Admin Note: This story was originally published on Sunday December 4, 2016 at 2:50:05 pm. I just had to post this up. I know we are down, especially me. This story is one of tough love, and I would like to think Leila could teach a few of us something about it...~ a very sad Sephrena.
 
 
“GET OUT OF HERE!”, Carla, my older sister, yells standing in her bedroom with just a towel wrapped around her chest and another turbaned over around her head. She had just stepped out of the shower and mom had called us down for breakfast. I stood there debating about running out or just standing there giving her mom’s ‘invitation’. “DID YOU HEAR ME, YOU PERVERT?” She’s 14, and I’m 10 at the time and well, mom kept telling her to ‘mind her modesty’. “Xander!” mom calls out from the first floor of our ‘lovely’ two story home. “I just told you to call your sister down for breakfast! Not to gawk at her in the process!”

The memory was still vivid and I don't recall what I had just said to my therapist about it.

My name is Alexander though… for some reason instead of Alex, they call me ‘Xander’. The name stuck. Thankfully, for not long, I go by Angie now. “Angie, I thought we were going to discuss you and how this all started?” Mrs. Huffman, my therapist, rarely abides distractions and loves tangents even less. “So…” tapping her pencil on the top of her notepad, “What does this have to do with all of this?”

“Well, I guess it was the last time I saw my sister…” I say sadly. “The last thing she ever said to me was call me a ‘pervert’.” I say sadly. I feel my chest begin to tighten.

“I… I’m sorry Angie, I thought… Please continue.” Her normally, stern face softened ever so much for just the briefest of moments.

“Well, I ran down for breakfast and ate it as quickly as I could, before running off to school. She hadn’t come down yet.”

“What happened to her was not your fault.” She must be psychic.

“I never mentioned what happened to her.”

“Sorry Angie, everyone knows that part of the story. It was national news after all. I shouldn’t have interrupted, we’re talking about you at the moment.”

“I know, but she was supposed to walk me to school in the mornings.” I look up because I hear the scribbling by Mrs. Huffman. She never writes. She just taps the pencil on the notepad. I thought it was something of a metronome, keeping things on beat and on measure.

“She went to school directly instead. That’s when they must have grabbed her. If she went with me she would have taken her normal route.”

“So how does that make you feel?” She’s now chewing the pencil, hanging on my words. I’m fidgeting with the hem of my skirt, pulling in closer to my knees. Her eyes dart down to my fingers and my hem for a moment, then back up at me.

“I don’t know.” I shake my head looking down at the hem which never seems to be long enough. “Maybe if I didn’t go up… or enter her room? I might not have been embarrassed and went to school on my own?”

“Angie, listen to me. What happened to you sister was the act of two depraved men. They are the only ones responsible for what happened to her. Not you.”

Tears are rolling down my cheeks. “I can’t help it. You know, she would have been 21 tomorrow.”

“I didn’t realize that. Angie, do you think your life would have been different had this not happened?”

“It would have been nice to have an older sister to share things with. To have someone to talk to about all this.”

“And how does that make you feel?” I’m really starting to hate that question.

“It hurts mainly. I mean, every time I do something, the thought enters my head that she never got a chance to do this.”

“Is it possible you are living the life you thought she would have if she survived? I mean instead of Alexander’s?” The question stuns me.

I shake my head. “I think I’m living my life.” I say in a somber tone. “It probably would have been easier with her there.”

“How did your parents take the news of your transition?” I’m not sure whether the change in subject was for her benefit or for mine.

“I guess the best word was ‘skeptical’.” I say with a smirk that eeked out before I could contain it. Again, more scribbling. Three sessions and she had not written a single word. Now, she’s flipped two pages?

“Go on.” She says matter-of-factly. Her wrist turn gently until she realizes; there isn’t a watch there. Her eyes move towards the clock. She closes her eyes and before I could get a word out. “Actually, I think that’s all the time we have for this session. Have you kept a journal like I asked?”

“Yes, but it’s been pretty hard to write in it lately.” I frown.

“Please, try. It’s important not to have this all bottled up.” She stands, as do I. I straighten my skirt and pull down at the bottom hem of my blazer. She walks towards the door as I follow. She does something else that surprises me. She rubs my shoulder as more tears continue to trace a new path down my cheeks. “Do you have my number in your cellphone?” She asks with a hint of concern in her voice.

I reach in to my purse to pull out my phone. I shake my head that I didn’t. She grabs a card from her receptionist desk and places it in my free hand. “I want you to call me if you need someone to talk to. Please promise me that you will do that, okay?”

I look up and sheepishly nod, “Yes, thank you.” I pull out a tissue from my purse and dab at my eyes. I’ve given up on wearing mascara and eyeliner before therapy sessions. I walk out to the waiting area.
Mom looks annoyed while reading her tablet. She looks up at me, I’m a mess again. I can see it on her face. She slides the tablet into her purse haphazardly, before rushing over to me. I let out a muffled sob as she pulls me into a hug. “Baby, it’s okay.” She rubs my back. All can do is cry as Mrs. Huffman closes the door behind her. It takes me a few moments to compose myself. Mom takes a step back from me runs her fingers through my chestnut hair. “Are you sure this is what you want?” she asks in earnest. I look up at her. “I mean you were pretty sullen as a boy, but it seems much worse now that you’re a young woman. Are you sure this is really making you happy?” I can see the heartbreak on her face. I’ve learned to recognize it. It’s on her face every time someone mentions Carla. She doesn’t wait for an answer. She turns, reaches behind to grab my hand and we walk out of the office. I’m thankful she’s leading, I could barely see straight, let alone think straight.

We head out of the medical office building and to the car. “Honey, do you feel like having some lunch? You didn’t have any breakfast this morning.” I’m shaking my head. I don’t think that she’s asking. We probably already have reservations for lunch.

As expected, we set down for lunch, after the hostess shows us to our table. “Angie, please say something. All you’ve done since we left the doctor’s office is cry.”

“It’s her birthday tomorrow.” I say flatly. The questioning look on my mother’s face gives me pause.
She looks down at her menu. “I hear the chicken marsala is wonderful here. What were you going to have sweetheart?” Chicken marsala was Carla’s favorite dish. It was mom’s way of saying she hadn’t forgotten about Carla. It just still hurt too much to talk about her.

“I was probably going to have a chicken salad or something.” Not even looking at the menu.

“I’m concerned about you. You’re rail thin and skipping meals is not healthy for you. Please, eat something.” She was right. At five feet five inches, I was barely over 110 pounds. I open my menu, scan the entrees and sigh.

“You remind me of myself at your age.” She says with a smile.

I close my eyes and smile.

“There’s that smile that I’ve been missing. Now, can I have my daughter back?” Chill runs through me and my smile disappears.

She looks at me wondering what she said to make my smile vanish this time. “Angie, you keep taking things wrong. Carla wasn’t this hypersensitive.”

“Sorry mom, I can’t help it.”

“Well you certainly can’t go back to school as Angie and be that hypersensitive. It will only make things worse. Are you sure you want to do this? You could start fresh in college. It’s only two years away. You don’t have to… It’s just I don’t want to see you hurt. High School can be just so… cruel you know.”

“The principal assured me that everything would be fine. Dad had a conversation with him and they made sure there were the proper arrangements.” I’m wondering where the waiter is. “The therapist is part of the whole thing.”

“That’s another thing. I don’t like having you walk out of her office in tears. You should have seen yourself. I’m not supposed to ask but, what were you talking about in there that got you so upset?”

“Carla, I was sharing the day that she was taken.”

“That’s none of her concern.” Anger crept into her voice. “Why would she ask about that? You are supposed to be discussing why you’re a girl instead of my son?”

“I brought it up.”

“You did? Why on earth would you bring that up? The therapy is for this whole ‘transgender thing’ of yours.”

“The whole transgender thing? Is that way you think all this is? As a ‘THING’?”

“That’s not what I meant young lady and you should mind your voice!” She says in an angered whisper. “Young lady, I think an apology is appropriate at this moment.”

“I’m sorry mother.” I sigh, “I shouldn’t have raised my voice.”

“I’m sorry too sweetheart. You have to understand that I feel like I’m losing another child. I’m trying my best to…”

“Ladies, would you care for a beverage?”

“Hot tea for me and ice tea with extra lemons for my daughter.” Mom's answer is a reflex.

“I’m sorry, I’d like a diet coke please?” Mom looks at me.

“One hot tea and one diet coke for the young miss. I'll be right back with those in a minute.”

“The ice tea was Carla’s normal drink order, not mine.” I say after the waiter leaves. Mom closes her eyes and shakes her head.

“You look so much like her too. Sometimes I forget."

We finish lunch and head back home.

A pair of police cars are parked in front of our house. Mom looks concerned as we pull into the driveway. She tells me to stay in the car with the engine running. I watch her disappear into the house and shriek.
It startles me. I grab my purse and fumble for my mace and run in after her. Mom’s there standing, hugging someone just slightly shorter than she is. A brunette whose back is towards me. Mom is crying and I don’t know why. I see my dad on the couch, he’s got his hands cupped to his mouth. There are tears in his eyes. The young woman releases her grip on my mom and turns around to see who just entered in the room.

The young woman looks like me. I’m shaking and fall to my knees on the carpet. “Carla?”

“Xander?!?!?"

============================
Author's note.

Okay, this is what I get for pantsing... I'm not sure whether this would be anything more than just this solo setup. It just feels like the beginning of an interesting story. I would normally bury it in my 'I'll come back to it never file' but it seems like such a waste. Nanowrimo, yielded 64,000 words of a story that would never see the light of publishing. So, I felt a bit guilty that I wrote so much without sharing.

2016-12-04 14:50:05 -0500

In one of the most improbable reunions, Carla Rhodes, who was kidnapped almost seven years ago is finally reunited with her family a day before her 21st birthday.
{Cut to pre-recorded footage}
It was almost 7 years ago, when Carla Rhodes, this beautiful young 14 year old girl was kidnapped from this quiet neighborhood while on her way to school that morning. She was the subject of a manhunt that spanned 4 states and drew national attention. The two suspects, Greg and Marvin Centers were apprehended just outside Salt Lake City, Utah, but there was no trace of Carla. They were later found dead in their jail cells after apparently hanging themselves with their shoelaces. No foul play is suspected in their deaths, leaving many to wonder what happened to this 14 year old angel.
{Cut back to the live shot}
At this time, we have no information on where Carla was held this past 7 years or how she was discovered. The police and the FBI are going to hold a press conference tomorrow morning. We have footage of Carla being reunited with her Father, Aaron Rhodes, early this morning. The mother and teenage son were not home at the time of Carla’s return.
Live from just outside the home the Rhodes family, I’m Laurel Street. For KALF news. Back to you in the studio, Barbara.

Earlier that afternoon…

“Xander?!?!?”

“Honey, this is your sister, Angela, Angie for short.” Dad tries to introduce me, their youngest daughter, to their prodigal daughter, Carla.

I couldn’t move. The strength in my legs left after I saw my sister turn from a hug from my mom to face me. I’m on the ground and my dad realizing my distress rushes over to my side.

Carla is frozen as well. “What?” she’s shaking now. “Why? How? I mean, My sister? Xander? Mom what the hell is going on?” She turns to my mom, our mom, with a questioning look.

“It’s true honey. She’s your sister now.” Mom begins to move towards Carla who now retreats. Mom’s face shutters a bit at Carla recoiling.

“She looks like me.” Carla’s disdain is now apparent. “Is this freak supposed to be ‘my replacement’?” She spits out angrily. “You didn’t have me around so you turned your only son into... what... a substitute for me?” The venom was directed at my parents, though I was the first to resume my tears. “What sick game is this? I didn’t expect to come home to two parent that would do that to their only son!” pointing at me. “This is not happening… This is not happening…” Carla repeats she makes her way to the couch. “I’ve been through hell for the last 7 years and my sick, twisted parents turn my brother into another daughter? There’s got to be a law against this, child endangerment or something.” She’s muttering to herself.

Dad is hugging me trying to console me as I’m crying at being spurned by my own sister.

“That’s enough Carla. Look at what you are doing to your sister.” Mom says sternly.

“What I’m doing to my ‘Sister’? Are you people insane? Look at what you’ve done to my BROTHER! This crying, little, 'nothing' is supposed to be your daughter? I that what I would have grown up to be- living here?”

“Enough Carla! Aaron, why don’t you take Angie to her room while we talk this over calmly.”

“She… hates… me, Mmmmy… sister… hates… me…”, I stammer as I resume crying. Dad picks me up and carries me upstairs to my room.

He sets me down on my bed and pulls a couple of tissues from the box on my vanity next to the door. He hands the tissues to me as I’m sobbing. “Carla hates me.” All those years, I had wished for the day my sister would return. All the nights, I spent praying that God would someday return my sister to me. I thought of how excited I would be to finally have my big sister back. We’d do all the things that I saw my friends do with their older sisters as they got older. I thought how we would share our deepest thoughts with each other. “She hates me…” My heart erupted in pain.

“It’s okay princess, she doesn’t really hate you.”

“Yes, she does Daddy.”

“She’s just angry and confused. She’ll come around and she’ll hate you for other reasons…” he says with a smile.

Just for a moment I let out a giggle in-between my sobbing. How does he do that? Daddy seems to always be the one to pull me out of my malaise. I love him for that. A few more minutes I've calmed down.

“Are you going to be okay pumpkin?”

I look up at him, “Yes daddy.” I say smiling with tears still streaming down.

He stands and kisses me on the crown of my head. “That’s my girl. I’ll be back up here to check on you later okay sweetheart?”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, princess?”

“I love you.”

“love you too baby girl.” He closes the door behind him as he leaves.

After sitting for a few minutes, not hearing anything from downstairs, I lethargically strip off my blazer, skirt and blouse and pull on my sweatpants and hoodie. I hang my clothes back into the closet and place my earrings and bracelet in the jewelry box on my vanity. I leave my locket on as I stare at my sister’s photo inside it next to my own.

I’m on my bed reading a magazine on my tablet when there’s a knock on the door.

Before I can answer the door opens and Carla peeks her head in. “Mind if I come in?” she says sheepishly.

“Fine, it was your room before anyway.” I’m sad and angry right now. Her words which had deadened a few minutes ago, reassert themselves into my mind.

Carla walks in and sits on the far corner of my bed. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”

“What do you want…” I sneer back at her, prepared for another verbal assault.

“I’m sorry, I… I just wasn’t expecting to find that I have a younger sister.”

The thoughts in my head of what she might have been through in the last seven years have begun to tamp down my anger.

I begin staring out the window at the moon. “I used to pray every night that you would come home safe so we could be a family again.” The tears in my eyes begin to well up again.

“I know, I wished for a long time for the same thing.”

“It’s been so hard not having you around. When you were gone… I… I had nobody… Mom and Dad were there, but they weren’t at the same time.”

“I know, it was rough for me too. You did grow up to be every bit as pretty as me though.” She says with a smile.

“Where were you? What happened?”

“It’s a painful story to tell. Can I take a raincheck? I’m not ready to tell it.”

“I understand. Someday perhaps?”

“Someday.”

“So, Angela is it?”

“Everyone calls me Angie.” I smile.

“Oh yeah? Who’s everyone?”

“My friends, almost all the family knows by now. I’ve had all summer to bring them up to speed.”

“So, you’re a Junior now?”

“In high school, yes. Sophomore year was tough though.”

“So, does my sister have a boyfriend?”

“No, mom won’t let me date… She probably won’t let me date until I’m in college now that I’m a ‘young lady’. It used to be I couldn’t date until I’m a junior. Her tune changed when she finally saw me as Angela for the first time.”

“Bet she must have gone ballistic.”

“What?”

“Sorry, she must have been out of her mind.”

“Oh! she freaked out actually. You should have seen her face when the first of a series of boys came over to ask me out on a date. I think it started last year.” I say with a giggle.

“What about dad. I can’t imagine that went over well with his 'pride and joy' suddenly becoming his little girl.”

“Pride and Joy? Are you kidding me? He didn’t warm up to me until I was Angela. I think he loved you more. You were Daddy’s little girl.”

“Sounds like you’ve inherited the title.”

“Nope… I’m his ‘baby girl’.” I beam with pride.

“So, what’s the story? How did you go from my skeevy little brother to my beautiful little sister?”

“I don’t know, I guess I was always your little sister. As far back as I can remember. I just hated being a boy.”

“Don’t tell me you were one of those that 'snuck into their sister's closet' to pilfer items of clothing.”

I sigh. “Most of your clothes went to the attic 5 years ago. Vanessa, Rhonda and Sherry were the ones that got me my first outfits until I got my job.”

“Did Mom and Dad buy girl clothes for you?”

“Not a chance. I got a work permit at 15 ½ by then I was already buying my own clothes and have been a retail princess for the last year and a half. I get a discount if you’re interested.” I say with a grin.

“And the store is okay with you really being a boy…”

“Well, the store managers know because they have to but, they’re great about it. I pull in the most sales.”
“My sister, the queen of retail, huh…”

She stands up and begins looking around my room. There are tons of photos of me and my friends.

“So, tell me about your friends.”

“What’s there to tell.”

“Well for one thing you are or were a boy. Nearly all of these pictures show you as a girl. How long have you been dressing as a girl?

“Since I was 12. Well, in secret that is. I was caught by mom and dad when I was 13. They got me into therapy, thinking it was a reaction to you going missing. It took months to convince them it had nothing to do with you. They actually had me on hormone blockers since I was 14. I just started taking estrogen a few months ago. I began seeing a second therapist about a month ago for a second opinion.”

“What about the kids at school. Didn’t they bully you?”

“That’s where Mom and Dad drew the line. I was not allowed to go to school as a girl. Which really sucked for me. I would run to Vanessa’s after school to go change there. But thankfully, that’s all over. I get to go to school as Angela now.”

“What? How?”

“Well one of the school board members has a transgendered son who goes to a local elementary. Dad knows her and asked her if she could help with my situation.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope! Come August 28th there will be no more ‘Alexander Rhodes’ and it will be officially Angela Lynn Rhodes.

“Lynn?”

“Mom’s idea. She said if she ‘was going to have a daughter instead of a son that she at least wanted a hand in naming her.’ ”

“Are those mom’s diamond earring?” Spying the earrings I had just placed into my jewelry box.

“No, they’re mine. She did get them for my sweet sixteen birthday party. She still has the set, her set, she was going to give to you. She didn’t want me to have them. As much as it hurt, I think she held on to them because she knew you would come back some day.”

“Is this the sweet sixteen?” She pulls a photo from my vanity mirror.

“Oh god!” I get flushed. Holding up my hand to shield myself from the photo. “I didn’t pick the dress. Mom did! I looked horrible in it.”

“It looks lovely, and you look lovely wearing it.”

“I wish I had you there to help pick out a better dress for me. Or at least run interference with Mom.” She giggles and sets the photo back on the vanity mirror.

“And who’s this?” I wince as she uses the photo to fan herself. “He’s cute.”

“Ugh. Robbie Barnes. I can’t believe I kissed that ‘frog’.”

“So, he didn’t turn into a prince?”

“No, but he bragged about kissing a 'princess' to his friends for the next month. Well, until they let him know it was me.”

She looks over and sees a set of pompoms on the chair. “Oh! tell me you’re not a cheerleader.”

“I’m NOT a cheerleader.”

“What a relief.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know it’s just I’m glad you’re not. Why do you have these anyway?” She asks holding up my pompoms and shaking them mockingly.

“They were a present.”

“A present?”

“From Cindy McAllister, she was the head cheerleader. I became an honorary cheerleader when I saved Nikki Price from drowning a few years back.”

“Wait! Cindy McAllister, as in my old best friend, Cindy McAllister?”

“That’s the one!”

“She made head cheerleader?”

“Oh! she’s pretty now. Nothing like the awkward teenager you remember. She’s married and goes to UC San Diego. She’s an Econ major, I think.”

Carla looks down at the pompoms give them a shake with a sad look on her face. She sets them down on the floor and sits on the chair where they sat. She pulls Mr. Nibbles, my teddy bear out of the chair and takes his place. She looks around the room focusing on nothing in particular. “God, I missed so much of your life. So much of my life.” She’s hugging Mr. Nibbles now. I get off my bed and walk towards her as she beings to sob. I pull her up from the chair and into the hug I’ve been waiting almost long 7 years to give.

“Carla?”

“Ya, sis?” she says sadly.

“Are you okay? I mean, with me as your sister? and not as your brother?”

“I think so Angie.”

“I love you, sis.”

“Love you too! Ang?”

“Yeah?”

“I can I have my room back?” She looks at me with a hopeful smile.

I smile back a her. “Not a chance, Sis! Not a chance!”

Thank you. Two years ago, a Joint Task Force consisting of the FBI, the US Department of Labor, US Department of Immigration, Customs, and Enforcement, as well as several other agencies initiated investigation after receiving information regarding several individuals, detained against their will in a small community just South of Tucson, Arizona. For the past several months, the Task Force had determined, that individuals had been transported to various other locations through out the US as part of a massive underground operation, spanning 7 states.

The most recently discovered of these locations was here in Bakersfield, California. Two days ago, members of the local law enforcement, FBI, DOL, and ICE entered a facility north of Bakersfield, where several individuals were purportedly being held. Their captors had abandoned the facility and are currently being pursued.

One of the individuals held was identified and returned to her family yesterday. We are attempting to determine and return to their families, 12 more individuals that were held at the facility. Because of the ages of some of the individuals held; we are withholding those names.

We will continue to utilize any and all resources available to the task force in pursuit of their captors. Make no mistake, we will bring these persons to justice. I would like to thank…

Much earlier that morning…

There’s a rustling in my room. A hand goes over my mouth that keeps me from screaming. “Carla, be quiet. It’s me.” A hushed stern voice from the darkness. “Come on! We need to get out of here. The guards are only going to be gone for a little while, now’s our chance.“ My eyes are wide now. My sister, Carla, has a something in her hand. The moonlight through the window shows the glint of the edge of a knife. I let out a yelp. “Shhh! Do you want the guards to hear us?”

I don’t know what’s going on. My heart is racing. My sister is in my room, with a knife, I guess ‘rescuing Carla’ from some imaginary ‘guards’? I’m panicking. I don’t know if she’s going to hurt me or herself.

“No time to get dressed! Come on!” She pulls me by the wrist, out of bed and towards the doorway. She peeks her head out to slightly. Her hand gripping my wrist tight. Fear settles in to me as she pulls me into the hallway. She stealthily looks left and right constantly, then pulls me down the hallway. She has the knife out in front of her at the ready. I’m shaking. She looks back at me. “Carla, you need to calm down.”

The lights in the hallway flick on. “Carla?” Daddy’s half a sleep. She turns and places herself between me and my Daddy. Carla has the knife in front of her. It takes a moment for Daddy to realize what's going on. He must see the scared look on my face. He starts moving towards us.

“You’re not taking her back; do you hear me!” Carla growls. This causes my dad to retreat a step. “Carla?” She asks. No answer. “Carla!” She shakes my wrist. I’m petrified and can’t speak. “Carla! What’s the matter with you!” she screams at me. I can’t stop shaking.

“Daddy, please help me.” I’m starting to cry.

She turns to me. “Carla, you’ll be with your mommy and daddy soon, we just need to get out of here.” She pushes me backwards in a retreat.

“Daddy?” He looks at me. There’s something I’ve never seen in his face. I can’t quite place it. Terror? Every step we take in retreat. He advances. He’s trying to save me.

“Carla, don’t you want to see your Mommy and Daddy again?” She asks me. I’m so afraid right now; for me and for my family. “Carla, you’re going to have to trust me, okay sweetie?”

Mom peeks her head out. Her eye go wide. “Aaron?” She puts her hand to her mouth.

“Honey, call 911.” He says to Mom. She retreat back into the room.

Carla and I are at the top of the stairs now, slowly retreating. She has her hand gripped tight around my wrist still and isn’t letting go.

“Carla? What are you doing? that’s mom and dad." I ask. She looks at me, angry at my confusion.

“Carla, what is wrong with you? That’s not your mom and dad! I trying to take you back to them. Don’t you see? You don't need to be scared anymore. I’m here.”

“Who are you?” I ask.

“Shhh! No time to talk. I tell you everything you need to know when your back safe with your mom and dad, okay?” I turn on the lights to the stairway.

“Down the stairs. Now!” She says in a hushed but firm voice.

I look past her. “Daddy?” I’m pleading with him to help.

He stands there and raises his hand. “Do as she says, princess. The police are on their way.” We head down the stairs to the livingroom. “There’s the door. I’ve got to get the other girls out.” I look at her puzzled. “Carla, are you listening to me?” The cops arrive. “Look! I told you the authorities are here. Run! I’ll get the rest of the girls.” I can’t move. She give me a shove towards the door. I can see the flashing lights shine through the window. I don’t want to leave her. “Carla! What’s the matter with you. You need to get out of here!”

I turn and summon as much courage as I can. “Carla, this needs to stop! Now! I’m Angela, your sister, remember?”

“Have you lost your mind? Carla, you need to go out to the cops now! Stupid girl! You’re 10 feet from rescue and you want to stay here? Go! Out the door. Now!”

With tears in my eyes, I run to the door and open it. A cop pulls me towards him. “she’s clean!”

“What's your name sweetheart?”

“Angela, Angela Rhodes.” My fear turns to concern.

“Angela, How many are in the house with you?"

"My mom, dad and my sister Carla. She’s got a knife.”

“Who’s got a knife, sweetie?”

“Carla, She… She thinks she’s someone else. I don’t know what’s going on. Please don’t hurt her!”

One of the cops draws his weapon and advances into the home. A few minutes later, Carla emerges with the cop. A blanket draped over her. They’re walking towards us. She’s smiling. “See, I told you if you trust me, you’ll be safe!” I look at her puzzled. “Carla, you’re going to go home to your mommy and daddy now.” She says to me as she places a kiss on my forehead and is taken to an awaiting ambulance.

Mom and Dad rush out to me. “Honey, are you alright? Did she hurt you?” Mom asks as she pulls me in to a hug.

“I don’t know what was going on. Kept calling me Carla. What happened to her?”

“I don’t know, baby girl. I don’t know. You’re safe now though.”

The officer looks at me. “Is she going to be okay? Perhaps she should get check out at the hospital as well.”

***

It’s been three long and agonizing days since the Carla had her ‘episode’. I still wake up screaming. We’re on our way to the hospital. She’s been cooperative for the time being. She is in the behavioral health wing of the new hospital in town. Mom and Dad have to fill out paperwork. I pace the halls and finally I walk into the room and see Carla is standing there staring out the window. It’s a large room with several patients. Plenty of tables and chairs. Patients in wheel chairs. They seem to be transfixed, medicated?

I remember a room like this. The scars on my wrists remind me of what might have been had they not intervened. The room is bright and cheery. All I can remember was that the rooms that I was in were all grey. Funny this room seem to be laid out pretty close to the one I was in before. Was it the same room?

Carla sees something in the glass and turns towards me with a smile. She hurries towards me arms out stretched. “Carla! I thought I’d never see you again! Finally, we can convince these crazy doctors that you do exist. You were so scared, remember? God, I had to drag you to safety. I don't understand how you managed to stay there unharmed.”

“I…”

“Come, there's some people I want you to meet.” She drags me by the wrist again. Pulling me towards a nurse. “Nurse Gordon, this is the Carla I was talking about. I know, she’s a bit of a shy girl and I knew I had to rescue her she… She was so… helpless. She wouldn't even run out the door when the cops arrived to take her home.”

“I’m…” I sigh and look up at Nurse Gordon. Her eyes are on me then back at my sister. She must have thought we were twins.

“Young lady? Carla is it?” looking at me. I shake my head.

“Oh she’s just shy, after all she’s been through? Can you blame her for being shy around strangers? Carla, say ‘hi’ to Nurse Gordon. She’s been so nice to me here. The entire staff has been nice to me here. It’s just they all think I’m you. Can you believe that? Me? A scared little girl, like you? Honestly, I don’t see it.”

“Can I see ‘Carla’ for a moment?” the nurse asks my sister. Another nurse across the room is eyeing me for some reason.

“Well, that’s up to her. Like I said she’s really shy.” My sister turns to me and put her hands on my shoulders. “Okay, Carla, the nurse wants to speak with you for just a bit, okay? I’m right here so you don’t have to be scared, alright?“ I look up at Nurse Gordon, who looks back at me with a nod and sigh, casting my eyes downward. “Alright.” I reply as I walk with the nurse to another corner of the room. Carla has her eyes on me the whole time. I suspect, ready to jump to my aid at the first sign of trouble.

“Carla? Is it?”

“Angela, Carla, there, is my big sister.”

“Carla doesn’t have a sister. At least that’s some of what we’ve got from her.”

“Well yes and no. I’m transgender. I transitioned from Alexander to Angela after she was taken. They brought her to the house while I was in one of my therapy sessions.”

“You two look so much a alike, and you were so quiet and shy, that I almost believed her.”

“Is my sister going to be okay?”

“We’re doing our best to help her. It’s tough when she won’t face what’s happened to her. Now that she has you, it may help or it may hurt.”

“I… I don’t understand.”

“As long as she sees you as ‘Carla’, its easier for her to think that all of this happened to you, not her. She sees herself as the one that rescued ‘Carla’. I’m sure that scene that played out at your home perhaps reinforced that notion.”

“So what do we do?”

“We can’t do anything. She has to face what happened to her.”

“But she wasn’t like this… We… We were talking that evening… Like sisters. She was asking me about my life and my friends. She was even calling me Angie. I… I don’t understand how she could suddenly think of me as her.”

“The doctors here are very good. They’ll work with your sister through her problems. The best thing you can do is be there for her, okay?” She rubs my arm trying to as best as she can to comfort me.

My sister approaches with another nurse who give me a look as if she knew me and smiles. “Carla, I have to go now, okay? You seem like your okay with Nurse Gordon. Nurse Young here is going to take me for some tests. I’m so glad to see that your safe. You, were the one that had me the most worried. I hope one day you can be someone that doesn’t have to be rescued all the time. Your stronger than you think, you just have to believe that.”

I look at my sister with tears in my eyes. What happened to you? She wipes the tears out of my eyes. “Toughen up, girl. You don’t want to be that your whole life, do you? You’re out of there, you’re free now, you can live your life.”

She pulls me into a hug. I whisper to her, “Please get better. I need my sister.”

She pulls back from me with a smile. “I’ll alway be there for you Carla, no matter what.”

She happily follows Nurse Young out. I stand there tears streaming down my face. I stare at the pair as they walk out the door. Nurse Gordon looks at me pulls me into a hug as my parents enter the room.

“Angie? You should have waited for us. Why would you run off like that?” Mom hesitates for a moment.

The nurse turns me over to my mom who pulls me into a hug of her own. “It’s alright baby girl, mommy’s here.”

“Ohh lemme see, lemme see!” Vanessa beams with excitement as she pulls the small card from Rhonda’s fingers.

“Hey! I was still looking at it!” Rhonda looked ruefully at Vanessa.

“So where are you going first?” Sherry adds.

“Mom won’t let me drive…” I say sadly.

Sherry reaches for the card and gives it a tug. “My turn.”

“Careful! Don’t rip it!” I admonish the trio.

“It’s only a temporary, you get the real one in a month or two.” Vanessa chimes back.

“I can’t believe it, one of us has a license now! This is going to be great!” Sherry’s excitement is unassailable.

“I may have a license, but I don’t have a car and my folks won’t let me drive.”

“What’s the point of having a driver’s license if you can’t drive.” Rhonda looks at me puzzled.

“Did you look at the name on the card?”

“Yeah, Angela Lynn Rhodes. So?” Vanessa reads from the card.

“Well the name change is official!” I grin.

The trio look at me puzzled.

“You added ‘Lynn’?” Sherry questions.

I shake my head… “Nevermind” I forgot, it’s been a lifetime since anyone has called me Xander.

“Hey Angie, we should go celebrate! Red Robin for some shakes?” Rhonda rarely suggests going to Red Robin. She waitresses there and likes to avoid it when not working.

“Sorry Rhonda, I’ve got to go to the hospital.”

“Are you sick?” Sherry looks at me concerned. Vanessa and Rhonda glare at her. “Oh… Sorry Angie.
How is she?”

“I don’t know. Some days she’s fine and others… I just don’t know until I get there.”

“I’m sorry, Ang. Is there anything we can do?” Vanessa looks at me. She worries about me. I’ve cried on her shoulder on more than one occasion.

“No, you all are great. I don’t know where I would be without all of you.” The sadness creeps in as my voice cracks at the end.

“Angie! Your mom’s here!” Vanessa’s mom calls out from the living room. I grab my purse and my temporary license from Sherry. After quick hug to all of them, I dash down the stairs. “Thanks, Mrs. Morgan!”

“Slow down, Angie!” She admonishes me as she stands at the doorway.

“Sorry, Mrs. Morgan.” I squeak out as I rush to give her a hug as I exit.

Mom’s waiting for me inside the car. “Did you have fun with your friends?”

“It was great, Mom! We were doing some pre-shopping shopping… for back to school.”

“Pre-Shopping?”

“Pre-Shopping, we get the shipment of new items in store a day or two before we have to steam them and put them on the rack. We usually have to tag and inventory everything as well. So when they first get put on display we’ve already decided what we like and don’t. We reserve them in advance for the sales. We save time and money! Isn’t that great?” She’s looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

“What happened to just shopping?” She starts the car and begins the short drive to the Hospital where Carla has lived since her episode 2 weeks ago.

“Mom, if we do that all the cute stuff will be snapped up by all the other shoppers. Especially, if I have to work on the sale days. And I’m not paying full price on any of that…”

“Alright sweetheart, I just don’t want all your money going to clothing.”

“It’s not. Though, I really do want a car…” We come to a halt at one of the busy intersections in town.

“We’re not starting that discussion again, young lady.” She glares at me.

“Why not? I’ve been saving as much as I can for it? And doesn’t it take enough of your time to drive me around everywhere.”

“What and miss quality time with my daughter?” She looks at me with an impish smile and accelerates when the light turns green.

“MOOOOM! I’m not a little girl anymore.”

“Well, the ‘MOOOM’ certainly undercuts that doesn’t it? And so does crossing your arms and huffing.” She adds with a giggle. “You’re sixteen young lady and you should act like it.”

“Isn’t whining and begging for a car, part of being sixteen?” I smile back.

“Don’t get smart with me young lady. We’re almost at the hospital. Please try to keep your composure there. Honestly, Angela, you’ve got to keep better control over your emotions. Crying at every little thing isn’t becoming. I do think we should talk to Dr. Watkins next week about your hormone levels. “

Mom parks the car. My anxiety begins to replace the distraction of the past week. The lot is full so we’re parked near the street. I wish I wore my athletic shoes as I look at the gravel covering the re-paved blacktop. My athletic shoes just wouldn’t work my maroon floral sundress. My ballet flats aren’t going to provide much in the way of cushion. Between my anxiety and the thought of stepping through the blacktop I start to wonder if mom will let me just sit in the car. My hopes are dashed when mom looks at me with a glare, "Get a move on Angela."

Mom’s pace is quicker than mine and I struggle to keep up. Her almost gauzy cardigan, tank top, and cargo shorts are on wrong side of chic; however her less than fashionable tennis shoes- I would kill for right now as my feet crunch over the jagged stones of the parking lot. She’s a good ten paces ahead of me by the time she reaches the revolving door entrance to the lobby. My heart begins to race as I approach the entrance to the hospital. Part of it is the walk, but I can feel my the pressure in my chest begin to build.

“Angela, hurry up!” mom chides my pace. The tiled floor in the hospital lobby is a relief from the overheated gravel-ridden blacktop outside. It’s late in the afternoon and the cold blast of the AC in the lobby brings a smile to my face. I also dries up the beads of sweat forming on my brow. The wait for the elevator only serves to grow my dread.

We take the elevator up, I stare as each floor number lights up 2, 3, 4 my heart is pounding and can feel my tremor grow. The doors open to the Behavioral Health wing I step out pensively while mom checks in with the nurse. Nurse Gordon eyes me and smiles. “She’s having one of her good days sweetheart.” I force a smile.

My heart breaks every time I come here. My sister is just so… broken. I can’t do anything. I'm caught between the fear and helplessness that swirl within me. I really don’t know how Mom copes with it all. I see her strength and I wish for the same. My wish isn't granted. She’s been through so much. They both have.

My mother steps through the door, then realizing that I’m not beside her turns sees me and closes her eyes and sighs. I haven’t moved from my spot in front of the reception desk. I just stand there staring at the entryway. She’s about to say something but stops when she sees the tears in my eyes. It saddens me that I can’t bring myself to walk in there one more time. It makes me angry that I can’t just fake a smile to go and see my broken sister. I’m ashamed of myself for making my mom choose between me and her other daughter. She’s chosen me once too often. I see her turn and walk though the doors and they close behind her.

***

“I’m a horrible sister.” I sit there staring at Mrs. Huffman. She’s back to tapping her pencil on her notepad again. She remains quiet. I’m expecting the question of ‘how does that make you feel?' I’m met with silence. “I should have went in there.” More tapping. “I just didn’t want to…” I stop look up at her. Her expressionless face gives me little to go on. I wonder why she isn’t saying anything.

“Are you through?” She say plainly.

I give her a puzzled look. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Did it make you feel any better?” Again another plain statement.

“No.” I relent.

“Why do you think that is?”

“Because saying something and not doing anything about it is pointless?”

That brings a smile to her face. She doesn’t have to say a word. I feel worse now but, at least I have something to go on. “I want you to do something for me.”

“Sure”

“Go through all of our sessions together and tell me what we’ve discussed.”

“What?”

“I said to go through each of our sessions and tell me what we’ve discussed.”

“Okay,” It’s an odd request. I’m not sure where this is going. “The first visit, we introduced each other, I told you about wanting to have a second letter for my transition and you asked me to write in a journal. The second visit we talked about what I wanted to do with my life, what my dreams were and how I saw myself happiest. The third visit I talked about my sister and missing her and wishing she was back in my life. The fourth visits, I talked about my sister’s return and that awful night. The fifth visit, I talked about visiting my sister in the hospital and the episode she had while I was there. And now I’m telling you I felt guilty about not visiting my sister on the last trip to the hospital.”

“Notice a pattern?”

“No, over the last few weeks it was mainly about my sister and before that it was about how I saw myself.”

“We never once discussed why you are really here.”

“My transition?”

“Yes.”

“What’s there to talk about? That part of my life is normal compared everything going on with my sister.”

“What if I told you that I was not going to write you that letter?”

“I don’t know, I’d be shocked. I think. Is it because my problems with my sister are dominating our sessions? I thought at least you would be someone I can talk to about my problems. I’m not supposed to share those with you?”

“Well you can share what it is you want but unless we get to the discussion on your transition, We’re not going to go anywhere.”

“So I have to choose between my issues with my sister and my transition? That’s not fair!”

“Why not? You were here to discuss your transition and not the issues with your sister.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Of course I can.”

“Well, if you can’t help me with my sister then I don’t see a reason to work with you on my transition. I’ll find someone that can help me with both.”

“You’d probably have to start over.”

“Fine by me. Is our session over?”

“Not quite. yet. There’s one more thing.”

“Here.” She walks over to me with a manila envelope.

“What is this?”

“What you came here for. Open it.”

I open the letter and read it and my eyes go wide. “Is real?”

“Yes, I’m sorry about all that before. I wanted to make sure you were going to seek help for your issues with your sister even after I handed you my recommendation.”

“This means I can…”

“Well, not until you’re 18 actually but, yes.”

It hits me the fortunate turn my life had taken and the opposite path my sister's had taken. The guilt of it washes over me. This is supposed to be one of the happiest moments in my life. I don't have my sister to share it with. I cry myself to sleep again that night as I have since my sister's episode. All I can wonder is What happened to her? Can she ever be the sister that returned to me that first evening or will she be the broken young woman that I feared to visit?

Please help her...

---

Author's note. While I tried not to make this gratuitous. It's still a very difficult subject. I placed the warning in perhaps an overabundance of caution. I don't know if I'm doing the story any justice, it is not my intent to make light of these issues. Thank you all who have read, commented and/or encouraged this story.

---

I continued my sessions with Mrs. Huffman. My original therapist had unfortunately moved his practice. Dr. Finch was excellent at working with me through my transition. Though, I had broached the subject of my sister a few times in my sessions with Dr. Finch, I had continued to steer the conversation towards my transition. We had all faced the reality that my sister may never come home. We only hoped that she would. Mrs. Huffman was different. She knew my issues with my sister were bigger. Different. Separate. Mom and Dad recognized that too, eventually.

I worked up the courage to visit Carla after my first week at school, much of my first week was uneventful. I was not aware that one of our days was a ‘half day’. Though these were usually on a school calendar, a misprint caused much of the confusion. I had decided that with the afternoon free, I’d take the opportunity to visit my sister. I still didn’t have a car. I braved public transportation to reach the care facility she had been moved to from the hospital.

The care facility was staffed by a combination of volunteers and professionals who took on the challenge of working in the much maligned facility. They had meager budget to support them and it showed. The building, though largely intact, was in much need of some TLC. The bus stop was across the street from the facility. I cross over and am met on the other side by another woman who gives me an odd look of recognition.

“It’s true you’re alive! I was coming here to see you!” Barely able to contain her excitement. A gaunt young woman approaches me. She sees the fear in my eyes as I reach into my purse for my mace and take a step back from her as she approached. “Carla? What’s wrong?”

“I’m… I’m not Carla.” I say. She looks at me waiting for me to recant. Her eyes search my face trying to resolve how I could be anyone but Carla.

“Carla, its me Sandy.” Her eyes are begging for something. Was this one of ‘the other girls’ Carla was talking about during my ‘rescue’ from our home? “Carla please, don’t go into denial. It’s better that you work through what happened to us and not lock it away.”

“I’m Angela, Carla is my sister.”

“Oh my! You look so much like her… I thought that… I mean I had hoped… God, she had it the worst, you know? I… I thought that if she could be out and about as, as normal? Maybe there would be hope for the rest of us? Where is she? Is she okay?”

I shift my gaze to the facility. “She’s not well.” I can see the horrified look on her face. The realization that Carla had not managed to come out unscathed.

“Oh, I supposed after all that she went through, I mean… everything that happened… to her… She never let it get to her, you know?”

“What happened?”

“You don’t know?” Either the memory of what happened or the thought of having to tell the story weighs heavily on her.

“Please, I have to know. We can’t get anything out of her about what happened. And she needs to… She needs to get better. Please!” I’m beginning to tremble, “…you have to tell me what happened to her.”

“Take me to see her and I’ll tell you what I know.” She bargains. There's anguish on her face. I don’t know which is worse, not knowing what happened to my sister or not knowing whether or not she was okay. I’m afraid that the answers to each would hurt us both, but not knowing hurt more. I agree.

“I need your name to give at the desk.” I say barely able to contain the myriad of emotions running through me.

“Sandy, Sandy Mitchell.”

The nurse shows us to the multi-purpose room where the patients congregate during the daylight hours. We walk into the room. Carla is again staring out the window as we approach her. She turns and recognizes Sandy. “Sandy! It’s so great to see you! Who’s your friend here?” I shudder.

“She’s Angela, your sister?”

“I don’t have a sister. She look just like me though. I’m Carla, you’re very pretty, but sad… You know you’d be much prettier if you smiled.” I my throat closes up and tightens. I try to take a deep breath as Carla motions us to a table to sit down. “Sandy, I’m so glad to see you’re all right. I was worried about you! Did you all get out okay?”

“Yes, Carla we were able to get out.”

“What a relief. What about you? I can’t imagine what they did to you to make you look so sad. Angela was it? You know they say it helps to talk about it. You really should share what happened to you with the doctors here. I’m sure they can help you.”

“Carla, she wasn’t at the facility. She’s your sister.”

“There you go again Sandy. I don’t have a sister. If she wasn’t there, then why does she look so sad?” I’m not going to cry, I’m not going to cry.

“Carla, I’m telling you she is…” I place my hand a top Sandy’s.

“Please don’t… “ I plead with her to stop. Sandy stops and sees the tears forming in my eyes. She reaches into her purse and pulls a tissue to hand to me.

“Don’t cry, pretty girl. Everything will be alright. I promise.” my sister, through it all, is trying to comfort me. I feel my heart ache. Just hold it together. I begin to caress my wrist to calm myself.

“So, is it just you Sandy? I was hoping to see some of the others.”

“They all made it home, thanks to you.”

“I’m sorry ladies, I have to take Carla away from you for a bit. We need to get her ready for dinner.”

“Sorry, Sandy, please come by and visit anytime.” Carla turns to me. ”And you, please try to smile more. You’re too pretty to be anything but happy.” It’s so hard to contain the turmoil inside me.

They take Carla away and I turn to Sandy. “Please, tell me what happened.” I begged. I want more than anything to have something to reach my sister. Some bridge to her psyche. I can see the hesitancy in Sandy's eyes. Please grant me this mercy.

“They kept us in cages… Like animals. All except Carla. None of us, wanted to be her.” She looks up at me blinking as if hesitating to recall something. Her hand goes to cover her mouth as she let out a little yelp. “We were all forced… forced to watch what happened to her everyday. Alway in the center of the room. It…” Her hands begin to tremble as she paused to take a breath.

“It was… it was their way of showing… God, it was like she was her one minute. Then… It was what they expected from us.” I grab her hand. It’s clammy and cold. I squeeze it and bring my other hand on top. “They took some sort of sick pleasure out of it.”

“We all would have been happy to never be her or to never have what was done to her, happen to us.” she begins to choke back tears. “I think most of us would rather die than to take her place.”

“How did she save you?” She reaches into her purse and pull tissues. One of the volunteers sees the look of anguish on her face and approaches. Sandy is becoming more distraught.

“They’d parade her in front of all of us. They had broken her a long time ago. At least that’s what they thought.” She tries to bring the tissue to her face. Her hand is trembling so hard. I grab the tissue and dab away her tears as let mine fall to the table. Little puddles of tears coalesce on the melamine table top.

“As long as she kept ‘volunteering’, they never touched us. She knew that if she ever stopped. They would choose another one of us. We all knew what she did for us. None of us wanted to stand up for her. To convince them to stop. We just let it happen. They made her serve us. Bring us our ‘food’. She bathed us. Cared for us. It was her ‘reward’ for her ‘cooperation’.”

“I was there for so long… I didn’t know how much time had passed. Six months?… From the time I was taken. But it seemed like they’ve been doing this to her for much longer. It was twisted. They took turns, having her pleasure them in front of our cells. Sometimes rough, sometimes gentle. They told her what to do. When to moan, pant, smile… What ever they wanted… She did it. On cue. Every time. As if she knew what would happen if she didn’t. It couldn’t be worse for her, perhaps she wanted to spare us as much pain as she could?”

My mind was trying to put things together in horror. All my experience can only be summed up in one kiss with Robbie, even in that, there was some revulsion in the way that he kissed me without my ascent. I knew nothing else. I couldn’t comprehend the depths of how Carla was violated. Every day? Sandy didn’t have to go into details. The horror of it all was written her face. How she shuddered at each memory.

“God, I didn’t know.” She couldn't bring herself to say anymore. I… I didn’t want her to. I didn’t need her to. Seven years? How can anyone endure for seven years? I could only sit there and my stomach twisted and turned. She jumps to her feet and rushes to a trash can in the corner of the room. One of the volunteers rushes over to her aid. I could hear her wretch her insides into the can. I’m frozen in my chair, unable to absorb what I had been told.

Another volunteer walks over to me. “Miss? Are you alright?” I don’t even turn to look at her.

“No, I don’t think I ever will be again… I don’t think she will ever be again.” The image of my sister is conjured in my head. The volunteer helping Sandy spirits her to the ladies room. I’m staring into space.

Some time passes, I don't know how much... Eventually I hear a familiar voice in the distance...

“Angie? Angie are you alright? We’ve been looking all over for you. Honey? Why didn't you tell us you were visiting Carla? Angie? Are you listening to me? Baby girl? It’s mommy. Angela sweetie? Aaron! Something wrong with Angela.”

“Mom says to come down for breakfast.” A young voice calls out and echoes through my room.

“Mmmm five more minutes… Just give me five more minutes…” I smile gathering the comforter up closer to me stopping it just below my chin.

“Okay, then I’m going to eat your french toast.” The smell of maple syrup is in the air as the steam hits my face. My eyes open as the plate is pulled away from me and my eyes focus their way up the hand, arm, shoulder then the face of someone who looks so familiar to me but I can’t place him.

The young boy plops himself on my bed and stabs at the plate with a shiny fork. “Mas Mone!” He taunts me with his mouth full of syrup and french toast. “Mmmm.”

“You! Jerk!” I yell out as he jumps off my bed and runs down the hall, plate and all. Presumably to Mom again. The little scamp! I drag myself out of bed, rubbing my eyes and stretch out my arms. My robe awaits me on the chair at the far corner of the room which I pull on as I head into my bathroom. A quick shower then I wrap the towel around myself and another one for my hair. I grab my robe from the bathroom and walk back to my room throwing my robe back to my chair.

He’s standing there again… Staring at me. I’m still in my towel. “GET OUT OF HERE!” I yell out. He’s not moving. Is he checking me out? DID YOU HEAR ME, YOU PERVERT! I yell at the top of my lungs. A voice from downstairs calls back “Xander! I just told you to call your sister down for breakfast! Not to gawk at her in the process!” There’s a sense of deja vu. I dress and walk downstairs, the runt is gone. As I expected, there's a plate of french toast waiting for me there.

Somethings wrong… This already happened. But not to me… I’m standing there in the kitchen. This already happened. “Mom?” No answer. “Mom?” “Dad?” No answer.

“They’re not here.” A voice calls out from nowhere. “Why are you here?”

“I live here. Where should I be?”

“Why are you here?” The voice calls out again

“Carla?”

An apparition emerges sitting at the table across from me. “It should have been you.” She stares up at me. “They wouldn't have been able to do to you, what they did to me.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Her voice angry now. “They did things to me, because they could. Things they couldn't do to you… Instead, you got to be the daughter. You got Mom’s love. You got to be Daddy’s angel. What did I get? Raped, everyday for seven years. You got to live the life of a princess. I got the life of a beast of burden. You were…are… weak and pathetic. A spoiled little girl, who had everything. What did I have? Seven years as a sex slave.”

“It wasn’t my fault… I…”

“It was your fault! And you reaped the benefits of it! YOU GOT MY LIFE!!!”

“Please stop! It wasn’t my fault. Please. I didn’t know this would happen to you.”

“Then, you took my place, didn’t you! If you weren’t a skeavy little pervert!”

“I’m sorry…”

“No! You think this all ends with you saying ‘I’m sorry’? I am never forgiving you. YOU HEAR ME! I AM NEVER FORGIVING YOU. So wake up little girl! WAKE UP!”

***

I wake up in my room in a cold sweat. The lights are on as I look around. Daddy’s sleeping in Mr. Nibbles’ chair. My heart is pounding in my chest. My stiring causes him to wake from slumber. “hrumm… Princess? Angela? What’s wrong pumpkin?”

“It was horrible…” I’m frazzled and dripping with sweat. He looks over at me, and rushes over to me.

“Shhh! Baby girl it’s alright. Shhh.” The clock on my wall says 4:40. He kisses me on the crown of my head and rubs my arms.

“You had us worried, Princess. What’s going on with you? I haven’t seen you like this in years. Is it Carla?”

“l don’t know, Daddy. I just want her to be… I just want her back.”

He pulls me toward him. I lay my head against him as he puts his arm around me. “It just takes time, Princess. She’s in good care. She’ll come back to us, when she’s ready. In the meantime, you just have to be patient with her.”

“This is not how it’s supposed to be…”

“What’s that, baby girl?”

“She was supposed to come back and… and we’d be a family again.”

“That’s a whole lot to ask. A lot has happened to your sister. It would have been a miracle if she made it through her ordeal without being…Well it’s a miracle she’s alive anyway.”

"Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure thing, baby girl”

“How do you do it? How do you go through each day, knowing your daughter is broken.”

“It’s easier now—to find hope in it all.” his answer surprises me.

“How?”

“Time… it just takes time. Well, that and the patience to let her find her way back to us.”

“How do you know that she will ever be better?”

“Because you did it first.” I give my dad curious look. “What? You don’t think I know how strong my daughters are?”

“I’m not strong at all… There is no way I could endure all that Carla’s been through.”

“I doubt that. You were strong enough show us who you really are… my sweet, beautiful daughter who fought for her place in the world. Now, how can I doubt that my other daughter has that same strength and spirit within her as well?”

I look up at him and give him a kiss on the cheek and a smile. “What’s that for, baby girl?”

“For being you…” I nuzzle back into him and drift back to sleep.

***

In the weeks that followed, I fell into a routine. School, work, home, nightmare, scream, cry. Lather, rinse, repeat. Mom and Dad would take turns to visit her in the evenings during the week. The weekends, I spent them visiting with Carla. I was, 'the sad, pretty girl' that would come to visit her. I had given up correcting people that I was her sister. Carla would always insist that she didn’t have a sister. Soon, I was really just known as Carla’s friend, Angie.

I’d visit and she’d ask me about my life and I'd share what I could. The hardest part was when she would tell me that I should meet her parents, because of 'how wonderful they are'. “My mom would love you! Maybe your mom and my mom could be friends too! Wouldn’t that be great!”

The first time I heard that, I began to cry. After the fourth or fifth time, I’d just nod and say “I’d like that.”

When I asked about her life, she’d tell me about what she would like to do when the doctors thought she was ready to go home.

She never asked me when she was going to go home. I’m not sure if she wondered why she stayed there in the first place. It was pleasant enough. They fed, bathed and clothed her. The nurses all thought of her as pleasant and cheery. I had over heard them joke that the wrong sister was in their care.

“Oh Angela, Carla is in her room today.” One of the nurses says to me as I was about to enter the community room.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where her room is.” I had never visited her room. The nurse walks me down a corridor of rooms, much like you’d see in old hospitals and points me towards a door. I open the door slowly and peek my head in.

“Angie! You’re here it’s good to see you. Are you here to spend the day with me again?”

“Yes, Carla” Her room is drab though there are several cards on the window sill. The room is small with a pair of uncomfortable looking chairs that may be as old as the building itself. The bed is a hospital bed. There are no nightstands just a table which looks like it’s suppose to cantilever over the bed so one could eat while in bed. There is a closet and a bathroom which are at the far corner of the room. The lights come from a series of fluorescent tube lights which hang down from the ceiling. Her room gets the sun in the morning. The view outside her window is the street though safety glass reminds you of whom would typically call this place home.

Carla is still in her bed. She’s not in a hospital gown, I don’t know why had expected she would. She wore a light blue sleep shirt which had a print of sunflowers on them. “It’s nice of you to visit. Do you visit with all the other people here during the week?”

“No Carla, I just come to visit you.”

“Me, I’m nobody special. There's a lot of people here that need cheering up. I love seeing you, but I hate to think that I’m keeping you all to myself.”

“Would you like me to brush your hair?”

“That would be nice”

I pull my brush from my purse and sit beside her on the bed.

“You do the same thing that mom does when she visits.”

“Oh and what’s that?”

“She love brushing my hair too. If you come during the week you could get a chance to meet her. What’s your mom like?”

“My mom is pretty and so is my sister.”

“You have a sister?”

“Yes, though I wasn’t always great to her. She was my Big Sister.”

“I wish I had a sister. Its just mom, dad and I. I had a brother though I think something happened to him after I was taken.”

“Really? I don’t have a brother, just the sister. What do you think happened to your brother?”

“I don’t know, mom and dad never talk about him. It’s like he never existed. At least they have me back, right?”

I continue brushing her hair. It keeps her from seeing the tears in my eyes.

“So are you and you sister close?”

“Not at first, I’m hoping she’ll want me back in her life again.”

“How can she not want you in her life. You’re so sweet, you’re caring and you’ve been great to me. How can she not want anything to do with you. She’s crazy not to want you as a sister. Any girl would be lucky to call you their sister.”

“Coming from you… That means alot to me.”

A few years later, funding cuts from the county forced the closure of where my sister called home. This forced my sister home, in the care of my parents. She got her room back, since I went to college where I majored in psychology. My hope is that one day there would be some treatment that would reach Carla. I spent so many weekends getting to know my sister, eventually she thought of me as hers. Sadly, to this day I don’t think she actually knows we’re siblings. I do see some sadness in her eyes for the brother that no one ever speaks of. She never raised his name, in truth neither did I.

She was there for my wedding; it broke my heart when she refused to be my Maid of Honor. She told me, my “sister should have that honor.” I couldn’t bring myself to pursue it further. Lyle and I were married with her as one of my bridesmaids and I had no “Maid of Honor.” She thought it sweet that our dad would walk me down the aisle.

Eventually, in my research, I came across what had happened to my sister. Her name was not referenced, but enough of what I had heard about the ordeal the women had been put through was unmistakable. So many lives shattered. How many more were there like Carla, or worse even.

It broke my heart going through page after page of stories that were not published as part of the research. Only contacting the researchers directly granted me a look into the world of such depravity. Personal stories, recordings, even the crayon drawings brought me to tears. Thankfully, I have Lyle (and Mr. Nibbles when Lyle’s away on business) to comfort me.

I have learned that there is much evil in the world, but along with it, so many people helping victims of such abuse. They work tirelessly and thanklessly with the strength of will to endure. It gives me hope that my Big Sister will be well again. I hope when she does get well, she finds her little sister as strong and enduring as herself.

I’m screaming from under the covers of my bed again. My shriek pains my own ears. It's a shriek that chills the blood. I rarely sleep at night. When I do, the lights are 'on'. I must have fallen asleep in the afternoon. The darkness and silence envelop me and fill me with fear. I can feel him in the room. Feel his presence. It’s like he’s watching me. Stalking me. Celia rushes into my room. Mom’s working late again. My younger sister pulls me into her arms. I tremble with fear. I didn’t use to be this way. This—afraid. Ever since… Him… His ghost haunts me. It’s been a year since we were rescued. Celia now dwarfs me. She’s bigger and now she’s my protector. I begin to sob as all of the fear melts with Celia’s presence. “Shhh. I’m here. Shhh. He can’t hurt you anymore." All the treatment and therapist in the world can’t free me from him. Even in death, he assaults me.

I calm down bit more, “I’m so sorry.” Her apology takes me back to our captivity. Celia was the lucky one. She was left unharmed… At least physically. She hugs me tighter, hoping to squeeze the memory from my soul. It just brings it to the surface…

---

“It’s you or her. I’m not picky.” He says to us; my stomach is twisting in knots. Celia is behind me. The fire light from the hearth throws our shadows along the bare hardwood floor in the cabin. To look at our shadows you would think two sisters retreating from an imposing figure. We’re not sisters, I’m Celia’s brother, Corey.

Celia is not that much smaller than I am, but we’re both dwarfed by our captor. He is an imposing figure; more monster than man when our fears rule our minds. His steel grey eyes paralyze us. I don’t even have to look at my sister behind me to know how scared she is of him. I push her further backwards with my right hand. She grabs my wrist with both hands pleading for me to retreat with her. I know there’s nowhere we can go. I know what he wants. As long as I’m willing to put myself between the monster and her, she’ll be safe.

I think he enjoys the choice I make more. That I would do it willingly each time to keep my sister from harm. My eyes drift to the pail of water near the fire. The fire crackles and pops as smoke rises. The wood burning there is damp from the recent spring rains. It’s a musty smell that grows more intense as the fire grows and the wood dries. Already, I can see the steam rising from the pail. I’m thankful Celia had set it there to heat the water for washing. Cold water makes washing ‘him’ off me worse. The fire he lit was not for warmth, but for light; so he can see my face. It’s something in my expression. He sees it. Embarrassment? Revulsion? Distress? Whatever it is that he sees, it pleases him.

“Alright then” he says, “just like the last time.” His gravelly voice is stoic, but his eyes bubble with delight. The heat from the fire rises to the ceiling the rafters creak and groan; they are the only witnesses to my plight. I lower my head and release a slow, sad breath. I can’t fight him; I can only please him enough that he would leave Celia alone. She’s all that matters. “You have to watch out for your sister.” Mom always implored. “You’re her big brother.”

Celia’s tears drip silently on to my forearm as I push her back further. Her hands don’t want to let go of my wrist. I push her back far enough that she’s in the closet. She won’t let go. “Celia, let go. I need you to let go. It will be fine, I promise. He won’t hurt you.” I say softly. He steps closer to me. Takes a sniff of my long brown hair. I shudder as he takes in the scent of my fear. With his approach, Celia releases my wrist and cowers in the closet. His hand extends above my head to close the closet door shutting my sister inside. It brings me relief that she never sees what happens to me. A small mercy from a merciless monster.

“I’m so sorry, Corey.” My little sister’s small voice barely audible through the heavy wooden door.

“You know” He says with delight, “I’ve never seen a boy so protective of his sister.” He says that every time; I see his smirk teasing me for my choice. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve surrendered my body to him. He’s still never touched her. I’m convinced that I’m the ‘girl’ he wants. He locks the door to the closet. “Just like before, yeah?” he repeats his request. Waiting for my ‘permission’ for him to use me. My stomach churns again, this time, not from fear, but from revulsion. I pause before relenting to his advance.

“Just like before.” I say on the edge of sorrow.

“Look me in the eyes when you say that.” his voice stern, but not angered. He waits for me to look at him. The fire is behind him. There’s no glint in his eyes. Just darkness.

I repeat, “Just like before.”

“Straighten that dress of yours. I don’t want you disheveled.” My seams are straight, they always are. I have to look perfect for him. Perfect to keep him in the mood, away from his anger. “Maybe, I should have her instead.” He points to the door.

I obediently look down and sweep the wrinkles on the skirt to smooth them. I pull my hands to the bodice, crossing them almost hugging myself. I know what he’s doing. It’s the same dance, every time. He pushed me down to my knees. I can feel him staring at me, undressing me. He wants me this way. Reluctant, but not defiant. Coerced, but not willing. He drinks in the power he has over me.

He strokes his hand through my hair that frames my face. His touch sends a wave disgust through me that I have to conceal; I want to cry. He stokes it again, lustfully and hits a tangle. It jerks my head to the side as he pulls through it. “Your hair needs brushing.” He chides. It must be the humiliation that he must crave. That I’d lower myself for his pleasure.

I’m on my knees. The hardwood floors of the cabin cut into my bare knees. The floor, like my captor, is cold and unyielding. Here’s where he decides. ‘Lift my skirt or lower my jaw.’ He wants my tears falling now. I’m right on cue.

I can hear Celia’s muffled sobs in the closet. She knows what comes next, though she’s not witnessed it. She’s heard my pained wails before, through the door. Afterwards, she’s had ‘to clean me up’ when he was finished with me. At least it is not twice a day anymore. It seems like months since he brought us here. The middle of the forest. We’ve been outside the cabin twice since we’ve got here. The cabin is barren most of the time. Nothing to use as a weapon. Nothing that we can use to escape.

I use to cry-out as he used me. He loved the pained screams, he loved it when I squeal. Now, he doesn’t want to hear me, not even a sob. He just wants to see the sadness on my face, after. That’s when he has the widest grin. A toothy grin that is dull with tarter. I tune out as he uses me. He shakes me so I’m not long in my trance. He doesn’t want to pleasure himself with ‘a corpse’. He want’s me awake. Present. Humiliated. “Wake up!” He’d scream. Sometimes he’d pull my hair to get me to yelp, just so he knows that I know what he’s doing to me. He’s never gentle. Never kind. Never.

---

He finishes with me then walks over to the closet door and opens it. “Clean her up!” he hisses at my sister. He leaves for the kitchen. Probably to pour a mug of some fermented concoction he brews when he’s bored. I’m left there shaking and silently crying on the floor.

Celia works quickly. She is quiet now. Whether it is from guilt or from a desire to avoid reminding me of how I had been violated, I don’t know which. He doesn’t want us making noise, not after. He enjoys the silence the seclusion it gives him. When he really wants quiet, he’d leave us alone for a day or two. There is nobody around for miles. When he would leave us locked in the cabin, we’d scream at the top of our lungs for days and nobody ever heard us. He used to chain us down. He doesn’t bother anymore. We’re not going anywhere. He knows it.

My sister dips a rag into the pail of water heated by the hearth. I don’t have to watch. My eyes are closed shedding more tears. I lay there with my knees curled to my chest. My body fidgeting from his violation of me. The skirt of my dress draped over my legs covering where he entered me. The hem is unraveling. The dress is threadbare with small worn holes where moths have feasted on the frock. I lay there, like a door mat. Even the floor coverings he treats with care. Why not me?

I’ve stopped wondering why we were in this cabin in the first place; stopped wondering why nobody came for us; stopped wondering why I was being punished. It’s unlikely anyone would follow the trail. It was well hidden when we found it. The stranger we encountered asked us if we had any food. Celia was content to share what she had. She felt sorry for the man who would be our captor. Sorry enough that one day when he said that he needed ‘small hands’ to reach the key to a cabin he had found. She cheerfully, volunteered to retrieve it from the crevice.

Darkness came quickly and he offered her shelter for the evening. I had followed behind out of sight. I tracked the pair as they walked further and further into the forest. I watched her retrieve the key and hand it to the stranger. He thanked her and offered to return her to the trailhead. He warned her that it would be dark by the time their journey would end. I did not see what happened to her that evening. I’m now convinced he didn’t touch her then. She wasn’t afraid of him even that morning. I waited for her to come out so we could make our way home, sleep must have taken me instead. That morning, I found myself inside the cabin.

He offered to take her home. He might have taken her home just like he said he would. Celia found me in his bed instead. She stayed and became his… complication. She knew I was here. He knew Celia could tell others I was here. When he saw my concern for her, she became leverage rather than a liability.

---

I hear the droplets of water rain back into the pail until they slow to a trickle. It wakes me from my trance. She wrings the rag, sending a second rush of water that slows again. Drop. Drop. Drop. Then there is the slap of her bare feet on the floor that sounds her approach. I’m still on my side, I don’t bother to wipe my tears. She gently wipes the salted streaks from under my eyes.

Unlike his grips and paws, Celia’s touch is gentle, soft. The touch of someone that cares. I’m sure mine would be as well. We have so little strength left between us. I’ve memorized the face she gives me. It’s burned into my memory. I’ve endured so much humiliation, the price for her safety. Her face mired in shame. She blames herself. I try to forget that she is the reason we are here. Her kindness was our downfall.

I reach for the rag. She pulls it away from me. I need to clean ‘him’ off of me; what he left me. She walks over to the pail dips a second rag and walks quietly over to me. She washes his spunk from me. She’s wiping me like I‘m a soiled infant or one of her dolls. It’s her turn to take care of me.

He just stands there lording over us. He’s leaning against the door frame to the threshold between the kitchen and the main room with a steel mug in hand and a satisfied grin on his face. “Don’t forget to brush her hair, I want it smooth for next time.” He commands my sister, but his eyes are focused on me. She looks up and nods softly acknowledging his request. I wince at the thought of the ‘next time’.

---

It should be past Celia’s 12th birthday. I had just celebrated my 13th when we were ‘taken’. We’re not the first. I don’t want to know what happened to the last. He left us with her clothes, the girl who was before us. We had to share them. They are tattered and smell of soil and shame—sour. There is no underwear though. No boy clothes, nothing to remind him that I am a boy, Celia’s brother, except what the skirts hide and he reveals, though his hands never seek it. No, I’m no boy, except when it’s useful for him to taunt me or compel me to put myself between him and my sister.

He must have thought we were sisters at first. My hair was already long. It’s down below my shoulders. Mom taught Celia to brush her hair out. It’s smooth and she now attends to hers and mine daily. It has been so long since we’ve seen our mother. Celia hums just like like mom does, almost. Mom’s hum is sweet and staccato. Celia’s is slow, unsteady and sounds like she’s trying to keep herself from crying. Celia works the brush though her cinnamon hair deftly making use of the fews shafts of light that pour through walls of the windowless cabin. I sit with my back against the wall facing her I watch her hair gleam from the reflected light. I watch the strands straighten and shine. She had just finished brushing her hair and was about to start on mine when we heard the rustling of keys from the other side of the front door. We weren’t expecting him to be back. Not so soon.

He came into the cabin and silently lit the fire after he tossed a few logs into the fireplace. The practice he follows to light a fire is deliberate. A ritual of sorts. He is more attentive to starting the fire than he is to us.

That same fire still glows late into the evening. We fall asleep on the floor in front of the fireplace. We’re huddled like sisters. Celia wraps her arm protectively around me. We rest our heads on top of folded rags. Our tattered dresses are our only coverings. The fire dies leaving us in darkness as we await the sunlight, hoping he was satiated until tomorrow evening.

My friends used to joke... (albeit wrongly, I would add.)

What's separates a crossdresser from a transsexual? About two years and therapy.

Chapter 1

“Timmy! You’re never going to believe this! I’ve got an interview!” beams my long time unemployed older sister, Tammy, barely able to contain her excitement. It's too early in the morning for her, or anyone else to be this excited. I fold the blanket and place it on the couch where I awoke just minutes earlier.

“I heard" Stretching, trying to greet the morning.

"You know, dear brother, you really should invest in a comfy set of PJ's." She greets me with a smile. "Oh and I never sleep with my bra on, you shouldn’t either." I'm in the outfit from last night. Helen, Tammy’s roommate, wanted to go out for drinks with a few people from her office and thought “Tina” could use a girls’ night out. Helen went to college with Tammy, they were friends, but Helen and I had much more in common, like, oh... a 'sense of style'.

I was either too drunk to change out of the ensemble, or I passed out on the couch. I'm not really sure. I'm not sure that I can get out of jeggings and a bodysuit sober much less plastered. My boots and leather jacket are on the floor by the bench in the makeshift foyer.

The outfit and jewelry were my own. It was fun playing “Tina”. It’s just play, not a lifestyle. I had made a small fortune during the last stock market run-up and for the moment, could live comfortably. It would only be a matter of time before the surplus would run out. I would have to find a job as well. Truth be told, I was also covering Tammy’s share of her apartment while she was out of work. I did own, outright, my condo unit downtown though I spent a fraction of my time there.

"Helen told me all about it last night. She was surprised they were able to schedule you for an interview so soon.” My sister gives me a puzzled look but continues. I follow her into the kitchen, hoping someone made coffee.

“I have to book my flight to Springfield and everything. I’ve only got two weeks.” She powers on her tablet and begins to look for flights.

“It’s probably not a good idea to plan a trip out of town so close to an interview,” I comment plainly. Trying to remember where I put my purse. My loose hair is driving me crazy. I spy the coffeemaker, and I steal a cup of coffee from the percolator as its dripping. Helen seems to find coffee beans from all over the world that taste better than most coffeehouses. After spilling some coffee on the counter, I'm searching for the dishrag.

"Hey, you mind staying with Helen while I'm away? She loves having "Tina" around, you know." Stating the obvious. Her mind, as usual, is going in every direction... But yes, Helen loves having me around. I'm like her own life size Barbie doll, minus the ridiculous Mattel proportions. We're supposed to attend the release of the fall fashion lineup, so I'm, well, Tina, is her 'plus one' for the event this evening. That and she promised to have Morgan, at the salon, restore my hair from platinum blonde, (Helen's idea, not mine) to my usual rosewood. The look of horror on Tammy's face when I walked in two days ago said it all. The blonde tendrils are why I'm avoiding Mom.

Tammy continues, "I have to pick out what I have to wear and… What did you say?” Tammy slams the brakes on the conversation.

It's so abrupt, I freeze in my tracks. Usually, she's prattling on for 10 minutes before realizing anything else has been said.

“I said you probably shouldn’t go on a trip so close to your interview,” my brows push together in a scowl.

“The interview is in Springfield.” again the curious look on her face is directed at me.

“Why would they fly you to Springfield for an Executive Assistant’s job downtown?” I say, I've got her attention as I set the cup of coffee down on the coaster. I grab the dishrag to wipe the newly spilled coffee on the tiled floors hoping the white grout doesn't stain.

“What job downtown?”

“The one Helen set up for you. It’s in two weeks. The 15th at 9:00 am? Brownside Industries?” Tammy's look of bewilderment is priceless. 'Two and two' just made four. Her eyes widen.

“I have an interview on the 15th at 10:00 am, but it’s not with that company.”

“Oh… you should probably talk to Helen then.” I'm chuckling, as much as I want to pick up the mug of coffee I think the floor and counter have had their fill, I haven't had a sip yet.

Tammy's on autopilot. She walks the barstool lifts the purse from the seat and puts it on the bar. I recognize my purse immediately. I don’t think she does. She pulls out my phone. “I think I remember asking her to help get me a job lined up if my plans fell through.” I'm about to mention her mistake when, the phone, MY phone rings…

Tammy answers still distracted, "Hello?" She realizes then it's my phone she picked up. “Oh! Hi, mom!” At the word "Mom", coffee or not, I'm pulled out of my morning malaise, and my arms start flailing. Tammy reacts to my arm gestures with a burst of muffled laughter. I’m mouthing the words “I’m not here.”

“Tim? Oh, I haven’t seen him all day.” She grins, “What’s up?” Tammy lowers the phone and puts it on speakerphone.

“Why are you answering his phone then?” The tin-y speaker of my phone projects the voice of our mom into the room. “Oh... Nevermind... Sweetheart, I’ve got some amazing news for you! I’ve got you that interview at Grant Systems. The 15th at 1:30. It’s really important you make a good impression. I’m counting on you, sweetheart.”

“But Mom! I have…”

“Whatever your plans, you are going to cancel them... Right? I’m sure you would do your best to make sure that the interview goes well. I had to pull a few strings to get the interview for you to be Allyson Grant’s assistant. Anyway, I have to find your brother, but now I know why he isn't answering his phone. Would you be a dear and bring it by when you get the chance? Love you!” The call ends.

My jaw drops as I heard Allyson Grant's name. Gathering myself, I say, “Mom got you an interview to be Allyson Grant’s Assistant?”

“Great! Just one more I have to figure out… Who’s Allyson Grant?” Her fingers lacing each other at the crown of her head worried about the third interview. My phone is perched precariously between her thumb and index finger on top of her head. I hold my hand out, palms up, fingers splayed while looking at her over the top of my glasses. She realizes I want my phone back. I must look ridiculous because she bursts into a giggle at my seated pose. "Sorry about that! You know your purse looks an awful lot like mine."

I'm seeing red now. "You can't tell a fake Louis from a real one?" my voice now an octave higher. She's laughing now. "No dear, brother, I don't know which is more disturbing, that YOU can tell the difference or that you PAID for a REAL one." I shake my head, palm to forehead. The blonde strands fall forward and dancing with the movement of my head. It only makes her laugh even more.

I calm down, “I’ve been trying to get an interview with Grant Systems for over a year, and mom just makes a few phone calls and boom! You’ve got an interview with the owner of the company.” I say in utter disbelief.

“What’s so special about Grant Systems?”

“I knew mom hated me! She must have put in a word for YOU just to piss ME off! She knew I was looking for a position there.”

“What’s so special about Grant Systems?” she repeats.

“They’re pioneers in Wearable Technology!”

“So?”

“She got YOU an interview there, and YOU don't even know what they do? GOD! MOM must really hate me!”

Helen opens the front door carrying three bags of groceries. "a little help, please!" I rush over to steady the bags. Pulling two away from Helen. I carry the bags to the kitchen counter.

“Hey! Tim Tam! What's going on my sweets.”

Both of us are giving her the evil eye… Unlike the snack treat, the joke is getting stale.

“I’ve got great news for you! Or did your brother already spill the beans?” Helen says with a smile so bright that it could be seen from orbit.

“Oh! She’s got bigger news… She’s got three interviews for the same day!” I chuckle, jealousy still seething through me.

Chapter 2

“Oh! She’s got bigger news… She’s got three interviews for the same day!” I chuckle, jealousy still seething through me.

“She's what?” Helen looks at the two of us. "Timmy, You're joking!"

Tammy is visibly stressed. “I know I can’t reschedule the one that Mom set up. Helen, is there a chance you could get the other one rescheduled?”

“I’ll try. What’s the other job?” Helen asks.

“Which one?” I say with a smile.

“You’re just loving this, aren’t you?” Tammy’s glare reminds me of the ‘angry cat’ memes. My smile turns into a stuttering giggle that my hand is trying to hold in.

“Well when it rains, it pours!”, I say with a chortle.

Helen’s already on the phone with someone. I think it’s her contact from Brownstone. Helen’s conversation goes from bubbly to disappointed. It ends with “no she’s still interested” and “she’ll be there.”

We already know the result. “Hey, Sis why don’t you…” Tammy holds a finger up, she’s one step ahead. Same result. She hands me back my phone.

“Well, Sis, I think you're screwed…” again the ‘angry cat meme face.' I laugh again, and Helen joins in the laughter.

“So, which interview are you gonna go to?” the question on everyone’s mind jumps from my lips (which are kind of chapped now.)

“Well, it’s not like I can be at two places at once. I’ll take my chances with the one in Springfield.” Tammy announces.

“That’s brave of you, are you going to tell mom or should I?” I say heading over to my purse for some lip balm, I drop my phone in my purse and retrieve my EOS.

Seven expletives later, she takes a seat at the table with her elbow planted on the tabletop. She rests her head in her hands. “I don’t know.” She grabs my cup of coffee and begins to sip it. I shake my head, put away the lip balm and pad to the kitchen to retrieve another mug from the cupboard. Again, I go through the same coffee ritual. Dishrag and all. Helen grabs the mug of coffee as I’m wiping the counter and with a “thanks” walks back to the table to join Tammy.

“Helen, did you make an appointment with Morgan? I can feel my brain cells dying every minute I’m a blonde.” Coffee is now coming out of Helen’s nose, spraying the table with Guatemalan Arabica. I throw the dishrag at her. “Ugh! Timmy, now look at what you made me do!” she yells back.

“Cause I’m a blonde Ya! Yeah! Ya!” I sing bobbing my head from left to right and back again, my loose hair dancing with me. Tammy stares as me for a moment then finally breaks into laughter. “God! I love that baby sis!” she exclaims. I’m stunned. The way she said it. That’s the first time she’s referred to me as her “sister”, or even anything remotely like it.

Helen freezes in the middle of wiping up the spilled coffee and turns her head. She must have noticed Tammy’s outburst it too. A split second later she has a devilish grin on her. Helen doesn’t have to say it… I’m not psychic, but isn’t this a classic sitcom storyline? I know where this is going, but at the very least I’m going to have fun with it.

“Lucy! I know dat looook!” I say with my hand at my hips doing my Ricky Ricardo impression. “The answer is no!” The impression is awful, by the way.

“But Ricky!” Helen’s performing her best impression of Lucille Ball! Helen’s awesome when she plays along!

“I said No!” I respond. Tammy is utterly confused.

“But I didn’t ask you anything.”

“Fine, what is it that you want to ask me?”

“I was going to ask if you could stand in for Tammy…” Again, Tammy is lost, but Helen’s ‘Lucy’ is almost dead on.

“Lucy, I said NO!”

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”, Oh! Helen is hamming it up!

“Mira! Que tiene cosa la mujer esta!” I throw back, staccato. I’m laughing hysterically. Helen is right there with me.

Tammy is looking at us like aliens stole our brains.

We settle down and Tammy’s fit to be tied. “I’m so glad you both are getting a laugh at my expense.”

“Sorry sis! I couldn’t resist.”

“You know you could pass for Tammy right?” Helen says matter of factly.

“You’re joking!” Tammy replies.

“No, I’d probably hang myself if I had to wear anything calico, a cardigan and mary janes. No offense sis.”

“Oh! How can I possibly be offended by that?” sarcasm is not her strong suit. “Besides, you know nothing about me.”

“I know everything about you…” I retort. There’s ‘that angry cat’ meme again.

“Oh really?”

“Yup!”

“What’s my favorite…”

“Turquoise.” I cut her off. I’m not sure her brows can get closer than they are right now.

“Who’s my fav…”

“Ryan Reynolds and for comedy Mike Myers and by the way, Ewww!”

“Who was my first…”

“Eric Sullivan, eight grade, behind the gym, after third period.”

“You knew about that?!?!?”

“Seriously? All your friends gossiped about you!”

“Well, that doesn’t mean you can be me…” Tammy is laying down the gauntlet.

I take a deep breath… Helen knows what’s coming… She can barely contain herself even though she’s seen it a million times. My impression of Tammy…

“Hi! I’m Tammy Sterling, I’m 24 years old, I was a marketing major at State, with a 3.9GPA and am really interested in working for Brownstone Industries as an Assistant to your Graphic Design staff. I can really do a wonderful job as an Assistant, and I know that I can help take your company to the next level. I’m familiar with Illustrator, Publisher, Photoshop, and my portfolio is blah blah blah…” I finish with my toothy grin.

Tammy’s jaw just hit the floor. “Oh my God! Where did you learn to do that?!?!?”

I finally glance over at Helen who is on the floor rolling with laughter. She’s clutching her chest doubled over with pain from the laughter. She settles down. “You know not a day goes by without the ‘Tammy Sterling’ impression! You know Tim does a better you than, well you!”

“It’s perfect… Really creepy and disturbing, but absolutely perfect…” Tammy’s shaking her head

“Wait!” I yell out, “You should see Helen’s impression of me!”.

“Sorry, we’ve got to head over to the Salon. Why don’t you come with?” Helen says to Tammy.

“Yeah! That would be fun. We can turn that chestnut mop of yours into something gorgeous. Besides, you’re going to need to get your hair done for the interview; right?” I add.

“So you’re okay with it?”

“Sure! We’ll have fun the three of us!” I say walking over to my overnight bag for some clothes. “Just let me get a shower in.” I grab my toiletries and head into the bathroom.

“You know she’s really awesome,” Tammy says to Helen.

“Yeah, I know,” Helen says as she walks to the sink with the two mugs.

“Do you think she’ll go through with it?” Tammy asks.

“Maybe,” Helen says placing the mug in the dish rack.

“You know sometimes she’s a pain in the ass, but she really has a good heart,” Tammy adds.

“You know that’s the third time in a row you referred to your brother as ‘her’?

“I did? Oh you know what I mean.”

You know it’s just Tim being Tim right?” Helen looks over at Tammy who is now deep in thought.

“Yeah, Tim being Tim.”

I emerge from the bathroom towel with around my waist and another towel a turban for my hair. Helen takes a look at me shakes her head as I walk into Tammy’s room to get changed. I’m out of feminine attire, and so guy clothes will have to do. Well, that and I wasn’t kidding about killing myself rather than wear anything in Tammy’s closet. How many cardigans can someone own?

Tammy realizes I’m in her room and yells, “Do you need something to wear?”

I imagine Helen’s look of derision, It’s the same one on my face too. “No, I’ll manage.” I’m back to boxers, I slip on my navy Dockers and a t-shirt. I slide my feet into my dress socks then into a pair of loafers. I walk out looking for my Oxford. It’s a casual day. We’re going to the Salon after all.

The look shocks Tammy. “Wait! Aren’t you going as Tina?” She asks, more confused than ever.

“No, we’re just going to the salon.” For me, it’s just hair, and I’m not going to put my face on until we have to leave for the event tonight.

Tammy looks over at Helen. “And you’re okay with this?” Again the look of derision from both of us. “Sure, as long as Tina cleans up for tonight, what do I care?”

“It’s just, I thought you were going to be Tina for the day.” Tammy remarks.

“You sound disappointed sis? Why?” I ask.

“Oh, no reason… it’s just… I don’t get to… never mind… let's go.”

I hold the door. I get a stare from Tammy a bit as Helen walks out. Tammy is more subdued as passes me. Her face is less animated than earlier this morning. I shut off the lights, close the door, and use my key to lock it.

Chapter 3

We don't have enough time for coffee, I'd even settle for a 'ground-up brick' in hot water right now, or maybe Starbucks. I'm still dragging my feet. Morgan is great and I wanted to make sure that she was the one that would color me back to brunette. That's why I agreed to a 9:00 am appointment. I walk in and she gives me a hug, then does the same to Helen. Tammy is behind us looking a bit nervous. I'm not sure how many times my sister, Tammy, has actually been to a salon. If you've never actually laid eyes on her, the lone bottle of generic, baby shampoo in her shower, is all you really need to know. Helen, Tammy's roommate, wasn't kidding when she said that I made a 'better Tammy, than Tammy'. I may be wired that way, but I'm not plumbed that way.

Morgan's Salon has, what we all lovingly refer to as, an 'emergency room.' It’s private and has a lock on the door along with anything and everything Morgan needs to fix hair disasters. She finally ushers me into the solitary room to take a good look at the damage. Helen's guilt-has her following behind me. Tammy stays behind, the room isn't large enough for all of us. Morgan still needs enough room to work.

Morgan props up a segment of hair and pushes her glasses to the tip of her nose. "Hmmm, I don't think it's going to hold any color." I begin to glare at Helen. "This doesn't look like the work of any of my girls." She adds. "Who did this to you?"

I crane my neck towards Helen. "She thought it would be fun to turn my beautiful rosewood hair blonde." Helen’s eyes are cast downward. "Well, the best thing I can do is cut it short and you can just let it grow out." I'm beside myself. Morgan sees the look on my face. I'm guessing it is somewhere between 'my puppy just died' and 'MY BEST FRIEND RUINED MY GORGEOUS HAIR!'.

Morgan continues, "Your choices are long, blonde and over processed or something short and sassy but still blonde.” I know it’s pointless to seek a 'second opinion'. My eyes gaze back at Helen for some advice. Her eyes are still cast at the floor. I sigh, "cut it." I say with a sad and somber voice. Morgan sighs, "Have a seat. I'll make it quick."

"Wait! What about the interviews?" Helen reminds me. "Can we at least get it to Tammy's length and TRY some color?" Helen quickly recounts the plot for Morgan.

"It’s going to look like straw, but we'll give it a shot." Morgan remarked. "Do you really want me to make you look like her?" Morgan was dumbstruck. Morgan’s the genius that made my gender bending into an art form. I’m sure she was aghast that I would try to look anything like my sister who is seated in her waiting room.

"Well we thought you'd make them look alike. You saw my roommate out there. Why don't we see what we can do with Tim here and bring Tammy to match?"

Morgan brings one of her girls into the room then points her to Tammy. The other stylist closes her eyes, shakes her head and is off to work with Tammy. Morgan works with my hair. Tammy and I emerge 3 hours later with the same hair but not much else. The color is a bit light for me but Tammy is in love with her hair. It's nice to see her take pride in the way she looks. I think she's got the bookishness and I got the narcissism. Familial traits anecdotally, and I’m positive, people with alphabet soup at the end of their names would probably correct me.

Tammy is more animated because of her hair and I'm just happy to be anything but blonde. We're off for some shopping. It must be a strange sight. A guy and a girl, same hair, different clothing. It's always been fun blurring the gender lines. I don't think Tammy appreciates it much. The double takes make me and Helen burst into fits of laughter. We're walking with Tammy on one side of Helen and me on the other. Every now and again Helen catches me in lock step following Tammy's gestures to the letter. She gives me a shove here and there and we break out into laughter. Tammy looks at us like a mother who’s at her wits end with her children.

Walking in to shops for business wear for my sister is interesting. Obviously, I would need the same. The high end stores in town already know who I am. I'm a regular, if not a frequent customer. They are shock to see Tammy though, wondering if I've been hiding my twin from them. "It does explain why you come here often." one shop owner remarked with a smile. "Now if only I can get her to wear them." I say with a smile doing the show and tell arm gestures at my sister. There's that angry cat meme face again! Helen is just drinking it all in. At any moment she's ready to burst into laughter. We collect the attire we've chosen, my treat of course. And we're off.

We return to the apartment late in the afternoon. Tammy's had enough of her two 'kids', schleps herself into her room and closes the door behind her. I think I heard the thud of the headboard hitting the wall as she plopped down on her bed.

"You two are so different." remarked Helen. "You know if you switched places, you both would actually be 'normal'.

"Are you saying I'm too girly?" I say looking through my purse trying to cull out the unnecessary items to lighten it up. "You know I have to keep reminding myself that you are a guy sometimes." she says with a flash of a smile. "I've never asked, but why do you keep switching back and forth?" Helen's never this direct. "Where's this going?" I'm now more guarded. "I understand exploring gender lines, but how long are you going to keep this going?" "Why should I stop?" my voice and tone less jovial. "Don't you want a normal life? You can't keep this up forever."

"Why not! I've got everything I want!" I say with a smile.

"For now, but will that always be the case?"

"Why wouldn’t it. I have my own home, an awesome best friend, family that loves me and can look great in a size 4 or a size 38."

"What about starting a life?"

"What life? I've got a great one going."

"A family? I've never seen you date. You've shot down all the guys that ask you out and all the girls you approach end up as girl friends and not girlfriends. Don't you want more?"

"What I want-Is to check out the fall line-up with my best friend." Helen gives me a defeated look. She shrugs her shoulders and begins to walk to her room. "Well then I'll see you back here at 7? I think you still need to get ready too."

Tammy's at the threshold of her room. She's in her comfy wear. Sweatpants, cami and a cardigan. The thought runs through my head 'We bought you a few new outfits why are you wearing those?' I stop myself thinking it's something mom would say.

"What was that about?" Tammy asks as she leans on the doorway, arms crossed.

I think I got the " ' You should grow up already lecture' from Helen." She pours it over in her mind. "Y'know you should start thinking about your future"

"Oh! Not you too!"

"Aren't you going to get a job? What about a family? Have you thought about any of that?"

I roll my eyes. "My home is paid off and my car for that matter. I've got zero debt and I have the two of you... What else do I need? You all think I should have more when, let's face it, you both don't."

"But we are working to get it. You're not even trying."

"I have to get ready for tonight." I grab my purse and my overnight bag. "I'll be back by 7 to pick-up Helen. Do you want to grab some dinner with us beforehand then drop us off? You can have the car for the evening. We can take a cab home."

"No, I think I'll have a nice quiet night at home this evening. We still need to plan out everything for the interviews. Oh! Remember mom still wanted to talk to you about something. Your hair is semi-normal and so there's no excuse now."

Great! I love mom but sometimes I don't think I can handle another round of "Where's your life going."

The evening goes off without much fanfare, though it does give me some ideas. The morning after I check the market pour through the mass emails of facts, figures, journals & periodicals. I mine the "socials" for info and trends and make a few trades and I'm ready for the day.

I sigh, as I get into my car and head over to Tammy's. We get started on the plan for the interviews. We're pouring through her resume and her experience. We look through some of the projects she's worked on and I see how much effort she's put into her career. She was hired as an intern then promoted as an assistant with now defunct marketing firm. She finds herself having to start over competing against kids who are more adept at social media than she ever was. It wasn't her personality to be social, let alone entangle herself in the web of the "Social".

Chapter 4

Everything that followed happened in rapid succession. For the next two weeks, I became much more in tune with Tammy's life. Why she so loves the books she reads, and why she kept her life so Spartan. There's a calm about her life that I'm now beginning to enjoy myself. I have to admit tearing myself away from the superficial forced me to enjoy the simpler things. I understood more why that seems to satisfy her. I've never had such a closeness with her. Helen can no longer tell us apart from our mannerisms to our clothing. Right up to the day we dropped Tammy off at the airport, we were almost inseparable.

The plan was simple. Tammy would fly off to Springfield the day before the interviews and get settled. The time difference meant my 9:00am and her 10:00am interviews coincided. Literally, two places at once. I would attend both the morning interview that Helen arranged and then the afternoon interview which Mom arranged. Helen, who has the day off, will work as a ‘go between’ to keep me and Tammy up to date on the interviews and what was said just in case any follow-up calls or questions. What could possibly go wrong?

On the morning of the interviews, I leave from my condo dressed in my silk sleeveless blouse, a midnight blue blazer, and a matching pencil skirt. Louboutins and my Louie are the only items I wear that are not custom made. I keep the jewelry to a minimum, my pearlmaster peaks just below my cuffs, a diamond solitaire adorns my neck and I wear half carats stud earrings.

The receptionist greets me and asks for me to wait in the lobby. I’m about to sit down when a young man walks towards me. “Tammy? I thought it was you.” I freeze. The young man is in his mid-twenties. He would either have worked with Tammy or went to school with her. He’s dressed in a well cut, navy blue suit, which maybe a Boss knockoff. His attire means he works here or the company is his client. Tammy rarely dated so I know he wasn’t an ex.

“I’m sorry but I’m a bit overwhelmed at the moment. Where do I know you from?” “Oh, I’m sorry, of course you must meet tons of people. I’m Scott Ward. We met at Core Health?” Core Health was a growing company in the field of medical devices. Tammy worked under the lead marketing exec to design their investor information packet. Scott had been one of the Associates at Core Health that helped provide the facts and figures for the brochures.

“Of course, Are you still working for Core Health?” I ask.

His smile is infectious; I’m smiling widely as well. “No, I’ve since moved on. I am with Brownstone now. We’re looking for an Assistant to the Lead designer here. You look exquisite!” All of a sudden, I get a bit nervous with his gaze upon me. “Are you here for me? Ummm the position… Assistant job… I mean.” He seems to be as nervous as me. I get flushed.

“Yes, am I with you?” I’m as red as a tomato now. “I… am I to interview under you? With you… With you, I mean.” We both begin to laugh.

“Let’s start over.” he says. I agree.

“Are you here for the interview Ms. Sterling? It is Miss Sterling isn’t it?”

“Yes, on both counts” oh! he’s just… yummy… “Is the interview with you?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Wonderful, I’m ready to go do you…with you.., go with you, I mean.” What is wrong with me! The temperature of the room just jumped 10 degrees.

“Please come with me.”

He leads me to a room with a lone computer. He asks me to sit, tells me about the screening exercise. A typing test, a Q&A, and writing sample. I move the mouse and I am greeted by the lock screen requiring a login. He leans over me as I steal a whiff of his cologne as his hands move from the mouse to the keyboard. He gently lifts my hands, feeling my skin and begins to move my hands away. He leans in a bit closer as I tilt my head away to make room for him. I’ve never felt my heart beat so loudly in my life. He keys in the password and withdraws. Half an hour later, He returns, I’m proofreading my writing sample. His hands are on my shoulders now. “I believe the time is up Miss Sterling. Would you follow me?”

He’s breaking a million harassment rules and I really don’t care, he’s still yummy. He leads me into another room. Cindy, the personnel administrator begins the interview and I answer question after question while my mind is still on Scott. I must have been very distracted. The interview ends with a ‘handshake and smile’ after which I walk out. Scott catches up to me in the parking lot.

“Tammy!” I hear his voice as I’m opening the door to my car. “Scott? Was there something more?”

“I ummm wanted to… I think I behaved a bit… If you think I was coming on a bit strong there…”

“You did, but at least you’re trying to make up for it.” I coo back as I’m hanging my blazer and placing it in my car. I turn to face him again. I return his smile with one of my own. His eyes sparkle from the sunlight. His hair black, a fade, though his chin shows a bit of stubble which I imagine he prefers. He’s too well put together for him to neglect a shave. My mind is in a fog as he slides his hand to my shoulder sliding my blouse back from where the blazer had shifted it. A bold move, I’m not sure why I didn’t pull away. My phone buzzes, it startles me and I’m thrust back into reality. Scott backs away, I think you may need to take that. I turn and move to my purse on the driver’s seat and fish out my phone. It’s Helen.

I look over to Scott. “I do need to take this call, but thank you for… well… thank you.” He smiles turns and walks back towards the building. A bit disappointed that he didn’t ask me for my number. I answer the phone. Helen chirps back, “So how’d it go?”

I’m watching Scott go back into the building. “Dreamy…”

“What? Tim, how did the interview go?”

The spell is broken, “I think it went well, he seemed to like me, Tammy, I mean.”

“Are you alright? You sound a bit ‘off’”

“I’m… I’m fine. The interview went well. What’s up?”

“Hey, I got a call from Tammy. The interviewer from this afternoon wants to bump it up to 11:00am can you do that? I look at the delicate watch on my wrist. “It’s a bit of a squeeze, but I think I can make it.”

“Okay, Grant Systems, at 11. Since you should be done at noon do you wanna have lunch?

“Sure! how about you head over to my place?”

“Great, my key still work?”

“It should. I’ll call you when I’m done?”

“Good luck with the interview!”

Call waiting has Tammy on the line. “Hey girl! I just got an earful from Mom! Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

“I figured it could wait until after the interviews.”

“No, you’ve been ducking her for more than two weeks! What’s going on?” Her voice almost angry.

“I think she wanted me to interview with a small research company downtown. I wasn’t really interested, but you know how Mom is.”

“Well could you please give her a call. I want her off my back.”

“How’d your interview go?”

“Oh I think I’m a shoe in for the job!” Tammy’s tone is more elated. “But you should still go to the interview with Grant. Did Helen tell you about the change?”

“Yes, I’m on my way now.”

“Okay I won’t keep you! Thanks again for all this!”

“You owe me sis!”

“Okay” she chuckles “I’m sure it will all even out at the end. Love you Sis! Bye!”

“Love you too, Sis!”

I drive over to Grant Systems. Portfolio in hand, just in case, I wanted them to see Tammy’s work. I’m proud of her and showing her work would be perfect.

After navigating the labyrinth, I get my chance to meet Allyson Grant. Owner of Grant Systems. I’m in awe. At times I find myself answering from my background rather than Tammy’s. I think the nerves have gotten to me and the cracks in my “Tammy” façade are beginning to show. Mrs. Grant loves some of my ideas and suggest that I may be better suited in her design department. I assure her that I want to be her assistant. Then the bombshell…

“I appreciate you taking an earlier interview, Miss Sterling. Your mother’s very proud of you. In truth, we are looking to hire for the Design department. Though you say you want to be my assistant I hope you would reconsider. We do have one applicant for the position. A Timothy Sterling? Are you two related?”

“Ummm… he’s my brother. I remark.’

“Well, He’s accepted the interview at 1:30 and if he’s anything like you…”

My mind racing to put together the pieces of how I would have an interview at 1:30 and more importantly how I would top myself with that interview.

“Oh one more thing, I’m meeting your mother for lunch - you should join us.”

“Wouldn’t it be unfair to the other candidates?” I’m trying to worm my way out gracefully.

“Non-sense there are no other candidates. Join us I insist!”

“Oh one more thing, I’m meeting your mother for lunch - you should join us.”

“Wouldn’t it be unfair to the other candidates?” I’m trying to worm my way out gracefully.

“Non-sense there are no other candidates. Join us I insist!”

Chapter 5

"Of course Ms. Grant. I would love to join you!" Panic sets in. There is an interview for Tim in an hour and a half. I'm booked with lunch for the next hour or more with the woman I'm to interview with and my mother. I have no chance to change out of my disguise. I have spent the last hour dressed as my sister; interviewing on her behalf for a job for which I find out, Tim, is a candidate. This is the part of the sitcom where the character has a choice of either come clean, or go for broke with another, yet more bizarre plan. Lucy?

My phone buzzes. It's Helen on the other end. I hope she knows to play along.

"Hi Tim!" I say to Helen. "Are you all set for the 1:30 interview at Grant Systems? Have you had a chance to speak with 'Ethyl'? about that costume in the closet?"

"Ummm, yes Tammy, she had it cleaned and placed in your closet; right?" Helen had played the male version of me last year on Halloween. Another story for another time. Her impression of me was dead on, almost as much as my impression of Tammy. Helen's hair is about as long as mine was before the blonde and subsequent trim two weeks ago. Her hair is more of a raven color. The logistics are a mess, hiding her breasts was another, her lack of info on my background was a serious problem. I'd need to fill her in on the interview detail somehow during lunch. I spent two weeks learning about Tammy. Helen's got less than an hour to get up to speed on me.

"Tammy do you have time to meet for lunch?"

"No sorry Tim, I'm having lunch with Ms. Grant and Mom of all people."

"I see."

"Oh, I made copies of your resume and put them on the desk drawer in the study. Good luck with the interview." I hope she's a quick study. I would owe her a kidney if she could pull this off.

Ms. Grant finishes gathering her things and shutting down her computer. We're off. Her chauffer drops us off at a wonderful gastropub that opened off the river downtown. It's elegant and I'm relieved that my attire is more than appropriate for the setting. Mom's already seated and greets Ms. Grant. The knowing look on my mom's face would be absolutely priceless, if I didn't know I would be paying for this later. "Tamera! Look at you young lady. You've never look better." Mom's 'fake excited' reaction was all the confirmation I need. "So how did my little girl do? I'm sure she met all of your expectations?"

"More than that I was impressed by her knowledge of our product line and her design ideas." Ms. Grant. "In fact I was hoping she would consider a position in our design department instead."

"Is that so? I didn't know you had the same gift for design as your brother, Tim. Where is he by the way? I've been trying to contact him for weeks?"

"My mother should have been an interrogator with the Pentagon or at least Homeland Security. She could break even the hardest detainee. They had waterboards, my mom has her wits.

"If you will excuse me, I have to visit the powder room." I say as I stand which slides my chair backwards.

"Hold on Tamera, I'll join you." The lump in my throat threatens to choke me at any moment.

"Please excuse us." my mother, calm as a reflecting pool says as we walk towards the ladies’ room. We reach the lounge inside and the calm, serene, façade drops and “pissed momma” emerges. “What the hell are you doing? Where’s Tamera and why haven’t you been returning my calls.”

“Ummm.”

“Choose your next few words carefully young lady!”

“Ummm.”

“I’m waiting. And don’t you dare start crying!”

She’s good. “I…”

“Don’t you dare lie to me either!”

She’s really good. I’ve never been on the business end of mom’s third degree but she’s busted me three times without me uttering more than a single word. “I’m interviewing as Tammy. She couldn’t make it.”

“Good start, continue.”

“She was double booked for an interview.”

“Why didn’t she say anything?”

“I don’t know”

“Lie number one! Would you like to start over?”

“You asked her to change her plans and she really wanted the other position instead. The interviews were the same day.”

“Who’s idea was this deception?”

“Mine and Helen”

“Where’s Tamera?”

“Springfield”

“Did you think you would get away with all this?”

“Yes.” Trick question, answering ‘no’ would have been a lie.

“Is this why you have been avoiding my calls?

“No. it’s the same reason Tammy didn’t want to tell you about her other interview.”

“How did you expect to attend the interview at 1:30 and how long did you think you could keep this deception going?”

“Helen was to take my place” My mom’s eyes narrow… “We were hoping Tammy would get either of the other two jobs and be able to turn down this one.”

"You knew Tamera was up for the Assistant position, yet you took it a bit farther, angling for a position for the design department. I'm sure you didn't know about the 1:30 interview I had set up for you. You never returned my calls. I want an honest answer from you. If Ms. Grant offered you, as Tamara, not Tim, the position in the design department. Would you have taken it as Tamara?"

"She offered, I turned it down."

"On Tamera's behalf. I’ll ask it this way then. I know you already want the position. If the position was offered only to Tina or only to Tim, who would accept?"

It was the first time my own mother mentioned the name 'Tina'; much less directed at me. Her question was 'which life would I choose if one had to end?'. I lower my head, "I don't actually know."

“Then you are not ready for such a position.”

“I’ve taught you to deal with the consequences of your actions. Here they are. You are going to march in there and confess to Ms. Grant.”

I walk back to the table and proceed to confess the plot to Ms. Grant. That ended any hope of joining the company.

“Well, I’m sorry to say that I will no longer consider you or your sister as candidates for employment with my company. I wish you well in your career elsewhere.” Ms. Grant leaves and I sit there quietly with my mother.

"How did you know I wasn't Tammy?"

"Tina, sweetheart, Tamara doesn't wear diamonds to an interview or a Rolex for that matter. She doesn't even carry a mirror in her purse, let alone anything that would fill it. Tamera is simple, timeless and reserved. You, my prodigal daughter, are elegant, refined, and opulent."

“I think I’m going to go home now mother. I don’t think I have much of an appetite after that."

“I understand baby,”

Part of me wants to yell at her for ruining my chances with Ms. Grant. Part of me also wants to blame her for raising us in an environment where we would have to stoop to such levels to seek what we wish. Instead, I collect my purse and Tammy’s portfolio and walk out of the restaurant.

I place a call to Helen to tell her what happened with Ms. Grant and my mother.

“She did that to you? That was really cruel!”

I take a cab back to my car at Grant Systems and drive back to my condo. Helen’s there waiting for me as I walk into my place. “I thought you might need a friend.” I burst into tears as she hurries towards me with a consoling hug.

“It’s okay.” She coos.

My phone rings. It's Tammy. "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU! How can you have lunch with mom! You knew she would figure it out! I got yelled at because you had to go out to lunch and blow everything!"

"I'm sorry. It..."

"And what's all this about her telling me not to be too hard on my 'sister' and that 'she' has already had a rough day? Wait! Have you been crying?"

"Mom made me fill Ms. Grant in on the whole story. I lost my chance at being interviewed for the design position that I wanted." I'm on the edge of tears again.

"Wow! That's cruel, even for her! Look, I know how much you wanted that. I'm sorry, I didn't think that... How about we talk more about this when I get back. Is Helen with you?"

"She's here."

"Good. I'll see you when I get back?"

"Uh huh", is all I can manage.

"Wow! That's cruel, even for her! Look, I know how much you wanted that. I'm sorry, I didn't think that... How about we talk more about this when I get back. Is Helen with you?"

"She's here."

"Good. I'll see you when I get back?"

"Uh huh", is all I can manage.

Chapter 6

Helen and I spent the evening in my condo drowning my sorrows in ice cream. It was no great loss to Tammy that she was no longer a candidate for the position as Ms. Grant's assistant. It was rather devastating to me that I was no longer a viable candidate for employment at Grant Systems. It would have been an absolute dream to be able to work with those designers there who would mix technology with fashion.

Ice cream, wine, and popcorn are a really bad combination. It's all I had in my condo. Neither of us could muster the energy to go out for dinner. Instead, we stayed in and streamed I Love Lucy episodes. Helen borrowed one of my velour track suits and I donned my t-shirt and silk boxers. As I emerged from my bathroom Helen, already snuggled in my bed looks over at me and says. "Tina, you really should invest in a comfy set of pj's."

I look at her, "you know Tammy said the same thing to me. These are comfy." I climb into bed with Helen.

"Wow! I never thought I'd ever get Tim Sterling to come to bed with me."

"What? I crash at your place all the time."

"Yes and whenever you do, you crash as Tina. Haven't you ever noticed that?"

"Not really, I just figured we always come home too late for me to change back. So I change in the morning. I never thought you noticed."

"I just thought that it was odd that it was always Tina that spent the night and not Tim."

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You know you never answered my question.”

“What question?”

“Why you keep switching back and forth?”

“Mom asked if I could choose, which would remain.”

“Have you thought about talking about it with someone? Professionally, I mean?”

“I never saw it as a problem.”

“Tammy told me what you were like before, you know.”

A cold sweat rolls through me. “What did she tell you?”

“She told me enough to be worried when you get like this.”

“Is this why Tammy always asks me to stay with you while she’s away? So that you can keep an eye on me?”

Her eyes pooling with tears, she doesn’t have to answer. “She worries and so do I that…”

“I’m not that scared little kid anymore!”

“you wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t a problem!”

“Look, I have the two of you! Both of you keep me grounded.”

“You deserve more! You deserve someone who loves you as much as we do and maybe even more. Someone that you actually open up to, not just joke with, someone that can share both in your joy and in your pain.”

“I love you, but that hasn’t been enough and with you losing one more of your dreams… I…” her pangs of sorrow overwhelm her. I pull her into me with an embrace. We both cry ourselves to sleep.

I’m awaken by a phone call in the morning. “Ms. Sterling?” The voice begins before I can manage a ‘hello’.

I launch into my Tammy voice. “Speaking, may I ask who is calling?”

“This is Katherine, at Omega Marketing? My supervisor asked me to give you a call. We couldn’t reach you on your home number. I remember you calling me on this line to reschedule your interview. I’m so glad we were able to get a hold of you. We wanted to make sure you are alright.”

“Well I appreciate that, if you don’t mind, this seems a bit unorthodox is there something wrong?”

“No, nothing is wrong now that we have been able to contact you. We were worried when one of our staff members noticed your flight itinerary.”

“My flight itinerary?” panic overwhelms me.

“It’s a real tragedy, but I’m so glad you are alright.”

“Yes, I am, thank you for calling.”

The browser on my phone takes an eternity to load. I shriek in horror as I see the headline. It wakes Helen from her slumber. The room doesn’t seem real anymore, it all darkens. I hear a call in the darkness, but I can’t respond, “Tina? What’s wrong? Tina? Tim? TIM!”

I’m in, what feels like, my kitchen, at the same time its not. I’m getting my bearing when a young girl runs towards me and begins hugging my thigh. “Mommy! Joey hit me!” a young girl pleads with me to step in. She’s familiar, A sense of frustration comes over me.

“Joey!” no answer, I call out again. My third, a full ‘mom yell’, “Joseph Erin McCall! You get yourself in here at once! Footsteps and a young boy emerges, a look of guilt on his face. He’s adorable and mine and well it’s impossible to stay angry. “What’s your side of the story?” I breathe out. It feels like I’ve been through this hundreds of times.

The young boy looks to the ceiling. He’s going to lie to me. I sense it from his body language. “Joseph, before you say one word. If you lie to mommy it will be much worse than if you tell me the truth.” Kelly, the young girl whose arms are around my thigh moves slightly. My eyes don’t move from my son. “Kelly, honey, taunting your brother can get you punished, remember?” The shift in the weight on my leg is familiar, Kelly’s looking up at me. “I’m serious young lady. Now Joseph, what is your side of the story.”

“Well… Kelly was…”

Ugh! I cut off, what would be ‘the long narrative’. “Joey, did you hit your sister?” A monosyllabic “yes”. “At the time, were you having fun or were you mad?” The same body language, he’s going to lie to me again.

“I was mad.”

“Lie number 1, do you want to start again?” Oh my God! I’ve turned into my mother. That revelation disappoints me.

“I was playing with the bean bags and one of them got away from me”

“Baby, mixing a lie in with the truth is still a lie.”

A stunned look comes over his face. I know that look, It’s that moment when you think your mom is psychic. “Were you aiming for your sister?” He looks down at the ground; “yes”. “Your bean bags get put away for the day. Kelly, your dessert goes to Joey for taunting him. Had you done nothing, Joey would have been the only one punished. Am I clear?” A stereo “yes, mommy” They begin to walk away.

“Did I say that you two can go?” Both freeze in their tracks and turn back at me. I’m waiting for them to figure it out. Joey’s been through this a number of times before. He turns to Kelly. “I’m sorry for throwing the bean bag at you.” Taking a cue from her brother Kelly apologizes as well. I give an exasperated sigh and say, “you two can go.”

I take my tea cup and saucer from the table to the sink. I close my eyes, thankful for just a moment worth of peace. The kids will be on good behavior until, well, they remember they’re kids and the cycle begins again.

I wake up, I’m in a room, its dark. The familiar smell of antiseptic and alcohol. I know immediately where I am. I’ve been here before. Younger, but not young enough that the memory of this place as faded. I look over. Monitors cast enough light in the room to make some items distinct. There’s a chair, with a figure cloaked in black, it looks like death. My eye’s focus in the darkness. Helen. She’s asleep.

A nurse doing her rounds notices I’m awake. “Tina, it’s good to have you with us.” She whispers. “how do you feel sweetheart?”

“How long?” I ask. The normal question is “where am I”, sadly I already know that answer.

“Three days”

“And Tammy?”

“I should let the doctor know you’re awake.”

“She was on the plane.” Helen’s voice, a sad whisper trying not to cry.

I can’t cry. I know that whatever drugs they have me on, keeps that from happening.

“Miss Sterling?” a older man enters the room. The lab coat over the sport coat and slacks suggests not a person that deals with physical ailments. “I’m Dr. Everett, you can call me Ruben. I have been assigned to your case.”

“I assume that a full workup has been made of me?”

“It has.”

“Tests are normal?”

“Yes, but we are waiting on a few more.”

“Can I go home after that?”

“I’m afraid that decision has to be made by the one handling your affairs.”

“Excuse me? I’m an adult, I handle my affairs.”

“I think you should speak with your mother.”

“She had me declared unfit?”

“The conservatorship papers were filed yesterday.” Helen responds.

I feel betrayed. “And you know this because you provided one of the affidavits.” I not bothering to hide my disappointment.

“She said I needed to do it, to keep you safe, and so that she could handle your affairs. I panicked. I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Tina, darling, I’m so glad you are awake. I asked them to give me a call the moment you were conscious”

“No games mother, just tell me what I need to do to get my life back.”

“I’ve lost one daughter; I’m not losing you too…”

“The conservatorship papers were filed yesterday.” Helen responds.

I feel betrayed. “And you know this because you provided one of the affidavits.” I not bothering to hide my disappointment.

“She said I needed to do it, to keep you safe, and so that she could handle your affairs. I panicked. I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Tina, darling, I’m so glad you are awake. I asked them to give me a call the moment you were conscious”

“No games mother, just tell me what I need to do to get my life back.”

“I’ve lost one daughter; I’m not losing you too…”

Chapter 7

My mom now has control over my life. It seemed like a long time coming. Parents want the best for their children; right?

"I've been here before and have made my way out, I didn't try to hurt myself. Not like the last time. So how do I get out?"

"You choose."

"Oh? and what am I choosing between? Tim or Tina? Boy or girl? Son or Daughter?"

"You choose to accept help and move forward with your life or you choose to stay stuck in whatever limbo you've been for the last 14 years."

"That's it?" I say skeptically.

"Do you think I'm... crazy?"

"I think that you have been stuck between Tim and Tina so long that it's become 'normal' for you."

"So this IS a choice between Tim and Tina."

"You're holding on to one for the sake of the other."

"Tell me mother, which way gets me out of here and I'll do that."

"I said the choice was between seeking help or not. I hope you find peace as one or the other, but you've never sought help for why you need both."

"I have all my faculties; I can challenge the conservatorship in court."

"You can fight me. I have control over your finances. Helen is one of the people that signed the affidavit and you have no one else close enough to you to champion your cause."

Checkmate. My mother has me over a barrel. I sit smoldering at my lack of viable options.

"My request is simple and very reasonable."

I look at her trying to find anything I can use to change her mind.

"I've already lost Tammy."

"How do you know you haven't already lost me too?"

"I don't, I've taught you to deal with the consequences of your actions. Losing you may be a consequence of my actions. The reality is that while Tammy was taken from me; it would be your decision to walk away from me."

I look over at Helen. She's sobbing either from losing Tammy or what has transpired with me; perhaps both.

I lay back in bed staring that the ceiling. "Thank you, Mrs. Sterling, I'll consider your offer. I'd like to be alone now." I close my eyes, and listen for the footsteps to leave the room.

Over the next few hours, I stew like a spoil child who decided that the tantrum didn't work and that the silent treatment would be the next best thing.

A smell of roses enters the room. A bouquet. I imagine they are from Helen. I haven't look to see whose footsteps entered the room. Then the sound of a vase being place on the nightstand. She must have got permission. They generally don't allow vases in the room. Then her voice. "Please talk to me." Helen pleads. It must be hard on her, missing Tammy. The thought did cross my mind to respond with an impression of Tammy. I'm sure the pain of that would drive her from the room. I look over. The bouquet of pink and yellow roses brings a smile to my face. "They're lovely, thank you." I draw in the fragrance hoping it, for a moment, would mask the sterile smell of the hospital.

"How are you feeling?" she asks.

I want to say that I feel betrayed and alone. I want to say how much her siding with my mother hurts. I want to say how I miss my sister. I want to say how much I miss our friendship even more. All I can manage is a curt, "Fine."

"Okay", the disappointment in her voice is almost unbearable.

Whatever mood altering medication they have me on is beginning to wear off. I feel my emotions coming back. I feel less... Well, I feel more, anyway.

"Morgan and the girls say 'hi', they haven't seen you in a while. I told them that you were in the middle of a few projects and would be by to see them when you could."

"Thank you for not telling them I'm in here."

"How about we have a girl’s night out when I get out of here. You know, clubs, champagne, dancing?"

"I can't, I can barely cover the rent on the apartment by myself. I'm probably going to find another place to live. It hurts too much being there. All of her stuff..." She breaks down again. "I'm sorry, it's just been so hard. God! and you still look so much like her."

It's hard seeing her like this.

"Lucy!" my Ricky Ricardo impression, "maybe you should see a physio-chi-o-trix?"

She looks at me. "What?"

"A physio-chi-o-trix? You know a head doctor?"

The episode enters her head and she begins to smile. "But, Ricky!!! I don't wanna see a physio-chi-o-trix!"

We both laugh... "You know, if you keep this up you can have a bed right next to mine!"

Helen stops laughing and stares at me.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“I had lunch with my contact at Brownstone yesterday. Apparently, you made an impression on one of their junior executives.”

“Oh really? I can’t imagine what you are talking about.” I say coyly. My blush betrays me though.

“Really? So you don’t remember a dark haired fellow with a chiseled jaw and just a hint of stubble?”

“Nope, no recollection at all.” I shake my head

She holds her phone up to me with his photo and number on her contact list.

“Oh well!”

My eyes widen.

“Since he REALLY didn’t make THAT much of an impression on you, I should delete his number then.” She says as she swipes the display on her phone to ‘delete contact?’

“Don’t you dare!” I grimace immediately after saying it.

“So… Scott Ward… huh?” She says with a grin.

I sigh and let my guard down. “You’ve seen him. I’d be crazy not to.”

“Well, you’re in the right place for it! Oh sorry! I…”

“I deserved that.”

“So are you ready to get out of here?”

“Mom put you up to this didn’t she?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about at all.” She says with a grin.

“Fine! You win…”

I had thought I had put the past behind me. Then clues start to come together. My sister's concern and how she wanted to make sure I didn't cut off mom completely. How Helen seemed to watch over me and how close we had become. They must have had the same doubt my mother had over how I handled my life. None of them could really have a say while I still paid my bills, kept my life stable, and they could keep an eye on me.

The drastic change in my appearance, the odd plan that was hatched which culminated in the loss of my shot at working for Grant Systems. That brought me to the edge. The possibility that my sister could be dead? That was enough of a nudge to send me off the cliff. Now to find my sister is dead and my mother is in control of my life... Splat!

I've climbed that edifice before, and in my youth it was Tim who reached the peak. I'm determined to climb it again. Can Tina do the same? The climb from the depths of insanity to the plateau of "normal"? That was Tim carrying Tina. It was Tina who pushed Tim into the pit in the first place. Not many six-year-olds would think to take a knife to their genitals. Even fewer tried and still survived.

So yes, the psychiatric ward was familiar. In the psych ward, I learned that Tim was stronger than Tina. Tim emerged, and Tina stayed hidden. So much for ‘modern therapy’ at the time. As time moved forward, Tim receded, and Tina re-emerged. A glacial pace, but progress none the less. "The insane" have no such clarity, or perhaps they are the only ones that do.

That was the past haunting me.

I was released from the hospital after two more days there. My mother visited with me every day in the hospital just as she continues to visit to this day. Every time she walks in I could hear her choke back tears and calm herself before entering with a smile. Over the months my hair returned to normal; the rosewood replacing the chestnut. I look less and less like Tammy. I think that makes Mom sad. It's like watching your daughter’s ghost slowly fade away. Eventually, all that's left is me.

Mom paid for counseling for Helen to help deal with Tammy's death. After all, Helen didn't have me to talk to. They wanted for me to handle my own issues first.

As part of my treatment, I had to attend counseling as well. The counseling regimen is simple. I go to sessions twice weekly. Very little changed in my life at the time, except that counseling required me to take an active role. I couldn't be passive, or the treatments would become more 'invasive’. As I opened up more, I could feel the weight of Tim slowly cast off. The weight of a ‘life’ that I thought kept me safe from another trip to the psychiatric ward since I was six.

I spent a lot of time as Tina, at first just so that I could look in the mirror and see Tammy. I miss her so much. For me, even as the lightness of my hair grew out; I found myself opting for Tina's life instead. As I spent more time as Tina, my appreciation for much of the simpler things that Tammy loved began to weave their way into my life.

I began to simplify my life. The Cartier watches gave way to Fitbits. The Louis gave way to simple shoulder bags. My condo gave way to a nice home in the suburbs and a hefty return on the sale of the condo.

All my life, I dreamed of a future where I’d have the world in my hands. Tim and Tina having their share of an extravagant life. Two years would pass, and I would complete what started so long ago. My mother finally relinquished the conservatorship. I finally had everything I never dreamed I wanted. A simple life, Tina’s simple life.

A knock on the front door. An unexpected guest. A man looking for a ‘Tammy’, who wasn’t. His eyes shine like the day I met him. But that’s a story for another time.

Janet watched in tears as her father pulled every item of feminine attire out of it’s hiding spot. “Son, this is for your own good.” Her heart began to race as he boxed up every dress, skirt, blouse, and undergarment that lay atop the her bed. She worked all summer to afford her fledgling wardrobe. “Can’t imagine why you would want all this stuff. It’s not like you'll wear it anywhere.”

“What do you do? Jerk yourself off with these?” The thought horrified her. She could barely look at her ‘deformity’ much less think of it as a source of pleasure. She couldn’t bring herself to speak. “Honestly, Jeremy, do you know how much money this was? Do you know what you could have done with all that money? You worked tirelessly. How could you spend it so... frivolously?” She tried to recount the hours, the nights she barely had enough energy to march up the stairs to collapse on to her bed. What as Dad going to do with all of this?

I can’t trust you to spend your money wisely, I going to have to move your money into a Certificate of Deposit to keep you from spending it all. She tried to recall how much money she had left in her account. Five maybe six thousand? All that money locked away for five years? But she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. Instead, she continued to cry. She wanted to beg her dad to stop. She wanted to plead with him to allow him to keep what little she had.

“Don’t you touch any of that Jeremy, Do you hear me?” She nodded. Torn between disobeying her father and betraying herself. A few moments later, her dad returns with a box cutter and duct tape. He stretches the tape over the opening in the box and seals the top. Janet felt her heart sink. She watched helplessly as he loaded another box. Not even bothering to fold any of it. Her silent crying didn’t phase him. “Son, you really should be more of a man.” She couldn’t she was no more a man than her mother or her older sister. As the box neared capacity her father shook his head. “Damn, son I can’t believe how much of this stuff you have. What possessed you to buy all of this?” He drops the last of her clothing into it.

Again, the duct tape is unraveled and stretched over the opening. Another drop of her heart. “I don’t know why you're making such a fuss over it.” He set the box on top of the other box when he decides to stop and look at his son. “You know, you haven’t moved from that spot.”

Her pulse began to race. “What else are you hiding?” She didn’t want to move. What she hid was worth more that the clothes in the box. The clothes could be replaced. “Come on, move.” She stood there defiantly. “Jeremy, I told you to move.” She wasn’t going to move. He was going to take her clothes, but she would be damn if he got his hands on it.

Her father got more and more anxious at what his son was hiding. He debated about laying a hand on his son. It wasn’t something he was willing to do. His wife made him a promise years ago, that he wouldn’t lay a hand on him. His promise to her was one of the hardest ones to keep. Even when Jeremy was at his most defiant. He never laid a finger on him. His promise to his wife had brought her memory back to him. It had been 2 long years since the accident that claimed her life. He didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.

Their daughter had left home not long after. He had grown overprotective of her because, she reminded him so much of his wife that he couldn’t bare to see anything happen to his only daughter. Her last words before leaving the house was, "I hate you and I’m never coming back.” The thanks for a father’s love. Now his son was equally defiant. What was he protecting? “Son, I want you to move now!” He demanded. His son didn’t move an inch. “Did you hear what I said?” Again his son did nothing.

She was defiant. She knew she was. She couldn’t help but be defiant. Her father was going to throw away all that she had worked for; he was not going to get his hands on what she held so dear. Her father snapped again. “I said move! NOW!” Her father was so angry. He had never raised his voice to her like that. It scared her. Was this what drove Veronica out? Was it possible for her father to strike her? She was not going to back down. In a burst of anger, her father grabs her by the shirt and throws her to the floor; She's stunned. Barely able process that her father had just thrown her to the ground like a rag doll. She sat there in complete and utter shock.

He proceeded to search the desk beginning with the hunch. Pulling book after book and throwing it on the bed. The top shelf held no secrets. He moved to the second shelf. He search book after book. There was something he was hiding he was sure of it. What else could there be? What more could there be than a stack of women's clothes. His frustration grew as book after book flew to the bed. Reaching the desk he methodically went over each item. He was a madman possessed to find what deep, dark secret his son was hiding. His mind raced through all the possibilities. Could his son have a gay lover? Was he hiding something more deviant? His motions became more aggressive as swiped at the items on the desk. The desk clear, he moved to the drawers.

She watched on as he pulled the first drawer out from the desk and laid on the table. An assortment of pens, pencils, rulers and erasers. Her anxiety grew. He was getting closer. She watched as he pulled the second drawer and dumped it on the bed makeup and jewelry. “Is this what you didn't want me to find? Or is there more?” Her father was twitching with anger. She felt something that she never felt from her father. Fear. Absolute Fear. Turns from her and grab the third drawer. Her wig and breastforms. “What the hell is this?” He looks at her. “TELL ME! WHAT IS THIS? WHY DO YOU HAVE ALL THIS!!!” She couldn’t answer. She just stared at the last drawer.

He looked at his son. Rage ran through his body and mind. He had pulled out a wig and breast out of a drawer. That got no reaction from his son. His son just sat unmoving on the floor where he tossed him. He couldn’t believe what he was finding in his only son’s room. He couldn’t fathom why his son would have such things. Why he would buy such things. All his son had worked for was spent on… A perversion… A perversion that was worth openly defying him. It made no sense. His son was looking at the final drawer. Whatever he was protecting it was there. Whatever it was it was beyond makeup and jewelry, beyond a wig and breast. What was it? He gives a sigh and slides open the drawer gently. Almost not wanting to know what he would find.

She stared at him sliding the last drawer open. Her image of her father was destroyed in his violence and his cruelty. He had done everything and crossed every line. There was nothing left. She just stared at the drawer. The tears just kept pouring out. In the drawer, lay a pink album. She watched as her father pulled the book from the drawer almost reverently. His tenderness with the book was a contrast to the violent treatment everything else received. Her heart was beating out of her chest. He puts the album on the table and begins to flip through the pages. Photos of her mom growing up followed by photos of her father growing up.

He was familiar with this book but, had not seen it for so many years. He flipped through more pages, photo of him, his wife and his daughter. The two women in his life that had left him so suddenly. He felt his heart sink. Was this what his son was protecting? It made no sense. He continued silently turning the page. Photos of his son. He flips the page a photo of him, his wife, daughter and son. More of the same from the next photo. Then a photo of a young woman. He knew it wasn’t his daughter. The young woman looked just like his wife. He turns the photo. Three women, to the left was his daughter in the center his wife and finally the other woman smiling happily with the other two. The final page, a photo of his wife and the young girl, the caption Happy Birthday my baby girl. Love, Mommy.

He turned to look at the daughter he had seen every day but had never met. The look of betrayal on her face. He turns back slowly closing the photo album and setting it back into the drawer. He felt ashamed at what he had done. What he just put his youngest and last remaining daughter through. “I’m so sorry honey, please forgive your old man.” He knew she had no reason to trust him, no reason to forgive him. If his wife could accept their youngest daughter for the woman she was, why couldn’t he. He looked at her pleading for forgiveness.

She stared back at her father, stunned at his apology. It was sincere and heart felt. She was just too hurt and betrayed. He was ready to reject her at the drop of a hat. What could she do?

By morning, her room was empty and her car was gone. She had finished what her father started; she packed everything she owned and left. The only thing remaining was the pink photo album on the table in her room and a note.

I forgive you Daddy, but I’m not coming back.

I love you,
Janet.

I sat there standing in my daughter’s now vacant and empty room, staring at the pink photo album and the note above it. My daughter's room a stark contrast to the disheveled state I had left it in; the state I left her in. I knew nothing of my youngest daughter, the note was the only thing I had that bears her name. Janet.

How? How on earth could I be so blind? Was she so good at pretending? Pretending to be a boy? Then there was the discovery that my eldest daughter and my wife knew. They kept it from me? They kept HER from me? Why? What was it that they saw in me that made them do it? Made them afraid to show me my youngest daughter. I thought we were happy. I worked so hard to keep food on the table, a roof over their heads. I wanted to make sure they became responsible adults.

I tucked her in at night. When she was too tired to pull the covers over her. Her room was that of your typical teenage boy. The only thing that would have been odd about her, was all the books on her shelves. She likes to read. She always had a book in her hand or in her backpack. I open the album, and I looked at the photos I saw yesterday. My wife, Vanessa, Janet's mother, kept the album, it was something sentimental to her. She was going to put photos of the kids growing up in there. After my wife put the first photos of Veronica in the album, I never saw it again. I figured that since we both were working and raising two kids, the album took a back seat, much like everything else in our lives. Page by page, I flipped through it. I finally stopped at the photo of Janet. She looked… happy? I had not seen a smile on her face since she was a child, a young child at that. There was never a smile on her face. Just, sadness. Perpetual sadness. I tried to reach out to her a few times. The boy, never opened up. Was I relating to her wrong? I must have.

My daughter, my youngest daughter, Janet's smile was bright. Her hazel eyes seemed to shine so invitingly. How was it that this beautiful young girl was the same sad boy that wouldn't let anyone in? How could she not share herself with me? Why? I did nothing to warrant such deception. She has her mother smile. Her mother was... just as beautiful. Seeing Janet's photo, I see a trace of the woman I fell so madly in love with. The woman I wanted to start a family with. The woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. It was the ‘rest of her life’ that I got. Her time came before mine. Sadness crosses my mind that she had a hand in keeping all this from me. Were they ever going to introduce Janet to me? Did my wife’s passing cause Janet to go further into hiding or compel her to keep hiding? How long had they been hiding her from me? Were they afraid of what I might say? What I might do?

I flip to the next page, the one with my two daughters and my wife. “The three women in my life now gone. One gone yesterday, one gone for long, and one gone forever.” The house never felt more empty. I can’t understand why all that I had was gone. All that was left was the photo album and the note. I forgive you Daddy, but I’m not coming back. I love you, Janet. The handwriting was so delicate, cursive… artful even. The same handwriting on any other letter would have been less bittersweet. Ironic, that the last thing she would write to me was her introduction. How much pain and anguish had she been under? How much control she must have had to write that so… Serenely? The lettering had a light touch to them-faint, but distinct. This was not the work of a son in anguish, but a daughter in her most angelic light.

How? How could I have missed this? Were there signs? So much I never knew, never would know. It wretched inside me. What was worse? Never seeing the woman, you loved again or never getting to meet the daughter you never knew existed? No, what was worse was that given the chance to meet her, you drove her away. Ransacking her room, throwing her aside. Casting her aside? Guilt and anguish wrought over me as it did when I saw the album and then the photos of Janet. Where had I gone wrong? What could I have done?

Her room was empty, but the garbage cans in the yard were full. Full of the what she had left behind. The telltale artifacts of a young man casting off youth and innocence. Or was it casting off the disguise? The cocoon shed, leaving no trace of the butterfly that emerged from within. Where are you? Where did you fly off to? Her room is so empty. Like her sister's. I hadn’t done a thing with her sister’s room from the day she left. I was hoping she would come back. I take the album walk towards the door and close it behind me.

Years later a letter in a maroon colored envelope arrives, the return address says, "Janet Carson and Harold Lopes." It's in that familiar cursive. Its contents has the weight of cardstock.

Somewhere.

Yvette looked at her brother, Nathan, through the crack in the doorway to their parent’s bedroom. She had thought she heard a noise in what should have been an empty house. Their parents were working late as usual. Nathan was supposed to be at Jim’s home; his only friend from his elementary school. Yvette deleted the “911” from her iPhone and slid it into the back pocket of her faded skinny jeans.

He seemed to be lost in thought. It wasn’t like Nathan to enter their parent’s bedroom without at least one of them home. What she saw next was a bit more of a shock. Her 9 year old younger brother picks up a tube of lipstick and drags it across his lips.

Yvette with a silent giggle remembered herself at the same mirror when she was 7 years old. Though then, Nathan was just a newborn and their mother was too busy attending to him to notice Yvette borrowing a tube of lipstick and pressing the pigment to her lips depositing the reddish brown tint across her lips. Of course, she drew it from corner to corner and back again. She looked like a clown. She shook her head at the memory.

Some things have to start somewhere, she thought. Funny, that ‘somewhere’ was their mother’s vanity mirror, with a tube of lipstick. She wished she had a big sister to show her what she needed to know. But, being the eldest, means you have to blaze your own way. Staring at Nathan, she wondered what she would have to do as his big sister. Was Nathan experimenting or was this something more?

She watched on as Nathan put down the lipstick tube forgetting to retract it back into the base as he tried to cap it in vain, blunting the tip. Realizing his mistake he began to panic. He pulled the cap away revealing the damage he had just caused. Yvette couldn’t contain her giggle and Nathan shuttered at the thought that he had been discovered in a compromising position. He turned swiftly to see his sister smiling and shaking her head.

Nathan froze, wondering what would happen to him next. Realizing that the lipstick was still on his lips, he tried to drag the arm of his sweater across his lips to wipe it away. Yvette couldn’t stop laughing long enough to stop him from rubbing the lipstick on to his sleeve. The stain now more evident and the smeared lipstick was a sight too much for Yvette not to laugh at.

Nathan started to cry. His tears streamed down his cheeks. There was little he could do. He was caught almost literally red handed. The first sobbing words out of his mouth were “Please don’t tell mom.” He wondered what punishment would await him for entering their parent’s room without permission and destroying their mother’s favorite lipstick. Yvette looked at her little brother. “You know you’re in trouble, right?”

“Please! It won’t happen again! I promise. Please don’t tell on me!” Nathan pleaded with his sister.

“No, you are going to tell Mom what you did and accept whatever punishment they give you. They’ve always been fair.”

“I don’t want them to think I’m a freak!” Nathan continues his plea for his sister’s confidence.

“Why would they think you’re a freak?” Yvette walks over to Nathan trying to console him.

“Because that’s what the people at school call me everytime I do something ‘girly’.”

“Mom and Dad are not going to think you’re a freak. Come on, They should be home soon.”

“Please! You can’t tell them. Do you know what will happen to me if you told them?”

“I’m not going to tell them, you are. And it’s the 21st century they’ll understand.”

“No they won’t! They’ll send me away. I don’t want to be sent away.”

“What makes you think they’ll send you away?”

“Because that’s what happened to the last kid at school that acted like me. He was sent away and never came back.”

“Who told you that?”

“Jim. He said that I should hide whatever it is that makes me ‘girly’ so they won’t send me away.” Nathan was now trembling with fear.

“Calm down, Nathan. Jim doesn’t know anything. They don’t just send you away for being ‘girly’.”

“It happened. There was this kid! They always talk about this kid who had to go away because he was girly. He never came back!” Nathan began to cry harder. “I Don’t want that to happen to me!”

Yvette’s heart broke for her brother. There was so much panic in his voice. She let out a sigh. “Nathan. Look at me.” Yvette places her hands on his shoulders. His head was still down tears dripping to his sweater. “Nathan. Please, look at me.” She says softly. He turns his head up to meet her gaze. Tears welled up in her eyes. “I may be your sister, but I wasn’t born a girl. That kid was me.”

“You? How?”

“Well, we have to start somewhere. How about I start at the beginning? At that very same mirror…” Yvette smiles as Nathan pulls her into a hug.

Yvette's new life was just beginning. She was finishing college; she had her new job, new fiancée and she was ready to take on the world. The world had other ideas.

“Give her room!” one of the coaches yells out.
“She’s not moving.” Mutters one girl, Ellie, I think is her name.
“Try not to move her!”, That might have been Dianna.
“Oh S**t!”, that’s me…I'm trying to hide the air horn. I thought it would be an awesome gag to go to the first day the cheerleaders practice their lifts and test out the air horn. Well while they hoist one in the air. Or more precisely when my sister, Amber is in the air. She’s been down for a while. I’m sweating bullets. A couple of her teammates are standing in their practice outfits crying at their fallen teammate. The rest look on with concern.

“You little S**t! Look at what you did to your sister!” that would be Monica staring daggers at me. My sophomore sister is not moving. Monica runs at me as my eyes open wide. Taylor, my buddy next to me, yells “Come on, let’s get out of here,” and begins to pull at my arm. He pulls away from me, and he’s in a dead sprint. Monica is almost upon me. One of the assistant coaches grabs her before she could do, whatever it is she was had in mind, in her enraged state. She’s foaming at the mouth. “you little s**t! You could have killed her! Did you think that was funny?” I just stand there staring at my sister being held down by her squadmates.

The paramedics arrive at the football field where the practice was taking place. Monica is verbally hurling expletives in my direction. “Don’t you even care?” She tries to break free of the coach, who is trying to bear hug her to calm her. I’m still frozen transfixed as an ambulance arrives. “You ruined everything!” the Monica continues to shout in my direction. They’ve got my sister on backboard now? A neck collar? It wasn’t that bad of a fall. The rest of the squad is in tears as they load Amber onto a gurney and into the awaiting ambulance.

The ambulance pulls away. The squad turns to watch the commotion by the squad’s cheer captain. The air horn slips from my grasp and onto the bleacher steps. The coach comes over to me. Her angered could scare the calm out of a reflecting pool. She walks up to me. “You’re coming with me to the hospital.” She says holding her anger in. “I want you to see what that prank of yours did to your own sister.” I’ll let your parents deal with you there. She grabs the air horn and my wrists and drags me to her car. She sits me in the back seat, we have no other passengers.

She’s eerily silent on the car ride to the hospital. That scares me worse than if she would yell at me. A million things go through my mind. How badly hurt is Amber? How much trouble am I in? What are my parents going to do to me when they find out it was me that put her in the hospital? Each stop light is an eternity. Part of me wants to get there as quickly as possible. Some part of me is afraid of what awaits me there.

We pull into the hospital parking lot and parks the car. I realize why she put me in the back seat when she exits the vehicle. My door doesn’t open from the inside. Child safety locks. She opens my door and grabs me by the wrist. I’m too frazzled to struggle. She leads me into the ER with ease. My parents have not arrived at the ER yet, but several of the squad have started to show up. I haven’t seen 7 teens and 3 adults so ready to kill me in the same room at the same time.

My folks arrive and meet up with the coach. I’m sitting on the plastic chair in the ER and haven’t stopped worrying about my sister. The coach is explaining in animated detail what happened to my sister. I watch as the expression on my parent’s face go from concern to unqualified anger. Dad looks like he’s ready to whoop me, mom looks like she going to let him.

A doctor comes out of the double door and pulls my parents into a conference room. I don’t know anything about hospitals, but when the Doctor wants to speak with you in private, that’s not a good sign. Two hours go by, the rest of the squad continues to take turns giving me dirty looks. My parents have yet to emerge. The parents of each of the cheerleaders begin to arrive and retrieve their daughters. The shared look of disgust is directed in my direction by each of the parents. I imagine that each parent thinks that it could have been their child.

Dad comes out of the ER and head straight in my direction. “Aaron, We’re going home.” He says with the tension in his body so evident that I suspect if he lost control over it I would be in a hospital bed right next to Amber. I stand, and the blood begins to flow through my legs leaving pins and needles in its wake. I want to ask how she is. I don’t. There’s barely enough focus on my dad’s mind to operate a vehicle to take us home. He’s quiet too on the ride home. I expected him to yell at me as we entered the house. He doesn’t. He ignores me and walks upstairs to his room. I sit on the couch waiting for what is to come. He descends the stairs with my mom’s duffle bag. And walks back to the garage. I hear the car pull away and I’m left in sheer panic I don’t know what is going on.

I wake up in a daze the next morning. The house is still empty. Did they come home last night? There’s not breakfast on the table. I get started with a bowl of cereal and head off to school. Since I’m a freshman, I’m pretty much low man on the totem pole. Well, when I arrived at school word had already spread. Now, I’m probably a worm buried under the totem pole. All throughout the day the students, even the other freshmen are giving me dirty looks. As school ended, I was about to head for home when a couple of the biggest guys I’ve ever seen pull me aside. They grab me and pull me to a part of the school I’ve never been to. “You think that was funny?” One of the pair says angrily at me. “You think you’re clever messing with our cheerleaders you little turd?” I think I’m about to be pounded.

“Mr. Roberts and Mr. Unger, I do hope that you aren’t taking liberties with our students. Any infraction would threaten your eligibility and this… student… has some ‘restitution’ that he’s going to need to work on.” The same cheer coach that dragged me in her car yesterday had intervened on my behalf. I was surprised. “Now then, I think that the two of you are going home was that correct?” She asks in a tone that made them glad they weren’t me. “Yes, ma’am straight home.” The pair walks off with haste.

She eyes me up and down. “As for you. After you’ve spoken to your parents this evening, see me after school tomorrow. Be sure to bring some sweats and a towel tomorrow, you’re going to need it.” She grinned.

I walked home to find an empty house. I couldn’t drive so I couldn’t visit my sister. I didn’t know where in the hospital she was. I found a note on the table and 25 dollars. Basically, I should order a pizza for dinner. Not knowing how bad Amber was injured kept torturing my mind. The pizza arrived half an hour later, I barely made my way through a single slice. Worry fed me. Guilt was all I had to quench my thirst. By now I would happily accept any punishment just to know if she was alright. By sundown, I broke down sobbing. There was no one to console me. I deserved it. I deserved all of it. I cried myself into a slumber that evening. I didn’t even have enough energy to move off the couch.

I woke the next morning on the same couch a blanket covered over me to keep the chill off me. Mom was there in the kitchen her bloodshot eyes a telltale sign of the lack of sleep she had had over the past two nights. I entered the room. I hadn’t heard her voice in two days. She looked up at me with contempt. I had never seen that look on my mother’s face. It’s a look I hope to never see again. “she’s still in a coma.” Her words plain as if she was asking me ‘to pass the sugar.' She scooted back the chair as she stood. “Mrs. Tompkins will need your help with your sister’s squad while your sister recovers. You will do whatever she asks without question or hesitation. Nod if you understand.” I nod, mournful of the fact that my sister’s condition was graver than I thought. “Good.” She gets up walks upstairs to her room and shuts the door.

I arrive at school, again I’m the pariah. I’m ostracized, and even Taylor has abandoned me. I eat lunch alone. People even clear the table as I arrive. School ends and I arrive at the football field where my prank started it all. I walk over sullen to Mrs. Tompkins who explains my punishment to me; “Because of your callous act, we are one cheerleader short. You will fill in on practice days, fundraisers, and charity events that your sister cannot until she recovers and can fully rejoin the team. Normally, we’d cut your sister and bring in a new girl. After the stunt you pulled, none of the girls in the school want to try out. You will learn all the routines and fill her spot. Drop out or fail to improve, and we’ll have you expelled for your stunt. Is that clear?” I nod. “Practice is officially on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays; the football games are on Fridays. If you are nice, maybe some of the girls will work with you on the other days. I wanted you expelled, but this is a creative solution that doesn’t punish the rest of the girls."

After my first practice, I’m stiff, sore and there are spots on me that hurt like when I was beaten by bullies in Junior High. I’m out of shape and it is apparent I know nothing about cheerleading. Coach Tompkins wouldn’t let up on me. I think she’s determined to make me quit the team. The rest of the girls still hate me. Monica absolutely hates the idea of me on the squad even temporarily.

The moves are simple by themselves. Remembering the order of the moves and to synchronize them with the other cheerleaders is nearly impossible. They’ve all had the summer to learn all the routines. On top of that, they all like each other. I’m the outsider looking in.

I’m not sure if the threat of my expulsion is real, but everyone seems eager for me to fail. The girls all left together after practice was over. None said a word to me as they all left. Coach Tompkins asked me to shuttle the cones one by one to the office and then stow it away. I could have carried all of the cones back at once. She insisted that they each be carried one at a time 12 trips total. All this while the girls showered and changed and left the opposite end of the locker room. Coach Tompkins told me to be sure to bring water with me the next meeting. She didn’t want me to ‘dehydrate and have an easy out.' She still has to ‘have a functioning cheer squad’ she told me.

Thankfully, today is Friday. Since football season hasn’t started, I might have the evening free. I head to school after breakfast and a couple of painkillers. By now, the whole school knows I’m the stand-in cheerleader. Someone has also let on that if I quit, I get expelled. I think they are all rooting for me to fail. All I get are the looks of disdain. Nobody teases me, they won’t even talk to me. People get quiet around me and walk away. Lunch time is more of the same. I sit in silence. There is an invisible wall around me. How long can they all keep this up?

I head home after school, and my dad was just rushing out of the house with a bag. “Is Amber okay?” I ask as he drops the bag into the trunk. “I won’t lie to you son. The doctors did say it was serious.” There's a look in his eye that makes me think it’s graver than he’s saying. “They’ve induced a coma to reduce the swelling in her head.” His eyes, like Mom’s, were red from lack of sleep.

“I’d like to see her.” I can see he's turning it over something in his mind. He’s debating whether or not to bring me to her bedside.

“Son, when you sister’s condition improves, we’ll let you see her. For now, the doctors don’t want too many visitors there the same time.” I’m not sure whether he tells me that for my benefit or for Amber’s. All I can do is imagine her in a hospital bed with wires, tubes, and other devices hooked up to her keeping her alive. ”The best thing you can do for her now is to try not to make things worse than they are. We’ve got enough to worry about with your sister, without having to worry about your antics. Dinner’s on the stove. If you can handle the chores at home, that would help a lot.” He gets in the car and drives away.

There’s not much to do on the weekend, Taylor won’t answer my phone calls. I resolve myself to handle the household chores. Mom and Dad take turns coming home taking care of a few things and rush back off to the hospital. I feel more and more isolated as the weekend moves along. The chores keep me busy. It somehow felts less lonely in an empty house than a full school.

I return to school on Monday with much of the same. It’s almost been a week since the stupid prank. Coach Tompkins has me working with another Coach to learn some of the basics of tumbling. “They had all summer to learn most of this, and most of them had had some experience when they were younger.” Coach Reed works with me for the two hours while the rest squad works together on lifts. Coach Reed seems pretty gifted at teaching. “Amber was great at this, I'm glad you have the same balance and coordination.” Her words of encouragement are a spring in a dry desert. I’ve never participated in anything, and this is all pretty new to me.

By the end of practice, I can do a cartwheel unassisted. Two hours of practice to learn one tumble? No wonder they practiced all summer. By the time we were done, the girls all left for the locker room, and Coach Reed went to speak with Coach Tompkins about my progress. I had to carry the cooler to the office and then take the cones back one by one while Coach Tompkins timed me.

Tuesday afternoon was spent in the gym’s padded room. The girls all went through tumbling drills as well. I got a chance to see what would be expected of me should I “decide to continue.” It would seem that Coach Tompkins is working both angles. Getting me in shape if I wanted to continue and challenging me to the see if there was a way to make me quit. I can do a handstand now. Coach Reed worked with me a bit on that saying that I would need to learn that before I moved on to more difficult tumbling passes. I had to run laps around the room while the girls went to the locker room to change and leave for home. Again, the girls just ignore me. I’m on the team, I’m just definitely not part of the team.

I used Wednesday to relax and catch up on some of the neglected housework that had piled up over the past two days. Thursday the group went back to working on the timing and synchronizing, rather than tumbling. I’ve learned to do homework early in the morning while my muscles got a chance to recover overnight. A full load of classes, cheer practice and chores at home leave little in the way of free time. I’m starting to like keeping busy. It takes my mind off the silence.

At the end of the Friday, thankfully there is no practice today. I begin to head home when I see one of the cheerleaders, Casey, think that’s her name, rushing to the athletic field. Was there a practice without me? I reach the athletic field, and there are all the cheerleaders stretching and warming up. There are no coaches. They all seem more at ease without me there. Monica is leading the practice. Did I not get the message or were they purposely leaving me out?

I don’t know why I did it or even why I feel compelled to do it. I just walk towards the squad. On my way over, one of the cheerleaders points in my direction. I think her name is Allison. Monica turns to look at me as I approach. I drop my backpack next to the ice chest. Then take the empty spot that I was in yesterday and follow along without saying a word. Monica has an annoyed look on her face, but she continues to lead them all in stretching and warmup drills.

Monica stalks the group correcting posture and form as we go through the position drills. I’m tired and sore from the past few days of tumbling and drills, but I’m not quitting. I’m glad I’m wearing cargo shorts and a t-shirt. I can’t perform any of the moves in jeans. Monica calls for a break about an hour in and the girls grab their water bottles, sit together and chat. Ellie walks over to me. I sit at the spot where I began the workout. She hands me a bottle of water from the ice chest and quietly walks back to the girls. I think that may have been progress. Monica calls the group back into formation, and we again continue with the position drills.

I began to notice patterns in what they did. Most things were done on an 8 count. I also noticed that the position drills were the same hand motions of the choreography. Do something enough times, and it becomes automatic. 1-2 3-4 5-6 7-8. The pattern kept repeating. At the end of the two-hour long session. The girls headed to the locker rooms, I was left with Monica. She was emptying water from the ice chest. I was going to help her, but she picked it up and swiftly walked to the locker room silently. I was left alone again.

I walked home, the silence is getting to me. It gnaws at me. Again, I reach an empty house. Fortunately, there is something resembling a meal on the stove. It looks hastily prepared, but I plate it and eat it in the same silence that all of my meals have been. I take in more water to help clear the acid that burns through my muscles. I think a shower will ease my tired limbs and clears my head. No news from my folks means they’re still sitting vigil with my sister.

I’m on my way upstairs when I see a slip of paper just inside the front door. I didn’t remember seeing it on the way in. I pick it up and unfold it. The unsigned letter was handwritten and reads:

Saturday 9:00 am, McKinley Park, bring workout clothes and water.

I pack a backpack with water and a spare change of clothes and set it by the front door. I grab my sweats and a workout towel and set them on the chair in my room before I take two painkillers and drift off to sleep.

I wake up the next morning about as sore as I did when I went to bed. I shower, change and grabs breakfast before heading out.

McKinley Park is about 6 blocks from my home. I used to play there as a kid. Well, I played caroms. A table game that was like billiards which required you to use a cue, to push rings around a wooden table. Sort of a poor man’s pool table. The park rarely had enough funding, so little table games kept us occupied. That’s how I met Taylor. He was, until recently, my partner in crime.

Our parents didn’t believe in video games, so we had to entertain ourselves in more… creative activities. The air horn was probably one of our more open pranks. Saran Wrap on toilet seats, condoms on doorknobs, relabeling canned produce, harmless stuff. For the most part, nobody ever really got hurt from one of our pranks. That’s why I didn’t think that anyone would get hurt from the air horn prank. Hey, with three girls under her what are the chances that none of them would catch her? Instead, all three covered their ears, and Amber fell straight to the grass landing on, so I thought, on her back.

The way to the park runs through our neighborhood of two-story homes. Most have lawns that had been overrun with weeds. Nobody hires gardeners most barely scrape by. I think this once used to be a pretty nice neighborhood. It began it’s decline years before I was born. It hasn’t improved since. The park is pretty empty these days. Most parents keep their boys busy with video games. The girls, well they go to their friends’ homes. Amber always had a few friends over. I guess that’s why she became popular enough to be a cheerleader. Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve painfully learned it takes more than popularity to be one of them.

I spent most of my life avoiding people. Most people I encountered were bigger than me and typically meaner. Taylor didn't have it much better. We figured that if we hung out together, they picked on us less. So we kept to ourselves and just played our little jokes.

McKinley Park is a fairly typical park lots of pine trees for shade, a recreation hall, a sand box, and a grass field. Dotting the perimeter of the was exercise stations and a concrete pathway. The idea was that you’d jog a bit, reach the next station and follow the exercises that were posted on the signs. There was also a few tables with benches set under a row of sycamore trees that could be used by the public.

Since it was the end of summer, early September actually, the grass field was more hay and straw than actual green grass. I reached the park, and the grass field is empty. I checked my watch and find that it’s 10 minutes to 9:00 AM and I don't see anyone at the park. The recreation hall opens up at 9:30 AM on weekends, so I waited over at the swings in the sandbox.

I placed my backpack on the foot of the slide. I sit on the swing across from the end of the slide. I haven’t been on a swing since I was 6 or 7. Amber used to come with me to the park on weekends until she met her friends. I think none of her friends made cheerleader and she abandoned them for her new pompom endowed squadmates.

I lazily rock back and forth on the swing. There's nobody here. I get it in my head to have a go on the swing. I’d used to try to get the swing as high as it could possibly go and at the peak jump off. I think that scared enough people that someone finally told my mom and a week later we stopped coming to the park.

So back and forth I go the swing squeaks and squeals. I climb higher with each shift in momentum. I almost have the swing parallel to the ground when I leap off the swing and land on my feet but fall forward into a front handspring and land flat on my back with a cloud of fine sand surrounding me. “It doesn’t work on sand.” I hear a voice call out. I pick my head up, and there are two girls standing there. I think I recognize the pale blonde, wearing gray yoga pants with pink lines on the seams and a black sports bra as one of our cheerleaders. The one I don’t know, the tall brunette who’s probably wearing a sports bra, though it’s covered with a slouchy oversized T-shirt and she’s wearing sweatpants.

“Yeah, I think I need work on my dismount,” I say with a bit of a smile. “Were you the one that sent the note?”

“What note?” The cheerleader looks at me puzzled.

“Oh.” I’m unable to contain my disappointment.

“You’re Amber’s brother right?” The brunette I don’t recognize chimes in.

“Yeah, that would be me,” I say dumbly.

“You know that was a jerk thing to do to your own sister.” She says the anger in her voice is palpable.

I get to my feet, dust myself off, and walk over to the slide and retrieve my backpack. “I think this was a bad idea.”

“What are you doing here anyway?” The cheerleader looks at me annoyed. “Why are you here? I can’t believe you’re on the team.”

“He’s on the team to keep Amber spot open.” a voice from behind me. Her disappointing tone I recognize as Monica. She continues, “We need at 8 on the team to really have a chance for competition.” I turn to find Monica followed by the rest of the squad. Her disgust is rather apparent, “We barely have enough people for the routine we have. With Lisa out (looking over at the tall brunette I was chided by earlier) and now Amber; we’re down to seven. With seven, we still need to do the same number of lifts with the girls we have. Which means we have to do lifts where one girl held up and supported by only one other. None of us can lift and hold up another girl by ourselves. That's why we do two pyramids instead. If we go down to seven, we only have one pyramid and us our routine becomes less difficult, so a lower base score. We can go with an even smaller squad, six girls, but one of you has to sit out as an alternate. With six girls we’re in the ‘small group category’ for competition. Unlike other schools, we don’t have a ‘Junior Varsity’ team to bring girls in if one of us gets hurt.” With that last phrase, she looks at me and glares.

“What’s wrong with having a smaller team?” I ask.

“It means we’re less competitive and there's less of a chance for some of the seniors on the squad to get scholarships for college. Your little PRANK, put your own sister in the hospital, ruined our routine and all but guaranteed that the seniors on the squad have zero chance at a cheerleader scholarship for college.”

I have eight girls looking at me with disgust now. Lisa sums it up. “So, you cut Amber, ask one of the girls to ‘volunteer’ as an alternate and squad changes the whole routine with six girls? Or the little prankster joins the squad until Amber returns. Then what? Hope she’s well enough to compete and stay in sync with the squad?”

“Or YOU come back to the squad,” Monica says to Lisa, almost pleading with her.

“Look, I’ll help get your little prankster get up to speed, but I’m not coming back to cheerleading.”

Monica looks dejected and turns to the girls. “Alright, let’s get warmed up.”

We go through another 2 hours of warm up. Stretches, drills, routines, and other skills. After practice is over, Lisa comes over to me. “It’s Aaron right?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” I say wiping my brow with a towel. I pull my water bottle out from my backpack and begin to drink.

“About all that, earlier I mean…” She restarts the conversation, “I’m surprised you’re trying so hard.” she says without a hint of a smile.

“Well, it was because they threatened to expel me if I didn’t improve or I quit the squad. Then there’s the guilt of putting my sister in the hospital and that she’d be cut if I screwed this up. And… nevermind…”

“You’re feeling it aren’t you?” she says slyly.

“Feeling what?” I ask.

“What it feels like to be part of something? Something more than just being alone?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” I’m more defensive.

“I’m offering to help you with cheerleading, you want it?”

“What's the catch?”

“The catch it that you take this seriously. Monica wasn’t kidding about the mess you made. Well, that and you don’t ask me to rejoin the squad.”

“So what’s the story? Why did you leave?” I ask.

“Health reasons. I wouldn’t pass the physical.” Lisa has a faraway look to her. I can read the disappointment on her face. “Look, I have some spare time on weekends, and I can probably help you during lunch period on a few things.”

“I’ll take all the help I can get.” I’m finally happy to get someone on my side.

“I’m Lisa Cramer by the way.” she says extending her hand.

“Aaron Stewart,” I say back with a smile. Shaking her hand.

“So did they tell you if you were going to perform during the football games?”

“Not a word. The coach only said ‘practices, fundraisers, and charity events.”

“Oh, that’s disappointing,” she says sarcastically. “But I guess since you don’t have a uniform it would look weird.”

“You don’t think that they’d?”

“No, the football games aren’t that important, they’re just good practice for working with the crowd during competition.”

“Well, at least I don’t have to worry about that.”

“The thing is, you seem to distance yourself from the group. Why is that?”

“I think they hate me.”

“They probably do and probably will, until you give them a reason not to.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve never been part of a team have you?”

“No, not really.”

“Teams require cohesion. Look at them.” pointing to the girls who are still chatting away at the tables eating their lunch.

“So, they're all together. I’m the outsider. But what does it matter? I’m just temporary right?”

“But they still have to work with you. The squad’s coordination hinges on all of the girls working together. The team has to be in sync. Squad can’t be at its best when you’re not really part of the group.”

“You sound like you miss it.”

“You promised, remember. I can’t go back to the team.”

“So you helping me is like helping the team?”

“Kind of. I left the team before the competition last year. They still had enough girls to compete. Too many graduated, so there wasn’t enough to make a full team this year. With me gone… well…”

“I ‘get’ guilt. Believe me I really ‘get’ guilt.”

“I just want the best for them, you know?” Lisa says sadly.

The rest of the squad departs in a flurry of hugs. I’m left there alone with Lisa. “So did you send the note?”

“What note?”

“There was a note saying where the practice was this morning. It was shoved under my door yesterday evening.”

“I didn’t send any note, I didn’t know there was practice today. I came here with my friend Cindy, you met her earlier. If you want, I can work with you some more today. You do need to work on your endurance. You probably should take up running.”

“I get enough running, shuttling cones back and forth after practice.”

“Coach Tompkins, has you running cones?”

“Yeah, I have no idea why. It seems like a waste of time.”

“Are you sure she only said practice, charity event, and fundraising?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Tumbling runs take a lot out of you. You need to do a lot of sprinting to generate enough speed to sustain some of those passes.”

“Well, she had me working with Coach Reed on tumbling.”

“Oh…”

Lisa worked with me the rest of the afternoon. We talked mainly. After a couple of week of virtual silence, it was a relief to be able to talk to someone.

Lisa is a junior. She joined the team in her sophomore year. She too was caught unprepared for how grueling it would be when she first joined the squad. In time, with the help of some of her teammates, she was able to improve her stamina and her form. It also had the wonderful side effect of slimming her down and helping to keep her healthy.

“So why did you join in the first place?” I asked genuinely curious as to why anyone would voluntarily put themselves through all this.

Lisa began, “I wasn't very outgoing as a freshman. Going from junior high to high school it’s easy to get lost in all of it. My parents had moved us here when the economy took a nose dive. My Dad lost his job first, then my Mom lost hers. We’re living with my aunt, hoping my parents can make enough money to get us back on our feet. So being the new girl, I didn’t have many friends.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you would join the squad.”

“Cindy, you met her earlier. We joined the squad together. She was nervous and wanted someone to go with her to tryouts. We knew each other, but we weren’t all that close. We had a couple of classes together and sat at the same lunch table when one of the cheerleaders came to us at our table and encouraged us both to tryout. Cindy mentioned something about not wanting to tryout alone and so I told her I would go with her. When we both made the squad we were so excited.”

“Joining the squad, I instantly had a whole new group of friends. It was something that I never had before. When I saw you during practice today, I noticed something. I got the sense that you might be feeling, that you could be more than just some placeholder.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You were trying. I mean really trying. Like you needed to be here. Part of the team I mean.”

“Aren't I supposed to be?”

“You seemed genuinely disappointed when you messed up and happy when you were able to keep up with the group. There was almost a sense of pride in you when you followed the routine without a mistake. It was something like you telling yourself, ‘I can do this.’ I’ve seen that look from girls on the squad when they settle in; finally seeing that all their hard work has paid off. It seemed like you’ve never had that feeling before.”

I stood there trying to work through what Lisa was telling me.

“I’m right, aren't I? You don’t have to answer me. Just think about this. If your sister came back tomorrow. Would it be a relief or would it make you sad?”

I was dumbfounded. I didn’t want to answer. I opened my mouth to throw out an answer. Lisa just held a hand up to my mouth. “That’s an answer for you, not me. How about we meet here tomorrow, 8:00 AM, and go for a run?” I nod my head, and she lowers her hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As I walked home, I had a chance to pour through everything Lisa said to me. While I was sure that I would leave the squad when Amber returned, that’s not what Lisa asked. She was asking how I felt about leaving the squad. Earlier, she said something about giving the girls a reason not to hate me. I realized that part of my isolation, I imposed on myself. I could have approached the girls when they went on break or when they gathered for lunch today. Something stopped me. Whose feelings was I trying to protect? Mine or theirs?

I gave them every reason to feel hostile towards me and no reason for them to let their guard down around me. I knew what I had to do Monday. I knew it wouldn’t fix everything magically, but it would be a start.

Talking things over with Lisa on our Sunday morning run helped a lot. She’s really insightful, and I’d dare to say, my first real friend since Taylor abandoned me. She was warm, caring, and she can run circles around me.

Monday at lunch, Lisa and I went over to meet with Coach Tompkins. She was happy to see Lisa, probably thinking that Lisa had changed her mind. Coach Tompkins eyed me suspiciously when I told her what I wanted to do. I think she was trying to see if I had an ulterior motive, but she agreed. I thanked Lisa for her support, and we parted ways afterward.

I arrived at practice, and we were all in formation, ready to start. Coach Tompkins says to the group that I wanted to say something. I nervously walked up to the front, and Coach Tompkins gave way. I’m standing in front of my seven squadmates their eye burning a hole through me. I had never done anything like this, and my nerves were at their limits.

“I… I wanted to apologize for the prank.” I began. Some of the squad looked on suspiciously. “It was stupid and selfish and… I’m really sorry I did it.” The squad stood there silently. “I know that I’m here temporarily and you all may be thinking I don’t deserve to be here. And you're right.” I saw a few surprised looks, others tried to keep their face stern. “You all had to tryout, go through the scrutiny and all the work to be accepted by each other as teammates. I didn't do that. I came into this squad without being tested or even having to endure the nerves of not making the squad.” I take a breath. “I now see why this is important to all of you—why it’s become important to me.” I begin to choke up. “I’m not hoping that you’ll accept me from what I’m saying, I’m just hoping that you’d accept my apology.” I can feel the tears pooling in my eyes. “I hope that in time, I can earn your trust and your friendship even after my sister returns.” Tears are falling from my eyes as I stand there. “I won’t promise anything, I know I have to show my commitment to the team and not just say it…” I was about to say more, but I couldn’t. Coach Tompkins walks over to me, puts her hand on my back and gives me a compassionate rub, as I drop my head. She ushers me back to my spot and asks if I wanted to continue with the practice. I nod my head, wipe my tears, and we begin.

At the break, the girls congregate while I again set myself apart from them. A few of them are throw look in my direction unsure of what to make of my apology and my plea. Ellie comes over again. She must be their emissary. She has two bottles of water with her. She hands me one and opens the other and begins to take a sip. “How is Amber doing?”

Her question surprises me. That she’s talking to me, surprises me. “Her condition hasn’t changed. My folks are taking turns just being with her.” Her face casts a bit down.

“What you said earlier. I’m not sure any of us has any reason to believe what you are saying. But that you said it—at least helps.” She takes another sip of her water bottle. “Most of us aren’t pleased with you on the squad, you hurt one of us. The fact that you did it to your own sister makes us weary about trusting you.”

“I’m not sure what I can do to make it up to all of you.”

“You can’t… Make it up to us that is… You can only move forward and help us.” She says looking back over at the squad. “We’ve got the fundraiser this weekend. I hope you’ll be there. We’re washing cars at the self-service car wash. The owner lets us take over the car wash and provides us with tokens to put into the machines. We charge per car and wash people’s cars for them. It helps pays for our uniforms and the funds we need for the competition. We have a lot of fun, and we do it once a month. I can have my mom pick you up if you need a ride? Your house is on the way there. We used to pick up Amber during the summer, so I don’t think it should be a problem picking you up.

“I thought you all hated me?”

“Well like I said most of us aren’t pleased you are on the squad. But you are here, and well we need all the help we can get. I don't expect everyone to warm up to you all at once, maybe not for a long time. It would go a long way in showing that you are serious about helping us and that you are sorry. I’m Elenor by the way. Ellie for short. Amber and I made the squad together last spring.”

“I’m Aaron.” I was about to say more when Coach Tompkins calls us back into formation. We continue with the afternoon drills. I’m slowly getting the hang of the routines. We’re working with yells instead of counts. I assume practicing for the first football game in two weeks. Amber’s spot in the formation is in front off to the right. Like me, she’s short, though she has about an inch in height over me. The rest of the girls are a bit taller than her. That’s why she’s one of the two girls that let hoisted in the air. Ellie is the other.

Midway through the second hour, Coach Tompkins has Coach Reed working with Ellie and me. She has a series of cones about 30 feet apart. We’re at opposite ends, and she has us run toward each other. We're on opposite sides of the row of cones. The cones are there to have us judge our speed as we run towards each other. I'm supposed to reach the first cone when she reaches her first cone. We meet in the middle. Then ultimately reach the cone at the respective far ends at the same time. We do that about a dozen times.

Coach Reed then says to start a Cartwheel after we reach the first cone. She asks us to try to keep our line, so we don’t crash into each other. My first pass I strayed away from my line thinking I might tumble into her. Ellie for her part stays on her line. We begin to repeat the exercise a few more times, and I’m exhausted and a bit lightheaded. Coach Reed catches me on my last pass and holds me steady.

Ellie is none the worse for wear and looks on with concern. I’m starting to see the reason for taking the cones in one by one well that and why Coach Tompkins was timing each trip.

Coach Reed walks me over to the cooler where I’m sitting down. I look up, and Ellie is back there at the cones practicing the tumbling run again. I look on in disbelief. Coach Reed sees my face as I try to stand. “No hun, you’ve had enough. We’ll try some more tomorrow.” She pushes me back down on the impromptu bench. “She’s had all summer to get in shape and practice. You’ve had two weeks.” Ellie takes a few more tumbling runs and walks back over to Coach Reed. “That was great work Ellie. Aaron, you did well today too. If we can get you two in sync, we may have something for competition. Assuming Aaron here can master some of the more difficult tumbling passes.”

“Competition?” I asked.

“Don’t look so surprised. With your frame, balance and coordination. We may be able to use you in the competition.”

“What about Amber?” I ask wondering where this is leading. “Would she still be on the squad? I mean I don’t want to be the one to actually take her spot.”

“If she’s well enough to compete and she can get up to speed quickly enough we can have her as an alternate.”

“That would devastate her! I can’t bump her, I’m sure she would already be mad at me for her being injured in the first place.”

“Aaron, I have to work with who I have. You’re healthy, petite, and have as much promise as Ellie here. Amber does too, but I don’t have the luxury waiting, and I have to have someone to work opposite of Ellie. I know you feel bad about what you did to Amber. She’s still on the team because you’re here. That will have to be enough for now.”

Ellie watches on with concern for me and for Amber's standing in the squad.

“Believe me, I would love to have a team with all three of you.” Coach Reed says looking over at the two of us. Why don’t the two of you call it a day and head home? I look over at where the rest of the girls were only to find an empty field. That had all gone back to the locker room.

Ellie pulls a bottle of water out of the cooler. “So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sure I’ll see you tomorrow Ellie.” She turns and walks towards the locker room. “Ellie?” I get her attention. She still has the bottle to her lips. “Thanks… for… Thanks for reaching out.”

She caps the bottle and smiles at me. “Work on those sprints with Lisa. She’s great! Oh and you’re welcome.”

Coach Reed looks at me. “You're working with Lisa?” I nod. An almost giddy look comes over her face. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Aaron.” She collects the cones and walks back to the office.

The walk home feels less… less bad. One thing worries me. As much as the prospect of me being part of the squad excites me. The thought that I might bump Amber doesn’t sit well.

The next morning, as I enter the school grounds, Lisa rushes over to me. “So? How did it go? Yesterday, I mean…”

“I… we’ll see. Ellie did come over to me during the break.” I say recalling the events from yesterday.

“That’s a good start, Amber and Ellie started together, sort of like me and Cindy. What about the rest of the girls?”

“I’m not really sure. I hope it had some effect. Oh, Coach Reed had me doing tumbling runs with Ellie. She mentioned something about using me during competition.”

“Oh…” her momentary cheerful expression turned sour.

“Is there something wrong?” I ask sensing her change in mood.

“What does Coach Tompkins think of you being in the competition?” Her question is odd to me.

“Wouldn’t Coach Reed be following Coach Tompkins directions? I mean she did ask me to go with Coach Reed and Ellie.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s nothing.”

“Oh! Coach Reed got happy when Ellie mentioned that I was working with you. I’m not sure what to make of it.” Lisa sour tone is now matched with a sad expression. Does she miss being part of the squad?

“I… I got to get to class. See you at lunch?”

I look at my watch. We’ve still got 15 mins before classes start.

“Um. Sure, okay, I’ll see you on the field or at the tables?” I ask unsure about why she’s abruptly ending the conversation. She leaves in haste.

I still get stares from people at school. It seems like Ellie and Lisa are the only ones that will speak to me.

On my way to my locker, I see some of the squad. They seem to be talking to Ellie. I’m not sure what it’s about. But she doesn’t look happy. As they leave, Ellie looks up at me her sad expression changes to a smile. She crosses the hall to greet me. “Hi Aaron, any word on Amber?”

“I only get bits and pieces from my folks. They tell me ‘not to worry,' but whenever I see the look on their face, it just makes me even more worried.”

“I know. So far no one has been able to visit Amber. We don’t know why. Did your parents tell you why they moved her?”

“What? They moved her? Where to?”

“She’s no longer at the hospital. That’s all we know right now. I was hoping you would know more. You can talk to me, you know. I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but you don’t have to deal with this all alone. You can talk to me. The coaches too.”

“I don’t know anything more than you do. In fact, this is the first I’ve heard that my sister is not in the hospital. When did you hear this?”

“I tried to visit on Sunday. The nurse just said they no longer have Amber there. I tried to get more information, but they wouldn’t say anything more. That’s why I asked you about her yesterday.”

“I’ll ask my folks when I get home. I’ll let you know when I know more okay?” I’m trying not let my imagination get loose.

“Thanks, Aaron. I know this is hard for you.” She rubs my arm and walks away.

High School is much more intense than I had expected. So many classes and so much work I don’t know how anyone can handle all the classes. Where does everyone find the time? I know I’m struggling. I was an above average student in Junior High, but now I think I’m barely treading water. Students have begun to form study groups. I’m not a part of any of them. I used to be able to figure it out or ask Amber. She was great about answering questions. I think I annoyed her sometimes. I do miss her. I think I was a bit jealous when she went off with her friends. She was my sister and then… she was everyone's friend? Was that why I pulled the prank on her?

Much of the day has been uneventful. Lisa, however, did miss our meeting at lunch. I tried searching the field and the lunch tables, and she was nowhere to be found. I do get a bit worried, I’m not sure why I’m worried, but she’s been my lifeline. I think I would have driven myself nuts over the past couple of weeks if it wasn’t for her, cheerleading and the squad.

I think back to her question. If I left the squad how would I feel? I think now that it might be heartbreaking to leave. I’m starting to wonder about how I can stay active with the squad once Amber returns. Who knows, maybe Coach Tompkins may want us both on the squad. The thought of that well… It brings a smile to my face.

Ellie passes me in the hall between fifth and sixth periods and says to me that the uniforms have come in and that I should take Amber’s home for her. I head to the Girl’s PE office with Ellie and let one of the girls in there know that I’m picking up Amber’s uniform up for her. I’m handed a box that has the flaps folded corner to corner closed, and I sign the receipt. Ellie volunteers to let me put Amber’s uniform in her sister’s car and that she and her sister could give me a ride home after practice today. I thank her and head to class after we place the pair of boxes in the trunk.

I reach my last class of the day, and my teacher, Mr. Vasquez hands me a note that requests me to meet with Dr. Corning, the principal, in her office. I make my way to the school office, and I am told to wait. I sit there nervously then I’m directed to the principal’s office. Her office is tidy. Diplomas are hanging on the wall. Dr. Corning sits behind a large metal desk. Two metal boxes with paperwork in them are the most prominent items there. “In” and “Out” the boxes are labeled. Alongside the desk is a large round metal trash can. Most are plastic nowadays. She has a large folder atop her table, I’m fairly certain it’s my student folder containing my records. The folder should be fairly thin, unlike my Junior High student folder, it's not. I wasn’t a stranger to Principal meetings. Our pranks, Taylor’s and mine, had garnered enough attention, but not enough to suspend or expel us.

I’m standing in the doorway. A silver-haired woman, frail, pale and freckled and slightly wrinkled directs me to one of the two wooden chairs set across from her. “Mr. Stewart, it didn’t take long for you to make an impression on this school, did it?” I want to say something though I’ve learned its best to keep quiet. “Do you want to tell me about it?” Normally, I would ask for my parent’s to be here for this. I’m not sure that bothering them would make it any better. “We’ve already got statements from the Coaches and some of the students. I’d like to hear your side of the story.”

I sigh knowing I would only be digging myself a deeper hole. “I’m sure what you’ve gathered from the students and coaches is fairly accurate. It was a stupid prank that put my sister in the hospital. I’m really sorry I did it. I’m trying to make up for it with my work with the squad.”

“That is another matter I wanted to discuss with you. I was not aware of your… participation in such activities. I want to know your feeling about it. I was told that you were participating in a number of cheerleader practices? I was also told that this may not have been your choice. Is that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I’m starting to wonder how this all got set up.

“Well, I assure you that I am the only one that should determine the appropriate disciplinary actions. I’m sorry that your ‘participation’ was against your wishes. It is not the intention or the spirit of this school to take any action against a student without an investigation. It is not the intention of this school to embarrass or humiliate any student regardless of the offense either. While I have yet to conclude my investigation, I want to assure you that none of the actions I would take would be so… unconventional.”

“Um. That’s okay I…”

“Please let me finish, I’ll let you have an opportunity to respond after I have finished speaking. I want you to know that I have spoken to Coach Tompkins this afternoon regarding her—actions. She did accept responsibility for what she did, and I do see her reasons behind her actions. I still view her actions as inappropriate and unjustified.”

I can feel my heart racing. This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not happening.

“I have instructed her to remove you from the squad effective immediately.”

No, no, no, no, no! My heart just sank in my chest.

“… and informed her that it will be my decision as to what the outcome of this prank of yours would be. I assure you that you will not participate in any of the activities that Coach Tompkins or any of her staff had requested of you…”

I think I’m going to be sick…

I dived for the trash can and I vomited into it. I was on my knees, my eyes closed, the acrid, sour smell rose from the can. I convulse again as Dr. Corning opens her door and yells out to bring the nurse. I feel a hand on my back rubbing in a circular motion. She’s trying to soothe me as I break into a cold sweat. I wretch again filling the trash can. She’s resumes rubbing my back softly. I hear the rush of footsteps towards me getting louder. I moan as I begin to cry. “It’s going to be okay.” Dr. Corning says softly. “You’re going to be okay. You don’t have to do any of that anymore. I’ll make sure you won’t have any more interaction with the cheerleading squad or the coaches.”

I’m wailing. I rarely get this emotional. She can’t take this away from me. Not after everything. It was starting to get better. Why is this happening to me? I can’t think anymore. Everything is in a haze. The nurse walks me to her office. I’m not sure what is happening. I’m just crying. It's hard to focus. How can all this come from one stupid prank? How can being on the squad be so important to me that suddenly being off it reduces me to a crying mess. I hear talking? I think they’re asking me questions. I can’t be sure. I hear my name called out. I’m trying to respond. They just keep saying “can you hear me?” My crying has given way to sobs… The nurse has me lying on the bed. My mind begins to calm. In the next room I hear the faint conversation.

“… kind of breakdown.”

“…faking it?”

The voices grew more distinct as my focus returned

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“What could cause this?”

“Are you kidding? The boy’s had his life turned upside-down. His sister is fighting for her life… You’ve all turned him into a cheerleader? For what? Some sort of twisted punishment? This is why the administrators handle student discipline, not the teachers. I don’t care what agreement you had with the parents. My decisions stands. The child is off the squad and I don’t want you hurting this kid more than you already have. I’d love to give the parents a piece of my mind too, if I didn’t think it would threaten my job.”

“I’m sorry, we thought it would be good, we could keep an eye on him, while the parents could deal with the daughter. We thought giving him an outlet and positive role models would keep him out of trouble.”

“I wish you would have consulted me first. Now he’s having some sort of breakdown. What did you have him doing, anyway?”

“He was following the routines, I noticed that he might be settling in. He had fairly good balance and coordination for someone with no real training, much like his sister. We had him working on tumbling runs.”

“How was he interacting with the squad? The girls I mean.”

“That’s the odd part.”

“Oh?”

“Well he came up to me during lunch yesterday and he wanted to address the girls on the squad at practice.”

“Why do I get the feeling that there is more to his breakdown here?”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

“Go on…”

“Well I figured that he was trying to apologize to the girls, then he continued, saying how cheerleading was important to him. He started to get emotional and well… I think this is something he wants.”

“Well, for the moment my decision stands. I want to talk to some of his teachers and him again before we take any action. These activities are supposed to be a privilege not a punishment. We don’t even know if he’s academically qualified to be on the team even if he wants to be there. Does he have any friends that can keep an eye on him?”

“Lisa Cramer, came in with him yesterday.”

“Ms. Cramer? How is she involved in all this?”

“I’m not sure, Carrie, do you know?”

“Ellie mentioned to me when I was working with Aaron and Ellie, that Lisa had been working to get Aaron in shape. I was quite pleased ofcourse.”

“Is she looking to get back on the squad?”

“No, at least she hasn’t approached me about it.”

“Well, Ms. Cramer’s parents know the risks and were right to keep her out of such demanding pursuits.”

“Do we know anything about Amber, his sister? I’ve got seven girls begging me for information on how she is.”

“I can’t share what I know, we requested status from the parents and the hospital, there's lots of restrictions. Normally, the note I get is a projected return date. It said ‘indefinite’.”

“Off hand, I’d say that means grief counselors. We’ll need one specific for him too.”

“I think that we should not jump to conclusions. For the moment, we have a scared boy in there, whose sister is in the hospital. Nothing more.”

My thoughts are now on my sister. Grief Counselors? My parents have moved her and now the Principal is talking about Grief Counselors? What is going on? Part of me wanted to stay in the dark. Hoping that the Principal was overly cautious. What if she wasn’t. Is it possible that I may have killed my own sister? Could that really happen? I had thought being removed from the cheerleading squad was the lowest point my life could take. Amber? Could she really die because of my stupid prank? How did it get this far? The nurse comes in to check on me. She’s got a cup of a light tan liquid. “Ginger ale” she murmurs. “Cures upset tummies. How you feeling?”

My eyes drift from the translucent cup to the nurses brown eyes. They’re wide caring eyes. Her face has a hint of a smile. It feels like there’s a brick in my stomach and my shoulders feel heavy. All I can manage is, “I wanna go home.”

“I’ve called your parents, they weren’t at home. I left a message on their machine.” It’s not that my parent’s didn’t believe in cellular phones. It was just too expensive and much like cable television, an unnecessary expense. It didn’t matter, cellphone service was spotty in our coastal city anyway. An hour later, my father arrived at the school to pick me up. The nurse refused to allow me to walk home even though school had ended half an hour ago. My father had a somewhat lengthy conversation with Dr. Corning. Honestly, I’m not sure he came out of that meeting any better than I did during my meeting.

I walk silently to the car and so does he. We get on the road, however we’re heading in the opposite direction of the house. “Where are we going?” I ask. A sense of dread comes over me.

“To meet up with your mother. She’ll take you and the car home. I’ll stay at the hospital.”

We pass the local hospital and drive two more hours. We arrive at a large hospital complex. Larger than anything I’ve ever seen. “Is this where Amber is?”

“Yes, for now. We’re hoping the doctors here could help.”

“I heard the Principal talking about needing grief counselors. How bad is it?”

He gives a sigh. There was no hiding it. Amber’s condition was grave and I… I was responsible. “I’d like to see her.”

“That’s why I brought you. The surgery that they plan is… risky. The doctors are confident, but not optimistic. I… I thought perhaps you would want to have some time with her. You may not get another chance.”

Dread continued to well up in me. We walk into the Critical Care Ward. My feet get heavier and heavier with every step. I can feel the nausea building. We are escorted by a nurse. One visitor at a time reads the sign. Children must be accompanied by an adult at all times. The nurse gives us a sad look. My father enters and I look up desperately at the nurse. She looks at me. Her eyes well up with tears. I can see her heart break as she forces a smile at me and she can barely get the words, “It's okay…” before she chokes up and walks away saying “I’m… “

I enter the room. My Mom is at my sister’s bedside, holding one of her hands. “Baby, please come back to me", she says in a sad. mournful tone, only a desperate mother can spill out. My dad walks over to her and puts a hand on her shoulder. The heart monitors sounding a slow methodical beat. My mother stands and falls into my father’s embrace as she begins to sob. My father sadly and ever so gently walks her out of the room.

I’m alone with my sister. Her brown hair splayed out over the pillow. Machines help her breathe. The pulsing hiss, out of rhythm of the heart monitors. I sit at the chair my mother had just departed. The heat from it, the telltale sign of her long vigil. “God, I’m so sorry, sis.” the words spill out of me. I continue, “I didn’t know it would end up like this.” tears fall freely from my eyes. “Please come back to us. I… I need you. I… please you can’t leave…” I don’t know what I’m saying its just all coming out. I can’t think anymore. “I love you, sis. I… Please come back to me.” My father enters the room he puts his hand on my shoulder much like he did with my mother. I rise, turn to him, and in the same way fall into his embrace sobbing. He slowly walks me towards the door.

There’s a noise from the bed that catches us by surprise. The monitors begin to scream and beep. My sister on the bed begins to spasm and convulse. Two nursed burst through the door followed by a doctor. One of the nurses herds us out of the room and I yelp out “oh God!” I’m out the door, I rest my back against the wall just outside my sister’s room. I slid down the wall, burying my knees to my chest, while hugging myself. Slowly, I rock back and forth and two more doctors rush past me and enter.

There’s a flurry of activity. My father just stands there, not knowing what to do. All I can see is his pants and his shoes. Two more nurses come. One escorts my dad and the other escorts me to a room where my mother waits. I’ll never forget the look on her face as we shuffle into the room. The look of desperation turns to defeat. The image will be burned into me for the rest of my life. The moment in time where my mother truly lost hope.

We sit waiting for word from the doctors. Hours go by. Mom and Dad huddle on the couch. I curl up on my side on the other couch. Mom and Dad have offered to take me home. None of us really wants to leave. I’ve stopped watching the clock hours ago. It only made me more agitated. I can’t concentrate. I don’t have my books or my backpack. I have nothing to do but sit in silence.

I get up in an attempt to pace the halls, but I’m stopped by a nurse who assures me that everything will be fine. She walks me back to the waiting room. Her words are hollow. My parents gave me the same assurances for the last 2 weeks. I sit there for hours until I stewed enough in my own mind.

“Why keep me in the dark?” The words rattle in my mind before I realize actually said it out loud. My folks begin to stir.

Mom rubs her eyes and looks at the clock then to me. I ask again. Through her exhaustion, she says “We thought it was the best thing. There was little you could do to help Amber, and we thought to see your sister in her state would paralyze you with guilt.” I can feel my face scrunch. Mom continues, ”Is this any better? You sitting here, with us, worried to death?”

“And what of the cheerleading? I heard about the agreement you had with Coach Tompkins. Was that supposed to distract me?”

Dad joins in, “Yes and no. We knew that we would be spending a lot of time in the hospital. You were new to high school, and Taylor was your only friend. We thought that when you entered high school that the pranks would stop. Clearly, that didn’t happen. We needed you around positive role models that we were familiar with. Your sister has been on the squad since last spring, and we know most of the parents. We thought they could help keep an eye on you.”

“Do you know what I’ve been through in the last two weeks?” I say meekly. Exhaustion, worry, guilt and sadness took the sting out of what should have been an angered question.

“We’re sorry, honey, but your father and I thought keeping you active would allow you to make more friends.”

“Nobody talks to me. I’m a pariah at the school. You both haven’t said a whole lot to me either. I was more alone than I’ve ever felt in my life!” I’m becoming more distraught. “How can you do this to me?”

They looked at me shocked.

“Even Taylor doesn’t talk to me. I just kept getting more and more lonely. And just when I started to think that everything was starting to look better. I get kicked off the squad by the Principal? I threw up in her office when she told me I was off the squad. I’ve been through hell in the last two weeks. Now, I found out I could lose my sister too? This is too much, I can’t handle all this!” I break down crying. My folks rush over towards me. They try to calm me.

More time passes. My stomach is still tied in a giant knot, anxious for news.

A knock on the door breaks the silence. It’s somewhere after 3:00 AM. A man in scrubs enters, I think he's a doctor. A woman also enters behind in scrubs and a lab coat. The woman speaks. “Mr. and Mrs. Stewart? I’m Dr. Mendoza, I was the one that operated on your daughter. It was fortune I was on shift at the time of your daughter her episode. We were prepping for surgery on another patient and were notified of Amber's change in condition. We were able to drain the fluid easing the pressure. Your daughter is fortunate. She’s resting comfortably for now. We don’t know the lasting effects of the damage. Generally, the survival rate for complications from a subarachnoid hemorrhage is pretty slim.” She survived both the hemorrhage and the complications thus far. As I said before, there may be significant impairment even though she survived. We will know more when she recovers.”

In our relief, we gather in an embrace. I start to realize how much grief my folks have been over the past few weeks. The same anguish I briefly experienced over the past few hours, they had to dread for more than 2 weeks. Their exhaustion, like mine, keeps them from the fullness of the happy moment. It dulls it. Somber tears of joy.

Thursday, we saw our first restful sleep in days. Home is disheveled and unkempt, my guilt has seen the fullness of my act. The distress it has caused to my sister, my folks, the squad, coaches and to me. This all happened from one stupid prank, my stupid prank. I had a lot to make up for. I knew the pranks had to stop, I was done with them. The best way I could help all of them and myself was to find a way back onto the squad.

By Friday evening, With me at her bedside, Amber opened her eyes for the first time. I looked into her eyes. Was unsure whether or not I was dreaming myself. Her brown eye blink, dart to me and blink again. “Amber?” My heart beat at the possibility. I would drag her from hell’s doorstep to reality. “Amber?” She blinks here eyes, and I rush over to the door. In my excitement I crash into a nurse, tumbling to the ground. “She's awake!”

The nurse angry for just a brief moment until she realizes what I said. She rushes to the room leaving me in her wake. I dash to the waiting room, My parents are eating their vending machine sandwiches. They shudder at my sudden entrance. “She’s awake!” They scramble to their feet rushing past me. They stop at the door. Mom hurries to her bedside. I stand to flank my Dad. The nurse tries to calm my Mom down. Amber’s eyes are still open. Mom realizing that Amber is truly awake burst into tears of happiness. She rushes to my Dad. Mom’s laughing?

I have my sister back.

Our miracle had come.

Mine came soon after.

I returned to school on Tuesday buoyed by the improvement in my sister’s condition. It was hard for me to leave her bedside. The neurologist’s advice was to leave Amber’s recovery to the doctors and nurses for the moment.

That morning, I walk into Dr. Corning’s office. “Aaron, please sit down.” I walk over to the chair and take a seat. My eyes are pulled to the trash can. The memory of last Tuesday's discussion was still on my mind. “I understand you have had a chance to visit with your sister.” I nod my head. “I’m sorry you had to see her in such a state.” Watching my sister tremor and convulse in a hospital bed was worse than I could have imagined. Seeing her open her eyes was a moment of pure elation. “I heard, she’s awake. We’re all very happy for you and your family.”

I smile widely as I have all weekend. “Thank you.”

“What I wanted to discuss with you was not about your sister, but about you.” My stomach sinks and my heart again starts to race. Was she ready to dole out my punishment?

“I have spoken to some of your teachers, and while you perform well on the academic side, they are a bit concerned that you seem to be a bit… Isolated. I do have reservations about your well-being. You’ve been through a lot in the last few weeks. I think I want you to have a chat with Mrs. Yates. She’s the district’s counselor. We had originally had her lined up should your sister not be so fortunate. She’ll be here this afternoon.”

I begin to fidget nervously, “Are you okay with that?”

“Yes, I think so. It might be nice to talk to someone about all this.”

“You seem to be a bit of conundrum. Academically, you seem fine, yet you haven't been active in other pursuits, well constructive pursuits anyway, save one. Cheerleading and you were forced into it as a well. I’m not going to push you into such activities, but I want to know why you haven’t tried any of the other extracurricular activities? You could certainly pursue similar activities not just Cheerleading, or is Cheerleading what genuinely interests you?”

I eye her suspiciously. I don’t respond.

“It's alright, to be interested in cheerleading, there is nothing wrong with it. I simply disagree with the Coaches and your parents forcing it on you. I did hear about your speech to the squad.” I have no idea where this is going.

“Since, you have are on your way to the academic standing that would make you eligible for the squad, the only thing standing in your way now is this.” She hands me an envelope. “Open it.”

Opening the envelope. My eyes widened when I see a series of forms and waivers. They are forms for my parents to join the cheerleading squad. “I must be dreaming. Does this mean I can rejoin the squad?”

“Well, I do have to warn you that your parents may be hesitant, because of what has happened to your sister. Though they were involved in you joining in the first place. I’ll leave that for you to discuss with them. There are a few other preliminary things that were not ‘covered’ when you ‘joined’ the squad. Before you participate, I would want those cleared.”

I trying to wrap my head around everything. I’m barely listening at this point. My heart is fluttering at the possibility.

“Oh. Should you decide to participate, do keep in mind that there are, in fact, male cheerleaders. However, if you feel there is more that we need to discuss regarding your participation in school activities, please know, you can always talk to me.” She gave me a smile, “You are dismissed.”

I stand, I don’t know why I did this, but I rushed over to her to give her a hug as I started so sob softly. I murmur a “thank you” and rush out of her office clutching the envelope, seeking out Ellie and Lisa.

We have some work to do!

=========
Author's note:

Hi everyone! Thanks for reading, commenting and encouraging this story.

There have been some comments raised about the brevity some of the segments of this and the other stories (oh! and the cliffhangers). Looking at what I've written in the past month here, I think that the rapid sucession of the stories has been trying to keep the pace and momentum I held for Nanowrimo. 1666 words per day becomes sort of a mental goal. I've only been writing fiction for 4 months and I'm happy about all the critiques and input from those who wanted to help me improve (I love you all for every last bit of it). The second part (I planned for three parts) of this story will have longer chapters and less frequent posting consistent with other authors on this site. I'm still learning and I hope that better stories result from this.

All the best for 2017!

Hugs,
Leila

I met Lisa in the hall just after second period. “Hey, are you okay? I heard that they took you off the squad. Then you disappear for a week? What happened?”

“Amber. We had a scare last Tuesday Night. It’s all a blur to me. She almost died. I was in the room at the time. All the doctors and nurses rushed in; I felt so helpless.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. We haven’t had any news about you or Amber. We were all so worried.”

“Well, they took her in for surgery that night. It took forever, but the following morning they told us that she had survived. By Friday she even opened her eyes!”

“REALLY! That’s amazing!”

The news has her beaming with delight.”I’m so happy for you!”

“The doctors say it may be a while before we know anything more. Until then, they want her to rest while they run tests.”

“That’s so great to hear, I think the squad was really worried too. You must be so relieved.”

“I am. I hope she’ll be alright. We’re all still worried about her. We still don’t know when she could come home. I think the girls can start to visit, It is about 2 hours away. Maybe we all could go together?”

“About the squad… I heard from Cindy that you were taken off the squad? I’m sorry to hear about that. I know how much it started to mean to you. Cindy told me that she was surprised to hear that you were taken off. You must have been devastated. I know how I felt when I couldn’t be on the squad anymore. It hurt just to be around them. I thought I would lose Cindy. She’d be busy with the squad and all, I could do is sit and watch.” her mood turns somber.

“That’s the other bit of news.” I’m start fumbling for the envelope in my backpack. “Dr. Corning reconsidered my eligibility. She checked with my teachers and thought my grades were good enough that I would be eligible.”

“It’s only been three weeks, how could the teachers know that?”

“I’ve kept up with the school work and did pretty well on all the quizzes so far.” I’m still searching for the letter.

“Tryouts are held in spring, and that’s after almost two semesters of classes. I had to tryout when I was already a freshman just to be on the team in sophomore year. To be a cheerleader in your freshman year? That’s hard to believe.”

“Dr. Corning said I can rejoin the squad if I want.”

“What? Why?”

“She handed me the forms and said that I could rejoin the squad if I got permission from my parents.”

“Is this something you really want?”

“I’d like to, but the more I think about it, I’m not sure how the rest of the squad would feel. I was ecstatic when Dr. Corning gave me the news, but I was thinking about whether the rest of the girls would really want me there. Well, now that I’m not forced to be there.”

“I know you liked being a part of the squad. I’m just… I… You haven’t been involved in the squad for very long. Maybe, it not such a good idea.”

“It just I’ve never felt more… More alive… When I was… I was with the squad.” I notice her face cringe. ‘Is there something wrong?”

“No, I… I guess I’m a bit jealous.”

“You weren’t jealous when I was forced on the squad?”

“Well, I thought that it was a bit cruel and I just thought…”

“Wait, we were supposed to meet for lunch last Tuesday. You didn’t show up. I was looking for you everywhere. Where were… It was you, wasn’t it? You spoke to Dr. Corning, didn’t you? You had me kicked off the squad? Why would you do that to me? I thought you were my friend?”

“Please, don’t be mad at me. I just felt that If I could... I was only trying to... I didn’t go to her to get you kicked off the squad. I…”

“Why? What did you tell her?” I’m hurt. I don’t understand what would make her sabotage me like that.

“I told her that it was cruel… you know… for her to force you on to the squad and that it wasn’t fair to the squad either.”

“I overheard her talking to the coaches… She didn’t know anything about it. When she found out, she got mad and kicked me off the squad. How could you do this to me? Couldn’t you have talked to me first? Did you really have to go behind my back?”

“I didn’t know that at the time. I thought she was in on it. Please, don’t be mad. I didn’t mean to get you…” The bell rings.

“Great! Now we’re late for class.”

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was… Can we talk more at lunch?”

A voice from behind me catches us off guard. “Ms. Cramer, you should be in class.”

“Yes, Dr. Corning.” Lisa quickly rushes past me to go to her class. She whispers “I’m sorry.” again as she walks by me.

“Mr. Stewart please be sure to give what I have said some thought. You are new to this school and 4 years is a long time to keep yourself isolated.” She gives me a soft look of concern and places a hand on my shoulder. “Now, I believe you should be in class?”

“Yes, Dr. Corning, thank you.” Her comment about my isolation, I found rather odd. I thought the kids were shunning me not the other way around. My parents were concerned with Amber, and well the squad was angered that I had to join them against their will. That was all true, wasn’t it? I didn’t ask the kids to leave the lunch tables when I arrived. What of the prank?

I find Ellie at lunch. She’s sitting with the rest of the squad. They’re trying to cheer her up for some reason. I walk over to greet the squad. They’re still a bit suspicious of me. Ellie lights up and greets me with a hug. “Aaron! What happened to you? We were so worried!” I look over at the rest of the squad. If I was missed, only a few of them actually missed me. Half the squad continues to speak to each other while the other half smiles at my return. “How’s Amber?”

“She’s out of the coma!” I can barely contain my excitement.

“OMG! That's so amazing! You must be so relieved!” She pulls me into another hug. “When can we go see her?”

“She’s at the county hospital,” I say sadly knowing the distance makes it difficult to visit.

“Oh, maybe we can visit this weekend? I know it’s after the first game and all, but we can all go to visit her, right? I don’t think they’ll be too tired.”

“No, I don’t think that would be a problem, they are limiting the number of visitors at a time. I don't see why we couldn't all take turns.”

“So, what did I miss?” I ask coyly.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that the principal took you off the squad. Well since, your off I was placed as an alternate.” I see her face start to sadden. “I mean all the other girls were already on the squad. And I guess Amber, and I were new… Since she’s out… I guess so that we can still compete, in the small squad category, I was placed as an alternate. I know what you going to say. ‘I’m still in the squad.’ and ‘I’ll have another chance next year…’ I just thought it would be nice you know? Why are you smiling?”

“That’s my other news,” I say grinning from ear to ear.

“What news?” Her head cocks slightly.

I hand her the forms, Dr. Corning gave me.

“What’s this?” She asks, kneading her brows together.

“Well, we could be a squad of eight again? What do you think?”

“What?” I don’t think it has registered yet.

“Dr. Corning said that I can rejoin the squad with my parent's permission.”

“No! Your kidding!” That got the other girls attention. They’re coming over to see what Ellie is fussing about.

“Well if you’ll have me?” My eyes drift to Monica. She's turning it over in her head.

“So what are you going to do?” Monica chimes in.

“Well, that’s really up to all of you. Look, I’ve tried my best to take this seriously, I’ve apologized, I’ve been kicked off the squad, and now that I have the chance to come back, all I can do is ask. Would you all want me back on the squad?” I look at Monica pleading for her to consider my request.

Ellie looks at Monica she’s almost begging her to consider it. I can see some of the girls want to say something, but they’re following Monica’s lead. I look at Monica. I’ve placed her in a bad position. She feels it. If she says “no,” she keeps the squad at six, and it looks like her decision to keep me off the squad. If she says “yes,” she may alienate the members of the squad that still don’t trust me.

I sigh, “No, I’m sorry, I can’t put this all on you. It's not fair to you or the squad.” Ellie turns to me and gives me a questioning look. “Either way it hurts the squad. I can see that just by looking at all of you.”

Ellie turns to Monica, “You’re just going to let him leave?” Monica stares at me she stays quiet.

“Ellie, thank you, but it's not fair to put this all on her.” I turn to Monica, “I… thanks.” I turn and walk away. I’m choking back tears as Ellie runs after me. The bell rings. It’s time for class.

The rest of the day, I spend wondering how I screwed everything up. After I get home, I see my Dad. He's just dropped Mom off at the house. “Hey, Champ! I’m heading off to visit Amber, wanna come? It’s still early, and we can get you back here at a reasonable hour.”

“Sure, Dad”

The ride to the hospital was a bit more lively. I was still down about not being on the squad. I really didn’t hold it against Monica. I broach the topic with Dad. “I spoke with the Principal today. She mentioned that she was concerned about me.”

“That can’t be good.” He says trying to keep his eyes on the road. “What was she concerned about?”

“Well, she said that I was performing well in school, but the teacher thought that I was isolating myself. She wondered why I wasn’t participating in any extra activities.”

“Well, you’ve never really been a joiner. What does she want you to do?”

“Well, she asked if I wanted to rejoin the squad.”

“I can see where this is going. Look, all I wanted you to do was make up for your prank. We weren’t going to have you prance around in a cheerleader outfit, if that’s what you were thinking. You were only supposed to work out with the squad and do all the charity and fundraising stuff Amber would have done had… had this not happened.”

“You were going to say ‘pulled that stupid prank' weren’t you?’”

“Yeah, I was. I figured you beat yourself enough over it. I didn’t want to add to it.”

“I thought that if you did all the charity and fundraising, it could take the pressure off Amber to have to help raise the money that the squad needed. Coach Tompkins explained to us how much each girls participation meant. We agreed that she would keep you active after school, keep an eye on you so you wouldn’t cause any more trouble and we could focus on Amber.”

“The Principal handed me some forms and said I could rejoin the squad it I had your permission to do so.”

“I’ll tell you what, we’ll talk it over when we get back from the hospital and if you are really interested, I’ll sign the forms.”

“I look over at my dad, by now he should be yelling ‘gotcha!’” His eyes stay on the road. Not a hint of sarcasm. Something's wrong.

“So you’d be okay with me being a cheerleader.” I can feel my eyebrows raise.

“I said we’d talk about it. If this is one of your stunts? Then. No. I won’t have you disrupting the girls anymore that you already have. If this is something that you’d give it your all? Then, that’s fine with me.”

“I already checked with the squad, I think I blew my chance.”

“Was this really that important to you?”

“I think so.”

We arrive at the hospital, it’s about half past 6. I was expecting to head for the same critical care ward that I had seen Amber last. Instead, dad leads me to a different floor. Amber’s condition must have improved. We enter to find a smiling Amber just finishing dinner. “Aaron!” the excitement in my sister's voice makes my heart swell with joy. “Oh, it’s so good to see you!”

Either she hasn’t been told that I was responsible for her being here or she’s on some pretty good pain meds. She raises her arms welcoming. I cautiously make my way over trying not to tip over the monitors and machines that surround her bed. I gingerly give her a hug.

“So what have you been up to?” I look over at my dad he staring lovingly at Amber. “Oh, you know school and stuff,” I say nervously. “When do you think they’ll let you out of here?”

“Hopefully, this Saturday, I don’t want to spend any more time here than I have to. I probably won’t be cheering for awhile, I doubt that the school would want me cheering until I’m well enough. Right, Dad?”

“Um, that’s right, sweetheart.” He’s lying? I don’t know for sure, I rarely catch my dad in a lie, but it’s that same hesitation that he gets when he tells mom he’s fine with the ‘low sodium diet.'

Amber must have picked up on it too but she continues, “I miss the girls so much. It would be great to see them all again.”

“Yeah, Ellie’s been really worried about you. She wanted to come visit.”

I hear the door behind me open and close. Dad gave us some private time to talk. My attention turns back towards Amber.

My sister stirs the remnants of food on her tray with her fork. “Too bad it’s two hours away. She’d either have to skip practice or get here pretty late. Ellie is great isn’t she?”

“Yeah, she asks about you every chance she gets.” I’m trying to raise her spirits.

“I wonder who they have taking my place?”

Oh, god she doesn’t know. “Your place?”

“I figured the squad would hold tryouts to fill my spot. There weren't too many girls that wanted to join last spring. Hopefully, more would have changed their minds.”

“I think they had someone, but it didn’t work out. Ellie was made an ‘alternate,’ instead and they're going with a squad of six now.” I say trying to hide my disappointment.

“She must be devastated. We joined the squad together, you know.”

“Yeah, like Cindy and Lisa when they joined.”

“Yeah, those two were inseparable until Lisa had to leave the squad. I hope the same doesn’t happen to Ellie and me.”

“It won’t, Cindy and Lisa still hang out together, Lisa’s just hurt because she can’t be part of the squad anymore.” I move towards the bed and sit at the foot of Amber’s bed. I was tired of standing. “She was telling me today about how much she misses it and how much it hurt to just be on the sidelines.”

“Lisa is great. I’m sorry that she can’t be on the squad anymore. It’s certainly nice of Lisa to be concerned about me. Lisa was a lot of help to Ellie and me. We worked out a lot with her and Cindy before tryouts. She thought it was cute how Ellie and I were trying to make the squad together. I almost died of exhaustion the first time Lisa worked out with us. That girl is like the Energizer Bunny. But, she got me in shape enough so I wouldn’t pass out at tryouts. I was a bit more out of shape than Ellie. Cindy worked with her, while Lisa did laps around McKinley Park with me. I miss our talks on those runs.”

“Yeah, so do I, she said I was about as much out of shape as you were. She ran circles around me on the trail. She said that tumbling runs would take a lot out of me. If I weren't in shape, I wouldn’t be able to work through the full routine. Coach Reed was beginning to teach me tumbling drills with Ellie when I got kick off the squa…” Amber’s eyes are open as wide as saucers. At that moment, I realized what I had just said.

“You? They replaced ME with YOU?” Shocked? Angered? Confused? I’m not sure, I missed her expression, I was trying to figure a way to salvage this conversation. She stares at me waiting for an answer.

What could I say? Yes, Amber and it was the happiest time I could remember? Or Yes, Amber I love being a cheerleader. Or even I loved being part of the squad until I was kicked off… “It wasn’t my fault, they made me.”

“They made you…” her response was less a question and more an incredulous statement. “And… Why would they make you?”

“Because I was the reason you were hurt,” I say sadly. “It was a stupid prank. I blew an air horn while you were in the air and it scared the squad enough that the girls couldn’t catch you.” I was waiting for her to yell at me, to scream at me or something.

She just sat there pouring the something through her mind. I watch a sad look take over her face. “I never thought you would ever be someone that would hurt me.” She says quietly, dryly, then turned away to look out the window.

I stood there dumbstruck. Amber didn’t yell, scream, or curse me. I thought I may be able to handle, everything I had feared that would happen when I confessed. That small phrase was… I did something worse than hurt her. I hurt something in her. She never thought I would ever hurt her. I did. There was nothing I could do to undo the damage to her image of me. Her body would heal. She was someone that I relied on. Someone that I trusted. She was there for me. Did she feel the same way about me? Did I just ruin that? I stood there motionless staring at my sister. Why won’t she even face me?

She presses the button to call the nurse. I’m wondering what she is doing. She’s really quiet.

“Amber? Please talk to me?” I begged. “Scream, yell, I don’t care, just don’t shut me out.” She looks at me hurt. I freeze in terror.

The nurse comes in. “Hi Amber, how are you this evening. It looks like you are finished with dinner. I’ll just take the tray from you.”

“Is my dad outside?” my sister says calmly.

“I think he is, do you want me to get him for you?”

“I’d like to speak with my dad alone, please.”

“Amber?” I'm pleading with her to answer back.

My sister gives a look to the nurse.

“Alright, think this young lady need some alone time with her father. Come along.”

“Amber? Amber? Please don’t shut me out!” The nurse places herself between my sister and me. “Amber, I’m sorry!” I’m in a panic. What if she doesn’t want to see me again, speak to me again?

“Young man, I think you're going to make your sister upset. Now, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You can wait in the Lobby.”

“No, I can’t leave like this.” I try to peer around the nurse and make one more plea, “You’ve gotta forgive me! I’m sorry! Amber?”

She continues to stare out the window. The nurse herds me out the door. She closes the door behind her. I’m staring at the door. “I’m sorry…” I say quietly, knowing it would fall deafly on the door as much as it would Amber.

I get shuffled back to the lobby, I’m in a trance. The nurse sits me down and tells my father that Amber would like to see him. I’m alone with my thoughts again. All the friends in the world could not replace what I had with Amber. I lived with the silence of others. ‘Her silence towards me?’, would be unbearable.

We drive home in complete silence, except for one exchange between my father and me:

“Son, I think it’s best that you give Amber some space. Maybe in time she’ll come around.”

“She can’t forgive me if she won’t talk to me.”

“Aaron, you’ve got to learn that she doesn’t have ‘to forgive you.' Forgiveness, real forgiveness is not something that is just granted as a reflex to an ‘I’m sorry.'”

I stewed the rest of the drive home. Wondering what would happen to me next. Was I really back where I started or was I even worse off? Dr. Corning gave me a chance rejoin the squad. Monica asked what I wanted to do. I put her in a bad spot and realize that I’d be hurting the squad with whatever choice I made. I told my sister the truth about how she got hurt, and now she won’t even look at me. I still don’t know if there are any more consequences to the prank. Was Dr. Corning going to still punish me for the prank? We pull into the driveway, and my dad shakes me out of my slumber.

I went to bed thinking about my father’s words to me and Amber’s reaction. I was worried about what he meant when he said that Amber didn’t have to forgive me. She's supposed to forgive me, isn’t she? I said I was sorry. She’s on the mend… I guess she’d have to sit out of cheer until she was well enough. Well, there’s also dad possibly lying to Amber about her return to the squad. Did he really know something? Is it possible for her to be out of cheer permanently, like Lisa?

---

I woke up the next morning wondering what would happen to Amber if she was off the squad permanently. She was so excited to be a part of the squad. I felt that. I also know what it’s like to be in the squad and how much leaving them hurts. I can say that I walked away from the squad. I can try to rejoin it next year. But to be off of it permanently? I probably should talk to Lisa about it.

I seek out Lisa right after Second period. “Hey, Lisa?”

“Hey, I heard about you and the squad yesterday. Are you okay?” She cocks her head slightly with concern on her face.

I take a deep breath. “I'm hurt, though looking at Monica and the rest of the squad, I knew whatever she chose would hurt her or the squad. The only thing I could do was withdraw and spare the squad the pain. Though, that left Ellie out. She still an alternate.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that. I know you probably don’t want to hear this right now. But I think you did the right thing.”

“I know, just like when I told Amber the truth last night.”

“What?”

“I told her that I was responsible for her being in the hospital.”

“Why would you do that? All that would do is upset her! Couldn’t you have waited until after she came home?”

“There’s more to the story.”

“I want to hear this. Let’s meet up for lunch? I was looking for you at lunch yesterday. I found out about your conversation with Monica from Cindy later in the day. Cindy was concerned about you. I wanted to call you to find out how you were doing. Why don’t you have a cellphone?”

The bell rings for class.

“Ms. Cramer, I’d like a word with Mr. Stewart if you don’t mind.”

Lisa looks at me, probably wondering what will happen next. I don’t see it getting any worse. I shrug and tell her that I’ll see her at lunch.

“Mr. Stewart, I’d like to see you again in my office.” She has a distracted look on her face. Was there some news?

---

I nervously follow Dr. Corning to her office. The familiar chair awaits. She closes the door and sits at her desk. “Mr. Stewart, I wanted you to meet with Mrs. Yates yesterday. Apparently, you didn’t attend.”

“I’m sorry Dr. Corning I had a lot on my mind after I told the squad I would not be joining them.”

“Well, that’s an odd turn of events? Would you enlighten me about how that came about?”

“I thought about the position I’d put Monica, the cheer captain, in if I made her choose between allowing me back on the squad or not. I realized that I’d hurt her and the squad regardless of her answer to me. I told her that I didn’t want her to have to choose and I withdrew.”

“I see, I’d still like you to speak with Mrs. Yates, but she will not be able to meet with you this afternoon. There has been another matter that requires her attention.” She pauses. “I…” There’s a knock on the door. “Come in.”

“Dr. Corning, the girls from the squad are here.”

She has an exasperated look on her face. “Please, bring them in.”

Monica spots me and gives me a questioning look. “What are you doing here?” She clams up after she sees Dr. Corning’s face. She must be thinking the same thing I am.

Didn’t Dr. Corning say something about Dr. Yates being brought in for grief counseling?

I watch all seven girls file into the room. The girls murmur quietly to each other as they enter.

I stand and try to make my way out of her office. “Mr. Stewart, please remain here. And please shut the door.”

I close the door, the girls gather towards the chairs. I wait by the door, standing.

Dr. Corning looks over at the squad from across her desk. “Ladies, I’m sorry to be the bearer of some difficult news…”

I can feel the blood rush from my face. Amber? Please, don’t let it be Amber. I know they’re all thinking the same thing. A couple of the girls shoot me a look, a worried look. I feel the sadness fill my sinuses, there are tremors forming within me. My heart starts to race. She was fine yesterday. Please, not Amber.

Another knock on the door startles me from behind. I turn to open it, but pause to await Dr. Corning’s approval. She nods her assent, I open the door, “Dr. Corning, the parents, have started to arrive.”

Parents? My heart begins to pound more intensely. It’s Amber. My head begins to throb to match the pounding in my chest. I can feel my throat start to close.

“Thank you, Ms. Wilkes. Tell the parents, I’ll be right out. Please shut the door.” The door closes behind me. The sound of it muffled… dampened by the panic.

She takes a deep breath, “Now then, ladies, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you all this. Coach Tompkins was sent to the hospital this morning. I’m sorry, she didn’t survive.”

A shiver radiates from my heart to my fingers and toes. “What?” I gasp. I’m half relieved that I didn’t hear Amber’s name. But what did she say? Coach Tompkins… is dead?

Dr. Corning doesn’t answer as if by saying it again it would be another stab at our hearts.

Coach Tompkins death hits us pretty hard. Cindy wails first, followed by Casey as they all burst into their own pangs of grief. The girls continue to cry and console each other. I’m standing alone, the shock reverberates through me, as the girls gather together.

In a gesture that I wasn’t expecting, Monica lifts her gaze towards me, tears still falling, then she looks down at the squad. She extends her arm towards me. A bittersweet welcome to the squad. I walk sheepishly over and join them looking over to Dr. Corning, then back at the squad.” As Monica wraps her arm around my neck resting her hand on my shoulder. I felt my tears well and fall.

There’s something that I feel. A connection, maybe. As if our grief was shared with each other. Grief feels worse than loneliness. But shared? It lingers less. We all feel the pain and loss, but being with each other softens it. That connection… I don’t want it to go away.

Dr. Corning must have known this. Why else would she ask me to stay? Dr. Corning didn’t have to include me, but she did. A small act of tenderness and compassion.

Dr. Corning opens the door and leaves to talk to the parents that have arrived.

---

Cindy is the first to speak out trying to regain her composure. “We should do something…” she sniffs back some tears. “In honor of Coach T.”

Monica dries her tears. “Like what?” Choking back her sobs.

The rest are still sobbing and holding each other.

“Well, we could…” Dianna presses a tissue to her nose and sobs a bit more before continuing. “A black patch, maybe? on our uniforms?”

Jennifer looks over at Allison then at Dianna, she can’t speak. She just nods.

Casey chimes in. “Maybe… Friday? The game?”

Ellie is the first to really calm down. “Without Coach T, can, can we still cheer?” Ellie says while drying her tears.

Monica adds, “Let’s wear our uniforms tomorrow. For Coach T? Then again at the game on Friday?”

I remain quiet, as the girls nod in agreement. They shuffle out the door to the arms of their waiting parents.

Ellie stays back with me. Her parents haven’t arrived yet. “I know you’re not officially part of the squad, She meant almost as much to you as she did to us. This might sound strange, but do you think, I mean, it may mean a lot, you know, if you could do the same.”

“The same?”, I ask.

Ellie perks up. “As the squad. Wear the uniform. Well, I mean Amber’s uniform. You’re as much a part of this squad as we are. It may help… if you could stand in for Amber. Since she can’t be here.”

I shake my head, “I’m just not sure. I walked away, remember?”

“Look, whether you’re in or not, that’s really up to the squad, not just Monica. I know you put her in a bad position, but you didn’t give the squad a chance to come around. Here’s a chance for them to see you support them and Coach T.”

“Won’t it be weird?”

“Not, if we don’t let it… Be weird, I mean.” Ellie tries to couch her plan.

“What do you mean?”

“Coach T meant a lot to a lot of people here, not just the cheerleaders. If it’s a tribute to her, I don’t think anyone would hold it against you. Especially, with the black band across the school letters.”

“The girls are probably going home. We should talk to them first.”

Ellie looks pensively at me. “My sister can’t sign us out of school. We can’t join them. God, I wish Amber was here.” She sniffs back another bit of her grief. “I really can’t go back to class. Not after this. I…” we’re both back to crying.

Dr. Corning returns, a sad and somber look on her face. Her normally stoic demeanor is now awash in agony.

“Mr. Stewart, I’m sorry, we didn’t call your parents. And Ms. Foster. We’ve been unable to reach yours. I think under the circumstances, it’s fine if you remain here in the office. I doubt you can absorb much instruction today.”

“My folks are out of town. Amber's, I mean Aaron’s parents are my emergency contacts. I don’t think either would mind taking me and Aaron home. Is that possible?”

“I think Aaron’s parents have a lot on their minds at the moment, but I’ll give it a try. If you would excuse me, I’m going to make a few phone calls.”

---

Instead of class, we met with Mrs. Yates, the counselor, Dr. Corning had mentioned. She’s fairly young, she looks like she’s in her late 20s maybe early 30’s. She had a pleasant smile though she seems to have the same… preoccupied look to her that Dr. Corning had. She wanted to speak with us one on one. The look on Ellie's face when Mrs. Yates brought it up compelled me to ask for a joint session. Mrs. Yates reluctantly agreed.

“My name is Evelyn Yates.” She says motioning us to chairs in an empty office. “I am a counselor for the district. Do you know what it is that we do as counselors?” We nod silently. “Could you start by introducing each other?” She turns to Ellie, a cue to start talking. I sit there quietly.

“I’m Ellie, Ellie Foster?” She says almost as a question. Mrs. Yates looks over at me and smiles.

“Aaron, Aaron Stewart,” I say softly.

“Now then, I’m really sorry to hear about Coach Tompkins. I can only imagine how you two must feel after hearing such news.” I stare at my shoes. I sense Ellie does the same.

“She was an assistant coach here when I was on the squad.” Instantly our heads move up to look at her. “She had been coaching for a long time. She worked on choreography, Coach Wilson focus on the acrobatics and training.”

Ellie adds, “Coach Reed handles the tumbling drills now. She was working with Amber and me and well now with Aaron and me. Coach T was working with the rest of the squad on the choreography.“

“Oh, and where’s Amber?”

I remain silent. “She, she had an accident.” Ellie chimes in hoping to hide some of my embarrassment at the prank.

“I hope she’s alright?”

I sigh, “She is, but now she won’t talk to me.”

Ellie shoots me a quizzical look.

I continue. “I told Amber that I was responsible for the prank that put her in the hospital.”

“Ah yes. I was supposed to meet with you yesterday. Well, it seems like we have more to talk about.” Mrs. Yates writes a note on her pad.

The session continues for another hour. It wasn’t all about our grief. Mrs. Yates did share some anecdotes about Coach T that made us both feel better.

---

I follow Ellie out the door, closing it behind me. “I’ll do it.”

“Do what?”

“In honor of Coach T, I’ll wear Amber’s uniform to school tomorrow.”

“Really? That would mean so much to us.”

“Please don’t make me regret it.”

“The squad would be so touched by you joining us,” she says through her tears, pulling me into a hug. “We’ll take care of everything, you’ll see.” she releases her embrace, “Can you have your mom drop you off at my house? We can get changed into our uniforms at my house in the morning, and we’ll go to school together. What do you think?”

I eye her suspiciously.

Ellie allays my fears. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to wear the skirt. Just wear the shell instead” referring to the top. “Maybe you can wear some white pants? It would match the uniform since you’re not wearing the skirt.”

“I don’t own any white pants.”

“How about you just come over this evening? I think I may have something. It may be a bit loose on you, though. But at least you can try on the top, and if you are okay with it, then we can meet up with the squad in the morning like we always do. Would that be okay?”

“I don’t know, I’d have to ask my folks.”

---

By noon, the word has spread through the school. Lisa finds me in the office. She’s got tears in her eyes. “Cindy went home.” She says with pain in her voice. “I… I had to hear about Coach T from the announcement.” Ellie was the first to pull her into a hug. I followed suit. Lisa turns to me, “I couldn’t find you, I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I was devastated when I heard the news. The girls all took the news pretty hard. Most of them went home.”

“You were with the squad when they told you?” Lisa has a tortured look on her face.

“It sort of just happened. Dr. Corning pulled me into…” I see her face turn sour. “What's wrong?”

“I was with you, she sent me to class. I was on the squad… She, just…” I could see the pain and exclusion in her eyes. It was the same that I saw in the mirror each morning while Amber was in the hospital.

Ellie tries to calm Lisa down. “I don’t think she meant anything by it.”

“It just hurts, you know? One minute, I’m on the squad, happy to be part of something special. Now I’m not even…” She’s hurt and sad. “God, this is what I was trying… I didn’t want you to feel like this either. I hated that cheer would become important to you as it did for me, only to watch from the sidelines.”

I knew now why she made me promise not to ask her to rejoin the squad. It hurt too much, but she couldn’t stay away. Whatever made her ineligible, took this away from her permanently. My thoughts drift to Amber and what I had done to her. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know… How much it hurt. I understand now why you reacted the way you did yesterday. I love you so much for trying to protect me from that.”

“It just hurts so much, not being included.” Her sad eye streaming tears. She reaches into her purse for another tissue.

Ellie begins to lay out the squads tribute “Look, the girls are going to wear their uniforms tomorrow. Maybe you should wear yours? In honor of Coach T?”

“I’d like that. But what about you?” Lisa looks over at me.

I sigh. “I’ve got Amber's. I can at least wear the top. I think I’ll stand out less just wearing the top.”

“What if you don’t stand out at all?” She says plainly. Ellie looks at her curiously. I join her.

“Well, if you look natural enough, you wouldn’t stand out. Would you? Meet me after school, you too Ellie and bring Amber’s uniform.”

“I don’t know about this. I don’t want this to be about me. It’s supposed to be a tribute to Coach T.”

“It will be. And by you looking natural, it won’t be such a… spectacle?” I can see the wheels turning in Lisa’s mind.

“Alright.” I'm trying not to think about how Amber may feel about me borrowing her uniform.

“Ellie, can your sister drive us to my aunt’s shop, you know, after school?”

“I guess so, why?”

“So she can work her magic on Aaron here.” She says with a grin.

“You look fine. Leave the hem of the skirt alone.” Ellie placed her hand on my bare arm.

“It’s really short.” I say as I fidget with the fringes of my pleated skirt while trying to keep in stride with her on the walk to school.

I’m tugging at the stiff pleated fabric which ends about four inches above my knees. It doesn’t matter where it ends because it flares out away from my legs. It’s not getting any longer. Pulling the skirt downward only exposes a small portion of skin under the shell and above the waist of the skirt. The ends barely grazed my thighs as I walk.

---

We spent yesterday afternoon at the salon owned by Lisa’s aunt, Rhonda Cramer. It was mainly to ‘add length’ to my hair and ‘clean-up’ my eyebrows. I spent the night at Ellie’s, my folks knew her parents weren’t home, but they trusted Ellie’s sister, Bethany. There were enough sleepovers with Ellie and Amber for my folks to develop enough trust in Beth. Yet, I was surprised that mom and dad would let me stay over at Ellie’s. I guess it gave them the night to catch up on the upkeep of the house, or maybe even a night to relax.

The evening was pretty uneventful. I would have loved to say that we ended the evening with a slumber party like Amber, Ellie and the rest of the girls had on several occasions over the summer. It did not, Lisa, Ellie and I were too depressed over Coach T’s passing. I was too tired to do anything but sleep. I fell asleep on the pullout sofa in Ellie’s living room. Beth didn’t think it was a good idea for me to sleep in the same room with Ellie. We had gone straight to Mrs. Cramer’s shop after school. It wasn’t until we reached Ellie’s home in the evening that I realized I had no change of clothes. Apparently, my folks didn’t realize that small detail either when I asked for permission. I slept in my jeans and t-shirt.

I woke up this morning with my new hair draped over my face. I picked my head off the pillow and the hair cascaded down past my shoulders, some strands poke into my shoulders through my t-shirt. I was already regretting the extensions. I really didn’t think this through. I realize now why girls tie their hair back. Tendrils of hair caress my cheek.

I drag myself out of bed and made breakfast for the three of us, I thought it was the least I could do. I have this habit of humming to myself as I make breakfast. I blame mom, she always hums when she’s cooking. Beth was the first one up. I didn’t notice her there until I plate the eggs. A small grin was on her face. “Don’t tell her I said this, but you look like Ellie.” I looked at her puzzled, then shrug my shoulders and smile back. She walked over to the fridge grabs the pitcher of orange juice and three juice glasses from the cupboard. Ellie joined us. Ellie was almost sleepwalking and barely awake. She walked over to Beth who had already poured two of the three glasses of juice. Ellie wrapped Beth in a hug and grabbed a glass of juice. She took a seat then placed her head on the table and resumed her slumber. Beth and I started to giggle.

“Not a morning person I take it.” I said to Beth.

After breakfast, I had to go through what the girls referred to as their ‘morning routine.' Shower, shave-everything, moisturize… I think I’m leaving out a few steps, it went by so fast. Before I knew it, I was dressed in Amber’s uniform with a few additions ‘loaned-permanently’ from Ellie (which she had outgrown) to fill it ‘out’ and hide a few things that girls don’t have.

Bethany started with applying makeup on my face while Ellie got ready for school. All the complexed brush strokes and color choices left me wondering, ‘how do girls know what to do?’ When Bethany was done, she went to her room to get herself ready.

Ellie has one of those tall mirrors that Amber has in her bedroom. Peering at the mirror, I saw the benefit of such a large mirror. From shoes to hair you could see everything at once. I used the mirror to take a peek at what I looked like before Ellie came down the hall after she showered, dressed, and applied her makeup.

I felt naked. I felt exposed. While I was confident that the briefs and the panties underneath, would hold everything in place, I couldn’t shake this feeling inside me. The emotion that was welling within me was feel a feeling of… trepidation? No, something slightly different. Like striking my last match in the open air and wanting so desperately to protect the small glowing flame from being extinguished. I can’t explain it any better, but I do know, that the feeling inside me was more intense than anything I had ever experienced before.

My thoughts then turn to Amber. I was in a trance when Ellie walked into her room to find me. Ellie senses it somehow. It’s written on her face and is reflected in the mirror, but she doesn’t say a word.

Beth wanted to drive us, but Ellie thought it would calm my nerves if we walked to school instead. We left Bethany behind, as she cleaned up.

---

Ellie swipes my hand away from my skirt. “Just relax, you’ll be fine.”

Much like the skirt, the shell is fairly stiff as well, but since it’s sleeveless, I don’t have to worry too much about it restricting my arms. The sports bra is a new sensation; It's heavier, tighter than the t-shirts I'm normally wearing. The backpack presses the shoulders of the shell into the straps of the sports bra. I feel it making an impression on my skin. The gel pads have warmed up, and I hardly notice them except that they protrude from my chest. My ‘breasts’ are small and barely making the letters on my shell peak.

Though fall is a week away, the ‘autumn’ chill has set in. It is still, but it wraps my arms and legs and numbs them. The shell and extra hair does keep my head and chest warm. I’m wondering if it is my newly hairless legs or the fact that I’m not wearing pants that make me more sensitive to the cold. The cold bites at the inner quarter of my knees.

Walking to school, I could feel the ponytail pendulum back and forth as I walk side by side with Ellie. The giant bow atop my head matches the white shell and skirt. Purple and yellow stripes trim the fringes of the skirt and shell. The lettering on my chest reads BVHS. Bay View High School.

“Did Gail really have to glue the extensions into my hair?” I worried about my hair and how to explain it to my folks and Amber. Lisa’s cousin, Gail, was learning some new techniques for applying hair extensions. Gail’s mother thought it a wonderful opportunity to show her daughter the technique and give me a full head of brown hair that ended between my shoulder blades.

“Probably not, but at least Lisa’s Aunt didn’t charge for it. Besides, it’s not as heavy as the crimped extensions. This just seems more natural than the ones that are tied in place. Lisa’s cousin did an amazing job on your hair, though. Mixing a bit of blonde to add highlight really makes you stand out.”

“I’m not used to this much hair. A wig would have worked too…”

“Gail’s Mom thought Gail needed the practice. You needed hair, and besides, where would we get the money for a wig?”

“I guess.” I start to frown.

Ellie slaps her hand to her mouth trying to contain her giggle.

“What’s wrong? What are you laughing about?”

“You just did Amber’s pout.”

“What?”

“You know, the ‘Amber’ pout.” Ellie presses her lips together forming a duck’s bill and drags the corners of her mouth downward.

I shut my eyes and shake my head. Trying to keep from laughing. It doesn’t work. We’re both giggling away as she wraps her arm around my neck, her body pressing against my side to steady herself. When I laugh, I can feel the layer make up on my face, especially on my cheeks and my eyelids. The mascara makes my lashes feel heavy. The lashes are in my sight line even though they’re curled upwards. There’s also some tension on my eyelids when I blink. I’m starting to get used to the lipgloss. My lips get chapped in the morning, and the lipgloss keeps my lips from itching.

“Hey, how do the tennis shoes feel? I never got a chance to break them in. My feet grew a bit faster than I expected.”

“They’re a little loose. I think I’ll manage. The socks are kind of thin.”

“Really? I never noticed.”

“Yeah, my socks much thicker than these.” I lament.

“Funny…” Ellie says with a smile.

“What?”

“Well, you’re wearing a cheerleaders’ uniform and you're concerned about your socks. I thought, if anything, you’d have an issue with the sports bra, breast enhancers, or the briefs.” She must have been reading my mind.

“Well, the shell keeps those covered, and they’re not that noticeable. Do women really wear these gel pads? It seems like, well it just seems…”

Ellie notices me fumbling for the words. “I get it. But, sometimes we need a bit of help to fill out, I can remember when I first got my bra. My breasts barely showed. Amber’s aren’t that much bigger either. We all use a padded bra or something to… Well, make us more… Anyway, you’ll get used to it over time.”

“This is just for today. I think I can manage that.”

“What about Friday’s game? Don't you want to be out there with us? You know the routines already. Besides, Monica hasn’t had a chance to re-choreograph new routines.”

“I don’t know, you’ve all worked so hard, and this may be your only chance to perform for the rest of the year. I don’t want to mess it up for all of you.”

“Don’t worry about it. Coach Reed was really impressed by how quickly you picked up the routine. She thought you’d actually be a wonderful cheerleader. That reminds me…”

“Wait, what?”

Ellie continues…“Coach Reed, she’s not really a teacher here, she just volunteers. If they don’t hire a new coach soon. There’s no reason for her to continue to train us on the acrobatics.”

“I’m sure, they’ll find someone.” I’m wondering what would happen to the squad if they didn’t.

“Feeling better now?” Ellie asks. “I was a bit worried about how you were feeling.”

“Feeling?” I’m a bit distracted.

“Yes, this morning, I caught a glimpse of you staring into the mirror. You had the uniform on, you seemed happy at first, then your mood just… You just became sad. Is it Coach T?”

“Amber. It should be her in this uniform and not me. She should be out at the game on Friday. She should be with all of you.” I pause while Ellie looks at me intently as we continue in lock step. I take a breath. “Before I looked at the mirror. I thought I would look hideous.” I stop in mid-stride and turn to Ellie, who stops and faces me. “Instead, I saw a reflection my sister in the mirror; just as pretty as always. When I smiled, she smiled. There was a ‘happiness’ that filled me and overwhelmed me. Then, I realized that it wasn’t Amber in the mirror.” I feel the dark clouds form over me.

I continue growing ever more distraught, “I took this moment away from her. This should have been her moment. It should have been her staring into that mirror, not me. All of her hard work to tryout for the squad? The nerves and anticipation of waiting to hear whether she made the squad? The elation of being part of it? The summer of practice, only to have ME cut it short?” I begin to speak at a rapid pace, “She missed out on the exhilaration of being handed her uniform for the first time, then seeing herself as I am right now. That moment of seeing herself in her new uniform? That rush of joy I felt over how I looked in it?” I feel my heart fall, “Instead, she's laying in a hospital bed. Alone. Sleeping off some the pain meds. She almost died. It was ‘I’ did that to her. I’m a monster. No wonder she hates me.”

Ellie pulls me into a hug. I’m shaking bitterly at what I have done to my sister. I was the worst person in the world. To know what I had taken from her; I had to put myself in her place. I felt ravaged at the experience that I denied her. This is the hurt inside her…The hurt that I caused.

I feel sick. I feel revulsion at myself, the guy who robbed Amber of a source of light and joy. For what? A quick laugh? All Amber wanted to do was something she loved with people she cared about. Something she was proud to be a part of. Something I had been too blind to see.

Ellie tries to calm me, “You're not a monster, you made a mistake. While you CAN just stand there and feel guilty about it, I think you want to do more. More than just beat yourself up. More than just let your guilt take over. You need to make it up to her—somehow.”

“I don’t know how. She won’t talk to me. She won’t even look at me.”

“You have to be there for her. You're her sister. She needs you. She needs you to be there for her, not for you to beat yourself up.” Ellie's voice calms me. Her tenderness and warm heart are an energy that makes me want to do better—for the squad and for Amber. I can see why Ellie and Amber are friends. There’s a bond that I feel toward Ellie, it’s that same connection that I felt for my own sister. Ellie was a sister to Amber and to me as well.

We approach the school, I’m starting to get more nervous. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

“Don’t worry you look fine. Better than fine. Cute even. Besides, you’ve got us remember? Me, Lisa…”

“I just don’t know…”

“There’s Lisa now!” Ellie wave over Lisa, who has a wide grin on her face.

“Oh my god! Aaron! You look amazing! You two could almost be twins.” Lisa walks between Ellie and me, bends to give us a ‘double hug’ and lets go of us.

Ellie looks at me “see? I told you, you look fine.” I nervously clutch the strap on my backpack. “Aaron’s a bit nervous.”

“Lisa! A voice calls out. It’s so great to see you back in uniform.” Monica pulls her into a hug. She releases Lisa, looks at me, “Ellie, have you seen the rest of the squad?”

Ellie turns to face her. “Not yet, Mon.”

Monica looks over at Ellie then me, confused. “Who’s this?” Giving me a questioning look.

“That’s Aaron, he’s standing in for Amber.”

Monica stares at me for a moment. “Aaron? She can’t be Aaron.” I’m as red as a sun dried tomato. “You’re joking.”

“It’s no joke,” I say, nervously.

She stalks around me like a tiger eyeing dinner. “It is you, isn’t it? How?”

“Lisa and Ellie’s idea.”

“Oh and I’m sure you put up a big fight, too.” Her sarcasm is blindingly apparent as she grins at me. “Looking like that, you’d give Ellie a run for her money. Lisa, Ellie, can I speak with Aaron for a second, in private?”

They give me a pensive look. “It’ll be fine, really,” I say to the pair and walk off with Monica.

We’re out of earshot of the two before she begins to speak. “What gives? Is this another prank of yours? Coach T…”

“Meant a lot to all of you. I know, I’m not trying to…” I say sadly.

“You only knew her for 3 weeks. If you are doing this out of guilt or worse spite, you may as well turn around and go home.” Her tone becoming more accusatory.

“Look, perhaps this is an odd way of showing it but, I was starting to feel like part of something. Special… Then after yesterday, when you pulled me into group… I felt… I can’t put it into words. I just… I… Forget it.” the pain in my voice is hard to control. I start to turn to head home. “This was a bad idea…” I say sadly as I'm on the edge of tears.

She grabs my wrist. She draws in a quick deep breath, “No, it’s a lovely gesture. Please stay. I think Coach T would have wanted her girls to stick together. As a team.”

I turn back towards her and walk into give her a hug. She’s shocked at my reaction, wrapping her arms around me. I sob and whisper “thank you.” I feel her head press into mine. She releases me, and I take a step back. She reaches into her purse for some tissue. She dabs my eyes. I try to force a smile. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay… Are ready to go back to the girls?” She lifts her gaze beyond me, and I turn to see seven girls in their uniforms break from their conversations to look over at Monica and me. Monica leads the way. I trail behind her walking over towards the squad.

“Girls, though Amber can’t be here with us to honor Coach T. Aaron here, was brave enough to stand in for her.” I see their smiling faces. My heart starts to flutter.

We walk into the school together, the squad with an uncertain future, mourning a Coach who meant so much to all of them… Us.

The girls left for their respective classes, and I was on my way to mine. I caught Dr. Corning’s attention. Actually, I think my uniform caught her attention.

“Miss Stewart, may I see you in my office for a moment?”

That didn’t take long.

I let out a slow breath and close my eyes. “Now, Miss Stewart.” She commanded. I begin to walk hurriedly toward her and follow her to her office. She gestures to that now familiar chair, and I sit. The skirt does not cover enough to protect my bare skin from touching the cold surface of the chair. I pop up from the chair, reacting to the chill, I look at the offending chair which offers no sympathy. I sigh, smoothing the skirt under me, well, as much as I could of it, under me. I inch forward just a bit so that no bare skin touches the chair. I feel my thighs press together as my ankles cross and skid my shoes slightly under the chair. My shin rubs my calf so even sitting feels different. Dr. Corning gives me a puzzled look before commencing.

“Miss Stewart...” She takes a brief moment to compose herself. My eyes gravitate to the hem of my skirt, wondering if anything could be done about the revealing uniform. “Aaron,” She pauses again. She must notice how nervous I am. I lookup, crossing my arms under my breasts. My hands begin to rub my bare arms, trying to comfort myself. Her eyes are trained on me. I become more self-conscious. I start pulling down at the hem of my skirt. “I’m sure you have an explanation of why you are dressed in the manner you are. You are probably practicing the explanation in your head. Instead, I want you to think about a few things before you are dismissed.”

I’m nervous beyond words. Does she think this is a prank?

“Is this something you want?” She asks.

I’m bewildered. I’m not sure how to respond, so I don’t.

“It is not a simple question, mind you. Would you feel comfortable talking about this perhaps with Mrs. Yates? Or another counselor, if you are apprehensive about her? While I’m not allowed to divulge possible gender-related issues with your parents unless you demonstrate a need for your parents to be involved; you still need to talk to someone that can help."

I’m relieved, though concerned at where this conversation is going.

“The question I ask you to consider—is this ‘who you are’ or is this ‘a costume’?”

I open my mouth to speak. She stops me. “The answer is an important one. It’s a truth for you to work through and something that should not be answered on a lark. You have to be honest with yourself. If this is more than a costume, then perhaps you can work through these issues early enough in your life, you may be able to spare yourself a lifetime of pain by asking for and receiving the help that is available.”

Honest with myself? Issues? What would I have to ‘work through?’ A lifetime of pain? Her reaction and her words unnerve me. I thought she was going to call my parents and send me home. This seems worse.

She scribbles a note. “I want you to show this note to each of your teachers before each class. You will not disrupt the classes in any way, am I clear?” She hands me the note, open. I nod my head and accept the note.

Miss Stewart is to be addressed as the gender she presents. She is to be treated with the respect afforded to all students and faculty alike. Any problems are to be reported to me immediately. - Dr. Corning.

I look up questioningly from the note after reading it.

“Is there a problem, Miss Stewart?”

“No, Dr. Corning,” I say nervously. What is going on here?

“Oh, and Miss Stewart?”

“Yes, Dr. Corning.”

“Because the laws of this state allow for you to use the restroom of the gender that you present. I EXPECT for you to BEHAVE in a manner consistent with the young lady you appear. Is that clear?”

A strand of hair falls loose from the ponytail. I instinctively push it behind my ear. The gesture garners in another look from Dr. Corning.

“One other thing Miss Stewart, you will also report here during your PE class this afternoon, you will have an opportunity to speak with Mrs. Yates, if you wish. We may also consider options for your physical education class if the need arises…”

For some reason, that calms me.

---

I walk into the first period, late. The teacher eyes me suspiciously as I hand her Dr. Corning’s note as instructed, she gives me a curious look, reads the note, and returns the note, discretely. I take my seat without a word being spoken about my attire. I do feel 30 sets of eyes are boring into me. The class continues without incident, though as I walk out of the room after class, I can tell that some students are wondering about my uniform.

Second period was much the same as First. By this point, the word had spread throughout the school, that the cheerleaders were in uniform in honor of Coach T. During the break between Second and Third period, students try to comfort the girls on the squad and me. Here and there, students offer kind words to me about Coach T and how much she was loved. There are a few looks, whispers, and oddly a few smiles as well.

I meet up with Lisa who matches my pace walking down the hall heading to class.

“Hey, Aaron? You seem to be settling in as the newest cheerleader. How is it going so far.”

“There’s a lot going on to tell you the truth. I had an odd meeting with the Principal this morning.”

“What did Dr. Corning want this time?” Her voice has a hint of a sarcastic tone.

“Well, she ordered me into her office. Then the conversation got weird.”

“Weird? How so?”

“She started to ask me about… No actually, she didn’t ask. She did all the talking. She asked me if this was ‘who I am’ or ‘just a costume.’ Then, she gave me this note.” I pull the note from my backpack, now wishing I said ‘yes’ to the purse that Ellie offered me. I hand Lisa the note, and she studies it.

“So, she thinks you want to be a girl?”

“I don’t actually know. She said ‘I’ needed to ‘think about it.’ and that ‘if I work through this early’… I could save myself a lifetime of pain. Isn’t that weird?”

Lisa hands me the note, and I place it folded in the pouch pocket in my backpack. She looks at me almost, ‘sizing me up.’ I’m starting to get that feeling that prey must have when they sense danger. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t actually seem like a boy in a cheerleader uniform.”

My eyes widen. “What?”

“I know we wanted you to look natural but… There’s something else about you. I can’t really put my finger on it. I mean, you and Ellie could almost be twins, but compared to even just yesterday…”

“I’m still me, right?”

“Well yes and no…”

“What?”

“I mean, you are still the same person, but different, you know?”

“How am I different?”

“It’s like you’re Aaron, but not, at the same time.” The bell rings. "Hey, I’ve got to get to class." She pulls me into a hug. She whispers into my ear. “Hey, try not to worry about what I said, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll see ya at lunch?” I ask sheepishly.

She smiles back at me. “I’ll see you then. And thanks.” before she walks off I rub her arm gently and give her a warm smile. She giggles and walks away.

A teacher calls out to me. “Young lady?” I turn instantly.

“Yes?”

“Your backpack is open, you better get a move on, you’re going to be late for class.”

“Oh…” I smile. “Okay, Thank you,” I say cheerfully, then zip up my backpack pouch and head off to class.

---

Again more of the same for my next two classes. Though I’m starting to get used to the stares I get. Thankfully, the teachers don’t really draw any attention to me after I hand them Dr. Corning’s note.

I’m walking to lunch when a girl walks along with me. “You’re Aaron, right?”

“Um, yes,” I say nervously.

She yells back to her friends. “See! I told you it was Amber’s sister!” She whispers to me, “I’m glad to see you aren’t hiding yourself any more. You’re just as pretty as your sister.” she caresses my arm and walks back to rejoin her friends.

I try to shake off the encounter and find Ellie before heading to the Cafeteria for lunch.

She greets me with a smile and a hug. “Hey, are you okay? You still seem a bit distracted.”

“It’s been a weird day.” We're walking side by side when she walks towards the women’s restroom. I stop as she opens the door and begins to walk in. She notices, and grabs me by the wrist and pulls me in. “What’s wrong with you? It’s just a bathroom?” She starts to walk into a stall stops and whispers into my ear. “you know to sit down, right?”

I nod my head.

“Well, be sure to ‘hover’ instead. The seats are icky.” she giggles and enters one of the stalls.

I wince and take the stall next to her.

The dispenser for the seat cover is empty. I try as best to wipe the seat with toilet paper. I attempt to hover and end up sitting on the seat. Ewww… I cringe. I emerge from the stall, after ‘failing’ at hovering and feeling a bit grossed out at what I actually sat on.

Ellie is already in front of the mirror touching up her lips, I wash my hands with a lot of soap and I start to make my way to the door. “That was so gross!” I whine, which leads to a giggle by Ellie.

“Come here for a second, will you?”

I walk back over to her.

“Here.” She hands me a tube, which looks like a glue pen, only it has a light pink liquid in it. “You probably want to touch up your lips a bit.”

I open the tube, I study the wand with the sponge at the end coated in a shiny light pink liquid. I swipe my lips coating and smoothing them with the wand and close the tube. I’m handing it back to Ellie.

“Umm, that’s yours. It’s new. Actually, I brought it with me because I thought it would work for you since I already had a few tubes in the same shade.”

I place it in the pouch in my backpack. “I told you that you should have brought the purse, Here, some of your hair has gotten loose.” She hands me a bobbie pin which I use to secure the offending tendril of hair, thanking her in the process.

I straighten my skirt and tug at my shell, and Ellie nods approvingly. I walk out with Ellie, and we make our way to grab our lunches at the cafeteria. I head for the hot food line, and she pulls me to the salad line. I was about to protest when we are joined by a few of the others in the squad.

“Aaron, Ellie!” We’re joined by Casey and Allison. Jennifer is not far behind. “You know, you two could be twins,” Allison says gleefully.

Ellie pulls me close to her and with some whimsy, announces to the girls. “She looks great, doesn’t she?”

Casey adds, “Aaron, I’m sorry for how we treated you.”

I look over at the trio, “No, I deserved it.”

Allison smiles at me. “Any word on Amber?”

“She misses all of you a whole lot. She hopes to be home by Saturday. She was angry with me when I told her what happened and how it was my fault that she was hurt.” I sigh. “Now, she won’t even talk to me.”

Jennifer puts a hand on my shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Just give her time. She’ll come around. Besides, you’ve changed, and I think she will see that.”

Lisa and Cindy join us in line. I fish into my backpack for my lunch coupon book. Thankfully, our meals are subsidized, I don’t have any money of my own. My parents barely make ends meet as it is. All the care for Amber and the costs of visiting her must put a strain on our savings. I pull today’s ticket out. Lisa does the same. We grab our salads and hand the ticket to the cashier. Jennifer, Cindy, Ellie, and Allison pay with cash for their lunches. We walk over to the table, Monica and Dianna are already there waiting for us.

Monica looks at me, “How are you holding up?”

“I think I’ve settled down. I had a meeting with Dr. Corning this morning.” I begin to stab at my salad. “She asked me to think about a couple of questions. Then she asked me to talk to the counselor after lunch during my PE class.”

“About Coach T?” Ellie quips.

“No, she asked me if ‘this is who I was or if it was just a costume.’ Then she dismissed me with a note to show each of my teachers.”

I pull the note and hand it to Monica who reads it and offers me a warm smile while handing it back. I take another stab at my salad.

“And?” Monica continues, “what do you think?”

After another bite of my salad, “Well, this is to honor Coach T, of course.” I push more of the lettuce around the container, wishing I had more dressing.

“Are you sure about that?” Monica presses.

I open the carton of low fat milk and plunge the skinny red drinking straw into it. I notice the girls all used straw. It felt wrong to guzzle it like I would normally. Eating the salad had wipe the lip gloss from my lips in a few spots. That unnerves me for some reason. My eyes dart to my backpack, though I stop myself from reaching for the tube. “Umm… I think so.” I nervously take a sip from the straw.

Dianna places her hand atop Monica’s wrist, “She’s had a rough time, you may want to leave her alone, She’s got a lot on her plate as it is.”

Monica turns to Dianna, “She does have a lot going on, but if we can help, shouldn’t we? I mean, I can’t help but feel there's something more to her.”

“Umm.” I’m starting to feel a bit self-conscious. I stare intently at the cherry tomato feeling just as small.

Monica turns back to the group, “I mean look at her. You don’t honestly see her as a boy do you? Do any of you?” The table is silent.

“You need to be honest with yourself. Did you pull that prank because you thought it was funny or did you do it because you were jealous?”

Jealous? “I…”

“We care about you, Aaron, you’ve actually put up with a lot just to be here with us. I think it shows some character that you’ve tried so hard. That’s why I left the note for you at your house.” She’s the one who left the note?

“What note?” Allison asks.

“When she first started out with us. I was impressed that she joined us for practice even when she didn’t have to. I wanted to test her to see how serious she was about being on the squad. So, I left her a note to meet us at McKinley Park that first Saturday and she did! What I didn’t know was whether she was joining us because of guilt over Amber, or if she genuinely wanted to be part of the squad. Her apology to the squad got me thinking. Then this morning, when I confronted her about the uniform, I could see it.” Monica looks straight at me, “I could see it in your eyes that this was where you wanted to be—With us.” She blinks a few times, the table is still silent. She continues. “What I don’t know WHO wants to be part of the squad. The boy that pulled the prank or the young woman in front of me silently eating her salad?”

I feel suffocated. I need to get out of here. I stand up. “I… I need to be alone for a bit,” I say sadly.

Ellie grabs my hand, but I give her a pained look, and she lets go.

---

I walk away from the table with my head swirling as I head down towards the office. Lunch has not ended yet, and the halls are empty.

I’m walking down the hall towards the office lost in thought. I hear footsteps from behind. I was about to turn, when a hand grabs me and pulls me into the men’s restroom. My backpack falls off my shoulder and on to the floor in the hall as I am yanked into the room. My heart is racing, I’m scared out of my mind before I realize who grabbed me, a hand pushes my shoulders to the wall. “Aaron, are you alright? Who did this to you?”

“Taylor? What are you doing? If anyone catches me in here, I’m going to get in trouble!” All the fears of being bullied resurface as I start to shake.

“In trouble for being a boy in a boy’s bathroom? What did they do to you and why are you wearing a cheerleader’s uniform?” His questions are pointed and stern. I can barely think.

“It's in honor of Coach T.” I blurt out nervously.

“What? You’re not making any sense. What does a dead coach have to do with you dressed up as a cheerleader?”

“Please, I’ve got to get out of here. I’m not supposed to be in here.” I don’t know why I’m so afraid. It’s Taylor. Why is he doing this to me?

“Not until I get an explanation.” his voice is more stern, angry even.

I’m in a panic. “Please, just let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone you pulled me in here.”

Taylor’s searches my face. All I can feel is fear. I don’t know what he’s going to do to me.

“Aaron, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m not the bad guy here. Someone is messing with your head. I want to know who it is.”

“N…Nobody, nobody is messing with my head. Now, please, just let me go. I’m not supposed to be in here.” My eyes are searching him for what he may do.

He grabs me by my shoulders. I let out a small yelp.

“Aaron! Get a hold of yourself.” I’m petrified.

I hear the door open and smack violently against the wall. We’re both startled. A loud angered growl interrupts Taylor. “Let her go, NOW!” The voice booms from behind Taylor.

Taylor raises his hands and backs off. “Hey man! I don't want any trouble.”

“Nobody messes with our cheerleaders!” It’s one of the football players has his hand on Taylor’s shoulder pulling him further away from me.

Taylor is frozen, I take my opportunity to escape, I turn and run out the door. I fall into the arms of someone who wraps me in a hug, I’m shaking. The tall figure tries to soothe me. I hear another voice, a girl’s voice spits venom from behind me. The fiery voice is familiar. Monica? Monica’s yelling at Taylor. “You don’t EVER touch one of my girls! YOU HEAR ME? YOU PERVERT!” I look up, I’m in the arms of Dianna. She’s trying to hold back her own anger as well. I turn to see the commotion. Dianna has her arms wrapped protectively around me, holding me tight. Lisa has Monica by the arm, trying to calm Monica down. Monica continues her verbal assault on Taylor.

Dianna tries to soothe me. I’m still trembling. She shepherds me away from the scene while trying to calm herself as well. She pulls me into the women’s restroom. I crumple onto the floor and I bellow out a pained moan and start sobbing. I don’t know what’s come over me. I’m not sure what's going on. Dianna is holding me. Then backs off. My eyes are closed. I hated this feeling. I hated being vulnerable. Another hug from a smaller frame. “Ellie?” I murmur.

“Shhh, I’m here… I’m here…” Ellie’s rocking me. Soothing me. I'm such a mess.

“Did he hurt you?” Dianna’s voice strains of concern. I shake my head, still trembling. “Monica went to apologize to you, she saw some guy pull you into the men’s room. She grabbed Victor to help.” I can hear more girls file into the restroom. Monica and Victor made Taylor back off, but had drawn enough attention, that it drew a crowd.

There were whispers among the girls entering. ‘He did what to her?’ ‘Are you serious?’ ‘Is she okay?’ ‘Good thing Victor stopped it.’ ‘I hope he gets thrown out of school!’

I open my eyes to see Ellie. She pulls a few tissues from her purse and dabs at my eyes. “Whatever he did, it wasn’t your fault. Okay?” I nod my head, everything was happening so fast.

My thoughts shift away from my fears. “Wait, this all was a misunderstanding…Taylor was…”

“Shhh… You’re safe now, you don’t have to defend him. They caught the guy. He’s not going to hurt you. We’re not going to let him hurt you.”

---

---

---

Author's Note: Thank you all for taking the time to read, comment, and encourage this story. I appreciate every bit of critique and encouragement I've received thus far. It's helped more than you know,

I love you all so much for being with me on this journey.

Hugs,
Leila

The nurse entered the restroom. She pushes her way to reach me. Ellie looks on trying to keep me from breaking down again. My brief moment of calm evaporated when I realize how small I feel. The onlookers tower over me, pitying my diminutive frame crumpled on the ground. He didn’t mean to, I rationalize, but Taylor made me feel helpless, afraid. I couldn’t shake that feeling even though I knew he didn’t deserve the abuse from Monica. I hated myself for being so fragile.

The nurse coaxes the growing crowd out the door before turning her attention to me. “What’s your name young lady?” the nurse cooed softly to me. Ellie won’t leave my side.

“Aaron, Aaron Stewart.” I moan softly, I’m on the edge of tears again. I’m hugging my knees to my chest. The drumbeat of my heart still rattling. I feel my bottom resting on the cold floor, my skirt fans out around me. When I realize I’m exposed, I start to tug at my skirt. Casey drapes her jacket on my knees. The jacket is long enough to keep me covered. Casey then helps usher the rest of the girls out of the restroom.

“Okay, Aaron, honey, are you hurt anywhere?” The nurse is so gentle with me. I feel like I’m made of glass.

I shake my head, “no.”

She raises her hand to touch my shoulder, I flinch immediately. She recoils, “It’s okay sweetheart. I won’t touch you without asking okay?”

My pulse crests then ebbs.

“Excuse me, dear” the nurse politely murmurs to Ellie. Ellie stands to give the nurse room to work on me. Ellie looks on at me as a mother looks on at her distressed child.

The nurse carefully examines me and my clothing making sure to let me know where she would touch me. When she is satisfied with her initial assessment of me. She asks me to return with her to the nurse’s office. I didn’t even notice the bell which signals the end of lunch had sounded. The hallways were empty, and I was grateful for that. Ellie retrieves my backpack and walks side by side with me as the nurse trailed behind us. I’m uninjured but humiliated. What had started out as a wonderful day for me, now had me walking in shame to the nurse’s office.

During the whole ordeal, I was afraid, terrified even. Guys aren’t supposed to be this… vulnerable. Everyone saw it. Me, dressed as a cheerleader, sobbing, after being pulled into the boy’s bathroom, then running out like a scared little girl, in a panic.

The nurse escorts me into the examination room. Ellie follows silently in behind us. The nurse leaves us in the room and closes the door.

“Are you alright now?” Her voice is soft as a feather. Ellie's eyes are wide, and her lips are pursed, trying to mask her worry to keep me calm. She’s really concerned about me.

Embarrassed, I breathe out. “Taylor kind of caught me off guard.”

That surprises Ellie. “You know that guy?”

“Yes, and if I listened to him in the first place, I probably wouldn’t have been in this mess, to begin with.” I take a seat at the examination table. I hear the crinkle of the paper below me, and I cross my legs instinctively.

“What do you mean?”, her curiosity grows.

“He was there when I pulled the prank,” I say with a sigh.

“And he left you to take all the blame?”

“No, He actually tried to talk me out of it.”

Ellie’s brows knit together. “What?”

“Taylor and I have been friends since elementary. We used to pull these pranks together. It kept the bullies off of us. When we got to high school, he thought we didn’t need to pull pranks anymore. He didn’t know about the prank until I pulled the air horn out of my backpack. He then tried to talk me out of it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, why would pulling pranks keep you from being bullied?”

“Because people don’t bully the ones that made everyone else laugh. We deflected attention away from us to others. Our targets were the ones that were bullied and not us.”

“That’s pretty mean.” I can see Ellie’s disdain growing.

“Well, Taylor didn’t think it was a good idea anymore, and I thought it would be one last prank.”

“Wait! I was on top of the other pyramid. That could have been me that was hurt, not Amber. If I got hurt, then what? You didn’t know me… I could have been laying there on the ground, hurt, in a coma, fighting for my life, my folks wondering if I would survive. Was that what you wanted? Was that what your prank could have done to me?”

“I’m sorry, I really wish I listened to Taylor. Ellie, we’re friends now. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.” I slide off the table and reach out to her, and she recoils. A chill runs through me.

“I… this is a lot to think about. I mean, you did that to Amber, after your friend told you not to? You went ahead and pulled the prank anyway? How could you?”

“Ellie, please… I’m so sorry... It just got out of hand.”

“And what about me, I was nothing to you at the time! If I was hurt… I… I can’t be in here with you right now.”

“Ellie, please don’t go!” I’m feeling our friendship start to grow dim. In desperation, I beg of her, “Ellie? Please don’t be mad at me. I… I can’t have you and Amber mad at me. I’m so sorry!”

Ellie angrily turns from me and stomps to the door opening it.

“Ellie? Don’t leave me alone, please?”

Ellie pauses at the doorway. She grabs the knob on the door pulling it closed behind her.

I’m too numb to cry. Ellie was my lifeline. The one that gave me a chance to be her friend even when the rest of the squad spurned me. Ellie had every right to be angry with me. Only their arrangement kept her from Amber’s fate. If Ellie were on the left and Amber on the right, it would have been Ellie that was hurt and not Amber. Ellie was as much of a sister to me as Amber. I’ve hurt them both. I damaged the bond I had with each of them. I had no idea how to fix it.

Taylor was the more pressing problem. No doubt that he’s being grilled by Dr. Corning at the moment. This is another mess that I’ve created. I can’t let this go any farther. A knock on the door. It’s the nurse. “Is everything alright? I just saw the young lady you were with running away in tears.”

“It's all my fault. Everything is my fault.” I murmur, “I need to speak with Dr. Corning about Taylor Brown.”

“The boy that assaulted you? Whatever for? They called his parents, and they are questioning him as we speak.”

I run for the door in a full sprint in the direction of Dr. Corning’s office. The nurse trails behind, her heels clip-clop on the linoleum floor behind me. I’m wearing tennis shoes and can manage a much faster speed. I dash past the front counter taking everyone by surprise. I stop short of crashing into Dr. Corning’s door and start knocking in rapid succession.

An exasperated “yes?” comes through the door. I enter, Taylor is in my chair. Dr. Corning looks annoyed. “Miss Stewart, you should be in the nurse’s office.” I turn to look over at Taylor, he has the look of a confused puppy.

I slowly regain my breath and compose myself. Dr. Corning looks at me patiently annoyed. “I’m sorry Dr. Corning, but there has been a misunderstanding.”

“Miss Stewart, you will have your opportunity to speak after I have had my opportunity to…

“This is really important Dr. Corning. Please hear me out.”

“Mr. Brown?” Dr. Corning gazes sternly at him.

“Yes, Dr. Corning.” Taylor response in a somber tone.

“I have a feeling that Miss Stewart is about to intercede on your behalf. Would you excuse us for a moment?”

Taylor stands and faces me. “Aaron, What’s going on? Why is Dr. Corning referring to you as a girl? Why…”

“Taylor,” I say softly, looking at him with doe eyes. “please let me try to clear this up with Dr. Corning. Please?” I start to rub his arm. I immediately pull my hand back when I realize what I had just done. Taylor doesn’t know what to do. He looks over at Dr. Corning whose eyes are about as wide as Taylor’s.

“Mr. Brown, please excuse us.”

He looks over at me. “Aaron, I can defend myself. I don’t need…” I bring my hand to his mouth to signal for his silence.

“Please, let me have a chance to make this right?”

He again looks over at Dr. Corning. The confused puppy look reemerges on his face, “Looks like I’m outnumbered. Excuse me Dr. Corning, ‘Miss’ Stewart.” He walks hesitantly out the door. I close the door behind him.

“Now then, Miss Stewart, you had something to say?”

“Yes, Dr. Corning, Taylor was just looking out for me. He pulled me into the restroom because he didn’t know what was going on. He thought someone was forcing me to wear the uniform. He didn’t hurt me. He’s my friend, this was all just a mistake. You have to believe me. He’s not a bad guy, this is my fault for not telling him what was going on. He was reacting to all this, the only way he knew how. Please don’t do anything to him.”

“Young lady, I understand perfectly what has transpired. There is the matter that he pulled you into the restroom against your will. Detained you there and was observed physically assaulting you.”

“He was just trying to protect me.” I protest. “I’ve known him almost my whole life, he wouldn’t hurt me. I… I was just scared. I was caught off guard. He was trying to make me get a hold of myself. Please don’t do anything that would… I don’t want to see another person hurt because of my prank.” A knock on the door.

“Are you finished, Miss Stewart?”

I slightly nod my head.

“Come in.” Dr. Corning announces.

“Mr. Brown’s parents are here.”

“Thank you, Ms. Wilkes. If you will excuse us, Miss Stewart?”

“Please let me stay, I can’t help but feel responsible for what happened earlier. Taylor’s parents deserve to hear an explanation from me. It would be unfair to Taylor for his parents not to hear what I have to say.”

“This is highly unusual. I will speak with Mr. Brown’s parents alone. Now, if you will excuse us, Miss Stewart.”

“Please, I can’t have my friend’s future…”

“Miss Stewart, you are trying my patience, I am aware of the impact that this would have. You have had your opportunity to speak, out of turn, I may add. I suggest you join Mr. Brown outside while I speak with his parents.”

My resolve has left me. I lower my head and walk slowly out the door.

“Please show Mr. Brown’s parents in.”

I pass Taylor’s parents on the way out to the lobby. They don’t recognize me. I take a seat opposite Taylor in the lobby area.

Taylor looks up at me. “Can you please tell me what’s going on? What happened to you in the last month? You disappear after school, you’re almost never home. You practically dropped off the face of the earth then show up to school in a girl’s cheerleader uniform?”

“I dropped off the planet? Where were you? I was alone for the last month. You were gone. I tried calling you a dozen times. You just ignored me.”

“I was pissed, I told you not to do it! You didn’t want to listen to me. What else was I supposed to do? I figured, if I lay low, I wouldn’t be caught up in the mess YOU made.”

“I’m sorry, Taylor. You’re wrapped up in this ‘mess’ because of me. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I tried my best to explain what happened to Dr. Corning, I’m not sure what would happen now.”

“I’m being expelled.”

“What?”

“Zero tolerance. Dr. Corning is informing my parents that I’m to be transferred to another school in the District.”

“That’s so unfair!”

“At least they can’t file criminal charges because I’m a minor.”

“Criminal Charges? This has gotten way out of hand.”

“That’s life, ‘little girl.’ Dr. Corning grilled me and after the tongue lashing from the pissed off cheer bitch and her ogre. I’m probably not welcomed at this school after ‘assaulting’ the school’s newest cheerleader. Now, can you please tell me what you are doing in a girl’s cheerleader uniform?”

“I’m a cheerleader. Well, at least I was one.” I say sadly.

“Why do you have to be a girl cheerleader?”

“I’m not, I borrowed Amber’s uniform because we were trying to honor the death of Coach T. I don’t have a uniform of my own.”

“How did you go from almost killing your sister to replacing her?”

“My folks and the coaches, They came up with this punishment. They thought it would…”

“Make a ‘man’ out of you?”

“Taylor!” I throw an angry glare at him.

“I know, I know…” he says with a smile.

“Anyway, they thought I could do all the charity and fundraising on Amber’s behalf so she could stay on the squad while she recovered.”

“So, you’re not a girl? I mean, not trying to be a girl?”

“No,” I say, crossing my legs.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Taylor, this is just to honor Coach T.” I felt myself getting flushed.

“And the hair?”

“Oh, you like it?” I turn my head from side to side. “Gina, Lisa’s cousin, did a wonderful job with it. They’re extensions. Cute, don’t you think?”

I garner a puzzled look from Taylor. “Are you sure there isn’t more to this?”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know… You’ve been acting weird, even for you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m still me.” I say with a huff.

“You? Dr. Corning has repeatedly been calling you ‘Miss Stewart’, and you don’t bat an eyelash, you freak out about being in the boy’s bathroom, and in the principal’s office, you rubbed my arm. You’re even pouting like a girl. Are you even aware that you’re sitting like one?”

I look down, I uncross my legs and try to splay my legs open. I look up to a smirking Taylor. My modesty takes over, and my legs cross again.

“You can’t even sit like a guy for even a second, can you?”

“Well, It doesn’t feel right to do that wearing a skirt.”

“You feel right wearing the skirt, but not without crossing your legs?” He shakes his head. “Look, I’m not here to judge you. I don’t know any more of what’s going on with you than you do. You had better start asking yourself some serious questions. Your actions have consequences. You’ve already seen that in action. Heck, so far, everyone you know has been hurt by your little prank. Imagine what pretending to be a girl would do. I’m being expelled. What else could happen?”

“Where are you going with this?”

“You need, to be honest with yourself.”

“What does that even mean? Everyone from Dr. Corning to the girls on the cheer squad has asked me to ‘be honest with myself.’ What could I possibly be lying to myself about?”

“Mr. Brown, Dr. Corning would like to see you now.” Janice Wilkes interrupts.

Taylor looks over at Janice then to me, “I have to go face the music for my choices. It’s time for you to grow up and face what’s going on in your life. Goodbye, Miss Stewart.”

“Bye Taylor,” I say sadly.

---

After a few minutes. Taylor and his parents emerge from Dr. Corning’s office, they’re speaking cordially with each other.

Taylor’s expression is downcast. He walks over to me with his parents trailing behind. “Aaron?”

“Taylor, what happened?”

“I’m sorry I pulled you into the bathroom, I’m also sorry that I pinned you against the wall and made you scared.”

“Taylor? What’s going to happen to you?”

Mr. Brown interjects. “Aaron, under the circumstances I think it best that you have no further interaction with Taylor.”

“What? No, you can’t do that! That’s not fair. This was a misunderstanding. He was trying to…”

“Aaron, we understand what Taylor’s intentions were, and you don’t need to explain yourself. What Taylor did was wrong, despite his intentions. He’s apologizing and is asking for forgiveness.”

“Taylor’s been expelled hasn’t he?” I ask rhetorically. Their faces tell me all I need to know. “Oh god Taylor, this is all my fault. I’m so sorry for making you so worried about me. I didn’t think. Please forgive me?” I walk over to Taylor and pull him into a hug and start sobbing on his shoulder. He’s caught off guard. He doesn’t move.

“Aaron, we have to take Taylor home now.” Taylor’s dad says plainly.

I pull away from Taylor who has a bewildered look on him. Taylor’s mother puts an arm around my shoulder and pulls me into a hug. “Aaron, sweetheart, you look very pretty in your uniform, and it’s sweet of you to apologize, but you have it all wrong. All of this is because of what Taylor did, and not because of who you are. You’re still welcome in our home, young lady. Okay? If you need to talk, I’m here for you.”

Even Taylor’s parents think I’m a girl? Has everyone gone nuts?

---

I’m told to take a seat in Dr. Corning’s office. At least my chair is warm.

Dr. Corning and Mrs. Yates enter the room. “Miss Stewart.” Dr. Corning begins. Mrs. Yates’ eyes go wide as she turns to Dr. Corning. “I want you to know that regardless of how you are dressed, it is not your fault. Okay? We do not tolerate that type of act upon our students.”

“Of course this is my fault!” I whine. “It’s all my fault. It’s my fault that Amber’s in the hospital! It was my stupid prank that got me into cheerleading. It was my fault that I’m in a cheerleader’s uniform!” With each exclamation, my voice raises an octave. “It was my fault for making Taylor worry about me! It was my fault for being so vulnerable to be pulled into the boy’s bathroom! It’s my fault that I’m crying like a girl!” Tears spill from my eyes. I let out a high-pitched yelp before breaking down again.

Dr. Corning rushes over to me, pulls me into her. I’m crying violently now. How can all of this be anything, but my fault! She’s rubbing my back trying to calm me. Each wail out of me pierces through me. I cry myself into exhaustion.

“Shhh. Shhh. It’s alright, sweetheart, It’s going to be alright.” Dr. Corning waits for me to calm down. I’m embarrassed at being so emotional. My lungs burn from my wailing, and my cheeks are raw. My makeup is all but washed off. A few more minutes go by as I pull another tissue from the box that rests on my lap. “Miss Stewart, are you feeling any better now?”

I nod my head.

“Young lady,” Dr. Corning addresses me. “I want you to listen very carefully to me. Can you do that?”

Again, I nod my head.

“You must not blame yourself for this. Okay? Mr. Brown should have had more respect for you as a student and as a young lady to abuse you in any way.”

“But…”

“No buts, Miss Stewart, you did nothing to deserve being treated that way.” Dr. Corning tries to reassure me. “Do you believe me?”

I nod my head.

Mrs. Yates turns to Dr. Corning. “Gloria, I’d like to speak with Miss Stewart alone for a few minutes?”

“Of course, I’ll be right outside.” Dr. Corning walks towards the doorway and pulls the door gingerly closed. The door shuts with a muffled thud.

“First off, Aaron, May I call you Aaron or is there another name you prefer?”

“Aaron is fine,” I say, my fingers running along the perforated opening of the tissue box.

“Aaron, I want you to know that whatever you tell me is strictly between you and me. Unless I have reason to believe that you may harm yourself or others, I cannot share what is said here with anyone else, not your parents, your teachers, or Dr. Corning. Is that alright?” her voice is soft and nurturing.

“Okay.”

“To be honest, I was a bit surprised when Dr. Corning said your name. You looked like a completely different person from the young man I met yesterday.”

“I’m curious, How do you feel when she refers to you as a female? Does that bother you to be referred to as a female?”

“Well, no. I’m sure people are reacting to how I look.”

“Do you like how you look?”

“I’m just glad I don’t look like a boy in a dress.”

“You certainly don’t. I love what you did with your hair. Extensions?”

“Oh yes, Lisa’s cousin Gina did a wonderful job on it. It's so pretty, isn’t it? I thought we should have gone with a wig, but I was wrong, this looks really natural. Don’t you think?”

“Yes, You look lovely in a cheer uniform.”

I feel the corners of my mouth edge slightly upward.

“Is that your uniform?” Her question posed ever so gently.

“No, I borrowed Amber's.”

“I see, have you ever borrowed any other clothing from Amber?”

I shake my head, “No.”

“How do you feel about wearing it?

“I don’t know, sad I guess. Amber really should be the one wearing this, it’s her uniform after all.”

“May I ask, why you are wearing it?”

“The girls and I thought it would be a nice tribute to Coach T, for us to wear the uniform to school.”

“You don’t have a uniform of your own?”

“No, I only recently joined the squad, after Amber was hurt.”

“I see, we’ll touch on that in a bit. Do you like how you look wearing the uniform?”

“At first it felt… I kind of felt naked wearing it. I mean, it shows so much skin.” I cross my legs, and the tissue box falls and smacks the floor. I close my eyes, shake my head, uncross my legs, then reach down to pick up the tissue box and lay it on Dr. Corning’s Desk. “Sorry.”

“How did you feel as the day wore on?”

“It took some time to get used to it, Ellie had to tell me to stop pulling at the hem of my skirt a few times on the walk to school.”

“I have to commend you for being brave enough to come to school wearing a girl’s cheer uniform to honor Coach T. Aside from the incident with Taylor this afternoon. How have you been treated?”

“People have treated me differently all day. I thought I’d be seen as a weirdo. Some guy in a cheerleader outfit. But it’s been different.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“On one hand, people have been friendlier to me than they ever have. A few complimented me on how pretty I was in my uniform.” I can’t stop the grin on my face. “On the other hand,” I feel my smile begin to wilt. “I'm not used to this much attention. The incident in the bathroom with Taylor showed me how vulnerable I was. All I could think about at the moment was how afraid I was.” I feel the anxiety building within me. I cross my arms over my chest, and my knees are squeezing together. “When I was pulled into the bathroom, it wasn’t Taylor that pulled me in there. I mean it was Taylor, but to me?” I cringe. “It was some guy that pulled me into a place where…” I hug myself tighter. “I wouldn’t be able to stop him…” I look up feeling distraught. “Do you know what that’s like?”

“For someone in your position…”

“My position? This entire day, people have treated me like a girl, as if it as the most natural thing in the world. People had been asking me to be honest with myself. Asking if this is who I really am. Some were even happy that I was no longer ‘hiding.’ I don’t know what to make of it. What I do know is that I…”

I start to recall how I felt when Taylor grabbed me, The shock of being pulled against my will. The fear of the unknown consequences of donning a girl’s uniform, in concert with feeling so naked. Then to have Taylor pin me against the wall and not knowing what would happen next. That nobody was there to stop him. “I don’t want to be that vulnerable. I don’t want to be that helpless. I don’t ever want to be that scared!” I cover my face with my hand hanging my head, sobbing. I quietly utter, “This has been the best and worst day of my life.”

Mrs. Yates gives me a moment to calm down.

“Aaron, you’ve been through a lot. Not just today but at least the last month. You’re in a new school, your sister was injured, and you feel responsible. You were forced on to the squad and then was removed. Your coach passed away, and you were assaulted on your first day at school dressed as a young lady. That’s a lot for anyone to handle. You are under a lot of stress. That stress is something that will continue to build unless you find a way to manage it.”

“How would I do that?”

“You could work with a counselor, someone you feel comfortable speaking with.”

“Aren’t you the counselor?”

“Well yes and no. I’m only contracted with the district on an as-needed basis. There isn’t enough money to staff a counselor full time for the district let alone each school.”

“Oh, I don’t think my parents can afford a therapist. We’re barely making ends meet as it is.”

“How about this? I’ll give you my card, and you can have your parents call me, maybe we can work something out. In the meantime, I’m contracted for the next week, so we can meet either during lunch or after school if you would like.” She hands me one of her cards. Then I realize the uniform doesn’t have any pockets.

“I’d like that.” I sheepishly accept the card.

“I have to ask, do you intend to continue dressing as a young woman?”

“No, it was just supposed to be for today.”

There is a soft knock on the door. Dr. Corning peeks her head in. “How are things going in here?”

Mrs. Yates walks over to Dr. Corning, “Gloria, may I speak with you for a moment?”

“Of course, Teresa.”

“Oh, Miss Stewart? I believe you left this in the Nurse’s office.” Dr. Corning holds out my backpack which I accept happily.

I place the card in the backpack pouch. “I have to use the restroom, may I?”

“You may use the restroom by the nurse’s office, but return here afterward.” Dr. Corning says to me, looking at the clock on her wall.

I use the commode which is definitely cleaner than the ones in the ladies room. Sitting just to pee is kind of odd for me, but it’s better than splashing my bare legs.

I walk over to the mirror. My makeup is a mess. That irks me for some reason. I grab a paper towel from the dispenser and wet it at the sink. I dab the areas under my eyes, where dark streaks from my tears had dried. I gently dab at my cheeks as well. My lips are a mess. I walk over to my backpack and retrieve the lipgloss. I walk over to the mirror and smooth a coat of the lacquer on my lips as I hear a knock on the door.

“Aaron?” Dr. Corning peeks her head in. She spies me at the mirror. She watches me as if studying me, She waits for me to finish. I close the tube of lipgloss and turn around and give her a slightly embarrassed smile.

“Sorry, Dr. Corning. I was just…” I cast my eyes downward. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“Nonsense, Miss Stewart, you don’t have to apologize… It’s perfectly natural for a young lady to want to make herself presentable. Now, please follow me to my office will you? I’d like to continue our conversation.”

I walk with Dr. Corning to her office. Mrs. Yates is already there. Dr. Corning takes a seat at her desk, and I take my seat this time remembering to tuck my skirt under me and cross my legs with my fingers laced over my knee. I take a deep breath. “Okay.”

I’m not sure what was said. They asked me questions, and I answered. I kept thinking about all the people that my prank had hurt. I needed to make it up to them, I just didn’t know how. I thought going to the field to watch practice would help clear my head.

I found the field empty. I had forgotten that there was no coach to supervise the practice and give access to the locker rooms.

I started the day surrounded by the girls on the squad. I felt like I was one of them, part of a team. They had accepted me into their fold. Defended me, rallied around me when I was assaulted. I felt the bond with them grow and the pain of watching Ellie's anguish from her realization of what might have happened to her from my actions.

I needed to repair the chasm between Amber and me. I needed bridge the gulf growing between Ellie and me. I needed my sisters. I have not returned their kindness. Perhaps, it took losing the people close to me to realize how important they are to me. They had been so selfless towards me. Taylor risked his future in trying to help me. Ellie risked the ire of the squad in reaching out to me. Monica risked the respect of the squad by welcoming me in. I’ve done nothing to be worthy of their kindness. It's time I changed that.

At day’s end, I’m looking out on an empty field. Is this what the future holds without a coach? Is there still a squad? I need them so much. Sadly, I leave the field and start my long walk home. Alone.

---

Author's note: I hope you all don't mind the early and longer chapter. I knew I didn't have web access on Monday to upload this chapter, so I posted it early. I'll resume the Monday posting schedule with Chapter 13. Thank you all for reading, commenting, and encouraging this story along.

Special thanks to those that PM'd me with their input on how to improve this story. I love you all for taking an interest and helping to make me become a better writer!

Hugs!
Leila

I’m scared to walk home alone. After the events of today, I don’t want to be alone. I reach the gate that exits the school grounds, and I eye it nervously. Come on Aaron. You’ve done this before. It’s just a walk home. I don’t know why I’m so apprehensive about walking home alone. I’m not used to being this paranoid. What did I think would happen to me? I look down at my skirt. My legs bare to the no-show socks. My heart is pounding. My stomach is in knots.

I was supposed to walk home with Ellie. I wish I hadn't made her so mad at me. I’m figuratively kicking myself for doing so.

The open gate seems to taunt me. ‘A man would have no problems walking home alone. You’re not one are you?’

I shake my head trying to steel myself. Was I starting to think of myself as a girl? Monica’s words haunt me. ‘You don’t honestly see her as a boy do you? Do any of you?’ I wasn’t a man, at least I wasn’t thinking like one.

“Hey!” A voice from behind me. He startles me.

I let out a high pitched yelp. Embarrassed, I bring my hands to cup my mouth.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

My heartbeat is racing. I turn and freeze.

“Are you alright? I’m Marcus by the way.” he grins, sending me retreating a step or two.

“Hey, I didn't mean to scare you. You’re that new cheerleader, right? Erin? Do I have that right?”

My name sounds different when he says it. “Um yes, that’s right,” I reply, rather nervously.

“Are you waiting for some friends of yours?”

“Yes, I think the other members of the squad should be heading home. I was going to join them.”

“Actually, Allison told me they were going to practice in McKinley Park this afternoon. Shouldn’t you be headed there yourself?”

“I…”

“Look, Allison is my girlfriend, if you’re worried about me. Here.” Marcus pulls out his cell phone and hands it to me. The lock screen has a photo of him and her together in the display. Aww. They make a cute couple. “See? I love that picture of us. It was at the Labor Day carnival a few weeks back.” A message on his phone comes up:

Ally: Hey babe, can you pick up a few bottles of water for us?

“Um, I think you have a text.” I hand Marcus back the phone.

He texts back a reply. Marcus shoves the phone in his pocket and turns to me. “Hey, if you are headed to the park, I can walk with you; I mean if you’re worried about walking there alone.”

An escort would be nice. Plus it gives me a chance to speak with Ellie. Perhaps the girls have calmed her down. I accept the offer. I probably wouldn’t have had it not been for Allison’s text message.

“So how did you end up as a cheerleader in your freshman year?”

“How did you know I was a freshman?”

“Aside from the fact that you wear almost no makeup for a cheerleader, and look like your 12?”

“I’m thirteen, I’ll be fourteen in a month.”

“Fair enough. None of the girls were cheerleaders in freshman year, at least none that I’ve heard of. You must really be talented.”

“My sister Amber is on the squad. Well, at least she was before she got hurt.”

“I heard that too. I’ve got to say, you must have been really jealous to pull that prank on your own sister. I didn’t know girls would do that to each other.”

“I was stupid. I’m paying for it now.”

“Oh jeez, it must be real hell being a pretty girl on the cheerleading squad, huh? Yeah, you’re really paying for it…” his words drip with sarcasm. He flashes me a smile. “At least you’re over that tomboy phase.”

I thought of breaking the news to him that I wasn’t a girl. I wasn’t sure how he’d take the news that I was really a boy. “It’s hard work being on the squad. And it’s not like I had a choice. Amber would have lost her spot on the squad if I didn’t join.”

“Cry me a river, princess. I’ve seen you at practice. You loved being on the squad.” He says with almost a chortle. “Come on, Ally and the squad are waiting.”

We stop by a convenience store to pick up some bottles of water. I don’t have any money, but Marcus kindly offers me a bottle of water. Just as he’s about to hand it to me, he pulls it away, he twists the cap off with his thumb and index finger while holding the bottle with his palm and three remaining fingers. His other hand was holding the bag filled with bottles of water. I’m impressed. He hands the bottle back to me. He murmurs a “Sorry.”

Having Marcus there to walk me to the park calmed me, much like Ellie did on the way to school. Marcus said very little after leaving the convenience store. He occasionally brought his own bottle of water to his lips to gulp down a mouthful.

---

We approached the park. I could see the girls in their uniforms. Six of them were in formation. Ellie sits at one of the park benches watching the squad run through their routine. It struck me as odd that she wouldn’t be part of the formation. It was then that I remembered she was made an ‘alternate’ since the squad was officially reduced to six. When Amber was removed from the squad, Ellie was made an alternate. That must be why she was so mad about the prank. She was upset at being made an alternate. Being sidelined meant she wouldn’t be able to perform with the girls. She would be relegated to watching the squad. She must have felt like an outcast. Her reason for being mad at me came into focus. My heart sank.

“Oh good, you made it.” Monica smiles at me. “I’m glad you came, we’re practicing the routine. When Amber was officially taken off the squad we had to re-choreograph it for six. So you and Ellie don’t really need to do anything but watch.” My eyes drift towards Ellie. Her sad expression sours further. At least she hasn’t turned the squad against me.

Allison smiles and runs over to Marcus giving him a kiss. “You are a life saver.” She grabs a bottle of water from the plastic bag, and the rest of the girls approached us leaving Ellie behind to smolder.

I walk over towards Ellie. Her stare could burn through steel. The girls are drinking and chatting, trying to relax.

“Ellie, I’m sorry I didn’t realize…” I start, “But, you have to believe me,” I murmur. “I didn’t mean for all this to happen when I pulled the prank. You’re like a sister to me. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

She looks at me, her eyes cold and hurt. “And we know how well you treat your own sister, don’t we.” She walks past me to join the rest of the squad. It feels like a knife was plunged into my heart. I have my back to the squad. It hides the tears I’m now shedding. I lower my head and walk away from the squad. I’m in a daze.

Why did I come here? What was I expecting? I take off running as fast as I can, trying to outrun the pain. It stalks me. I slow as I pass the community center. There’s nobody in the office. The doors are closed. I round the corner of the building. My heart still aching from Ellie’s allusion to Amber, her fall, and my prank. I rest my back against the red brick wall. It's the only thing holding me upright. My fingers trace the crease between bricks behind me, the flood of tears pours out of me as my anguish pulls me to the ground.

My fit of sobbing subsides. I stare through bloodshot eyes at the playground in the distance. The breeze picks up, rustling the trees as the leaves fall. I hear the scrape of fallen leaves on the concrete of the playground. Ellie hurt me. It was more than I thought possible. The wind sends the swings in motion. They pendulum in the distance. I thought back on the first day I met the squad here at McKinley Park. That first encounter with Lisa and Cindy. The note that Monica left at my door. How I sat on the swing trying to contemplate the loneliness of my life. At that point, the note seemed to be my lifeline. A connection? What did I have left? The swings beckon me.

As I push myself up off the ground, I lethargically approach the swings and have a seat on one of them. I was hoping that somehow, it would cheer me up. I swing lazily back and forth as my shoes burrow into the sand. I kick up some sand with my feet and watch it rain back down. I rest my head on the cold, rusted chain on the swing. I feel my finger run over the links up and down as I look around. I feel my chest tighten. I’m alone again. I hated being alone. Taylor’s gone, my sister won’t talk to me, my parents ignore me, Ellie hates me, and I hate me. What’s left? Ellie was my last chance to salvage what little I had in the way of true friends. There was nobody left. There’s nobody here. Nobody cares. Nobody to stop me. I look up at the long chain suspended by the cross arm. I stand and wrap the chain around my hand and pull.

I pull the swing with me as I approach the adjacent swing. I only need the chain. I’m not even sure that it’s me doing this, my head clouded with despair. I stand on the saddle of the swing, balancing myself on it. I feel the cold chain of the free swing wrap around me like a scarf. Once, Twice, Thrice… All I need is for my feet to give way. My tennis shoe slides off the plastic rubber seat. I feel the chain tighten around my neck. I gasp for air but to no avail. My vision fades. I feel myself slowly suffocate, everything slowly goes dark.

I hear the faint sound of birds in the distance and the wind through the trees. I’m not expecting anyone to come looking for me. Why should they?

---

Darkness. I feel like I’m supine, being pulled upward as If levitating. I’m dead, I know it There is nothing touching me. Like I’m held in midair. I’m falling.

I hear crying. I shouldn’t hear anything, should I? I hear it. It’s faint, but it’s still there.

Silence.

---

I still see nothing.

“How could she? Was it so bad?” The voices are all around me.

“Didn’t she try to talk to someone?” a voice to my left.

“Anybody knows why?” a different voice to my right.

Silence.

---

A voice in the darkness… “Hey, here goes nothing.” Taylor?

I pick my head up. My vision comes into focus. I'm laying on the grass. “What happened?”

“What do you mean, ‘What happened?’ Nothing happened.” Taylor’s voice reverbs next to me. My head jerks towards him. He’s laying on the grass with his hands crossed behind his head.

“How did I get off the swing? Why am I not dead.” I’m trying to find my bearings.

“The swing? Dead? Erin, what are you talking about?”

“I… I was on the swing. At the park? You… YOU were expelled.”

“I was expelled for you being on the swing?”

“No, for pulling me into the men’s room.”

“Why would I pull you into the men’s room? The women’s would be cleaner…” his brows raise and lower rapidly.

“Cleaner? for what?”

“Never-mind that, you said ‘I was expelled?’ That must have sucked.”

“Yes, Dr. Corning expelled you for pulling me into the men’s room. They thought you assaulted me.”

“Erin, why would anyone think that I assaulted you?”

“Because you grabbed me.” I reach for my wrist to caress it. “Then, you pulled me into the restroom to ask me why I was wearing the cheerleader uniform.”

“You? A cheerleader? Like, ‘Rah-Rah, go, fight, win?’ kind of cheerleader?” He mockingly punches his fist in the air.

I glare at him.

“Sorry, it’s hard to imagine you as a cheerleader. You were never exactly the school spirit type of girl.”

“I’m not a girl”

“You could have fooled me. You kiss like one.”

“Gross! What’s the matter with you?”

“Gross? What’s gotten into you.” He picks his head off the grass, eyeing me curiously.

“Me? Why would you even joke about kissing me?”

“Joke? Who’s joking.” He leans into me and I pull back.

“What are you doing?”

“I was trying to kiss my girlfriend. Hey, are we having a fight? Did I do something wrong?”

I look into his eyes and feel my heart flutter. “No… What was I saying?”

He moves in towards me and I close my eyes. Everything goes dark.

Silence.

---

I feel myself rise again, I can’t move. Coldness washes over me. It fills me and fades.

I hear more crying.

“I’m so sorry baby, I didn’t know. I should have been paying attention. We saw the note in your backpack. We didn’t know you were unhappy being a boy. Come back to us my darling girl.”

Mom? Is that you? Mom? The note? Dr. Corning’s note? NO! I try to speak the words, I should be talking, but no air pushes through my lungs. My larynx is still. No air passes out of my mouth.

Silence.

---

“Please, come back to us. I love you.”

Amber? her voice is tired.

Silence.

---

A flash of light.

“It’s been a month already. There’s still brain activity. We don’t know when or if she will wake. These things take time.” I’m not sure who is saying that, but I’m convinced that I didn’t succeed in taking my own life. I don’t know whether I should be sad or relieved?

Silence.

---

I’m bit disoriented. I’m sitting up. I think I’m on top of a bed. I feel a tug on my hair. I open my eyes. “Honestly, Erin. You really should take better care of your hair. It’s all knotted up back here.”

“Mom?”

“Yes, honey. Hold still. This mat of hair you’ve got here is tough to straighten out.” I feel another tug on my hair.

I’m sitting on a bed in a room that is completely unfamiliar to me. The room is definitely feminine, but it’s not Amber’s. “What happened? Wasn’t I in the hospital or something?”

“Erin, honey you’ve been here with me this whole time. What are you talking about young lady?”

“Young lady? I’m not a girl. Mom.”

“Not a girl? Erin sweetheart, where would you come up with such foolishness?

“I was born a boy. why are you treating me like a girl?”

“You a boy? You were never anything but my precious baby girl. Now sit still, if I don’t get these knots out of your hair we won’t be able to do a thing with it.”

My vision starts to fade I close my eyes and try to relax.

I feel myself being pulled upward again. I feel a chill radiate through me. I don’t feel like I have control over my body. I can’t move my arms or legs even though I know they should be as I try to flail them. I start falling, the speed of my descent more rapid with each second. It feels like an eternity. I’m slowing, but nothing breaks my fall.

Silence.

---

I see more flashes of light randomly placed. It pierces the darkness, but there's no sound. It feels like I’m in a pool, floating to the surface.

“I’m so sorry, please come back to us. We miss you. I miss you.”

Ellie? Ellie please forgive me. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. I’m so sorry.

Silence.

---

I smell roses.

“Are you still in there? Sorry, I haven’t visited for a while. School has been hectic. People are still asking how my sister is doing. I’m still getting used to that. Please hear me. I love you.”

Amber, I love you too.

Silence.

---

It feels like I’m swallowing, but nothing moves in or out of my throat.

“Mom and Dad say that I have to face the fact that you may not be coming back to us.”

Amber? Have you been crying?

“I know you could hear me. Just like I heard you. You said ‘I need you.’ Please come back to us. I need my sister too. Please come back to us. I love you so much.”

Sister? Did Amber just call me her sister?

I feel something grasp my hand. I feel a squeeze. I feel myself squeeze back.

“She squeezed my hand! She squeezed my hand! Dad!”

“She’s not moving, maybe it was involuntary?” It sounds like dad.

“No. You've got to believe me. She squeezed my hand!”

“Amber, honey you’ve got to calm down.” Mom chimes in from across the room.

“I’m not going to calm down! I’m telling you she squeezed my hand!”

“Sis, please for me, squeeze, one more time!” Amber pleads with me. I sense the desperation in her voice. “Please, I didn't imagine it. You have to believe me.”

“Sorry. I don’t feel anything. Are you sure?” another voice I’m not familiar with.

I’m trying to squeeze. Nothing is happening.

“Sis, please squeeze for me. Please, I miss you so much.” Amber pleads. “You can hear me, I know it. Please, show us you hear me!”

“Honey, you’ve been here all day, perhaps you should get some rest.” I think that was Mom again.

“No, I know what I felt!” Amber’s voice grows more desperate, “I know she can hear me. I’m not leaving.” She’s begging me, "I know it’s been hard and I know you may not want to be with us. But, I love you so much. Please show us you can hear us. Please!”

Squeeze, I have to squeeze…

It seems like it’s night. The lights are dim. I see machines glow in the distance. My vision is fuzzy, so the lights are a radiating blur rather than something distinct. I try to raise my right arm, but something holds them down. A cuff on my wrist. I try the same with my left wrist. A cuff on my wrist there too. I’m tied down and immediately go into a panic. My heart rate spikes and alarms go off. A flash of light from beyond the bed to my right and a shadowy figure enters. I try to scream, but it comes out as a slight whimper. I’m struggling against the restraints. “You’re okay, please calm down. I need you to calm down for me. You’re restrained for your own safety.”

I’m so scared. I’m panicking. I can’t breathe.

The lights flash on. A woman with gray hair wearing a faded green smock similar to the ones at the hospital is trying to calm me down. Is this real? “You’ve got to calm down for me sweetheart.”

Everything goes black.

---

My head is pounding. I’m groggy. My eyes open slowly adjusting to the light in the room. Is any of this real? I’m still in a hospital room, at least that’s the last thing I remember. The room is sparse. There’s only a TV mounted from the ceiling. There’s a machine to my left that looks like it’s monitoring my heartbeat. I can’t turn my head to get a better look. There something preventing me from turning my head. I’d pinch myself, but my arms are restrained.

There’s a door at the far end of the room to my right, My mouth is dry, and my throat is sore. I try to swallow, but there is some resistance there. A nurse enters the room. She’s in a smock and brightly colored pants. To be honest, I can only guess I’m in a hospital. The dreams were very vivid. I wonder how much of it actually happened?

I think the nurse is aware that I’m awake. “Try not to move, we don’t want you fainting like you did last night. The doctor will be in shortly.” The nurse has a cheery disposition almost effervescent.

Another figure enters the room. A tall man, with glasses, his dark hair parted in a crew cut. He initiates a conversation with the nurse. They speak quietly so I can’t hear them. He's wearing a white lab coat with a powdered blue smock underneath and pants to match. He looks up at something above me, then at the metal clipboard in his hand. He slowly walks towards my bedside. “I’m Doctor Myers. I’ll be joined by Doctor Cho in a minute.”

He runs me through a battery of diagnostics. He’s almost mechanical in his movements almost as if he is diagnosing a chemistry experiment gone wrong than treating a patient. I had to ‘blink once for yes and twice for no.' He told me to do so since my neck and throat suffered some injury, most of which has yet to fully heal. The feeding tube up my nose and down my throat was a detail I could have lived without. Dr. Myers raised the bed and proceeded to remove the collar around my neck saying that it was a ‘precautionary measure they used on patients with neck and spinal injuries.’

“Feel better?”

I give a slight nod forgetting to blink. I try to swallow, and I feel the pain immediately. The doctor sees my distress. He tells me the pain will decrease over time.

Another man, Asian, with gray hair enters the room. He must be Dr. Cho. He has a kind face compared to that of Dr. Myers who was more stoic. They converse away from me. I can’t really make out what they have to say to each other. Dr. Myers takes his leave, and Dr. Cho approaches. He smiles at me warmly. I smile back. He reminds me of my grandfather. Well, Mom’s dad, who had a very sunny disposition. “I’m Doctor Cho. I’m the staff psychologist here. I’m here to help if you’ll let me, okay?” He has a radiant smile that you can’t say ‘no’ to. I nod my assent. Dr. Cho released my restraints, and I rub my wrists. No sooner than he has a chance to sit down, he is called away on an emergency, leaving me to sit in the empty room.

My thoughts grow darker as the nurse re-enters the room. “Would you like to watch some television?” she asks.

She shows me how to use the call pendant to control the TV and signal for assistance. It also controls the bed.

Powering on the TV, the first channel I see is the news. It’s October. I’ve been unconscious for over a month. A news story catches my attention.

The Principal at Bay View High School is under investigation for possible misconduct after one of the male students was allegedly assigned to the all-girls cheerleading squad and even attended classes as a girl. The story came to light after it was reported that the student, who’s name has been withheld, had attempted suicide by hanging from the chain of a swing at a local park. The student was still wearing a girl’s cheerleading uniform when found. We have also learned that the student was assaulted by another student earlier that day in a separate incident. Interviews with some students revealed that the cheerleader was forced on the squad as punishment after a prank had gone awry. The District has issued this statement:

We are saddened and outraged at the recent events at Bay View High School. The District is cooperating with investigators, and the Principal has been placed on administrative leave pending a full investigation.

It is unclear whether the Principal was, herself, involved in the assignment of the student to the cheerleading squad and what role the coaches and students on the squad played in this bizarre story.

The student did survive the attempted suicide and is being treated at a local area hospital.

I turned off the TV. I wasn’t expecting that it would go that far. Dr. Corning may lose her job, and the girls would be vilified. I couldn’t imagine that so much would go wrong when I started. My suicide attempt, another in a line of events that hurt others. It seems that everything I do lately hurts someone. A wave of guilt washes over me.

The darkness grew within me. Had death claimed me, I would have escaped what further humiliation lay before me. Had I fallen into death’s embrace, I couldn’t harm anyone anymore. Had I accepted death’s kiss, I wouldn’t hurt anymore. Even death didn’t love me enough to spirit me away from my life now so fraught with so much anguish. Karma?

If I couldn’t take my own life. What else could I do with it? It didn’t matter that the news did not share my name. Everyone at the school knew. Would I return to my position of ignominy? Would I again be the pariah? Would I continue to hurt more people? Could I escape… Me?

I put down the pendant controls and notice the white band on my wrist. I recognized the band as one Amber wore on her wrist when I visited her in the hospital. I examined it carefully.
STEWART, ERIN

E-R-I-N? There must be some mistake.

A head peeked into my room. “Hey? I heard you were awake.” Amber?

She approaches my bedside. “It’s a bit different from that side of the bed isn’t it?” Her voice has a touch of sadness. She’s talking to me? Wasn’t she still mad at me?

I couldn’t look up at her. I stared at the white hospital band on my wrist.

“You look different with long hair. You could be Ellie’s twin, did you know that? After you… After you were rescued. Ellie quit the squad, and she won’t talk to anyone; not even me. No one knows why.”

I close my eyes trying not to remember Ellie's last words to me. They flashed in my head in spite of myself.

“I’m back in school. Everyone misses you. They keep asking me how my sister is doing. I’m still trying to get used to that.”

I sit there silent. Not knowing what to say, I'm engulfed in my inability to end my own life.

“Mom and Dad are outside. They’re talking with the doctors that are treating you. Mom’s taking it all pretty hard, you know. She’s really concerned that all this is her fault.”

I close my eyes.

“I’m not on the squad anymore, either. The doctors say I can’t do anything strenuous for at least a year and I don’t think the doctors will ever clear me to even play sports again. I’ve spent more time with Lisa since I’ve been back. She told me about what happened to her and why she can’t cheer anymore. She told me not to say anything. She says ‘hi.' by the way.”

I don't know why, but I can't bring myself to respond.

“Erin, please say something. I don’t understand any of this. Were you that jealous of me? Was that why you pulled the prank? They all said how much of a different person you once were. They were glad you came out of your shell and finally showed yourself as a girl.”

All that from a single day? From a single day dressed as a cheerleader, they all formed that opinion of me? Was it that easy?

“Was that it? You wanted to be a girl? Did it hurt that much being a boy? Please talk to me. Erin? Sis?”

I open my mouth to speak. Amber pauses and waits for what I have to say. I take a breath. I whisper dry and monotone. “Why am I not dead?” It’s more a lament than a question.

The question stuns Amber. I watch her shudder. I see tears well in her eyes. Her words have left her. She slowly turns and walks away into the arms of our dad. He pulls her into an embrace as she sobs. “It’s okay, Amber.” Dad rubs her back to soothe her. “Can you go wait in the lobby?”

Amber looks up at our dad, nods and makes her way to the door closing it behind her.

Dad walks to my bedside. “How are you holding up?”

“I…” I feel my throat begin to burn as soon as I try to speak. I swallow to clear my throat only to be greeted with a sharp pain. I try to push through the pain. “it hurts to talk.”

“I gathered that. Look honey…”

I knit my brows together at the pseudonym reserved for my sister Amber.

“It’s alright. We know about you going to school as a girl. We probably should have explored why you were so isolated growing up. It’s our fault for… for not keeping up with how you were doing. It does make sense that you would be embarrassed to show us who you really are.”

I don’t know what to say. I’m not sure if there is anything to say.

Dad continues, “I probably should have seen it. That discussion on the drive to the hospital to visit Amber… The one about you wanting to be a cheerleader makes more sense now. You were trying to open up to me about wanting to be a girl. I… I guess I wasn’t listening close enough.”

I try to recall the discussion. I don’t think there was anything that I said that even hinted that I wanted to be a girl.

He takes my hand in his, “Honey, we still love you. I’m just a bit shocked that it happened so quickly. Sweetheart, you don’t have to hide this from us.”

He’s treating me like Amber. I don’t know why, but I’m starting to cry.

“Don’t cry, baby girl. We’ve worked it out with the hospital that you should be treated as a girl just like Dr. Corning did with you at school. It’s a small step, but we’re working with the counselor that has been helping you. Evelyn Yates? We found her card along with Dr. Corning’s note. We called Evelyn to try to find out more. When we told her that you had attempted to take your own life, she confirmed for us that she had spoken with you.”

I try to rub the tears away from my eyes. Dad grabs a tissue from somewhere and begins to dab at my eyes. He’s only been this gentle with Amber. I start to blush from his show of affection.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. We only want you to be happy. Your friends seem to think that you were happy when you came out as a girl. They were all shocked as much as we were that you would take your own life. We were just lucky that Marcus went looking for you.”

A soft knock on the door. Mom joins Dad at my bedside. They share a look, and he walks out. “I’m so sorry you had to go so far to show us who you are. My darling daughter, you must have been in so much pain. I want you to know that we’re here for you. I have to admit that we know next to nothing about transgenderism, but I’m willing to learn to understand what you have been going through. The doctors say that suicide is pretty common for girls like yourself. I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“I can’t be a girl,” I say straining my voice.

“Baby, we’ll do everything we can to support you. I’d rather my daughter be alive than my son, dead.” My mom’s words to me were more cryptic than I could fathom. She grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. “I’ll check on you later okay, darling?”

I nod as the pain in my throat subsides. She turns and leaves me with my thoughts. Mom, Dad, and Amber were so ready to accept me as a girl. They are willing to support me along that path. What did I have as a boy? Even in my darkest moments, my family had little or no affection or real concern for Aaron.

Despite the incidents with Taylor and Ellie, that day was one of the first days I felt positive about myself. Was it better to live as Erin, a girl everyone liked and have the support of family and friends? I knew Aaron wouldn’t have the support of either. Even if 'he' returned, they'd all want to see 'her' or wonder what happened to 'her'. Aaron was nobody, a loner who hated himself and could not make any friends. Erin made friends quickly, she was treated well at school, and everyone rallied around her when she needed their support.

In a moment of clarity, I made my decision. Aaron died on the swing, alone and friendless. Erin was rescued by people who wanted to save her. She was the one that woke up this morning. She is the one who survived. I look again at the white band on my wrist. E-R-I-N, I'd better get used to that.

---

Author’s note. This concludes Part 2 of The Squad. The direction of this story has departed far away from my original vision. The new course of the story left me little choice but to scrap my original ideas for the concluding part this story.

With that, I will be taking a hiatus before releasing Part 3, so that I may give this story a proper conclusion. I’m learning so much about the writing process. I hope that all your input and advice pays off in future stories.

Sorry to my anxious readers, you have all been so great for reading, commenting, and encouraging this work. I know that this story is nothing without you, the readers. I will try to keep the break as brief as I can.

I love you all!
Hugs,
Leila

It has been such a long time since all this started. I poured through the memories in my head of the last two and a half months. The air horn prank that I pulled on Amber and Ellie. Amber falling through the trio of cheerleaders who were propping her up. The ambulance taking my sister away to a hospital where she laid in a coma for almost a month. Joining the cheer squad as a temporary cheerleader, my punishment for my prank. The threat that if I didn’t improve or quit, I would be expelled from school. The loneliness of being a social outcast, compounded by my parents abandoning me so they may care for Amber and be by her bedside while she was unconscious.

My thoughts then turned to Ellie and Lisa and how they were becoming closer to me than even Taylor, who was supposed to be my best friend. I also recalled the joy of improving and being part of the squad. My emotional speech to the squad hoping that they would find the kindness to forgive me and accept me as one of them.

My thoughts then turned to being kicked off the squad by Dr. Corning who thought it an injustice that I was being forced against my will because of the impromptu punishment that my parents and Coach Tompkins devised. It just seemed to get worse from there. Amber’s rejection of my apology, her silence towards me. Then there is my aborted plea to Monica to rejoin the squad.

Coach Tompkins death lead to a bittersweet series of events. The announcement brought pain and sadness of her death, but also opened Monica’s heart to allow me to share in the squad’s mourning. I never thought I would be so hurt and healed at the same time when Monica pulled me into the squad’s embrace after learning of Coach T’s death. Then seeing the heartbreak on Lisa’s face when she realized that she wasn’t included when we were all told of Coach T’s death. That reminded me of the isolation she felt by not being part of the squad.

I remember looking at myself in Ellie’s mirror while wearing Amber’s uniform. It was a feeling so intense I could barely fathom what it meant. I remember the apprehension I felt walking to school in Amber’s uniform with Ellie at my side. Seeing the young woman I could be, I was shown another possibility for my life, one where I was someone else entirely. The thought was there in the back of my mind... I thought of myself as someone people could accept, but it wasn't Aaron, it was the pretty young girl wearing her sister's cheer uniform. Monica, the squad, the students… even Dr. Corning and the teachers were so ready to accept me as any other teenage girl. I thought my life was turning a corner. I thought for all of the bad; I could handle what was to come because I had good friends like Ellie and Lisa.

There is an uneasiness of being something you never were. I was never dressed as a girl, treated as a female, lived as a young woman. But they all viewed me as one. I was welcomed into the fold. I had what I wanted within my grasp. I couldn’t imagine before all this, that being a girl would make me more acceptable than being a boy. I thought everything was going to be okay, because I had my friends and their support.

It all came crashing down as fast as it started. The incident with Taylor, then Ellie rejecting my apology. Being told I wasn’t needed on the squad because they had prepared a new routine without Ellie and me. I was trying to repair the damage to our friendship. I was begging for her to reconsider. Our friendship meant so much to me. I had hoped it still meant something to her. Our last conversation still rattles in my head before I tried to take my life.

“… You’re like a sister to me. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

Her response.

“And we know how well you treat your own sister, don’t we.”

At that moment all I wanted was the pain to end. My life to end.

“I heard you’re awake.” a familiar voice in my room shakes me from my reverie. I look up, and my heart starts to race. Ellie looks at me her eyes downcast clutching a white teddy bear. The wound in my heart had not completely healed. I wanted to tell her to leave. Whatever she had to say, I wasn’t going to entertain. I couldn't listen to it, but for some reason, I didn’t ask her to leave.

”I tried to visit a few times, While you were…” She couldn’t look at me. I kept my eyes fixed on her, trying desperately to keep my emotions in check. “I… I wanted to say, ‘I’m sorry.' What I said to you wasn’t fair. I saw you hanging there on the swing while Marcus and the others were trying to get you down. I had never been so scared in my life. It’s was my fault. It could have been so much worse. I can’t get the image out of my head of you hanging from the chain and of the paramedics trying to get you to breathe. I had never been that scared in my whole life. It had only been a month since I watch paramedics do the same to Amber.” She approaches my bedside. Tears are already streaming down her face.

I couldn’t say anything; my heart ached too much. I could feel Ellie's anguish pouring into my heart. I couldn’t stop it. My heart was already full of my own anguish. All I could do was try to hold everything inside. It filled and churned inside me.

“The last thing, I said to you? About Amber? I’m sorry that I said that. I’m sorry that it drove you… I’m sorry.”

I close my eyes. I still felt the wound from what Ellie had said to me. How she was the last of my friends to abandon me. Taylor was taken from me but Ellie, her parting words were to me, as Shakespeare put it, ‘the most unkindest cut of all.’

We sat there in silence, Ellie, waiting for me to say something. Ellie was the first to reach out to me when I first joined the squad. She was the one that I had leaned on to help me through my loneliness. She was my sister or as close as anyone could be aside from Amber. And just like I needed Amber to forgive me. Ellie needed the same from me. I’m trying to say something. Ellie is hanging on every gesture. Every attempt to speak. I stop myself.

Why was this so hard? All I had to do is grant Ellie the same mercy that I asked of Amber. Forgiveness.

All I need to do was say the words. “I forgive you, please be my sister again.” I couldn’t.

I wished for Amber, to forgive me for my negligence. Blowing an air horn was a thoughtless prank. What Ellie said to me, was intended to hurt me. She wanted to hurt me. It was malicious. She knew how cruel it would sound to me. That didn’t stop her. Still, I wanted her back in my life, for us to be close again. The wound was too deep. She used my sister to hurt me.

Was this my first test as Erin? I was struggling to get past my declaration to myself. I had rejected Aaron and what he represented, my past, my loneliness, my isolation. Did my rejection of Aaron begin even before that?

Through the emotional rollercoaster that occurred on that day, Ellie was my rock. She saw Erin—she must have. She saw Erin in her very own bedroom mirror, how different I was—even for the briefest of moments. Ellie was the first. She tried to keep me steady. She comforted me after the incident with Taylor. Why couldn’t I just forgive her?

If she was the first to see me as Erin, she was the first to hurt me as Erin too. She knew just how to do it.

Ellie dries her eyes and approaches closer. She tucks the teddybear close to me. I’m trying to hold back tears. I wanted to stay mad. Being mad at her kept me from feeling sad for myself. It was what Aaron always did, deflect. It was easier to push everyone away and keep them at 'arms length.' Nobody couldn’t hurt him if they couldn’t get close.

I had let Ellie in. As close to me as Amber—closer perhaps. I can see it on Ellie’s face that she wants me to say something, do something that lets her know that she is still welcome in my life, Erin’s life. As much as I want to repel her, I wanted her close. I yearned for what made us sisters. My mind could not get past her rejection of our friendship and her hurtful words. My heart could only fixate on our bond as sisters. There was no way to tell which would win out.

I have to say something. I wanted to hug Ellie. She wanted so much but could I only give her so little. She sees my body contract as I can’t keep myself from crying. She moves in to hug me. I pull away from her. She tries again and again I recoil. I see her eyes widen at my hesitance, much like Amber’s did earlier. She lets out a small wail as she turns and rushes out the door.

If how I treated Ellie was my first test as Erin. I just failed. I couldn’t, my mind struggled and won out over my heart. I could feel the guilt of it all work through me. The turmoil inside me is churning, threatening to destroy me from the inside out. I hugged the teddybear, pulling it tight into me. My tears are dripping on its head. The thoughts still swimming in my head of what I had just done to Ellie. How could Amber forgive me if I couldn’t even forgive Ellie? Was I destined to the same traps that Aaron had fallen?

I’ve pushed away those that were closest to me. Amber, now Ellie. In only a matter of hours, I had begun to isolate myself again. Like Aaron did. I hated myself for doing that. My heart was screaming at my head for not obeying. Why should my head follow? All my heart ever did to me was bring me more pain. My heart wanted to be part of the squad… pain. My heart wanted me to have friends… pain. My heart wanted me to tell Amber the truth… more pain.

The nurse checks on me, all I can do is hug the teddybear and sob. She has a worried look on her face. I don’t care. I just want all the pain to go away. Why is it so hard to break from the past? With every moment I sink deeper into my sadness. I needed to get a hold of myself. I look down at the tear soaked teddybear. I think of what I just did to Ellie. How I made her feel. I fell sick; my stomach turns and torques. I wretch my insides out atop my new bear. The nurse rushes over to bring something to catch the bile that lurches up my throat again.

I wail as the nurse try to settle me down.

An hour or so passes since my visit from Ellie. I’ve only been out of my coma for less than a day, and my life has already shown signs of falling apart. The nurse had taken the teddybear, and I had changed hospital gowns with her help. The linens had to be replaced as well. I had a chance to notice how gaunt I became. I had also become weaker from my month long coma.

After a somewhat embarrassing sponge bath and the removal of the catheter (also a surprise though I guess it makes sense). I try to relax in my bed wondering what was to come of my friendship with Ellie.

Mom’s perfume fills the room. It’s a gentle fragrance, soft, floral. She must have reapplied it, or I’m starting to notice smells again. I tried not to think about the feeding tube that the doctor described earlier. “Are you comfortable, sweetheart?" Mom coos at me. Something within me doubts her sincerity. I know she does feel something. Guilt? I have no idea whether she feels guilty for the isolation, for the punishment, or both. I force myself to not recoil at her display of affection. Same with Dad.

It feels like I'm the latest crisis and they're managing me like they managed Amber. It gnaws at me that I can't trust their motives. My heart aches because I can't trust that they… Love me. I was so invisible to them, to everyone. Had I not survived… would it have mattered? To whom?

Mom and Dad, they love me, right? I don't know why I'm hurting this much. Could they really love me? Erin?

"Honey, what's wrong?” She can see the expression on my face. I can even feel the pained look that I’m giving. I just can’t bring myself too say it. “Please, we want to be there for you." She pleads with me.

I look up at my mom. The worried look on her face wretches me from the inside. I can't tell you that I don't think you love me. I can't tell you that I don't believe that you care enough about me. I can't tell you anything, but what you want me to say. Through my raspy voice, “Mom, I'm sorry. For everything." She pulls me into her. It’s hard not to bristle. Dad looks on.

"Son…" He cringes, we both do, and corrects himself, "Sweetheart. We're sorry too. We want our… little girl, to be better, okay?"

I look to the band on my wrist. There is only Erin. Aaron is gone. The heartache remains. I can’t seem to leave that behind. It hurts that, when Aaron was most alone, they, my parents, were nowhere to be found.

"Erin sweetheart, it shouldn't have gone this far. Nothing will change the fact that we love you." I can feel the drops of her tears on my shoulder; they’re sopped up by my hospital gown.

How did I get so… Damaged? Why couldn’t they love me enough to be there for me? Their love wasn’t there because they weren’t there. I’ve gone home to an empty house so many times; it’s easy to forget that they actually lived there. They weren’t there when I was bullied; they weren’t there when I was ignored, cast aside. They weren’t there when I was taken off the squad. They weren’t there when Coach T died. They weren’t there in the wake of the incident with Taylor. They weren’t there to stop me from wrapping the chain… Why? Why couldn’t I have just… died? No, that was… that was Aaron.

The nurse peeks her head into the room. “Erin, is everything okay in here?” I’m getting used to the interruptions. It seems like the nurses peek into my room 3 to 4 times an hour.

I force a smile as I settle away from the embrace of my mom. I watch her pull some tissues to dry her eyes. I nod my head slowly.

“Alright, I’ll be back I have to give you your antibiotics. This should be your last dose. We’ll probably remove the IV tomorrow. The doctor will make a decision on that later, though. Okay, hon?” She says cheerfully, then walks out the door.

I settle back resting my head on my pillow. Mom settles back into her chair at my bedside.

My dad walks over to my mom. “Honey, I’m going to grab something from the cafeteria. Do you want something to nibble on?”

“No, maybe in a bit. But nothing right now.”

He leaves the room. Mom still looks on at me with concern. “The doctors think it is best that they keep you here. At least for a little while.” Mom’s voice is soft and sad. “It was Monica that called us about you going to the hospital. She met us when we arrived here. She told us you had tried to take your own life.” The pain in her voice is evident as she pauses. I feel her anguish in my heart.

“Amber was coming home that evening. We got the message on the answering machine.” I can feel her anxiety build. “When we went to the hospital, we were confused why they referred to you as ’her’, ‘she’, and our ‘daughter’. I insisted you were my son.” Mom looks at the ceiling before blinking a few tears out.

“When I walked in to see you. You were there in your bed, asleep.” Mom begins to caress my hand. “I had not recognized you because of your hair. All I saw was this hurt, young girl, bruised and asleep. I just couldn’t understand how this could be you. The girls insisted that it was you. They shared your story with me. They said you were conscious, briefly when they brought you in.” She pauses again to compose herself. “You had become hysterical, and they had to sedate you.’

Her lament continues, “Sweetheart, I just don’t understand why it got this far. Is this what you’ve been hiding from us? You always seemed so detached. The girls said that you were different that day. Like you suddenly came to life.” She grabs my hand, caressing it gently. “Then you tried to take your own life?” Her eyes were begging me for an explanation, one that is too painful to give. “It doesn’t make any sense. Was it us? Were you afraid to show us who you really are? Did it hurt you that much? We don’t want to lose you again.” She pleads with me.

I wanted to keep it in, buried deep within me. The pain of the isolation. It was better for them to know me as Erin, their youngest daughter than being their unwanted son. I couldn’t bear the thought of being rejected again, isolated again. Erin would never be alone, not if I could help it.

The nurse enters. “Knock, knock! Alright, let’s get the last of this into your IV.” She sets the tray with the syringe and a small vial. As she works, she smiles at me warmly. She hangs another IV bag and hangs it to the side of the near empty one. She connects them and proceeds to fill the syringe and injects it into a line on the IV. “Alright, all done.” She removes her gloves and tosses them in a wastebasket. “We do want to get you eating again. The doctor wants you taking in something you can swallow, so semi-solids. I’ll bring you a tray up in a bit. We’ll see how you do with that.” She looks over at my mom then back at me. “You have your mom’s eyes.” It brings a smile to my face; Mom sees it. She gets up from her chair and strokes my hair.

“When you get out of the hospital we may need to remove these extensions. They’re starting to fall out.”

I bring my right hand to my hair to stroke it.

“Don’t worry Honey; it will grow out.”

My hair? My thoughts reach back to the image I saw in all of the mirrors that day. The young woman who reflected back at me, happy, pretty, worth another look. That reflection, that young woman, is my escape. My escape from… him and the loneliness that surrounded him. But, without my hair? I wouldn’t be her. I’d resemble… ‘him.’ I didn’t want to be anything like ‘him.’ I wanted to be free of ‘him,' losing my hair? It would grow out, but what would I look like in the meantime? Would I lose what made me ‘her’ along with my hair?

The hours passed quietly, Mom and Dad eventually went home. Visiting hours where I’m at are not quite as flexible as they were for the hospital Amber stayed. I’m alone with my thoughts. The more I thought about my life, the deeper in despair I fell. Why couldn’t they have just let me die on the swing? Was it too much to ask? Nobody cared enough before. Why start now? Even then they only cared about Erin. My wristband showed me whom they really cared about. The pretty young cheerleader who happily strode the school halls.

The nurse came in to check on me sometime after visiting hours ended. “Would you like to have something to help you sleep?”

I nod my head. Do you have anything permanent?

She’s following doctor’s orders, I guess. Sleep aid as needed. What I need is to be someone else, somewhere else.

---

The sedative must have worked. It’s morning and a nurse checks in to see if I wanted to try eating breakfast.

Breakfast was scrambled eggs, it was less painful to swallow. The nurses gave me a whiteboard to work with to save my voice. They left me with a red, a purple, and a pink dry erase marker. I used the tablet for drawing more than anything else. I didn’t feel like communicating on a whiteboard or otherwise. During breakfast, my parents visit. Mom rushed out of my room in a fit of tears when she saw the last drawing I made. A simple drawing of a boy and a swing. The boy had two x’s instead of eyes.

An older man enters my room shortly after I finish breakfast. “Glad to see you alive and well. My name is Dr. Aimes. I was the surgeon that repaired your larynx. I see that you’re eating now, sorry about the food here.” He, much like Dr. Myers the day before, examines me. I ask him why I was in a coma and about the antibiotics. His explanation was that I had an infection after the operation which was pretty severe. I was in a coma while the infection, he calls it ’Staff’ or something like that, affected my blood system and eventually my brain. I was given antibiotics to help with the infection. He said the infection had appeared to be clear and he would request that the IV be removed. He added that the infection had slowed the healing of my larynx which was ‘crushed’ during the hanging or the rescue. He mentioned the effects of the damage on my voice, all pretty technical. I nodded as if I understood any of it. He said he’d speak with my parents when they arrived later today. He did mention that I should ‘save my voice’ as much as I can, but the therapy sessions would be all right if I took frequent breaks.

---

Dr. Cho began our session officially. I’d have an hour to speak with him. I would assume that he’s trying to determine whether I’m okay to be released. He gives me the same song and dance Mrs. Yates gave me. The fact that they all sound alike doesn’t fill me with too much confidence.

“So Erin. How are you feeling today?”

“It still hurts to talk.”

He tells me to take breaks or a drink when I need it, but he insists on moving forward.

“Why don’t we start with something simple. Why are we here talking to each other.”

This must be a trick question. I stare at the kind old man. Most are ready to give me a lecture by now.

“Not the trusting type, huh?” he reaches into his wallet and pulls out a photo. A young girl. “My niece.” He hands the photo to me, and I look carefully at her. “She’s 16 now.” I don’t know why he’s showing me a photo of his niece. She’s Asian just like him. She has straight, jet black hair that goes down past her shoulders. Her hair frames her oval face. Her deep brown eyes are almond shaped, not wide like most of the people that go to our school. She’s waiving. I look closely at her wrists. “Most people just notice a pretty young girl. Your eyes tell me you notice something else.”

“Her wrist,” I say somberly. “There’s scars there.” A chill races down my spine.

“Some things leave scars. But that doesn’t tell the whole story, does it?”

I couldn't stop my heart from reaching out into the photo. I had so little control over my emotions. I wanted to reach out and hug her. It bothered me that such a pretty young woman would want to take her own life. I lower the photo to the bed covers, revealing my drawing of the swing on the whiteboard. I close my eyes and sigh.

I look up at him. His warm, almost smiling eyes inviting me to open up to him. “So, you know somebody that’s tried to take their own life. Does that mean that you can help me?”

He shakes his head and with a comforting smile he says, “I’m here to see if you can help yourself.”

His words puzzled me, “And how do I do that?”

“We communicate. You’ll talk, and I’ll listen and maybe, we find out just what it is that is hurting you.”

Why would I want to waste my breath. Isn’t he just going to tell me what I need to do? Everyone else did. My parents, teachers, coaches, the counselor, the Principal, even Monica and the girls. Why should this be any different? “And if I don’t want to talk?”

I see the smile on his face dim. “Well, two things. First, it gets boring. Second, you start over in a few weeks with another counselor who drafts a report additional to mine and a decision is made as to whether you are a danger to yourself or others."

“Did you help her?”, holding the picture in my hand.

“I tried.” That sends another chill down my spine.

“How?" Hoping, almost rooting for the story to have a happy ending.

"I listened when she was ready to talk.”

“How did you know she was ready?”

“I didn’t, Just like I won’t know with you. There's no secret, no magic trick. No truth serum to get you talking.”

If a girl like her had problems that drove her to try to take her own life what chance did I have? "She's lovely." I knew he was playing on my emotions. My heart was leading; My head was along for the ride.

"Thank you."

"Does she have any sisters?"

"Yes, she does. Do you?"

"Yes, Amber.” the somber tone in my voice is palpable. I stare at the photo. There’s a silence between us.

My fingers trace the border of the photo on top of the covers of the bed. My heart begging, no, commanding me to speak. “I guess this all started with her…" I explain about the prank and the squad. He listens intently. I pause every now and again to have a sip of water. Time passes faster than I imagine. I continue just pouring out what was in me.

My heart took over laying out what I was feeling. My mind remained impotent to stop the flood. My head was tired of the struggle. It barely registered what I was saying when the words came out. It was cathartic. The conflict within me laid out. I didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t want to be rejected. There was something more. More that just being alone. Why was I so isolated? My heart was trying to tell me something. I was protecting something, shielding myself from everyone because of it. I felt it so intensely when I looked into Ellie’s mirror that morning. HER… Aaron was protecting her. Did he take his own life so she could live… so I could live?

The nurse enters. "Dr. Cho, I just wanted to check if everything is alright in here."

Dr. Cho looks at his watch. "Oh, everything is fine." He collects his notepad. Had he been taking notes all this time? Instinctively, I pull another tissue from the box in front of me to dry my eyes. To my surprise, I'm surrounded by used balls of tissues. He slips the notepad into his satchel. "Thank you, Erin; We'll continue this tomorrow."

I look up at him. I'm not sure, but those were the first words he said to me in over an hour. I look down at the photo of his niece. I pick it up. "Your niece, did she ever fix what drove her to try to take her own life?"

He takes the photo from me. "Some things—aren't fixed overnight. She struggles with it every day." A sad expression comes over his face. His look was so brief I barely caught it. "I’ll see you tomorrow?" He heads out the doorway, leaving me to ponder the aftermath.

My thoughts turn to the last hour and a half. Had I been talking all this time? I'm not even sure what I had told him. It was just… nice… being heard. I think. I tried to replay the monolog in my head. Did I really tell him that? My mind hung on the words. I didn't really think too deeply about what I had said, until now. What did the words mean? I was… spilling my story. He said nothing; he reacted at nothing. But there it was. My recollection. Me, saying the words. "I was never meant to be a boy." And there it was. I never said it before nor actually thought about why I kept people away. Was this buried so deep within me?

---

It wasn’t long after my session with Dr. Cho that a woman, whose name escapes me, visits afterward. She seemed annoyed for some reason. Following along with her was a young man from the hospital and another man who had a badge on his belt. The young man apologized on behalf of the woman and said that she would have some questions for me. He asked if I was okay to speak with her. She glared at him when he asked the question. It was an odd pairing. The man from the hospital was polite and cordial, almost apologetic. The cop was young, and it would seem like this was his first week on the job. He just watched on.

She, on the other hand, wanted her questions answered. It was odd that she seem to ask questions that didn’t require me to answer. She seemed to supply her own asking me to nod instead. I became concerned when she had asked if my parents had ever physically abused me, beaten me or otherwise. The question caught me off guard, and I hesitated when I answered. When I shook my head ‘no,' I saw her eyes narrow. Her follow-up question was even more curious. She asked me if I thought that they had been cruel to me in any way, I gain hesitated, but still answered ‘no.'

Her questioning came to a head when she had asked if I wanted to ‘live somewhere safe.’ I was about to answer that 'I wasn’t threatened, at my home.' She asked again ‘you want to be safe, right?’ I was caught off guard with her follow up question. I answered, ‘yes.’ The man from the hospital was about to ask a follow-up question if his own when the woman asked a different question. It was an uncomfortable discussion, and I was worried about what the woman was trying to seek from me. Was she trying to find out information to build a case against my parents? I was sore at my parents but, I didn’t want anything to happen to them.

She asked me further about the Squad.

“You were forced on the squad, Right? It wasn’t your choice?”

I was about to answer, but she continued. “We’ve already talked to the Principal about all of this.”

“Yes, but— ”

“The cheerleader uniform wasn’t your idea, right?”

“No, it wasn’t but— ”

“You were sad at being lonely at school… You wanted the students to be kinder towards you?”

“Well, Yes but—“

“So, you took your own life, because you felt abandoned by your parents and the students?”

“Um—“

“I’ve had enough here!” the man from the hospital interjects. “You have not given her an opportunity to explain anything. I will not have you bully this child into answers that you seem perfectly happy to provide yourself!” She glares at him then looks over at the cop.

“Are you impeding my investigation?”

“This is not an investigation; it is an inquisition. I’ve seen dozens of agents from your department treat these situations far better than you have. You either listen to what this child has to say or this ‘farce’ is over; do you understand me?”

“Look, Aaron, I’m trying to help you. I hope you understand that.”

“Yes but—“

“Good, well I think I have a good idea of what is going on then.” She walked out of the room the cop trailing behind her. It bothered me that she didn’t want to hear my side of the story.

The man from the hospital stayed behind.

“I’m going to see what can be done about her. She wasn’t professional, and it's unfair to you that she didn’t let you answer.” He says to me holding back his anger. “I think she breezed through the introductions; I’m Matt Gallows.” He smiles. “I’ll talk to the hospital administration about having another person from the county handle your case. She’s definitely not one of their best. Try no worry about it. I’m also going to leave instructions with the nurses that she is not to meet with you without me here.”

---

The lonely hours pass in my hospital room. The nurse would check on me every now and again. I couldn't shake the ‘conversation’ with the lady and my ‘pronouncement’ to Dr. Cho out of my head.

To save my voice after the back to back marathon session with Dr. Cho and the lady from the county. I had used the whiteboard instead. It has been pretty unnerving having to signal what I want to say. At least my handwriting is clear enough to read. They rarely teach or require cursive in school. After writing so much with the chiseled markers, I was thinking of taking up calligraphy. It seemed like a lost art. The chiseled dry erase markers act like quills. Fine in one direction and wide in the other. A few scribbles turned into curves doodles mainly. I looked at the armband E-R-I-N. I practice writing. ‘Erin Stewart’, daydreaming of what my signature should look like. I even experimented with having a little heart over the “i”.

“What are you smiling about?” a voice soft and playful.

I was startled, the marker slipped out of my hand onto the floor rolling to the corner of the room. I look up. I glow as red as my signature on the whiteboard. Lisa is rushing over to pick up the stray marker. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, but you had this grin on you.”

I sheepishly turn the whiteboard to show Lisa.

“That’s you now? I mean, that’s how you spell your name now?” She gives me a pensive look.

“It’s cute isn’t it?” I say with a squeamish expression.

Lisa’s eyes widen. She hands the marker back to me.

"Is this what you want?"

“It fits, doesn’t it? I spoke with the therapist. I was talking about the prank and my time with the squad. There was something in what I was saying. It was something I admitted to him. 'I was never meant to be a boy.' I had some time to think about it, and it was as if the weight of the world came off of me."

“What did he say? I don’t understand how you can be a boy and then suddenly decide that you want to be a girl.”

“I don’t understand it myself. I’m not sure why, but there’s something that kept me away from people. I thought it was my size or that I was such an easy target for bullies. I know it’s crazy.”

“What does your therapist think? This seems like a real big decision.”

“He hasn’t said anything to me about it. He just said we’d talk more tomorrow.”

Amber peers into the room. “Talk about what?”

As Amber enters my room, I recall what I had said to her. I felt a weight in the pit of my stomach. “Sis?”

She’s reserved. I’ve hurt her so much. She looks at me wondering how to respond.

“I’m… I’m really sorry for… For the prank. For everything.” I murmur, my eyes staring at the remaining two markers between the folds of the bed sheets.

I look up at her after my apology. She looks at me. I’m not sure she’s ready to forgive me. She’s here, that’s all that matters. Lisa moves out of the way to let Amber come closer.

“I went through a lot after the prank. The recovery was hard.” I feel more guilt build within me. “Since I can’t cheer anymore, it’s been really hard. I didn’t even get to wear the uniform. They had to cut my uniform off of you when you came here.”

“I’m so sorry, Amber!” All her hard work through the summer. “I wish I never pulled the prank. I wish none of this had happened.” I say conciliatory.

“At school, I heard more about who you became when you were part of the squad.” She looks at Lisa. “It was like they were introducing me to someone I had never known. Nothing seemed to hold any value while you were growing up. Then, I heard about what you were doing for the squad. I thought it was out of guilt.”

I’m listening patiently; I don’t know what to make of what she’s saying.

“You were such a loner. You even kept Taylor at a distance. I was surprised at what you tried to do for him too. Was that it? Being part of something made you care? Or was it something more? I asked you yesterday if being a girl was what you wanted. Was I wrong there or did you just want people to connect with?”

I look at my signature on the whiteboard. The little heart over the “i”. ERIN Was that where my heart was? Staring at my name on something so easily erased. What if I could make that permanent? I look up at my sister. “I’ve been so horrible to you. Would you even want me as your sister?” My eyes were begging for her to hasten a response. Lisa bites at her lower lip.

Amber moves in towards me. She strokes my hair then cups my cheek and chin with her hand. “I’ve always loved my brother, and I love my sister just as much.”

I pull her into a hug. “I love you, sis.”

A woman in a business suit walks in. “What are you girls doing here? I left instructions for there to be no further visitors!”

Lisa and Amber look at each other and then to me.

“She’s my sister and that my friend why am I not allowed to have visitors?” I question.

The woman calls the nurse over. “I’d like these young ladies to be escorted out. I do not want any further visitors while this child is in protective custody.”

“What? That’s my sister and my friend; you can’t kick them out!” I ask bewildered.

“They will have to leave now.” She says, her anger welling up in her.

“Can I at least say goodbye to my sister?” Amber looks at the woman almost apologetically.

“Fine.” She says annoyed.

She hugs me again and whispers to me, “Don’t worry sis, we’ll find out what is going on.”

Lisa does the same. “Erin, don’t worry. We’re not going to let anything bad happen to you,” she whispers to me.

The girls retreat out the doorway escorted out by the nurse who looks at me from behind the woman, she mouths ‘I’m sorry,' to me as she ushers the girls away.

I look on at the woman. “What was that all about?”

“We’ve been informed by the county that you are ordered to be placed into protective custody.”

“What?”

The woman spoke briefly to me about what would happen. I tearfully resigned myself to my fate.

---

I poured through my mind more of what had been going on. I got angry over how I had no control over my life. I had to get out of this hospital bed. I could do nothing while I was still in here.

I yank off the IV and disconnect the monitors from me. A nurse looks in and screams “what are you doing!” She runs towards me. “stop that right now!”

“No,” I yell. “I’m tired of people ignoring me or telling me what to do! I’m done!” She grabs my arm, but I twist it free. I dash out of my room and begin running down the hospital hallway.

I’m tackled by security, and I struggle to squirm my way free. “No! I yell you can’t do this to me. Let me go!” I scream at the top of my lungs.

He’s strong and overpowers me. A moment later I stop struggling; I realize it is useless to fight further. The nurse looks over at me with an angered look. It softens when I start crying. “I just want to go home! I want my life back.”

I’m distraught. My thoughts are in disarray. As I feel a pinch in my shoulder as I begin to fall asleep.

---

I wake up. My head is still in a fog. I’m restrained again. I cry in my bed. There is a guard posted outside of my room. I’m in a different room than the one I escaped. The door is closed, but I can see the guard’s head through the square glass vision panel on the door. It has safety glass on it. I can’t move. There are no windows, no tv, nothing but the bed.

A man enters my room. “You’re restrained for your safety. I’m Dr. Winter; you are in the Behavioral Health Ward. We’re doing everything we can to keep you safe and help you get better, but we can’t have you assaulting our nurses and running off on us.”

“I just want to go home! I just want it all to be back to normal.”

“it will be, but we to be sure that you aren’t going to hurt yourself or others.”

“Why is this all happening to me? Why did everything go so wrong?” I bellow.

“I can’t answer that for you. You need to find out for yourself. All we can do is help you! You have to let us help you.”

“How, when everyone keeps telling me what to do. Nobody listens. Nobody cares, they all just leave or abandon me.”

“That’s not true, I’m listening, and I’m sure there are a lot of people that care. You just need to understand that.”

“How? How can I believe that? You haven’t seen what my life was like? You haven’t seen what was done to me! I was alone. You have me alone again here too. There’s nobody.”

“We’re trying to reach you, trying to get you to a place where you are comfortable with yourself.”

“No! You are just like the others. You’ll tell me, to be honest with myself. You’ll tell me that I need to ask myself some ‘serious questions’ then you tell me what to do!” I’m overwhelmed with the all the anguish that has been churning around me.

“You need to understand they say that because they care about you. They see you struggling and are trying to reach you. To help you get better.”

“It’s not helping!” I scream. “Everything, Everything I do, try, or say always leads to disaster. I can’t stop it.”

“That’s not true.”

“Don’t tell me what’s true! What’s true is I’ve hurt my sister, I’ve hurt my friends, I’ve gotten my best friend expelled. I drove my other best friend away. The coach is dead, and the Principal is under investigation. All! All of that is true.”

“You can’t blame yourself for all of that.”

“It started because of me! Now, Now when I want to get out of the hospital, I’ve hurt a nurse, and I’m restrained in bed. That’s also true!”

“I need you to calm down.”

“See you’re doing it too. You’re telling me what to do! Just like everyone else!”

“I’m asking you to calm down.”

“Why? Whatever for? Being calm, being passive is what got me into this mess in the first place.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“Please, I just want to go home. I want this to be over with.”

“As I said you need to work through your problems first.”

“I apologized for the prank like a million times. I felt bad about it from the moment I did it. I apologized and accepted my punishment. What more do I need to do? What more do you all want from me? Please, I’ll do anything. I just want to go home.”

“You think you’re here because of the prank? That this is punishment?”

“What else am I to think.”

“You tried to take your own life. That wasn’t because of the prank. That was because you were hurting inside. We need to know why. You need to know why.”

“I thought being alone again was worse than being dead,” I murmur.

“Why did you do it at that moment?”

“Ellie… She… she was my best friend. She was angry that I… She was angry when I told her why I pulled the prank. She… She couldn’t forgive me.”

“Friends forgive each other. They may be mad at you, but in time they see your friendship more than the pain that you cause. They weigh your friendship over their hurt. They just can’t do it instantly.”

“She came by earlier. She wanted to apologize for what she said to me before I ran off to hang myself.”

“And?”

“I… I couldn’t forgive her. I was too angry. I was too hurt.”

“How do you think that made her feel?”

“Probably the same way that I did when she said what she had said to me.”

“You’re weighing your friendship against the hurt you feel from her.”

“Yes. I wanted her to be back in my life so much. I just couldn’t trust that she wouldn’t leave me again, that she wouldn’t reject our friendship again. That I’d be alone again.”

“Why did it take you all of this to realize why you were hurting so much?”

“I… I wasn’t listening to anyone. I should have been listening.”

---

Hi Everyone,

It has become apparent that my vision has become so compromised that I may not be able to author additional chapters until I can correct my vision issues. Those that know me, know how much writing has meant to me over the past 9 months. I've tried to use speech to text and text to speech to overcome these issues, but it has become too frustrating to do even just that. I am trying to finish the final three chapters of The Squad before I go under the knife, but I cannot promise that I will be able.

The procedure is complicated, not routine and dominates my ability to concentrate. This may be my last contribution to this site until everything heals after the surgeries to each eye. Thank you all and I love every one of you that has taken the opportunity to read these stories.

Hugs,
Leila

Dr. Winter continued his visits with me over the next few days. I hate him. He says he’s helping me. He just keeps pressing.

I laid back, my eyes fixed on the tiled ceiling. In my mind, arguing was just as futile as counting the holes on the ceiling tiles.

“We’ve made progress, don’t…” he stops himself. What was he about to say. Why did he stop? “You shouldn’t keep all of this inside.” He speaks to me tenuously, probably remembering my comments about everyone telling me what to do. He changes the subject. “How did you feel that day?”

“I can hardly remember it.” I lie, hoping that he would not press the issue further.

“Can you tell me what you do remember?”

Another question. There’s no end to these. I’m tired of the questions that only seem to make me sad or get me into trouble. Dr. Winter waits for my response to his question. In my mind, I’m not in a hospital room cuffed to a bed. I’m shackled to another moment, another room, another image, another—me.

“Erin, whatever you are going through, I want to help. I’m trying to help. What is it that you want?” I could feel him prodding me forward. Coaxing me to share more.

“I… I want to go home.”

“That can only happen if you let us help you.”

I want to argue. I know where this goes. A voice within me whispers Just cooperate, they’ll let you go. “Sorry, I… I got distracted for a moment. What were you saying?”

---

Dr. Winter and I were in the middle of another one of our ‘sessions’

I have my eyes closed. Listening to his voice. It’s hypnotic. “Where are you now?”

I silently recall the morning at Ellie’s house. Her mirror, the one that I stared at for those brief moments. Why was I repeatedly returning to that moment? “Ellie’s room. A mirror. Her mirror.”

Again, Dr. Winter waits for me. “Ellie had the idea for us to wear our uniforms to honor Coach T. She later asked me to do the same to show support for the squad.” I take a breath. Coach T. I missed her funeral. That realization haunts me. “I…”

“How did you feel about the idea?”

“I was worried that I’d be an embarrassment. That somehow I would be a distraction from the death of our coach, Coach Tompkins.” I pause waiting for a reaction from him. He’s waiting for me to say more. I dreamily continue. “Lisa thought it a good idea to make me as passible as possible, so we had extensions added to my hair to give it some length. Ellie’s sister did my makeup as I got ready the next morning and went to school.”

“How did you feel when you got dressed?” his question catches me off guard.

“When I got dressed?”

“The clothes, how did they make you feel.”

“The uniform made me uncomfortable. It was so… revealing. The skirt was really short, I wasn’t used to having breasts and…” I sighed. “I guess girls are used to wearing something like that and being on display. But there was something else.” I kicked myself for saying that last part. “At least I wasn’t the only one, Ellie was wearing the same outfit so I wasn’t alone.”

“I want to get back to that ‘something else’ you were feeling. Was it exciting for you?”

“Exciting? No.”

“Were you aroused?” his question more direct.

“Aroused? Why would I be aroused?”

“Some boys get aroused when they wear clothing of the opposite gender. It’s perfectly natural.”

“I wasn’t aroused.” I say to him, puzzled.

“Then what did you feel?” his questions were getting more probing.

“I felt… naked.” I open my eyes and look over at Dr. Winter. He’s giving me a stare that makes me nervous.

“Are you sure you weren’t feeling anything… sexual?”

“Emotional is probably the better word. There was a moment. Ellie wasn’t there. I was staring at her mirror. I finally saw myself in that mirror, not Aaron… Me. I felt something within I had never experienced before. I was different some how. I don’t know what it was, it was something precious to me.”

“How so?”

“Have you ever lit a candle with a match?”

“Yes I have. You may have to explain that a bit more…”

“There’s a cadre of emotions you go through when you strike the match knowing that you only have so long before the flame burns out. There’s that need to act. Something that compels you to lite the candle quickly enough before the fire goes out. You have within you that feeling of past frustrations of when the match is extinguished. The fear that you may prematurely extinguish the flame. Then the relief as brief as it is when the candle glows from the fire. And finally that desire to protect the candlelight from what would extinguish it.”

“Go on.”

“When I saw myself in that mirror. I had the sensation that I was given a gift of seeing a part of myself that I hadn’t realized was there until the ‘match was lit.’ Now I don’t want that candlelight to ever go out.”

“So how did that affect you?”

“Throughout the day, it was like everyone that saw me recognized that I was different from the boy who attended school the day before. Even the girls on the squad who knew me, looked at me as if I had come out of a cocoon or a shell. They sensed I was different somehow. It was like the Aaron, that everyone once knew, was the darkness that surrounded me, which was now pushed away from the light revealing the candle. To them it was as if I had dropped the charade of pretending to be a boy. They preferred me rather than that guy I replaced.”

“Then why would you want to take your own life?”

I take a breath, my heart started to sink within me. “I couldn’t escape… him.” I’m not sure Dr. Winter understood what I was saying. He sat there quietly as I composed myself. “When Ellie used him against me. I realized no matter how I felt or how real my life started to feel, I still have his past to deal with. It didn’t matter, I couldn’t separate me from him.”

“You are him. You can’t avoid that. That’s something you have to deal with… the consequences of his actions.”

“I’m not trying to avoid the consequences of those actions. Just everything reminds me that, physically… I’m him.”

“So you see yourself as female?”

“Honestly, I don’t really know what that means. I just feel that I’m… I’m not him.”

He pauses for a bit, probably trying to gauge whether he thinks I’m trying to ‘pull the wool over his eyes.’ “Would you do something for me?”

His question came off as odd. Why ask for something? “Ummm, okay.”

“You say you want to go home.” he pauses again and I nod. “I don’t want you to answer this right now. I want you to think about this before you give me an answer.”

He didn’t have to ask. I look up at him sensing what he’s thinking, “Who wants to go home? Erin the girl from that day or Aaron the boy from before that?” He seemed caught off guard that I would anticipate his question.

He adds, “Yes, but more to the point what is ‘home’? What is waiting for you at ‘home’? Your life with the challenges of being a different gender than that of your personal history? One where you are a young woman who grew up as a boy? What is that worth to you?”

---

I was growing more frustrated with Dr. Winter. He was asking for answers I couldn’t give. Combined with the visits from Ms. County Whats-her-name and Dr. Cho’s week long absence, I was becoming more angry. I think Mr. Gallows was growing weary of it all as well. On our last visit with Whats-her-name, who I’m starting to refer to as ‘The Shrew’, he asked her to leave and not return after her last verbal assault had me crying. She yelled at me that she didn’t care for the ‘feminine delusion of mine and to drop the act’. She had threatened to place me and my sister in foster care and throw my parents in prison for their abuse. I was wailing so hard I was told I had to be sedated.

Mr. Gallows, I mean Matt, has been the only bright spot in all this. Of course, Dr. Cho is nice too, but I can’t seem to trust his ‘agenda’. Supposedly, he has the same aims as Dr. Winter. I can’t help but feel that I’m being ‘good cop-bad cop’ by Winter and Cho. Matt did bring over a surprise for me, a visitor. Much to my relief to have some contact with the outside world, it wasn’t who I had expected. Behind Matt was the young counselor from the school district, Mrs. Yates. I wondered how she was able to visit though I dared not ask. I was just glad to see someone familiar.

“Mrs. Yates!” I could feel my heart bound to see her.

“How are you feeling?” she asked. “Are they treating you well here?” She walks over to my bedside. My smile pushes my cheeks to the bottom of my vision. Thankfully, I’m no longer restrained. Though the door to my room is always locked. I guess to keep me from escaping again.

“I was starting to think that everyone forgot about me.” I say cheerfully. Matt retreats into the background. Mrs. Yates comes closer and strokes what’s left of my hair. The extensions have been removed and I feel diminished with my shortened crop. I reach my arms up to give her a hug. I have had little energy to even get out of bed these days. I felt some of my strength return in reconnecting with someone that wasn’t here to poke and prod me. I continue, “it’s good to see you.”

“The girls on the squad miss you.” She whispers with a wink. She raises her voice so its audible “The District wanted to see your progress and a report on the incident with you in the playground at McKinley Park.” I look at her questioningly. “While I am contracted with the District, I have been asked to continue working with you by your parents as well.”

“Is there still the restriction of visitors?” I ask sadly.

“For the moment. Mrs. Conroy (the Shrew) still insists that you be placed in foster care after your time here.” Evelyn says sadly. “Matt here is trying to make sure that your interests are taken care of.”

“Oh, how are the girls handling all this?”

“They’re concerned about you of course, as was I. Your friends care about you a great deal. Many of them were deeply hurt because of the incident at the park. They want you safe and they want you back though.” I felt my chest tighten at that. I miss them so much.

“Are they still cheering?”

“For the moment, no. The district has yet to hire a new coach. I’m not sure that there is any interest from the district to continue the cheerleading program there. The lack of interested students, budget shortfalls and the incidents to you and Amber have really made the district cautious.”

“So, I killed the cheerleading program?”

“No, No. Don’t think of it that way.” Mrs. Yates tries to steer me from my despair.

“How am I supposed to think of it?”

Mrs. Yates eyes look upon me with resignation. “I mean you’ve tortured yourself enough. I know you feel like this was all your fault. The weight of that is crushing you. In the end, where does it leave you? Everyone has forgiven you for the prank and that is all that you’ve done wrong. It’s time you forgave yourself.”

“It just feels like there’s always going to be something more. One more consequence, one more reminder that I can’t escape. How can I just let that go? I feel responsible for all of it.”

“Is that why you’ve retreated into this ‘Erin’?” I knew instantly what she meant. How it must look. “Are you sure that this Erin is really who you are? Could it be that you are escaping into a version of ‘Erin’ that you feel is more palatable?” I feel a chill run through me. “If this version of Aaron is your escape aren’t you just hurting yourself more? Torturing yourself more?”

“I don’t know how to explain it.” It felt more than ‘an escape’. But was that just it? Was I just punishing myself more? “There is something more.”

Mrs. Yates takes a seat on my bed and grasps my hand. “Is there?”

“There is something more that I felt. Something within me that I felt that day. It started in front of Ellie’s mirror.”

“The young woman that was with you when we first met. As I can recall you and her are close friends? I do recall you telling me about the morning before you left for school. You mentioned that you were sad that you were wearing your sister’s uniform, and that you felt guilty that you had robbed her of that experience. Was there something more that you are comfortable with sharing?”

“It was a mixture of emotions that I couldn’t place at the time. As I was looking at myself as a young woman for the first time. There was pride that I felt in the way I appeared. A vulnerability that scared me. A sadness that overcame me; that none of this was real—that it was all an illusion. Then I looked down at the uniform as Ellie came in. Amber’s uniform. I felt that sadness for a what I had taken from her. There was also a jealousy that I felt that this was something that Ellie, Amber and the rest felt—pride. It was something that I could only get a glimpse. A reality that wasn’t meant for Aaron.” I say with sadness creeping into my voice.

I pause for a moment hoping to collect myself. She bade me to continue. “When I met the girls in front of the school that morning, I didn’t know what to think. Or what they would think. When Monica thought that it was another prank, it hurt me, deeply. She had accused me of preparing another stunt. But then something happened. It was as if she saw how much I wanted to connect with them. That exiling me would be devastating. She told me later that she saw my longing to connect with the rest of the girls. That I wanted so much to be a part of them. Then she stopped me from leaving and asked me to stay. I thought they were accepting Aaron into the group. Monica showed me that it wasn’t, it was me that they were accepting.”

“Who is the ‘me’ you are referring? You seem to differentiate between Aaron and ‘me’. Do you feel like you are someone different?” I could see Matt shifting in the background. Mrs. Yates rubs my forearm with concern. Easing me.

“It was like when I saw myself in Ellie’s mirror, a different world opened to me. I felt different, reacted different. I was allowed to be different. It was like I gave myself permission to experience that difference. I think everyone picked up on that.”

“So have you shared this with the other doctors?”

“They wouldn’t see things from my perspective. When I was sharing with you, I couldn’t piece it all together. Not at that time. I just knew everyone was reacting to me differently. That incident with Taylor?”

“Yes, you were pretty shaken up after that.”

“I don’t know why I reacted that way. Scared, vulnerable, it was different from being bullied. It was just different. When I was bullied, I was always afraid that they’d physically hurt me. Afterwards, I felt angry that I had been a victim. This was nothing like that. It was like he was threatening my soul, something within me. I begged him to let me go. At the time, I didn’t know what I was protecting. He was trying to drag me back to ‘Aaron’--as if Aaron was my jailer. That if he returned me to Aaron’s prison I’d never be able to live. I was starting to realize what freedom from Aaron was like. I only recovered from the desperation and fear I felt when I realized how Monica was reacting. How angered she was at him, how protective she was of me. How protective they all were of me. I’m one of her girls and one of their sisters. I don’t want who I am to go away.”

My discussion with Mrs. Yates continued for another hour. I was pleased that she promised to try to visit me again. I was hoping for more word on the squad. She promised that she would pass along my love to the girls. Everything turned around from there.

In the days that followed, I was introduced to the Shrew’s replacement. A lovely angel of a woman by the name of Patricia Simpson. She insisted that I do not call her Patty. Tricia, or Patricia but never Patty. She was a county social worker and had a motherly demeanor that my own mother would envy. I think it was Matt that was able to expel the Shrew. While she was eager to hear Dr. Winter’s and Dr. Cho’s assessment, I had my doubts as to what their recommendations would say about me. No doubt they were well skilled, I had my doubts that their reports would reflect more on what they heard and less on how I felt.

To my surprise, Patricia did mention that she spoke with Mrs. Yates and Dr. Corning. I had never heard the term ‘Gender Dysphoria’ until Patricia had mentioned it and though she was concerned that the opinions of Dr. Winter and Dr. Cho did not contain a diagnosis of Gender Dysphoria, at least one opinion, Dr. Winter’s, suggested that I be allowed to explore that with a psychologist that was more versed in the field of gender and sexuality. Patricia explained to me her reservations and that I had much larger issues to parse through first. While she did receive the recommendation from Dr. Winter and Dr. Cho, I remained in the hospital for another month before I would be released.

---

It’s January and I’m going home. To tell you the truth, I don’t know the full story of why I was allowed to go home. Much of the last month was a blur. My birthday came and went, so did Thanksgiving and Christmas. I was so desperate to leave that had they asked me to ‘cluck like a chicken’ or ‘bark like a dog’, I would have done it happily. I walked to the car clutching the journal they had made me write in and a sheet containing a serie of appointments with Dr. Winter until a gender specialist could be put in charge of my mental health.

I’ve kept my hair length, the extensions are gone. What hair is left tickles the back of my shoulders as I ride home with Dad. I had the passenger’s window open and feel the breeze against my face. I smile as I close my eyes and breathe in ‘freedom.’ I’ve missed the cold fresh air. My sweatshirt and sweatpants keep me from freezing in the breeze. Dad says nothing, though from the moment we stepped out of the hospital, he’d look at me with a look that feels like he’s treating me like I’m made of glass.

The sun rides lower in the sky as it normally does in winter. It lights the clouds in a bright blinding orange. It’s beginning to set as we reach the house. Dad is silent on the drive home. I sense a growing distance between us. I want to ask what he’s thinking. I’ve been asked that question more times than I can count. I don’t ask, fearing that if I step out of line, he’ll turn the car around and head straight back to the hospital. I turn to face him. He’s got a beard now. The whiskers have a salt and pepper look to them, kind of rugged.

We pull into the driveway. I don’t think that I even waited for him to shut the engine off before I unbuckled my seatbelt and pulled the door latch open. My feet, ensconced in Ellie’s sneakers, hit the ground; they’re the only thing that’s left of the uniform I wore that day. I’m not even wearing socks. I give the car door a slight nudge and the door slams closed. I’m greeted by the stale taste of the early evening air that surrounds our home. I shiver a bit and start to run for the front door.

“Slow down, honey.” My dad cautions me, his first words to me since we left the hospital. “We just left the hospital, I don’t want you falling and hurting yourself.”

I slow to a jog, my heart already thumping. I’m out of shape.

He walks up beside me. As we approach the doorway. “Honey, can you hold on for a sec?” My pace slows to a stop as does his. He’s looking at me. His eyes searching my face for something. I feel the anxiety within me growing.

“Dad? Is something wrong?” He blinks a few times subtly shaking his head.

“No, sweetheart, there’s… there’s nothing wrong.” He says plainly. Whatever he was going to say to me. He changed his mind. He unlocks the front door and pushes it open, then takes a step back. I pause there for a moment. Normally, he’d push the door open and walk right in. I turn my head wondering why he didn’t just walk in. He nods his head encouraging me to enter first.

Walking into my house was familiar and not at the same time. I expected to see the carefully adorned, plastic, Christmas tree in the living room. There is no sign that it had been put up. Neither were the stockings hung at the fireplace. Being only a week and a half after Christmas, I wondered if the family skipped Christmas. My heart sinks.

There was the smell of dinner, well, mom preparing dinner. A casserole, mixed with something lemony. The aroma hits me the moment I walk through the door. I close my eyes and take in the smell of ‘home’.

Amber was on the couch, headphones blaring some sort of tune. She has a pencil in her teeth, hair in a ponytail and a spiral notebook on her lap. Along with her purse and backpack, her books strewn atop the coffee table. It was odd to see her studying. The semester hadn’t begun and wouldn’t start for another week. I saw her face light up as she sees me enter the room. I hadn’t seen her in over two months. I had missed her so much. She yanks off her headphones and slides her notebook between the cushion and the backrest. She dashes over to me not even bothering with sliding her feet into her slippers which rest on the floor by the couch. I’m greeted with a hug. The grip of her embrace crushes me. I begin to tear up at the joy of seeing Amber again. I feel Dad scoot around me and Amber.

“I’m so glad you’re home.” She whispers into my ear.

“Me too, I’ve missed you so much.” I choke back a sob. Amber retreats and I watch my Dad walk into the kitchen. She takes my hand and pulls me further into the house. I stand in the middle of the room, trying to remember the last time I stood here. It felt like ages ago. Back then, I was sad and alone. Now, now we are all home.

Amber lets go of my hand and caresses my hair. “You’re letting your hair grow out.” She says with a smile.

To my surprise, I see Patricia walk out of the kitchen after Dad entered. Somehow, she was able to untangle the mess and kept me out of foster care. I did however, have to be held in the hospital while I was being evaluated. Seeing her was both a pleasant surprise and a worrisome development. Why was she here?

While I’ll never truly know what happened, in my imagination, word spread among the squad, by either Lisa, Amber or both, that I was not allowed to have visitors. A few well placed phone calls to Mrs. Yates and probably with a few subtle hints from Matt to the county after my confrontation with the Shrew and she was reassigned replaced by Patricia. It seemed to make sense in my mind, I knew Mrs. Yates and Matt did not have any real ‘pull’, I wishfully thought it true. There was some mention of apology from a representative at the County Social Services Department. My only real clue that one of the girls ’got the ball rolling’, was Matt’s allusion to one of ‘my pushy friends’ as he tried in vain to get the Shrew reassigned. My money is on Monica.

Over the past month, I had almost weekly conversations with Patricia. She told me that I should seriously consider returning to my life as Aaron, though she wouldn’t ‘force that upon me.’ She did ask me a few questions about being ‘transgendered’ and ‘gender dysphoria’, terms that, before this whole mess started, I had never heard before she mention them. She did show some surprise at some of my answers while I was in the hospital. After a few more discussion she seemed to relent on my return to Aaron. That brought me some relief.

Much of my isolation issues had been brought to light during the discussions with Dr. Cho and separately with Dr. Winter, but we didn’t scratch the surface of why they persist. Leaving the hospital didn’t mean I was cured, just not quite as erratic. I was relieved that I was no longer considered a danger to myself or others. All this meant, was that I had to continue treatment on an outpatient basis. Despite the limited budgets of the county, I would be allowed to continue being treated by the hospital. I had to choose between Dr. Cho or Dr. Winter. Each had their unique style. Dr. Cho had a more compassionate amiable style. Dr. Winter was cold, straightforward and engaging. In the end it was the availability of Dr. Winter that made the decision. Don’t get me wrong, I still hate him.

Surprisingly enough, I thought I would be on antidepressants. I think either Dr. Cho or Dr. Winter could have prescribed them to me. That seemed like a normal course of action given what little I knew of how the ‘crazy’ people, like me, were handled. Though, with two different psychiatrists, I would imagine that neither would want to prescribe anything without consulting with the other. I was thankful for that. I wasn’t sure what the anti-psychotics would do to me.

It was Dr. Winter that had asked a pediatrician for assistance on hormone treatments and an Endo-something doctor as well to prescribe them. I overheard discussions on medication to suppress my development into an adult male. There were discussion that went back and forth about permission to administer the treatment, they ultimately settled on having those discussion with my parents when I left the hospital. In later discussions with me, they told me that a hormone regimen would buy me time to ‘make some decisions.’ Something that I was hopeful would be a possibility.

“Erin,” Patricia greets me. “I wanted to see your home life before you arrived. I also wanted to make sure that you were aware that I would be checking up on you twice a week. Just to see how things are going. Did you remember what we talked about last week?” The conversation I had with her last week was to try to ease my way back into my life. That immersing myself would, perhaps, overwhelm me.

“I remember Patricia. Are you staying for dinner?” I asked, I knew my Mom would have offered out of courtesy. I thought Patricia would naturally decline. I wanted to give her another opportunity to join us.

“No, I’ve got a family of my own that will get restless if I don’t get dinner on the table soon.”

“Okay, I understand.” I look down at my sneakers. I feel the corners of my mouth drag downward.

The tall blonde walks over to me and gives me a hug. She whispers in my ear. “I love the sneakers, but you should give ‘his life’ real consideration.” She pulls back from me. “I’ll be back in a few days.” She hands me one of her business cards. “Call if you need anything, okay?”

I slip the card in my pocket and I open the front door for her.

Mom walks in from the kitchen with a casserole dish in her hands. I freeze nervous about her reaction. She looks over at me, gives a soft smile as Amber rushes to her to take the casserole dish from her. Mom warns her that the dish is still ‘too hot to touch’ and tries to hold on to the tray. It isn’t, she’s not even wearing pot holders.

Mom sets the casserole down on the dining table. There are four place settings instead of the usual smattering of bills, circulars, and books. She takes her seat next to Dad who is at the head of the table. Amber sits next to mom and I sit across from Mom with Dad to my right.

It was odd having us all around the same table at the same time. This dinner was the first meal I had with the whole family in ages. Amber would normally be out with her friends. Dad would work late and Mom would usually prepare dinner and we’d serve ourselves when we were hungry. I would normally take a plate of food to my room close the door and work on my homework.

We started dinner off silently. I wasn’t even sure that there was much we all had in common to carry a conversation. Breaking the silence, I turn to Amber, “Hey sis, how’s Lisa and the rest of the girls?”

Amber for her part was caught off guard. I don’t think that she expected dinner conversation. She looked over at me unsure if I really asked a question or not. “Oh, uh. Lisa and Cindy have had more time to spend with each other since there are no more cheer practices. Monica, Dianna and Jennifer are trying to work on other activities to help with their college admissions. I think that they are looking into other possibilities for scholarships since it doesn’t appear like they’re getting a new cheer coach. Ally and Casey joined yearbook to have it as part of their extracurriculars for next year so I think they’ve given up on the squad as well.”

“Oh, they’re not going to hire a new cheer coach?” I say sadly pushing the peas around my plate. “I didn’t realize. What about Ellie?”

“She keeps to herself nowadays. She’s really a different person since…” Ambers voice trails off.

“Maybe, I should talk to her.”

“Sweetheart” Mom interjects, her fork clanks against the plate in front of her, “I think you should be more concerned with your own problems.”

My eyes dart to my mom. Then to Dad. All three of us were staring at Mom.

“Look, honey,” mom continues, “I think it’s nice that you care about others, but don’t you think you have enough to worry about?”

“I think your mother has a point.” Dad adds. “Give it some time.”

I was about to say something when Amber chimes in. “So, have you thought about your return to school?”

“What’s there to think about?” I swivel my head to face Amber.

“Well, are you going to return to Bay View or are you going to switch schools? Are you going to attend school as a girl? What about all the work you missed during the first half of the year? How are you going to handle all of that and the counseling sessions?” Amber grabs my Mom’s empty plate. Taking a cue from Amber, I grab mine and my Dad’s and I walk in to the kitchen Amber trails behind.

Mom enters the kitchen behind us with the leftovers. “Your sister has a point, Honey.”

Our house doesn’t have a dishwasher so plates have to be washed, dried, and stowed. I stand at the sink taking the plates from Amber. “I know it’s a lot, and I’m not going to try to handle it alone.” The faucet begins to fill the sink soaking plates.

I get an a stare from Amber and Mom.

“What?” I ask wondering if I’ll ever be treated like I was normal ever again.

Mom breaks the awkward pause, “Oh nothing dear. It’s just that you rarely ever asked for help before.”

I’m not used to family dialog. It’s pleasant, but unusual. I don’t think we’ve said this much to each other in years. I don’t miss the days of “yeah”, “okay” and “uh-huh” conversations. “Is there a plan for my return to school?”

“We’ll try to make things work as best as we can, but we’re limited on options.”

“Do you want to go back to Bay View?”, Amber asks while turning off the faucet for me.

“Where else would I go?”

“Central”, Amber says plainly as she fills the dish soap dispenser from the industrial sized bottle of dish soap.

“It’s too far for you to walk and I’m worried about you taking the bus there.” Mom adds with a hint of motherly concern. “You are a few years away from driving. Besides, I don’t think we’re going to be able to afford another car.”

“Well looks like it’s settled. I return to Bay View.”

“That hardly sounds ideal. Mom, is that really a good idea?”

“We don’t have a lot of options here. Unless we move, which we can’t afford, or we find a better way for you to get to school, you’re going to have to return to Bay View.”

“Are you returning to school as my sister?”

I grab a sponge and work silently as I start giving the plates a once over. Mom’s curious about my answer to the question as well.

“I was hoping that would be an option. Dr. Corning seemed to think that it was okay for me to do it. I suppose we may need to clear that with her replacement. What happened to her anyway?”

“Dr. Corning?”

“Yes, I’d hate to think she really lost her job over all this.”

Amber hesitates before answering, “They moved her into a district level position. She won’t be running a school, but she’s working on district policies. I guess they couldn’t fire her, but having her at the school would probably serve as a distraction.”

“Have you met the new Principal?”

“No, She hasn’t taken over yet. I think she will start in a week or two.”

“She starts at the beginning of the semester? Who was running the school when Dr. Corning was put on leave?” My question goes unanswered.

Amber puts away the dishes as Mom retired to her bedroom with Dad.

“Wasn’t that weird?” Amber says as I cross the threshold exiting the kitchen to the living room.

I look back as Amber folds the dish towel and places it to dry on the drying rack. Then she follows me out into the living room. “Dinner together? Just the family?”

“Not counting Thanksgiving and Christmas, when was the last time we had a meal together?”

“I can’t remember the last time that happened.” I sigh. I grab Amber’s notebook from the couch and place it on the coffee table then take a seat at the corner of the couch. “What happened to Christmas?”

Amber sits next to me. “Christmas? That was last week.” she says, plainly.

“I know, what I meant was, what happened to all the Christmas decorations?” a sad expression comes over Amber’s face. “You all skipped Christmas?”

“Mom thought we shouldn’t go ‘all out’ on Christmas this year.”

“All out? What are you talking about? I thought that we’d at least have the stockings and the tree still up.”

“We didn’t put up the tree or stockings this year.”

“What are you not telling me?” I could see her expression turn from sad to worried.

“It’s not your fault, okay? Please don’t blame yourself.”

“You weren’t here for Christmas.” I say sadly realizing why Patricia was here. “What happened?”

“You don’t have to worry about it. Honestly, it’s over now.”

“They took you away, didn’t they?” I can see it in my sister eyes. The heartbreak she must have felt as they took her away from our parents. “How can this not be my fault?” I could see the tears welling in my sister’s eyes. She pulls my head on to her shoulder. She’s trying to keep me from crying as well.

“It's okay now, we’re both home. Can we put this behind us? Please?” Amber implores.

Dad comes down the stairs and sees us on the couch. “You two should get to bed.” Amber stands and collects her stuff. Dad disappears into the kitchen and emerges with a glass of water.

Amber walks over to him, plants a kiss on his cheek, “Night, Daddy!”

I watch, wondering if I should do the same.

“Good night, Gumdrop,” as he watches her walk up the stairs.

He looks over at me as I begin to make my way to the stairs. “Honey, hold on a minute, okay?”

We wait and hear Amber’s door close. He walks over to me and I feel him searching my eyes.

“Daddy, what is it?” I ask playfully mimicking my sister with a smile.

He smiles back. “We’re at Daddy, huh?”

I give a bit of Amber’s giggle before dropping the attempt at humor. “What is it that you see?” my solemn tone returns.

“See?”

“Yes, you’ve given me that look three times today. The first time at the hospital, the second before we walked into the house and the other just now.” I can feel my heart sink, “You’re looking for him aren’t you. Wondering where your son has gone to?”

A smile comes over his face. “No, it not what you think.”

I search his face for the telltale sign that he’s about to lie to me. I find none.

“When I look at Amber, I’m reminded of my sister, your Aunt Kathy. You… ” he chokes up a bit, pauses and takes a sip from the glass of water. “When I look at you? I see your mother when she was your age. I don’t think she sees it yet, though.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I think she will, someday.” I smile wider and cast my eyes downward at the complement.

He kisses the crown of my head. “Good night, Honey, don’t stay up too late.”

I stand there as he turns and walks up stairs. Tears begin to race down my cheeks, I feel my way to the couch and take a seat. I wipe the tears from my eyes and smile.

It’s not perfect, but I’m home.

---

---

---

Author's note: I thank you all for your patience in the delay release of this chapter. I am hopeful that there is more to follow. I could not leave the story where I had left it. If the fates are unkind and this is my last entry for this story, then I am glad to leave Erin with the possibility of a good ending. It's not perfect, but there is always the possibility of something greater for our protagonist.

I want to thank you all for reading, commenting and encouraging this story.

I love you all!
Hugs,

Leila

Admin Note: This story was originally published on Monday December 2, 2016 at 11:18:34 am. This story has a slight sardonic twist in the second chapter that plays out into the third that I think most readers will pick up on. Leila is never a straight writer so be prepared for the twist. ~ Sephrena.

 
 
Why is there snoring? There’s a low rumbling snore to the left of me. The warmth from the lump next to me also grabs my attention enough to turn my head. Moonlight peeks through the vertical blinds. My head is throbbing as everything has that slow drag. I must have been drinking. As things slowly come into focus, I’m hoping this is just a nightmare. Nausea overtakes me, and I roll off the bed. The pain of the impact on my knees and wrists as they hit the floor clues me in that this is real. No time to think. I see a doorway, I crawl through it on my hands and knees. I hope it’s the bathroom. I navigate through dirty laundry strewn over the floor, realizing that I’m nowhere that is familiar to me. As I grope my way through the dimly lit bathroom, I reach the porcelain pot and wretch my insides into it. My hair slides down the side of my face as I steady myself placing my hands on the cold rim. I’m convulsing again as I hear footsteps behind me, and then a pair of hands grabbing my hair holding it out of the bowl.

“Ugh!” The voice behind me is familiar, but I’m too hungover to recognize it. My heart is racing and can’t or won’t open my eyes. I’m just thankful that someone is holding my hair out of the toilet. I hear the flush. “Yup! No more drinks for the party girl!”

It’s only then I realize I’m only wearing my bra and panty. “Was it worth it?” The voice from the darkness mocks me. I back away from the bowl; the rim is sticky. The hand releases my hair as I lean back. “I’m not sure. Where are we?”

The voice answers, “my place, you were in no shape to go anywhere else.” Everything is spinning, though, it’s starting to slow. The lights in the bathroom flick on. My eyes close on their own as the light triggers a throbbing in my head. The intensity of it begins to wane as my eyes adjust to the light. The blurred figure of a man that towers over me becomes more distinct. “David?” my one-time roommate stands there smiling at me. “What were you thinking going out to the bar alone, like that?” His admonishment rings of concern.

“I had to.”

“That’s not an answer. Look, you don’t owe me an answer, but I think you owe me thanks.” he pauses, shakes his head and begins to chuckle, “Oh and if I knew you could look like that, I might not-‘ve moved.”

David was a ladies man, though I do know he wasn't one to take advantage of one. I lean backward resting my head against the wall. “Where are my clothes?”

“Your dress is on the floor in the living room.”

“You took off my clothes?”

“You took off your clothes. I was getting a blanket and a pillow from the closet for you when disappeared into my bedroom. You’re lucky I recognized your tattoo. You were a mess.”

“We slept together?”

“I was going sleep on the couch and let you have the bed, but you wouldn’t stop whining about not wanting to be alone, I got into bed, and you finally fell asleep.”

He grabs a robe from the door hook and covers me with it. “Whatever you are going through right now, it’s definitely more than I can handle. Though, I'm in a bit of a shock; to be honest. I mean, given how you reacted to Ally, years ago.”

I cringed. Back then I was deeply in denial. “I’m… I’m sorry…” The smell of coffee begins to fill the air. David loved coffee in the morning. I just never developed a taste for it. “Is that coffee?”

“Yup! like some?”

“I can’t be 5:00 am already; is it?” He always had his coffee pot set to brew at 5:00 am.

“It’s 5:30 am, and you still haven’t answered a single question.”

I close my eyes and pull the robe closer into me. “Sure, just let me get cleaned up first.”

David laughs, “One coffee, coming right up! How do you take it?”

The cackle sends pain through my head. “I don’t know, how ever it comes.” I pull my knees towards my chest and try to drive the pain away.

David’s feet slap the tile floor as he walks out of the bathroom. A few minutes later a warm mug is pressed against my bare shoulder right next to my tattoo, a black clover leaf, a joke, I was to be the ‘king of clubs.' The thought of the image now makes me cringe. David was there when I got it, in fact, it was his idea. The tattoo was a bit of a reminder to the old me, to have the confidence David exudes. I needed to be the ‘king of clubs’; the clover leaf was all the pain I could handle before running out the door. Now, I’m grateful that the rest of the image was not there.

Instinctively, I grab for the coffee and place the rim towards my lips. It’s bitter and sweet, I can taste the milk in it. It warms me from the inside, and I smile behind the mug.

“Wow, I thought you hated coffee.” A grin… He must have caught me smiling. Was it the coffee I was smiling about or that he took the time to make it for me?

My eyes open to see what is inside the mug. A latte, his skills as a coffeehouse barista must be well polished by now. My eyes are drawn to the unmistakable lipstick imprint on the rim draws a memory from last night. The wine glass with the same lip print pattern, the stranger who offered to buy me a drink. He definitely wasn’t David. I don’t even recall David there at all.

“Hey, you still with me?”

I’m shaken from my reverie. I rest my head back on the wall behind me. “Yeah, just a flashback from last night. I think I had wine.”

“As I recall, you only had half a glass. So, do you mind telling me how my old roommate end up as the hottest chick in the bar?”

I smile as he takes the mug from my hand and places it on the bathroom counter. His hand reaches out to pull me to my feet. I’m up, but dizzy, as I fall into his arms. David steadies me as I place my hand on the wall for support. He collects the robe from the floor and set it on my shoulders. My hands find their way through the arm holes, and he wraps it tight around me. I draw my cinnamon hair out from the inside of the robe letting it settle on my back and shoulders. It must have been the coffee, but I can now smell cologne, his cologne on the robe. I can’t help but smile more as he leads me down the hall. The robe drags behind me like a train. He’s about a foot taller than my 5’2” frame. I’m absolutely enveloped by his robe. He leads me by my hand to country style table in the small dining room. “Don’t you have to get to the coffeehouse?”

He chuckles, “Nope, as much as I loved the discount coffee, I work for Addison now.” His eyes search my face for any sign of recognition. He doesn’t find any. “They make custom prosthetics,” he says with that infectious smile that made him popular and most women warm up to him. I can feel the corners of my mouth creep up as well.

“So Olivia, when do I get the full story? This must have been going on for a while. Your student ID says Olivia Martin, but your driver’s license still says, Owen Horton.”

“How much time do you have?”

“I’ve got all day, sweetheart.” Oh that smile again, it just melts me.
 
2016-12-02 11:18:34 -0500

3 Years earlier…

“You must be Owen… I’ll take the room on the left, and you’ve got the one on the right. I’m David by the way.” The apartments on the campus of Northern Coastal University offered a bit more privacy than the dormitories, but you were still assigned your roommate.

“Alright sweetheart, if you need anything just give us a call.” Mom gives me a hug. Dad had already walked back to the car to relax before the long drive back down home. He wouldn’t have me to share the drive back, and Mom hated to drive on the roads that snaked around the cliffs along the coast. If they left now, they would be home just in time for them to go to bed. Mom takes one more look at me and sighs. She did the exact same thing last year. Fortunately, she didn’t make a scene in front of David.

The apartment was amazing, the room on the right, overlooked the water. Actually the Pacific Ocean and what can only meagerly be called a beach. The left room overlooked the campus. David chooses the year long view of the coeds, knowing that rarely would there be anyone at the beach in the fall and winter months. I didn’t care my room offered a bit more in the way of privacy. I was glad to be out of the dormitories and the antics that infested those places. Besides, cafeteria food was about as appetizing anything else mass produced and boiled in a bag.

“So Owen, how do you want to handle the apartment? Free-for-all or do you wanna share the cooking and cleaning duties?” That worried me. Though I didn’t know anything about my new roommate, and I didn’t want to seem pushy.

“I could go either way on it.”

“How about this? You get Monday and Tuesday, I’ll take Wednesday/Thursday, on Fridays and Weekends we fend for ourselves. Swap when we have to entertain?”

“Fair warning, I’m horrible in the kitchen.” I looked over to David with a smirk.

“If I’m doing all the cooking you’re doing all the cleaning…”

Knowing what I know now about David’s cooking. I would have cleaned the apartment, did the laundry, shined David’s shoes, and anything else if he would agree to do all the cooking, “Monday-Tuesday it is.”

David plants himself on the couch “What’s your story?” He’s not unpacking. I look over at the stack of boxes in my room. That’s going to take me hours to unpack. I kick-slide a few boxes marked living room out of the way to make a pseudo walkway between the front door and the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. The boxes slide towards the countertop island that separates the kitchen from the living room.

“Psych major, second year, but I’m still trying to get into some of the intro classes. Who would have thought it would be impossible to get classes?”

He staring at his fingernails checking for dirt. He’s using the small pocket knife on his key ring to as a pick. “Do you work?” He begins to file away his freshly cleaned fingernails.

“No,” I walk over from entryway to the love seat catty-corner to the couch and collapse from exhaustion. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.” I begin to pull off my boots.

He stows away the file and places his keychain on the coffee table. “You’re having problems getting to classes, right?” He looks up at me. The wheels are turning in his head.

“Yeah, what does a job have to do with anything?” He’s peaked my curiosity. I prop my legs up on the arm of the love seat and relax lacing my fingers behind my head, leaning back against the other arm of the love seat.

“Simple, if your work for the campus, you get priority for registration of classes.” A Cheshire cat grin is shone on his face. His grin is kind of creepy.

I turn in the love seat and plant my socks on the floor and stare at him. “You’re kidding…” I smile and let out a chuckle. I’m skeptical, but he has my attention.

“How about I hook you up with Ally in the research department? They needed someone to man the front desk at the clinic.” David shifts his legs from the floor to lounge on the couch. “You get hired, and you get early registration.”

“Awesome… what do you get out if it?” My suspicions grow.

“The apartment to myself on the weekends,” he says with a smile. “Win-Win!”

I shake my head. “Alright, let your friend know I’m interested and ask her when I start.”

“Oh, you still need to interview.”

“Why would I need to interview. The clinic needs to fill the position right?”

“This is a university position, they have to go through the process to make sure that you are not a psycho. They’ll probably need references, and you probably should have your suit cleaned and pressed.”

“You’re making this sound like anything but a slam dunk.” I worry that this may not be as easy as I thought.

“Well, you do need to know the alphabet too… They’ll probably need you to file and answer phones. You’re a psych major… I hope you have some of those skills.” He says with a laugh. “You still interested?”

“Yeah, but I need to buy a suit.”

“How do you not have a suit?” There's incredulous look on his face.

“Old one doesn’t fit, and I left it at home. Mom was going to donate it to charity.“

“Oh, you can get a great deal on suits at the second-hand store down the road from campus.”

---

The clinic is to the north of campus, it's a fairly long walk from the apartments which are to the south of campus. It’s early September just after Labor Day, we get a bit of fog in the mornings which burns off about midday. I walk in the fog making my way to through campus. Dorms are to the east, further inland. Most of the students have moved back to campus by now, but with classes starting in 2 weeks, none are really up before noon. The campus is pretty empty.

The clinic is an ice box, the thermostat must either be broken, or they’re keeping experiments cold. The chill even invades the layers of my ‘new to me’ navy blue suit I picked up at the thrift store that David suggested. Slacks and coat my size are generally difficult to come by without a ton of alterations. I was excited when I found this suit for $40.00. The tags were missing so I had to try it on for size. Everything was just about the right length. It was a bit odd to find pants that were lined.

A blonde, statuesque woman in a lab coat comes through the door into the lobby, her heel click on the linoleum floors. She paused in front of me with a pensive look then smiles. She whispers to me, “Are you, Laura?”

It must be the hair. My dark brown hair reaches just above my collar. I really should have got it cut, but I spent too much time looking for a suit that would fit. “No, are you expecting a guy named ‘Laura’?”

“Um…” I just made her uncomfortable.

“I’m Owen, are you Ally?”

“Oh right! You’re David’s friend. Yes, I’m Ally, but we’ll go over all the introductions in the interview. You’ll be meeting with Professor Bishop. She’s running late, I’ll come get you when she’s ready to start.”

“The interview is not with you?”

“It’s not, why? Did David tell you that I am interviewing you?

“I guess I just assumed.” I look up at her with slight embarrassment. A change of topics would be good right about now. “Can I ask why you are expecting a guy named Laura.”

“I’m not supposed to say. I could get in a lot of trouble.” A man walks through the entryway looking nervous. Ally spies him and walks towards him. They speak quietly for the moment, and he takes a seat on the chair opposite me. I can tell he’s very self-conscious. He alternates between fidgeting with his fingers and drying his palms on his slightly faded jeans and bouncing his knee.

He’s got a medium build to him, the ball cap on his head covering the short crop of hair that peeks from under the brim. I raise my gaze to him. His eyes meet mine. He gives me a nervous smile. “You know, you’re lucky.” He says with an uneasy grin. “Being so petite.”

I give him a puzzled look. I’m not sure whether the comment was an insult, but it had a twinge of both earnest sincerity and jealousy. “I’m not sure that I could say that I’m lucky for being short.”

“No, really. A ton of girls would love to have your frame.”

“I’m a guy, so that doesn’t seem to work in my favor.”

“But that’s why you’re here, right?”

“I’m here for the receptionist position.”

The color drains from his face. “You’re not a patient?”

“No…” I say drawing the word out trying to figure what to say next…

“Oh…” he says as color returns to his cheeks. “That’s a shame, you would be the envy of a ton of girls.” His gaze shifts from me to the floor.

Ally returns, “Mr. Horton, please come with me.” I rise from my chair and follow her through the door. “I’m sorry about the error earlier. I would appreciate some - discretion about what we chatted about earlier.”

“No problem Ally.” I stand, button my suit coat. Ally looks me over and says, “I love your suit.” She grins. “You know, I think you’ll fit in pretty well here. Come on. Professor Bishop is waiting for us.”

I’m seated for the interview. Professor Bishop, a woman in her late 40's, is seated in a conference room. She’s wearing a skirt suit, it’s navy similar in color to my suit. Underneath is a cotton tip which is partially obstructed by her blue, green and orange scarf. She rises to greet me, extending her hand. “Welcome Mr. Horton, I’m Professor Bishop. I’m glad you were able to sit for this interview with such short notice.” I can see her look me over before I sit. “I understand you are a psychology major?”

“Yes, Professor Bishop. I…”

The interview goes for about an hour. I’ve established quite a rapport with Dr. Bishop. She begins to tell me about the clinic and its clientele. It’s only then it is explained to me that the Clinic is one that specializes in ‘Gender-Related Issues.'

I was ready to kill David.

---

“Was that some kind of a joke!?!?!” I’m hopping mad as David stand there calmly dicing an onion.

“Dude, probably not a good idea to yell at a guy holding a knife.” David puts the knife down on the cutting board and wipes his hand with a kitchen rag. “What’s this all about?”

“You hooked me up with an interview for a gender clinic!”

“Oh right! Ally’s great isn't she? She was mentioning that she was having problems trying to fill the receptionist position. I thought I could solve her problem and yours. Win-Win, remember?”

“So you conveniently neglected the part where I’d be ringmaster at the gender circus?”

“That’s pretty insensitive… As a psych major, I thought you would be more open-minded.”

“Open minded? Have you actually been down to the clinic? You let me walk it the ‘pitch room’ for the Jerry Springer show!”

“Dude, so don’t take the job! But you’re making me look like an ass by turning it down. Ally thought you would be perfect for the job. She called me after the interview to thank me. We’re going out Saturday night. Seriously, what’s the big deal anyway?”

“Oh, you don’t see a problem?”

“No, and if you do that’s YOUR problem. Look, Ally is coming over in a bit; she was going to tell you in person that you’ve got the job. You can give her the bad news yourself.” David resumes his culinary duties for the evening.

I head off to my room and begin to look for other campus jobs online. The doorbell rings, and after a brief interlude, there's a soft knock on my doorframe. “Owen?” Ally says softly. “David said you were having some second thoughts about taking the position at the clinic?”

“Yeah, I don’t think it would be a good fit for me.”

“I’m sure you have your reasons for turning down the Chair of the psych department.”

“She won’t hold it against me, would she? I just don’t think it would be a good fit for me.”

“So was all that in the interview about wanting to take your psychology career seriously - just BS?”

“No, I really want to help people.”

“Just not ‘some people,' is that it?”

“No, I just want to take my career seriously.”

“Of course you do, you just don’t want to bother with those people who really need help with lifelong personal struggles. I get it.”

“That’s not fair! I want to help people with real problems. Not some fetish or some compulsion to be something they're not!”

She’s stunned into silence. Tears begin to pool in Ally’s eyes. “If that’s what you think, then you’re probably not a good fit for this job or this major for that matter.” She turns and walks slowly back to the kitchen.

Now I feel like crap… I get up from my chair and chase after her. She’s crying into David's shoulder. This can’t be just about the job. It was like I had insulted her. David tries to console her. He looks up at me, “you know, you may want to consider another place to live.”

“Now wait a minute, I have as much right to this place as anyone else!” I start to panic. “Look, I’m sorry alright. Ally? I’m sure you have a lot of sympathy for the patients there.” Ally turns from David, walks over to the couch, grabs her purse and hugs David and walks out the door.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“What’s it to you? I mean, I never pegged you as an ass.”

“She was baiting me. What was I supposed to do?”

“Learn, you’re a student, you’re supposed to learn or didn’t they teach you that?” He closes the front door and heads back to the kitchen.

I head back to my room and close the door. I relax on my bed for a bit before dinner.

---

I must have fallen asleep as I am awakened by my cell phone. It’s Ms. Bishop calling to offer me the position. Ally must not have spoken with her. “I’m having some reservations about taking the position.”

“You did seem a bit nervous though I’m surprised to hear that you’re having second thoughts. Would you mind sharing those with me?”

“Ally was just here, and I mentioned some of my concerns to her. She didn’t react well to what I saying.”

“I’m sure you didn’t mean to cause her any distress, but I wanted to talk about your misgivings.”

“It’s just… I don’t know.”

“I’m not here to coddle you or convince you to take a position you are not comfortable with. I suggest you research your ‘thoughts,' find out what you ‘don’t know’ and give me a call Friday. If you decline my offer of employment, that is your choice. But to aid you, I suggest you study up on Gender dysphoria or Gender Identity Disorder and not the euphemisms commonly associated with those with gender-related struggles.”

“Thank you, Dr. Bishop, I’ll give you a call on Friday. If you see Ally, please tell her, I’m sorry.”

“I think she’ll find it more meaningful if you were to apologize when you know more of your transgression. I hope to hear from you Friday.” I put down my phone and head to the dining room.

What David prepared is already sitting in the kitchen with a portion missing from the casserole dish. David must be out for the evening. I plate my portion for dinner, wash the everything that was left in the sink. I take Dr. Bishop’s advice and research what she outlined. The internet is great, but the amount of explicit material online is distracting. There is a remarkable difference between the material that comes up when you look up “Tranny” than “Gender Identity Disorder.” Much of the research related to GID is very technical and well beyond what a 2nd-year psych student could really meaningfully absorb.

I called Dr. Bishop Friday morning. In truth, I still had nothing to convince me that any of this was more that just what I had thought. Separating fact from fiction was difficult with what was out there. I’m still not sure why I said I would take the position. Curiosity or quid-pro-quo at least there would be something there that would give me a peek at what a career in psychology would be like.

Still, 3 years earlier...

“I like your hair,” the patient at my counter says to me sheepishly. I’ve learned to smile and accept the compliment as best as I could. The patients over the last month have been ‘colorful.' I try not to laugh when I see a guy in something feminine, and it’s just so obvious. I mean how could anyone really think that they can go through life with such an obvious schism. There were others, I guess ‘they’ were the lucky ones, that were ‘passable.'

Ally, kept her distance. She saw through my pretense, but I was at least competent. I kept the office running as best as I could. She was warm and friendly with the patients and with the rest of the staff. Me? I was the guest who overstayed his welcome. The guy that took the job with no real respect for the patients and their plight.

“Good afternoon, Michelle, just sign in and Dr. Rice will be with you in a bit.” I greet the broad-shouldered blonde patient wearing a plum peplum and matte black leggings with my usual fake smile. Michelle's and Jennifer's seem to be the overwhelming favorite name among the patients. Weird how many of them gravitate to those names.

I pull the patient file “Hicks, Michelle” for Dr. Margaret Rice, our volunteer MD and head over to her office. I knock softly, Dr. Rice?” She slightly nods her head, her silver hair moves just slightly with her gesture. I know to stay quiet until she turns towards me. Waiting patiently, I notice her office is unlike any of the others. There are no family photos, no childhood mementos, it’s almost—sterile. Her cup is even a plain, unadorned black mug. She’s reading something on her computer screen, and her arthritic ridden fingers are typing frantically. Without turning her head, she reaches out to her right and retrieves the mug of tea from her desk. She sips from it and places the mug back on the desk and turns towards me. “Owen, is Ms. Hicks here for her appointment?”

“Your patient is a bit early, You could probably start ahead of schedule and take an early lunch? You have 3 appointments in the afternoon. Did you want me to order takeout for you?”

“Yes, Owen that would be great. It has been such a delight to have you working here. If you don’t mind, I had a few things I’d like to discuss with you over lunch. Are you available?”

“Is there anything wrong?”

“Not, ‘wrong’ per say, just a few things that have become a— concern.”

“Oh. I… I think Michelle is ready anytime you are.” I nervously retreat from her office. I leave the file in the wooden basket on the table just outside her door. I walk back over to the receptionist counter check off a few more names and continue filing away the morning appointments.

Dr. Rice is a creature of habit. A chef salad on Tuesdays, every Tuesday. It’s on special on Wednesdays. The owners of “Garden Delight,” a small farm to fork restaurant down the street, know the order when I say I’m calling for Dr. Rice, they give her the ‘Wednesday’ discount. Her lunch arrives just as Dr. Rice is bidding Michelle goodbye. She hands me Michelle’s file complete with her notes and asks me to set up an appointment in two weeks. She asks if I’ve confirmed her afternoon appointments. “Your 1:30 pm canceled, 3:00 pm confirmed and the 4:00 pm confirmed as well.”

“Owen, would you please join me in my office?” A sense of dread washes over me. What could I have possibly done wrong?

“Have a seat, Owen.” She shows me to a chair, closes her door and sits at her desk across from me. “Owen, I’ve noticed some tension between you and Ally. Is there anything you would like to share about that?”

“I don’t want to get either of us in trouble.”

“I need for both of you to be able to work together. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“To be fair to Ally, I had a conversation with her before I was hired on. I may have mentioned a few things that made her upset. I apologized, but I think we’ve tried to steer clear of each other since I accepted the job offer.”

“I see. Well, you have to find a way to work together…”

“I’ll try to work on that.” I start to rise from my seat.

“There is one other ‘concern,’ it involves your demeanor towards our patients. Please sit down.” I comply. That feeling of dread hasn’t subsided; now it’s growing. “I’ve been observing your interaction with some of our patients.” I can feel the cold sweat forming just under my hairline. “It would appear that you are not really referring to them with their appropriate pronouns and gender. Rather, it has been by name or simply ‘the patient.' ” I can feel my heart leaping from my chest. “We try to make our patients here as comfortable as possible. That includes respecting who they are as a person. When you deny them that, you deny who they are. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Doctor. I… I’ll make more of an effort to make our patients comfortable.”

“You seem uncomfortable yourself, is there anything I can help you with?”

“Ummm. No Doctor, I’ll take your advice and make more of an effort. Is that all, Doctor?”

She sighs “Yes Owen, that will be all for now. Please remember what I said and if there is anything on your mind, please know that you can talk to me. Okay?” Her generally stoic face creeps to a smile.

I rise from the chair and make my way out to the reception area. Ally passes me in the hallway, and I can feel the icy stare from her as I walk to my station.

An hour later, Ally approaches my desk. Before I can say anything, she chimes in, “I had a ‘lovely’ chat with Dr. Rice, thank you for that by the way.”

I look at her. “I was about to say the same thing to you,” I say with a catty smile.

“Why did you take the job anyway? I mean, it sure sounded like this was the last place you'd want to work.”

“I had a conversation with Professor Bishop. She made a few suggestions on things that I should look into before I made my decision on the position. I took her advice, called her the next day and accepted the position.”

“You expect me to believe that whatever you found was enough to make you change your mind that quickly?”

“I’m not saying anything either way. I considered what an opportunity this would be, and how it would look on my resume. The positives outweighed the negatives, and I took the job.”

“Are you even listening to yourself? I know it’s impossible to change your beliefs overnight, but it sounds like you learned nothing from what Professor Bishop asked you to look into.”

“Look, I’m trying to make an effort here. You seem to be taking this a bit personal. I can understand that you care for these people, and that you have a passion for this, but let’s face it. They are not going to be normal like you and me. Right?”

Here we go again with the waterworks. “Owen, I really hope you aren’t serious about that.”

“Look, I’m sorry, perhaps if I knew what they were going through it may be more ‘real’ to me. I mean, take you for instance. There is no way that any of them could possibly look as good as you, or even have your life. They won’t know what it would be like to grow up like you did, find a guy, fall in love, and start a family. Yet, that’s the life they chose. You? You have all of that ahead of you, because you’re a real woman.”

“I’m one of them, Owen.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. You can’t expect me to believe that you were a guy.” I say dryly.

Her eyes narrow. “My life… is not a joke, Owen” a single tear, then the next.

“So my roommate is dating a… Does he know?”

She grabs a tissue from the box on my desk. “Of course David knows. I was the one that told him about the position here at the clinic.”

“So David is gay? Or does he, like, you know… Something extra to his girls?”

“You’ve really learned nothing in the last month, have you? You’re such a jerk!”

“Wait, you mentioned when we first met, that you thought I would be a good fit here. That was before the interview. Did you think I was…”

“I couldn’t tell, but wearing a woman’s suit in a gender clinic doesn’t exactly scream ‘intolerant asshole’, now does it.”

“Is that why you asked if I was… What was her name? Laura?”

“Yes, she was a new patient. You obviously looked like you could be a patient and I was trying to discretely greet you.”

“I was wearing a woman’s suit?”

“And the ground didn’t exactly open up and swallow you whole, now did it?”

“In fact,” I chuckle, “It may have gotten me the job!”

“Ugh, don’t remind me!”

“So you thought I was, a potential ‘patient’ and that sold you all on giving me the job?”

“David thought you were a good guy. Someone who could help us out. He didn’t say you were a homophobe and a dick.”

“Hey, there's no need throwing that around. Some of us like ours.”

The horrified look on her face sends her running off crying, locking herself in the file room.

“Oh, that did it.”

“Owen? What happened to Ally?” Dr. Rice approaches me after hearing the slam of the file room door.

“I… I said something… I shouldn't have.”

“I see… What did I tell you about being sensitive to our patients?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, I’ll go and apologize.”

Apparently, Ally forgot that I had a key to the file room. I unlock the door and slide into the room, carrying a box of tissues as a peace offering. She’s on the floor, bawling her eyes out. Before I could say anything.

“How could you? Did it make you feel better? More like a man to put me down like that?”

“Ally, I’m really sorry. I didn’t know this was something you really were going through. I mean…”

“It hurts you know? To be thought of as…”

“I was… I was trying to do, what I normally do, I guess the joke just went too far this time. I’m really sorry.” I reach for some tissues and hand them to her. “For what it’s worth, I never thought of you as anything other than a woman.”

A flash of incredulity, then a smile. “Thanks, Owen. But it’s more than that. Everyone that walks in here wants to feel like… How you made me feel right now. That you perceive them as such.”

“Look, all I can do is what I promised Dr. Rice that I would make an effort.”

“Perhaps, it would help if you met a few of the girls in a less… clinical… setting?”

“That may be a bit of a stretch.”

“Owen, you are going to have to start seeing us as real people, and not ‘freaks’ or ‘fetishists.' I think that was what you were telling David.”

“Fine. but I’d like to not be the third wheel on a date with you and David.”

“I can set you up with one of my friends…” She says with a smile.

It’s my turn to give her a derisive look.

“I do have ‘GG’ friends too you know. Or would you prefer one of my male friends, instead?” She says with a slight grin.

“Bring whoever you want. Just make sure that they know it’s not a ‘date’ just some friends getting together.”

“How does Friday night sound to you?”

“Sounds fine. I’ve got to get back to work okay?” I extend my hand to bring her to her feet.

She dries her tears. “Sure thing, Owen. I was hoping that you’d ‘come around.' ” She smiles and walks back to her station.

Great! At least things are thawing out between us.