself. All I had to do was keep taking my regular dosage of Prednisone, eat the way I usually did, and chase it down with glasses of grapefruit juice every day. I’d just keep dosing myself.

Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 25 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2013 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

 
The Taylor Project
 
Chapter Eighty-Five

It was almost noon the next day before I made my way to the kitchen. I vaguely remembered Dad giving me another painkiller before he left for work and asking me if I would be okay alone. He’d offered to have Grandma come over, but I’d refused. I could look after myself and besides, I really didn’t want to deal with Grandma. I set some water on to boil to make some oatmeal.

I was still groggy as I opened the fridge, but then I saw something that woke me up. There it was staring at me – grapefruit juice. Dr. Flynn had told me to stop drinking it. He’d also chopped my Prednisone down to 20 milligrams, once per day. Apparently it was only in the later parts of tapering off that drug that you had to take things real slow. Last night I’d been a bad little girl and had taken a pill anyway, but honestly I had been a little bit out of it yesterday. Alright, I’d been a lot out of it and was still a little bit out of it now. However, my painkillers were wearing off and my head was clear so that excuse no longer applied. Should I really be doing this?

I took the half-empty jug of grapefruit juice out of the fridge. There was more in the pantry, as my dad always bought plenty of my favorite juice. I closed the fridge, and stared thoughtfully at the jug as I put it on the counter. If Dr. Flynn was right, grapefruit juice was more than just tasty tartness. For me, it was girl juice – the magic potion that would keep me in female puberty. I wanted it, but did I really want to start self-medicating? Part of me screamed, hell yeah! I really wanted to give in and listen to that voice, the voice of my inner girl wanting nothing more than the right to exist. However, there was another voice, a more timid voice – the voice of caution – that warned me that I would get caught.

When, though? I won’t see Dr. Flynn again for another two weeks, but I have bloodwork scheduled for this week. He said some medical stuff about tapering off Prednisone being a slow process and it might take a while for my body to stabilize at the new levels. I wish I’d listened closer to that. Will he be able to tell immediately? Or will he think my metabolism is slow to respond? I can’t fool him forever. Sooner or later he’ll realize I’m self-medicating. Or worse, he might think there is another cause, and send me in for more tests. That wouldn’t be good. Neither Dad nor Julie have said much about medical bills, but I know we weren’t exactly rich. HRT would cost money. SRS, if and when, cost even more money. Dad wouldn’t be happy with me running up bills… and then there was the risk of more 'exploratory' surgery. Maybe they’d want to check out something else and cut me open again. Was self-medicating really worth it?

Standing there, I took stock of where I was. I already had breasts and the start of a figure. I took deep breaths and watched my chest rise. Odd. I can remember watching other girls' breasts when they were taking deep breaths, but looking down on my own they barely seemed to move... at least when seen from this angle. Whatever, I didn’t need to see them move. I could feel them. I’d already gone too far to stop. I’d crossed the line of no return a long time ago. To stop now, to be put in a holding pattern, was intolerable. Deliberately, I got a glass out and poured grapefruit juice into it. The liquid called to me, ‘come to the girl side, Taylor’. I reached, tilted the glass back, and drank deep of the nectar of womanhood. I swallowed gulp after gulp, draining half the glass without stopping. Then I took a few gasps to catch my breath, and drained the glass.

When it was empty I smiled. I wasn’t without guilt. There would be a price to pay for this act of defiance. I knew that. Whatever it was, I would pay it. I could almost feel the juice flowing through me, feminizing me. Whatever the cost may be, it was worth it.

One glass wouldn’t be enough, though. I’d need at least three glasses a day to be sure. Dad and Julie wouldn’t be likely to keep buying grapefruit juice, so I’d have to lay in my own supply. Now was the best time to act. I still hurt down there, and I was walking bowlegged, but I was alone. I could walk the quarter mile down to the little mom and pop store where the bus picked us up for school. No one else was home. This might be the only time I could sneak in grapefruit juice unnoticed. Okay, maybe not literally true: I could stop any day after school, but that would mean involving Hailey. If I did it today, then I could hide it from Hailey as well. That way I could at least save her from whatever punishment I earned for self-medicating.

My water was boiling so I mixed in the instant oatmeal and made my breakfast. I should probably go right after eating, then take a painkiller as soon as I got back. I wasn’t looking forward to the half-mile round trip the way I was feeling, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

Chapter Eighty-Six

“So are you going to talk to me, or just ignore me and play that damn video game the whole time?” asked Dad.

In fact, I had been doing my best to ignore both my father and the pain as we drove to the camping spot he’d picked out. Not that it was easy to ignore either. We were on back roads, and every little bump seemed to go straight to my still tender parts. Walking to the convenience store to get grapefruit juice had been a bad idea. I had no idea how heavy a couple of jugs of juice could get. Or how painful the walk home would be. I’d barely made it home before I collapsed. I don’t think I’d reopened anything. I’d checked and there wasn’t any bleeding, but I was still in pain. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to be back at home in bed. Dad didn’t get it. He kept trying to start a conversation that I wasn’t interested in having. Yet, I’d promised to do this. With a frustrated sigh I snapped my DS closed. “Okay, what do you wanna talk about?”

“How’s school?”

“It sucks.” I had a lot of sympathy for girls now. Maybe getting stabbed in the testicles wasn’t equivalent to menstrual cramps, but it was awfully easy to be bitchy when in pain. No wonder they got cranky sometimes.

My father sighed. “Can you be more specific?”

“Sure. I’m bullied almost every day. I’m borderline flunking English because my teacher hates me, as does almost everyone. Plus I have to pretend to be a boy every day.”

“I thought we agreed that you would be my son for the duration of this trip?”

“Yeah, so?” Like I’d really had a choice? It had been one of those non-choices that adults give, where there is only one right answer. “I’m dressed as a boy.” What more did he expect?

“Yes, but you’re already complaining about being a boy. I thought you were going to try.”

“Oh give me a break, Dad. You asked me about school. I answered your question honestly. Would you rather I lie to you?”

“No, but complaining isn’t trying.”

Grrr. I hadn’t been complaining. It would be so easy to complain. I didn’t want to be dressed as a boy and be bouncing along in his truck. “Fine. I won’t complain.” I flipped my DS back open.

“I wasn’t done talking to you.”

“Okay.” What he really meant was stop playing Harvest Moon, but I wasn’t feeling very cooperative.

“Would you close that damn game?”

“Okay.” I did as he asked and closed the game. That’s all I did. Yes, I knew I was pissing him off, but what did he expect?

“Is it really that bad at school?”

“It’s a little better now that Haley is going to school with me. It’s still not fun.”

“You get good grades. I thought you liked school, Scott.”

“Really Dad? Taylor. My name is Taylor.” Unbelievable. I turned away from him and looked out the window. The sun was already close to setting. We would have to put up our tent in the dark. This trip was turning out to be so-o-o much fun – not.

“I’m sorry, Taylor. I thought you were going to be Scott for the weekend.”

“I agreed to dress in boy mode, but that doesn’t make me Scott. No matter how I’m dressed, I’m always Taylor now.”

“I thought you went by Scott when you dressed as a boy?” His voice was lower and not easy to hear over the road noise.

“I let them call me that, and I respond to it at school, but that doesn’t change who I am inside.”

“Taylor, can we stop beating the dead horses? What is it that you want?”

Beating dead horses? That was what Aunt Dee Dee had said about Grandma. As far as I was concerned Dad was acting just like Grandma. “I already told you what I want,” I muttered. I tried shifting in my seat and winced as my tender parts complained about moving.

“What did you say? I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said, ‘I already told you what I want.’ You just don’t want to hear it.”

My dad gripped the wheel tighter. “Other than that. Let’s try it another way. What do you want to be when you grow up.”

“A girl.” The answer was right there on the tip of my tongue.

“I meant, what do you want to do for a living?”

I shrugged, not that he could see me while driving. “I don’t know, Dad. I really don’t know. I’m in the middle of changing my gender identity. It makes it kinda hard to see what’s beyond. It’s like driving on these twisty roads. There is big curve up ahead. Can you see what’s beyond that curve?”

“No, but I still know where we’re going: to the campsite by the lake. Just because you can’t see every curve in the road doesn’t mean you can’t have a destination in mind. Where are you going?”

Grrr, so maybe I picked a really bad example, because Dad just turned it back on me. “I don’t know what I want to do when I grow up. When I look ahead, I can’t get past wanting to be a girl. For now that is my destination... and there is more than enough trouble just to get there. It’s like you're always telling Rick: if you want it, you’ve got to work for it. Being a girl is what I want. It’s what I’m working for. Maybe when I’ve got that in hand, I’ll think about a career.” I shifted down, trying to be less confrontational. “I always thought I’d go to college and get a degree. That hasn’t changed. I just have other priorities now.” I liked science, but that wasn’t very specific. I certainly didn’t have any particular career in mind.

“Taylor, I’m really trying to have a conversation with you as my son, but you keep throwing the girl stuff in my face.”

Is that it? Out of that entire speech, he picked up on that only. I was losing my patience with this whole camping trip. I’d promised to try – I hadn’t promised to be Rick. “Duh. It’s right there. It’s the big elephant in the middle of the room.” Oops. Another bad choice of metaphor, as we were in a pickup truck right now. Whatever. “What are you expecting, Dad? Do you really think forcing me on this stupid camping trip is going to make me suddenly decide I want to be a boy? I’m tired and I hurt. I wish they’d just chopped them off and gotten it over with instead of poking them full of holes.”

“You don’t mean that,” scolded my father.

“Oh hell yeah, I mean it. They’re not doing me any good.” I did, too. Why should I have to suffer through this pain twice? Plus, it had almost certainly been for nothing. The missing source of estrogen hadn’t been ovarian tissue at all. It had been grapefruit juice plugging my estrogen drain.

“Taylor, what part of this is slowing down? You promised to be certain before doing anything irreversible. Chopping your balls off is pretty damn irreversible.”

“Yeah. I guess it is.” I still wasn’t sure about SRS or getting parts chopped off, but that was because of the surgery and pain involved. Well, I had the surgery and now I was suffering the pain. I would have been better off if they’d gone ahead and gotten rid of the damn things while they were there.

“So you’re backing out on your part? What happened to the father-son camping trip? Aren’t you going to try?”

He just wasn’t going to let it go was he? “This is me trying.” I gripped my DS. I wanted it back on. No, I just plain didn’t want to be here. I was trying – couldn't he understand that? Why couldn’t he let me just be me? I felt tears flowing again. There go the waterworks. I turned away. I didn’t want him to see.

“Oh yeah, facing the window and not talking to me is really trying, Taylor.”

I didn’t answer. I never wanted to be here in the first place.

Chapter Eighty—Seven

The awkward silence between Dad and me lasted until we reached our campsite at the lake. Then the silence was replaced by equally awkward conversation. It wasn’t much of a conversation. Dad would tell me to do something, and I’d do it. He set up the tent. I mostly carried things... which didn’t help my physical pain any. There was another tent and an RV present, so we weren’t entirely alone, but the campsite wasn’t anywhere close to full and we were able to set our tent up some distance from the others. That was fine with me. I didn’t feel like being sociable. Dad had brought wood which he set it up in a circle of stones and started it off with some lighter fluid. Presto, instant campfire.

As much as I hated the drive up here, and the prospect of the weekend out here, I did like the campfire. I guess I am just a bit of a firebug, but there was something hypnotic about flame. We were far enough from the other campers that we felt isolated and the flame was almost mythical. Dad broke out some hot dogs and handed me a skewer. I stuck it over the flame and began cooking dinner. This part, I actually enjoyed.

Dad opened the cooler and fished out a beer. “Would like to try a beer, Taylor?”

Oh joy, beer. Male bonding at its best. “No, thank you. I don’t like the taste.” Which was true enough. I’d never been offered a whole beer, but he’d let me have a sip before to settle my curiosity. Beer tasted nasty. “Besides, I’m not supposed to drink alcohol with my painkillers. I read the fact sheet this time.”

“Hey!” My father turned from the cooler with a scowl on his face. Then he sighed. “Okay, so maybe I deserved that. I’m sorry that I didn’t read them. I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

“Don’t be. This is the best thing that could have happened to me. It brought it all out in the open. A lot of transgendered either don’t figure it out or don’t speak up until they’re older. They end up trapped in bodies shaped by the wrong hormones. I’ll get to grow up female. I won’t end up looking like Rick in a dress.”

My father popped the top of his beer and took a good swig from it before he responded to me. “No matter what we do, we keep coming back to that, don’t we?”

Duh. “You know, if you really wanted to go camping with me, you should have let me come as myself. Then maybe you could have gotten to know the real me instead of this… this… façade of a father-son camping trip.”

A brief flash of anger passed across my father’s face before it was replaced by his salesman’s smile. However, I don’t think he’d be selling much with that smile. It looked too forced. “You go as a boy to school every day. Why is it so hard now?”

I wondered if I’d gone too far, but at least we were talking about it. “Dad, we’ve been over this already. I hate school. I’ve hated it for years. Nobody likes me. I don’t have any friends. I retreat into a shell and try to make it through the day.”

My dad skewered his own hotdog and started roasting it. “I know you’ve had some rough times, but I thought you had some friends: Lloyd, and what’s his name? David.”

“Dave, not David. We’re not friends any more. We never really were. The final straw was this past week. Dave called Hailey a ho. I stopped talking to both of them. Family first, right Dad?”

“Yes, family first.” He sighed. “You were right to stick up for your step-sister. Breaking off the friendship was the right thing to do.”

“They weren’t my friends.” They never invited me to their home, not even for a birthday party. I had invited them, but they’d made excuses. They weren’t anything close friends. They were just two guys that I’d hung out with. I was better off without them.

“You know, it’s not going to get easier if you go to school as a girl.”

“I know, but it isn’t easy now anyway. If they hate on me when I come out, well… at least I’ll be true to myself. I’m not trying to be popular. I’d rather be hated for what I really am than be adored for being someone I’m not.” I surprised myself with that comeback. It almost sounded wise.

I noticed my hotdog was starting to burn so I pulled it out of the fire and onto a bun. Okay, this part wasn’t bad. We already had the fixings, so I just put my dog on a bun with some mustard and relish, served with a side of potato chips. Certainly it wasn’t healthy, but I’d been eating a lot of girl food lately. If I had to suffer through this campout, I was going to enjoy roasting hotdogs. I planned to toast marshmallows and eat smores later, too. I took a bite of my dog and it was delish. Always thank the cook. That’s how I was raised. Except, I’d cooked it myself... but I guess I owed Dad for the fire and fixing, and everything that he’d put together while I’d been resting in my bed. “The dogs are good. Thanks, Dad.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled at me as he toasted his own hot dog and drank his beer. He removed his slightly scorched dog from the fire and fixed it up, and then opened another beer. He was hitting it pretty fast.

I’d probably have another hotdog, but I was pacing myself and enjoying my first one. I wasn’t really happy with the way Dad was downing the beer. He drank beer often, but he usually nursed his beers. My thoughts drifted back to what I said before, that he should have let me come as Taylor. That would have been so much better. I found myself wishing I was back in my skirts, a father-daughter trip.

“Penny for your thoughts,” said Dad.

I shook my head. “No, you don’t want to hear it.” I took a bigger bite of my dog on purpose, to avoid having to say anything else.

Dad looked up at the sky, sighed, and then looked back at me. “Go ahead and tell me. Whatever it is, even if it is about being a girl, I won’t be mad. I promise… Taylor.”

I swallowed my food, chased it down with water while wishing it was grapefruit juice. “Okay, but you asked for it. I was just wishing that I was in skirts. That I was free to be myself. If this this could be a father-daughter thing, it might almost be fun.”

The salesman’s face looked at me and nodded. “Is it really so hard to just be a boy?”

“When you’re a girl at heart, yes, yes it is.” Ah hell, not the waterworks again. I turned and tried to wipe my eyes without being too obvious about it.

“So why is it so great to be a girl?” His tone wasn’t challenging now. He sounded almost sad… wistful.

“Everything…” Was he really listening. “I love my breasts. I can’t even say why I love them so much, but they’re part of me and they mean more to me now than what’s below. I love dressing as a girl. The clothes talk to me so much more and... I’m not saying it right. Those are external things and it isn’t external. It’s about being free to be who I am. You asked about friends. Hailey is my friend. Cathy is my friend. We relate like girls. We talk, and we’re just there for each other. Being out dressed as a girl with Julie last weekend, shopping for my own clothes, being accepted as one of the girls… It was just… wonderful.”

“I thought that Cathy was your girlfriend?”

“Cathy was Scott’s girlfriend. Now that I’m Taylor, I don’t think we’re going to make it. She wants it to work, and I’m trying, but being Taylor is more important to me. I know that sounds selfish, but I have to figure out who I am first. Plus with her mother being a witch with a B, we’re not seeing each other.” Half-truths, again. I couldn’t honestly see us working out.

“Does that mean you like boys now?”

It was a good thing that it was dark now, and that our light source was the red flame from the campfire, because I could feel myself blushing. I remembered all too well the ultrasound with call-me-Pam. I was less sure about the later waking dream I’d had where Kurt from Glee had been pushing my gurney. Had that been real or not? “I… maybe. I don’t know. I have to sort out me, first.” Then another thought hit me. “I also really wish you’d lose your fixation on my sexual orientation. Whether I like boys or girls is another issue. I’m a girl inside.”

“Yeah, I know.” His voice almost broke, heavy with emotion. I’d heard him talk like that only once – at Grandpa’s funeral.

“W-what? Do you really mean it?” I could feel my heart soaring, but like a kite on a short string it didn’t fly very far. It was tethered by the pain I heard in my father’s voice.

“I think I’ve known it for a while. I just thought I could change it.” He wasn’t crying – I’d never seen him cry – but sadness clung to him like moss to a stone. He took a deep breath. “You would have thought that after little league, I would have learned that I can’t force you to be what you aren’t.”

“I’m still me, Dad. I’m still the same person.”

He shook his head. “No, Taylor, no you’re not. This is really what you want?”

“Yes, this is really what I want. Can you accept me as your daughter, instead of your son?”

“I can…” His voice got stronger and more resolute. “I will. It just might take me some time.”

I rushed over to him and hugged him. Awkwardly at first, then with no reservations, he returned my hug.

Chapter Eighty-Eight

Saturday, March 30th — Taylor Project Day 89

So camping with Dad proved to be not so horrible after all. The first few hours were terrible, but we started talking around the campfire and somewhere along the line something changed within him. I’m still not sure even now what it was that tipped the balance, but he’s genuinely acknowledged me as his daughter... and not his son. That doesn’t mean he is happy about it. There was a strong undercurrent of sadness and disappointment from him, but he seems to have finally accepted that I’m a girl inside.

You know, I just have to write that again. Dad has accepted that I’m a girl. I still find it hard to believe. I’ve been afraid for so long that he’d never accept me. I’m not stupid. I know I still have to jump through the alphabet soup hoops: GID diagnosis, HRT, RLT, and SRS (maybe?). Those aren’t going to be easy, but it feels like I’ve reached a turning point. It’s all downhill from here. No matter how bad it gets, if I have Dad and my family (minus Grandma) on my side, I’ll make it. It’s like before I had hope, but now I really feel like it will happen – eventually.

Dad and I talked for a long time. I can’t remember when we talked like that. We discussed my hopes and fears about being a girl. I talked about Cathy, and how I’m afraid that our relationship is failing. We even strategized about when I would transition. If Dr. Yeatts approves, Dad thought that after summer would be best. He suggested coming out at the start of summer and letting the rumor mill do its thing. That way, everyone would know before long but I wouldn’t have to put up with all of them. By the time I started high school in the fall, hopefully it wouldn’t be fresh news any longer. I’m not so sure that I like that plan. Yes, I wouldn’t have to face everyone... but the idea of me being a 'boy in a dress' would fester all summer long. I don’t look like a boy in a dress. I’m lucky, I look like a girl. I think letting people see me will help, not hurt. Anyway, that’s something to discuss with Dr. Yeatts.

I certainly didn’t tell Dad everything. I didn’t tell him that I maybe, might be, sort-of am, finding some boys attractive. I also didn’t tell him that I was self-medicating. I feel guilty about that. We had this great clear-the-air conversation... and I didn’t tell him that I’m still guzzling grapefruit juice by the gallon. I’m afraid that is going to bite me sooner rather than later, but I don’t know what to do about it. I’m not going to stop, but it’s going to be ugly. About the only thing that I have decided about that is to pester Dr. Yeatts for when she’ll make some kind of decision about my hormone treatment.

Once Dad decided to see reason, he also listened when I told him that I was still in pain. It was too late to avoid spending the night in the tent, but he agreed to cut our camping trip short. We packed up the trip on Saturday morning and came home. After we got home, I took more painkillers and slept most of the day. I did get to catch up with Hailey when I woke, though, and it turned out there was important catching up to do. Trouble is brewing with Cathy and at school.

Since I wasn’t around, Hailey decided to pay a visit to Cathy. Apparently Cathy thinks that I’m neglecting her. I don’t know what to do about that. I borrow Hailey’s cellphone almost every night to call Cathy, and we’ve gone bike riding together a few times, but I feel the distance between us. It’s not my fault her mother has grounded her. When we are together, it feels like she’s pushing me to be either her boyfriend or her girlfriend – but a romantic relationship of some sort, not just friends. I don’t think it is ever going to happen. Hailey also thinks it isn’t just me that’s driving Cathy nuts. Apparently Mrs. Andrews is being a little ‘coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs’. Cathy’s mom has always been a little out there, but apparently she’s gotten nuttier lately. Big sigh.

Then there is school. Hailey didn’t tell me until Saturday, but apparently rumors are already flying that I have a ‘serious’ condition. It’s pretty obvious that Mandy let it all slip. That is the exact wording we used at the table when we talked about it. Hailey is pretty pissed at Mandy about it. I’m not sure if they’re friends now or not. I’m not sure it is all Mandy’s fault, though. My being out for two days likely helped fan the rumor flames. Hailey refused to answer the questions, and that probably contributed as well. She stuck by what she suggested on the bus and just told everyone who asked that it was personal. According to her it has been variously suggested that I have cancer, tuberculosis, the plague, and/or the T-virus from Resident Evil.

I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hide any more. Are people going to let me get away with 'it’s personal' at school on Monday? Hailey really thinks I should go ahead and post to the Pine Hill GSA forums. She has a point. The way rumors are flying, and as many people as know, how long until something leaks? On the other hand, coming out to the GSA will add even more people, and they’ll be people I don’t know – that I’ve never even met. I might be willing to tell Oscar, Paula and Tamara... but I don’t know the high school members. I just don’t know what to do.

Oh, and tomorrow is Easter Sunday. Thankfully, we’re not going to church. However, we are still getting dressed up because we’re going to go meet Sarah Jones, aka Julie’s mother, my new grandmother. Apparently she isn’t so happy that she hasn’t met her new son-in-law and grandchildren yet. Also apparently, Julie told her mother everything... which is why we haven’t met Grandma Sarah before now. Julie refused to let her meet us until her mother promised to be civil to me. I get to go in girl mode. In fact Julie thought it best if I go in girl mode. She has promised we’ll leave if her mother is rude, but it sounds like her mother is likely to be judgmental. Whee. Happy Easter to me.