I'm not the unluckiest boy in the world- far from it, in fact- but every morning I wake up cursing my life.

My name is Ashley Nathan Moore. I was born on the 12th of May 2003 to two very loving parents, who would subsequently have three more children- three girls. I'm the only boy in the family... And the frustration that it causes me is immeasurable.

Not that I don't love my sisters, of course, and they love me. Cassidy- the second of my three sisters- is always telling me how glad she is that I'm her big brother.

I just wish- I ALWAYS wish- that I was her big sister.

Ever since I started primary school I was obsessed with girls. For a twelve year old boy, this isn't out of the ordinary, I admit, but at the time, I was five, and every time I saw one of my classmates walk past wearing a skirt, or with their long hair tied into a ponytail, it triggered a feeling in me, a feeling that only grew stronger each time I felt it.

When I left primary school, I was dreading starting secondary school. I didn't really have any friends at primary school, and no one I knew would be going to the secondary school I chose, but the source of my dread was much more basic- virtually every girl I say at the school would be wearing thick grey tights, a knee-length pleated skirt and tiny black ballerina flats. I would spend every minute of every school day obsessing over this fantasy I knew could never come true, eventually leaving at the age of sixteen as an all but fully grown man, complete with facial hair, body hair and a deep, masculine voice. I was all but ready to resign myself to my fate and forget all about my dream of being a girl... And then I saw her.

I'd seen over the summer news stories about a girl who used to be a boy, but who was kidnapped by her absent father and forced to be a boy again. Fortunately, the girl was rescued and returned to her mother, once again living life as a girl. Her name was Laura, Laura White... And on my first day at secondary school, I was shocked to see her face- and the skirt, tights and ballerina flats she was wearing- walking past me in the corridor. There was someone who had been in the exact same position as me, but had taken the plunge and decided to live her dream... But who ended up suffering through a terrible ordeal as a result.

After two months, I worked up the courage to introduce myself to Laura and her friends. It turned out that she was a member of the school's drama club, so I hastily signed myself up as well, even though I'd never really had any interest in acting (and my parents aren't what you'd call 'artistically-minded'). A few days later, I told Laura- in confidence- about my secret wish, and she instantly became one of my best ever friends. A short while later, I confided my secret to a second girl, Suriya, who also became one of my best friends and later my sort-of girlfriend too- much to my parents' surprise. It was Suriya who would give me my first taste of life as a girl, by giving me a pair of her school tights. It took me a week to work up the courage, but eventually I took the plunge and stretched the thick grey legwear over my legs... And I was instantly in heaven. It was the first time I'd ever worn a feminine item of clothing, but it just felt so right.

In the meantime, I had joined the girls' ballet class- which took my parents by surprise when I asked them if they'd be happy to pay for the lessons. I had thought that by attending the class, it would bring me closer to my dreams by bringing me closer to Laura and her friends, but if anything, it made my urges even worse. Every lesson I'd show up in my white t-shirt and black leggings, whilst the girls would wear dark blue leotards and soft pink tights, and would have their hair tied up into elaborate buns. What should have been an activity to help me realise my dreams only served to remind me just how far away from them I was.

Eventually, I 'came out' to all of Laura's friends, who accepted me without question as 'one of the girls'. Even better, I would find myself building up a wardrobe of girls' clothes- every time they were going to throw away old clothes of give them to charity, they'd end up in my hands instead. I would be given skirts, dresses, leotards, even one of Suriya's old saris. I'd hang out with the girls at the weekend too, join in their makeovers and dressing-up parties (when their parents weren't watching, anyway). To all intents and purposes, I was just another one of the girls...

...And yet as I start my second year of secondary school today, I'm reminded just how much I am NOT one of the girls. As always, I pull on my black socks, my grey trousers and my black lace-up shows, and as always, when I meet my friends at the front gates, they're wearing their ballet flats, grey tights and knee-length pleated skirts (apart from Suriya's older sister Priya, who's wearing the 'upper school' uniform of a straight skirt and black tights).

"Hey Ash!" Suriya squeaks happily, rushing over to give me a hug. "Second year starts here!"

"Hey Suri!" I giggle. "Hey Priya... Years three and four start here, I guess!"

"Don't remind me," Priya laughs. "I'm already terrified about my GCSEs as it is..."

"Though you do at least get to wear the 'grown-up' uniform," I laugh, prompting sad smiles from the two Indian girls.

"As would you, if you just told your parents," Priya sighs. "Well, in two years you would, anyway!" I force out a chuckle, but inside, I know that what Priya's saying is correct- and it's the reason why my dreams will never come true.

If my parents reacted with surprise when I told them that I wanted to start ballet class, I dread to think what their reactions would be if I told them I wanted to live my life as a girl. My father in particular would be livid- the way Laura's father acted toward her is proof enough of that. My parents already have three girls, I couldn't take their only boy away from them- especially not from dad.

Every time my mum gave birth to a girl, dad would smile and be happy and say how much he loves his new daughter... But he would then immediately return to me, indulging me in a kick-about or a trip to see Queen's Park Rangers (his favourite football club) play. Every morning I wake up and see the QPR poster on my wall, I'm reminded that not only am I his boy, I'm his only boy, and that's all I can ever be.

Mum, on the other hand, is very much devoted to her career. Out of her and dad, she's the main breadwinner. She manages a large shop (part of a national retail chain) in Knightsbridge, leaving most of the day-to-day running of the house to dad (who does occasional work as an Uber driver). Whenever she is home, she always finds time for myself and my sisters, and will help me with my homework if I need it or drive me to dance class (despite my father's tuts). If I were to tell mum that I wanted to be a girl... I can't even begin to imagine what her reaction would be.

After the first two lessons of the day (which should include PE, but thankfully don't at it's the first day of term) I make my way to the small 'picnic table' Laura and her friends have claimed as their own.

"Hey Ash!" Suriya says, jumping up and giving me a hug before leading me to my usual seat, squashed between her and Laura.

"Found any year sevens you want to boss around yet," Nicole, the unofficial 'leader' of the gang asks.

"Nah, just been in form then in a not-PE class," I say.

"Ugh, boy's PE," Harriet- another member of the gang- spits. From what I understand, in Laura's first year at secondary school, Harriet was something of a bully to her, constantly picking on her and making her life a misery for being who she wanted to be. She and Laura are now firm friends after Harriet was forced to apologise by her mum (it turned out that Harriet's dad was forcing her to be a bully out of fear of punishment), and if anything Harriet is the most determined to make Laura- and me, for that matter- into full girls as fast as possible.

"What are you doing?" Megan- the final and shyest member of the gang- asks. "Rugby or football?"

"Football, thankfully," I say. "Got rugby after half-term. Reckon you could, I dunno, break my ankle or something during half term?"

"No way!" Harriet laughs.

"Yeah," Laura says. "How are you going to do ballet with a broken ankle?" NOT in a leotard and pink tights... I self-pityingly think to myself.

Break ends shortly afterward and I head to my next lesson- maths. It is, fortunately, a lesson where I can just sit down, shut up and get on with it- something which is a rare treat in my school life.

As much as I love my friends, the fact remains that they're all one year (or in Priya's case, two years) ahead of me, meaning that the only opportunity we get to hang out is at break or lunchtime. During lessons, I basically work with whoever I'm sat next to, and they're often people I wouldn't call (or wouldn't want to call) friends.

It's not like I'm bullied at school- in lessons, the teachers keep a close enough eye that there's nothing any would-be bully can do, and at break, I spend all my time with Laura and her gang, who are untouchable (and, thanks to Laura's brush with fame the previous summer, fairly popular). This doesn't stop other kids in my year- usually girls, frustratingly enough- from sniggering or pretending to whisper to each other every time I walk past. I'm lucky that I can rise above it all... But god knows how bad it would be if I suddenly showed up to school wearing a skirt.

The school day ends, as usual, at 3pm, and I wave my six female friends goodbye as I jump into the passenger seat of my dad's car, smiling as I wave at the two tiny girls on the back seat, each dressed in the red cardigan and grey skirt I desperately wished I could wear when I went to the primary school they'd spent all day at.

"Hey Bryony! Hey Cassie!" I say to the two girls. "So, Cassie, how'd you like your first day at proper school?"

"It was okay," the four (nearly five) year old girl replies. "The teacher read a funny story to us."

"I'm not expecting to actually learn anything yet," dad chuckles. "Hopefully you two paid more attention in school today?"

"I always pay attention in school," I say.

"Yeah, to girls!" Bryony says sarcastically, making my dad laugh.

"She does have a point," dad says. "I take it you spent the whole time having out with your girlfriend and her friends?"

"Yes, as always," I reply. "That reminds me- can Suriya and Laura come over on Thursday after ballet?"

"What, to help you with your homework?" Dad asks. "It's the first day of school, do you even have any homework?"

"No, but I bet I will by Thursday," I say.

"They can help me with my homework if Ashley doesn't have any!" Cassidy says, making everyone in the car chuckle.

"You don't even get any homework until you're in year three," Bryony says, making my younger sister stammer.

"Play nice, you two," dad warns.

"So, Cassie, what was your favourite thing about school?" I ask, trying to save the tiny girl's blushes.

"I really liked how big it was," Cassidy replies. "I DIDN'T like how everyone was dressed the same. How do teachers know who everyone is?" This time, I can't help but let out a giggle at my sister's innocence.

"That's why it's called a 'uniform'," I say. "It means that everyone wears the same thing."

"Why can't I wear my pink dress instead?" Cassidy asks.

"Over to you, Ash," dad laughs. "You seem to have this one covered..."

"Uhh," I stammer. "I think it's got to do with helping you feel like part of the community, or something..."

"What's a 'community'?" Cassidy innocently asks.

"Don't you know anything?" Bryony says. "It's a group of people who all do the same thing."

"Uhh, close enough," I say. "It's a group of people who all either live together or work together, like, you and your friends at school all work together, so you're a community."

"So are we a community?" Cassidy asks. "Us, mum and Dorothy?"

"Yep!" I say happily. "The Moore family is as much a community as your class at school."

"So why don't we all wear the same thing?" Cassidy asks, making everyone giggle again.

"Well, for starters, me and Ash can't wear skirts," dad laughs. "Unless you want to wear trousers to school or at home..."

"No," Cassidy says, shaking her head. "Only boys wear trousers!"

"Girls can wear trousers too," Bryony says. "It's only boys who can't wear skirts."

"That doesn't seem fair," Cassidy says as I remain quiet and muse on just how right the tiny girl is.

After I arrive home and change out of my uniform into a pair of jeans and a plain blue t-shirt, smiling sadly as Cassidy changes into her favourite pink dress and Bryony changes into a t-shirt and a short denim skirt that is a far too 'mature' look for the 9 year old girl- though if I said that to Bryony's face, she'd just take it as a compliment. After dinner, I spend a short while fussing over Dorothy- my youngest sister at just 2 and a half years old- before heading up to my bedroom and shutting the door. I sigh as I open my wardrobe and take out the small suitcase from inside, opening it to stare at the contraband within.

After checking that my door is firmly shut and all my family are downstairs, I withdraw a knee-length, pleated grey skirt from the suitcase and- after stripping off my jeans- slowly step into it, securing it around my waist. Even though I'm still wearing boy's underwear and a boy's t-shirt, even though my hair is (relatively) short and my face is make-up free, the mere act of wearing a skirt makes me smile, and for one brief moment, forget all about my misery. I'm NOT the unluckiest boy in the world... But it certainly feels like it at times.

After a short while, I strip off the skirt and return it (and the suitcase) to the back of my wardrobe, ready for when I need it again. After pulling my jeans back on, I take my small tablet PC out of my drawer and switch it on, logging onto Facebook to find a discussion already in progress.

'Hey, 'honorary girlie'!' Laura types as I enter the chat room.

'Hey Ash!' Suriya types. 'Enjoyed your first day of year 8?'

'Yep!' I type. 'Not quite as painful as usual, lol.'

'Wasn't it your sister's first day at school today as well?' Nicole asks.

'Yep!' I reply. 'She likes the school, doesn't like the uniform so much...'

'Like brother, like sister!' Megan types. 'You have to admit it's ironic...'

'Maybe a little,' I sigh as I type. 'Actually spent the last hour wearing a skirt, thinking it'd cheer me up.'

'OMG just tell your parents already!' Priya types, making me roll my eyes. 'What's the worst they can do, they can't kick you out?'

'Believe me, they can do worse,' Laura types, making me shiver with terror as the conversation briefly pauses.

'I'm sorry,' Priya eventually types. 'But your dad was evil, I've met Ashley's dad, he's not like that, he's not a bully.

'And in fairness, he's always been polite to me,' Laura types. 'Even when he knows what I am.'

'It wouldn't surprise me at all if they already knew,' Suri types, making me smile.

'Nah,' I type. 'If mum had any idea about that, she'd have confronted me about it ages ago.'

'I've got to go,' Laura suddenly types. 'My grandma’s here, she's made me a chocolate pudding, I'll get in trouble if I don't eat at least some of it...'

'Ttyl, Laura!' Nicole says as Laura signs out, leaving another awkward silence in the room. Laura's ordeal at the hands of her father left some deep emotional scars, probably the deepest of which was an obsession about her weight that led to a year-long battle with bulimia. All throughout her second year at school, Laura would attempt to purge her body with laxatives, which resulted in her collapsing in the middle of ballet class.

In what was easily the most terrifying experience of my young life, I had to watch as Laura was wrapped in a blanket (to keep her warm), placed into the back of an ambulance and driven away, leaving me and the other girls stood there terrified out of our minds. What terrified me more than the sight of Laura collapsing was the thought, however illogical, that if I tried to live life as a girl myself, the same- or worse- would happen to me.

Eventually, after a long day, I head to bed, but not before taking one last wistful look at the suitcase in my wardrobe, the suitcase that contains my 'other life'.

The following day, as always, I dress in my plain shirt, trousers and blazer and get dropped off at school by my mum whilst my sisters dress in their skirt, blouses and cardigans and get dropped off at primary school by our dad, and as always, I'm greeted by (and spend all of my free time with) my six female friends, before heading home with dad, Bryony and Cassie just after 3pm. Tonight, however, is special, as tonight is Wednesday, which means that when I get home, I don't change into jeans and a t-shirt, but instead change into a tight white t-shirt and black leggings, ready for my ballet class tonight.

"See you later, twinkle toes," dad sighs as mum and I leave the house and get in her car.

"Mum," I ask as we drive off. "You- you ARE okay with me studying ballet, aren't you?"

"Of course I am," mum says with a smile. "Don't pay any attention to any teasing from your dad, if this is what you enjoy doing then it shouldn't matter whether or not your father approves."

"Yeah, but he'd obviously be happier if I was out playing football," I sigh.

"You do still enjoy doing ballet, don't you?" Mum asks. "I wouldn't want to be shelling out good money for something you don't enjoy..."

"Oh- no, I do still enjoy it," I say. "And I get to hang out with all my friends, and dance with them..."

"Well, at least it'll make your dad happier, knowing that you're only doing this to attract girls!" Mum laughs. "Besides, your teacher's said that she'll have spots opening soon in her junior classes, and you know how much Cassie wants to join the class too... reckon you're teacher will give us a discount for having two siblings in the same class?"

"Couldn't hurt to ask," I say, making mum laugh as I arrive at the studio. As always, I smile when I see my six friends stroll into the studio with their hair tied into tight buns and their bodies covered in soft pink tights and dark blue leotards, but inside I feel my heart wrench, such is my desperation to join in their side of the class. Whilst I'm learning the male steps, they're all learning specialised steps to prepare them to dance in pointe shoes, like proper ballerinas.

A few months from now, they'll have their pointe shoes and will be in the advanced class, and whilst I've been told I'll be able to join them in that class, I'll still be in my t-shirt and leggings.

"Still thinking about quitting?" Nicole teases Priya as we leave the dance studio.

"...As long as I can still fit it around my homework!" Priya giggles as she pulls on a loose cardigan and flimsy dance skirt over her leotard and tights. "I'm really, really excited about the pointe shoes!"

"Me too!" Suri squeaks, before sighing sadly as she sees me smiling at the six girls.

"Aww," Laura sighs, coming over and giving me a quick hug. "You know, if you asked Miss Fullerton, I'm sure she'd teach you pointe as well..."

"Or you could just tell your parents that you wanted to wear this to the dance class," Harriet says, playfully stretching the fabric of her leotard.

"Yeah, but you're all nearly ready for pointe shoes," I sigh. "I'd have to take loads more months before I was ready..."

"Better late than never," Priya shrugs. "And I'm not just talking about ballet..."

"Rajkumariyom!" I hear a familiar friendly Indian accent call from the reception area of the dance studio.

"Gotta go, don't want to keep dad waiting," Priya laughs. She, Suri, Laura and Nicole all go to leave, but before they do, Suri returns and wraps me in a tight hug, squeaking happily as she squeezes my body.

"See you later, girlfriend!" The Indian girl whispers, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving with her sister and her friends. I climb into mum's car a short while later, and as we head home, I muse on what Priya said- 'better late than never'. The thing is, though, I may not be able to wait much longer.

Laura takes a special pill every day that blocks her production of male hormones, effectively preventing her from going through a male puberty. When she grows up, she'll grow up to be a woman. Obviously, I'm not taking this pill myself, so when I grow up, I'll grow up to be a man... And that day is rapidly approaching.

One day, my hair and my face will suddenly start sprouting hair, my muscles will grow, my shoulders will widen... And any chance I ever had of being a girl will vanish in an instant. I'm pretty sure they don't make pointe shoes in size 12...

I wake up the following morning and run through my usual routine- pulling on my school trousers, being dropped at the school gate and immediately becoming envious of my six friends in their grey school skirts. As always, I barely talk to anyone in the classes I'm in, but hang out with my six female friends at break and lunch, meeting up with them again later in the evening for our second ballet lesson in as many days.

Yet again, I enter the dance studio with my t-shirt and my leggings on my body and a smile on my face, and yet again my heart breaks when I watch the girls stroll into the studio wearing their soft pink tights underneath their dark blue leotards. Unlike last night, however, tonight I know that there'll be something I can do about it when I get home, as I won't be going home alone.

"Come on!" Suri urges as she all but wrestles me onto the back seat of mum's car. "In the middle, you know you love it!" I laugh tiredly as I squeeze myself into the middle seat whilst Suriya and Laura take seats either side of me, just like when we're sat around our table at school.

"It's so good of you girls to come over and help Ashley with his homework," mum says as we set off.

"Honestly, I don't mind," Laura says. "Anything to help our favourite boy!"

"Or favourite 'honorary girl'!" Suri whispers into my ear, making me giggle quietly. When we arrive home, the three of us head up to my room (pausing first to do a few quick ballet steps for Cassie, who absolutely adores Suri and Laura). Once we're inside and my door is shut, Suri heads straight to my wardrobe and pulls out my suitcase, opening it and pulling out a pair of pink tights and a pale blue leotard very similar to the ones she and Laura are wearing right now.

"You know the rules," Suri laughs as she hands me the delicate garments, before leaving me alone in the bedroom. I quickly strip off my t-shirt and leggings, leaving me only in my androgynous-looking white briefs, before pulling on the soft pink tights. Even though they're a skin-tight piece of legwear like my leggings, they couldn't be any more different in the way they feel on my legs. The leggings are thick, warm, practical... The tights are soft, caressing my skin rather than clinging to it. Once my tights are smooth and straight, I step into the leotard, shaking with excitement as I bunch it around my waist before stretching it over my torso, finishing by putting my arms through each armhole and smoothing it over my body. After wrapping a flimsy dance skirt- similar to the one Priya wore yesterday- around my waist, I cough, signalling to Laura and Suri that they should re-enter my room. Once the two girls see me in my dancewear, they immediately surround me in a tight group hug, with Suri repeatedly kissing me on the cheek.

"My bestest, bestest girlfriend!" Suri squeaks quietly. "Come on, we need to get some make-up on you, and fast!" I giggle and offer little resistance as Suri and Laura lead me to my mirror and apply a small amount of mascara and pink lipstick to my face, and once they're done, I stare at my reflection and sigh happily- I am truly indistinguishable from any of the girls I saw at my dance class earlier this evening.

"Now come on," Laura giggles. "Hope you're not too tired from your 'real' dance class."

"Yeah," Suri agrees as the two girls sit down cross-legged on my bed. "Show us your moves!" I smile as I turn my feet out into a perfect first position, before dancing a few quick steps, much to the girls' obvious delight.

"Ahh, you are SUCH a girl," Laura says, giving me a hug as I join her and Suri on my bed. "You know, you could do that twice a week for 'real' if you wanted, you know what you have to do..."

"Yes, yes," I sigh. "Laura... Do you think you'd have ever come out to your parents? I mean, you always told me that your mother 'sussed you out', am I right?"

"Yeah," Laura whispers. "Just before the final term of primary school, she just comes out and asks 'do you wish you were a girl'? Obviously, the only answer to that is 'yes'."

"What, you know, 'clues' did you drop?" I ask.

"I only ever hung out with girls at school," Laura says. "I never showed any interest in male stuff, I only ever liked girls' things, girls' activities..."

"Sounds familiar," I sigh. "You're so lucky..." I wince a little as Laura stares at me, clearly not agreeing with what I'd just said. "Um, I mean, to be asked that question..."

"S'okay, I knew what you meant," Laura says with a grin. "You know, asking for pointe shoes could act as another 'clue' to your parents..."

"One they'd probably ignore," I snort. "Besides, I'd still be months behind you girls..." My nose scrunches up in confusion as Laura and Suri giggle at each other, before Suri reaches into her bag and hands me a wad of photocopied pages.

"Here," the Indian girl says, her giggle only getting wider.

"What's this?" I ask, flicking through the pages- which are clearly ballet-related.

"All of our 'pointe preparation'," Laura says. "Exercises and stuff. Some of it's fairly advanced but there's a lot you can do by yourself, in your room, to strengthen your legs and your feet."

"Oh my god," I squeak girlishly. "This is so cool, thank you so much!"

"We would've got it done earlier, but we had to wait until we were back at school to get access to a photocopier," Laura explains. "Doesn't seem right that we all get to be ballerinas but you don't. I like to think that I'm living proof that it doesn't matter how you were born, you can still be a beautiful dancer..."

"And you are!" I giggle, giving Laura a hug before Suri playfully shoves the blonde girl out of the way.

"Let his ACTUAL girlfriend give him- sorry, HER- a cuddle!" Suri says, giving me a hug of her own.

"You know," I say to Suri, "if hell did freeze over and I did tell my parents... You'd have to become a lesbian to still be my girlfriend..."

"Oh, whatever," Suri laughs. "It's not like we're allowed to have sex anyway, what difference does it make?"

"And you know, Nikki Thomas's girlfriend still went out with her after she came out," Laura says, referencing the eighteen year old girl who she views as her idol. "You know, your story's a lot like Nikki's, Ash. Dressing as a girl in secret, aided by friends behind your parents' back... She turned out fine in the end, nothing to say that you won't either!"

"I know," I laugh. "I read Nikki's columns, she's really cool... But she was sixteen when she came out, I'm only twelve, my parents wouldn't take me seriously..."

"You'll never know until you try," Suri says quietly, making the whole room pause for a brief second. "Um, we promised your parents we'd help you with some homework, guess we'd better get on and actually do some..."

A short while later- after having removed my make-up and my dancewear- I wave my friends off at the front door, sighing sadly as they depart- though I'm not sure what I'm most sad about, Laura and Suri going, or my latest 'girl time' ending.

"Come on, son," dad laughs as I try to slink upstairs. "Sit down, I need to talk to you for a second."

"What's up?" I ask as I sit down opposite dad, nervous that I missed some trace of my make-up when I was removing it.

"You know you'll always be our firstborn, right?" Dad asks. "You'll always be our special man."

"Yes, I've kinda figured out that I'm the oldest of the four of us," I say, making dad playfully hurl a cushion at me.

"What I'm trying to say is..." Dad says, before sighing. "When- when Dorothy is the age you are now, you'll be 22, not just our special little man, but a man full stop..." Like I need any more reminders, I think to myself. "And..."

"Is this about Suri?" I ask. Worse yet, is it about 'girl time'? Has dad somehow figured it out?

"No, no, it's not about Suri of any of the other members of your 'harem'," dad chuckles.

"Is it about ballet?" I ask. "Or only having female friends?"

"No, no- gah," dad sighs. "This... This can wait until tomorrow, the weekend. It's almost nine... You should get to bed soon. But think about what I said- soon, you WILL be a man, with all the responsibilities that involves... Your mum and I hope that you will grow up to be a RESPONSIBLE man. A good man isn't defined by how many girlfriends he has, but how he treats the one woman he loves, her and his whole family."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be getting Suri pregnant any time soon," I say, making dad hurl yet another cushion at me.

"Damn right you're not," dad laughs. "I refuse to be a granddad at the age of 34! You're no less of a man if you wait until you're sixteen, regardless of what anyone says."

"Um, this is a fun talk dad, but- no offence- was there really any point to it?" I ask, chuckling as dad looks around for another cushion to throw, only to find that he's run out of cushions on his sofa. I actually make him laugh as I hand back one of the cushions he threw at me earlier, only for him to immediately hurl it at my head.

"Stop that!" Mum chastises the two of us.

"Oh, he's got a hard head," dad laughs. "He may spend his evenings doing ballet but he's got his old man's skull, if nothing else."

"What were you two talking about?" Mum asks, an air of actual concern in her voice.

"Good question," I say, laughing as dad pretends to throw the entire sofa at my head.

"Just- um, trying to have a man-to-man," dad says. "As Ash grows up, he should adopt more responsibilities around the house, 'earn his keep', you know what I mean?"

"He's only twelve!" Mum says. "Though... You're not entirely wrong, especially... This is something we can talk about tomorrow. God and get ready for bed, Ash."

"Can do," I say, heading upstairs and changing into my plain boy's pyjamas while I try to make sense of what dad was trying to tell me. It wasn't a botched attempt at 'the talk'- we'd had that months ago, after I'd started going out with Suri- and if mum wanted me to help out more around the house, she'd have just come out and asked me.

I decide not to worry too much about the talk as I settle down to bed, my thoughts occupied by the soft, delicate dancewear I'd danced in mere hours before, and that I can't wait to wear and dance in again...

Like any other schoolboy, I have a smile on my face as Friday dawns- not just because it's the last day of the school week, but because it means I can try to put behind me my sheer frustration at the injustice of having to go into school every day in a pair of grey trousers when my friends all wear skirts. Of course, the weekend always ends, Monday always rolls around and my frustration always begins anew, but as I arrive home with dad, Bryony and Cassie, I can immediately tell that this weekend is going to be different. Before we're allowed to change, the three of us are sat down on the sofa (with me also being given Dorothy to hold) as mum and dad stand in front of us with very serious expressions on their faces.

"Kids, there's something very important we need to tell you," mum says, and immediately my heart sinks as one thought- and only one thought- enters my mind: my parents are getting a divorce. They've been disagreeing a lot lately, mum's been feeling under the weather, dad's been more thoughtful- as he showed last night- been acting a lot more serious, especially when it comes to money...

"Your mother and I," dad says, making my heart beat faster. "We..."

"...We're having another baby," mum says, making Cassie squeak excitedly and even making the normally-dismissive Bryony gasp with wonder.

"I'm going to be a big sister again?" Cassie says, bouncing up and down and nearly shaking me out of my seat.

"Yes you are!" Mum says with a wide grin. "And so is Dorothy! You're all going to be big sisters- well, apart from Ashley, of course!" I force a laugh out, but once again, even at this happiest of times, inside I feel cold and empty. Once again, through no fault of my parents, I've been 'left out'- Bryony, Cassie and Dorothy will all get to be big sisters, but once again, I'll be a big brother whether I like it or not.

It's only as I go to bed that a thought dawns on me- when dad talked to me yesterday about me being his 'special man', I assumed it was an attempt at some sort of father-son bonding, but it was to prepare me to yet again be an older sibling, be another 'man of the house', as I'm the only male other than dad who lives here... But who's to say that nine months from now, I won't have another sister, but rather another brother, another boy for dad to fuss over and take to the park to play football, or take to Loftus Road to watch QPR play? Who's to say that nine months from now, there won't be another boy to take on the role of the other 'man of the house'? When he's old enough for that responsibility, anyway.

Of course, my hopes could all be in vain- I had these exact thoughts two years ago when Dorothy was born, and even five years ago when Cassie was born and I was just seven years old, I was having these thoughts. Now, however, it's different. Now, I've tasted life as a girl, thanks to my friends, and I want more. I KNOW I'll be a better big sister to the new baby than I would be a big brother... All I need is the courage to tell my parents that that's what I want to be.

“Happy birthday dear Priya,” everyone sings, at the prompting of the Indian girl’s middle-aged father. “Happy birthday to you!” Priya blushes as she holds her long black hair out of her face, before blowing out the fifteen candles on her rich chocolate cake.

“Fifteen years old,” Mr. Malik says with palpable pride. “I almost can’t believe that my little girl is really growing up.”

“Dad!” Suriya says, making everyone giggle.

“’Little’, not ‘littlest’!” Mr. Malik says, making both Priya and Suriya blush.

“Thank you all for my presents,” Priya says with a nervous giggle. “Thank you all for coming tonight!” I smile as Priya cuts the cake for everyone, but before I can go and get a slice for myself, I’m interrupted by the familiar feeling of Priya’s younger sister grabbing my arm and cuddling it close to her chest.

“Ashley…” Suriya pleads in her soft Indian accent. “Get me a BIG slice, please please please?”

“I can’t get any slices whilst you’re grabbing my arm like that!” I say, making Suriya giggle in a high-pitched squeak before releasing me to get her cake. It always amazes me how very different the sisters are, considering how alike they look- Priya is the older, sensible, level-headed sister, whilst Suriya is the younger, excitable, flighty sister. Almost exactly like my sisters Bryony and Cassidy…

“Come on, come on!” Suriya giggles as I return to her with a slice of cake for her and one for myself. “Ashley… Get Laura a slice as well, would you?” I roll my eyes as the fourteen-year old blonde girl pouts at me, before she giggles as I hand her my slice and return to the cake for a slice for myself. As I return to the table, I bristle slightly as I see the tall, looming frame of Phil Brooks walk past, giving me a quizzical, almost threatening stare as he does. He and Laura had been going out for almost a year, but a few weeks ago it had transpired that he’d been seeing another one of our friends behind Laura’s back, leaving her feeling devastated. Ever since then, Laura’s hung around with me and Suriya wherever possible, which is an arrangement that should be perfectly okay with me- what young boy wouldn’t like being fawned over by two older, very attractive girls- if it wasn’t for the fact that every time I see Laura, it’s a reminder that she’s living the life I so desperately wish I was.

After school today, Laura changed out of her soft grey tights, tiny ballerina pumps and pleated grey skirt and into a modest knee-length party dress, nude tights and strappy shoes with a 1.5 inch heel. So did Suriya- only her shoes have a 2 inch heel and a small platform, as she’s shorter than Laura- and so did the other girls. They also applied make-up- foundation, eyeliner, mascara and, in Laura’s case, bright red lipstick.

I, on the other hand, and wearing a smart, striped shirt, fashionable black trousers and my school shoes. And I would give anything to just be able to wear even one of the beautiful items of clothing that the other girls are wearing.

As I sit down, I grimace as Laura and Suriya arrange themselves either side of me and immediately start peppering my cheeks with kisses, before pinning my arms to my sides with a tight, giggly hug.

“Can’t eat my cake like this?” I say to the two girls, who reluctantly release me and allow me to tuck into my cake. Before I’ve even taken one bite, though, Suriya has stuck her fork into my cake and taken a large chunk out of it for herself.

“Your own slice wasn’t enough?” I moan, making Laura and Suriya giggle.

“Boyfriends share everything with their girlfriends!” Suriya says. Look at Priya and [Priya’s boyfriend], he’s letting her eat his cake!

“Yeah, but she’s KISSING him in return!” Laura giggles. I laugh as Suriya rolls her eyes, before swallowing her cake and giving me a long, sloppy kiss.

“Happy now?” Suriya asks as she wipes a bit of cake off of my lips with her thumb.

“I am,” I say, making Suriya playfully hit me with a cushion. “Only good thing about being a boy is being a boyfriend…” I grimace as the recently-single Laura sighs at the mention of the word ‘boyfriend’. “Umm, sorry Laura, I, um, didn’t…”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Laura says, licking her scarlet lips. “I’m far too good for that arsehole anyway!”

“Hell yeah you are!” Suriya giggles.

“Why did your sister have her party on a school night, anyway?” I ask Suriya.

“She always has,” the tiny Indian girl shrugs. “Believes it not really a birthday party unless it’s on her birthday, even if it only lasts a couple of hours. She was really happy she got to dance in a tutu last night, though!”

“Miss Fullerton always does that when it’s a girl’s birthday,” Laura sighs, before grimacing as she sees the look on my face. “I, um, think we’re making Ashley envious…”

“Trust me, you did that a long time before you started talking about tutus,” I sigh, making the two girls frown.

“Tell your parents, for god’s sake!” Laura urges me.

“I will,” I sigh. “Eventually.”

“By ‘eventually’ you mean ‘after you leave home in your mid-twenties’, right?” Suriya asks.

“…Probably,” I moan. “I- I can’t simply come out and just say it, I’ve got my sisters to think about, and my dad…”

“Your dad should be thinking of you, not the other way round,” Laura says in a dark voice. “Take it from someone who knows.”

“What about,” Suriya suggests, “you just spend one day as a girl, for, you know, just a bit of fun?”

“Umm… I’m not sure what you mean,” I say.

“Well,” Suriya says, “We dress you up in our clothes one day, and our make-up, just for a little bit of fun, your parents will assume it’s a game and we can sort-of judge their reactions, and if they don’t disapprove too much, you can then come out properly?”

“I still don’t know,” I say. “And wouldn’t that be offensive to Laura? Like, us treating her ‘choice’ as just a game?”

“If it helps you make your ‘choice’ then I’m all for it,” Laura says. “Though when are we going to get the opportunity to do something like this, in a place where her parents can see?”

“The play,” Suriya shrugs. “I put Ashley in my Juliet dress, say it’s just playing around…”

“I’m in,” I whisper, making Suriya and Laura both give me a tight hug that once again pins my arms to my sides.

“Well,” Suriya says, “whilst you’re still my BOYfriend, can you go and get us a drink each?”

“I will do when I can move,” I say, making the two girls giggle.

“Actually…” Laura laughs. “I’d rather you stay here a while so I can enjoy this cute BOY’s body while it lasts!” I smile as Laura’s soft, smooth arms wrap themselves even tighter around me and she starts to press her chest into my side. Ever since she was twelve- the age I am now- Laura has been taking a special medication to block the production of testosterone and prevent her from having a normal male puberty. Now that she’s fourteen, she’s also been prescribed oestrogen tablets to enable her to have a normal female puberty. Even though she’s only been taking the tablets for a few weeks, I can still feel a noticeable ‘shape’ to her chest as she presses it into me. It isn’t as noticeable as Suriya’s, for obvious reasons, but it’s still there… And more importantly, it’s more noticeable than my flat chest. A chest that will soon bulk out with wide shoulder, pectoral muscles, even chest hair… All of which I am desperate to avoid.

I leave the party just after 8:30pm, getting a lift home with Laura’s mother as the blonde girl continues to paw at me on the back seat of the car.

“Leave him alone!” Laura’s mother giggles. “Need I remind you that he’s Suriya’s boyfriend?”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy being near him,” Laura says as she lazily rests her head on my shoulder.

“Yeah, well he’s only twelve,” Mrs. White says. “So make sure you don’t get too ‘near’!”

“Mum!” Laura retorts. “It’s nothing like THAT, we’re friends, that’s all…” I smile nervously as Laura gives me another kiss on my cheek, followed by many more before I (and the lipstick smudges on my cheeks) am dropped off at my home.

“And what time do you call this?” Dad asks as I enter the house. “Just kidding, Ash, just kidding… I’d have given anything to have gone to a 15 year old girl’s party when I was your age- and I stress again, WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE… Guess you had fun, going by those marks on your cheeks!”

“Suriya and Laura had a little fun…” I say, making dad chuckle.

“So you’ve got two girlfriends now?” dad asks. “Or as Laura’s one of them, one and a half girlfriends?”

“It’s one girlfriend,” I retort. “And one very close friend who is also a girl, completely a girl.”

“Well- yes,” dad says. “Obviously we’ll keep saying that in front of your sisters, but you and I know better, right? I don’t think they’re allowed to do the, um, the choppy-choppy until she’s eighteen, are they?”

“Doesn’t make her any less a girl to me,” I say as I head upstairs to get ready for bed.

“Fair enough,” dad shrugs. “Live and let live, I suppose. As long as you don’t suddenly start wearing dresses and lipstick, heh!”

“Heh,” I force a laugh out, before entering my room and staring at the various dresses and lipsticks I have stashed in my small, tucked-away suitcase. I sigh sadly, before washing my face- scrubbing away the lipstick on my cheek, the only make-up I’ve ‘worn’ in over two weeks. After pulling on my horrible, plain boy’s pyjamas, I climb into bed and lay awake for ages, imagining what it must have been like for Laura today with her dress, her heeled shoes, her long hair and her thick make-up…

I wake up the following morning and head down to breakfast in my dressing gown, giggling as I hear the sound of a very excited young girl at the breakfast table.

“Can I take my uniform to school?” The childish, expectant voice of my second-oldest sister pleads with my mother. “Pretty, pretty please?”

“No, Cassie,” mum says, making the 5 year old girl pout. “You don’t need to take it to school, and it’ll only distract you if you have it with you!”

“Not it won’t!” Cassie argues, making me smile at her persistence. “Ashley, mum won’t let me take my ballet uniform to school with me!”

“Well, she doesn’t let me take mine to school either,” I say, making Cassie smile.

“Yes but you only wear a t-shirt and leggings,” Cassie argues. “My uniform’s pink, and I love wearing pink things!”

“You’re wearing your pink vest today, aren’t you?” Mum asks, making Cassie nod. “Tell you what- if I don’t hear another word about your uniform before you leave… I’ll let you open your advent calendar BEFORE school, okay?” I giggle as Cassie eagerly nods her head, eating her breakfast quick and remaining silent right up until we prepare to leave for school, when she cheers as mum passes her her Frozen-themed Advent Calendar and, more importantly, the chocolate within.

“Thank you for letting me have my Advent Calendar early, mum,” Cassie says in her characteristically saccharine voice.

“You’re very welcome, Cassie,” mum says. “Are you looking forward to your first day of ballet?” Mum and I both giggle as Cassie enthusiastically nods her head.

“How about you, Bryony?” I ask. “Did you have fun at your first lesson last night?”

“It was okay,” Bryony shrugs. “The uniform’s stupid…”

“It’s like that so that the teacher can see your joints,” I say. “Besides, it’s no different than a pair of tights and a swimsuit, is it?” I feel a small twinge as I say the words- both of the things I just described are things I literally dream about wearing.

“Yeah, but I don’t wear them outside, do I?” Bryony retorts.

“You don’t wear ballet uniform outside, either,” I say, silencing the young girl.

“Can I wear mine outside if I promise not to get it dirty?” Cassie asks, making me giggle again.

“No,” mum says, “you only wear your uniform when you’re dancing.” I try to suppress my giggles as Cassie pouts yet again, but the sight of her young face scowling is far too adorable to avoid letting out a small snigger. Almost immediately, though, I remember back to when I was five years old, having just started school, and asking why I couldn’t wear the girls’ uniform instead of my own itchy grey trouser. Mum and dad told me then in no uncertain terms that only girls could wear a girl’s uniform, and I’d only ever be able to wear trousers. I may even have cried, I can’t remember for sure, but that only reinforced my desire to one day be the girl I always wanted to be.

I smile as I greet my six female friends at the school gate, and Suriya once again cuddles my arm like it’s a security blanket. The ‘twinge’ I got in the car comes back in full force as I stare at the girls’ legs encased in their thick tights and covered by their knee-length skirts, and my own legs covered by itchy grey trousers. The knowledge that Nicole- due to her broken leg- will also have to wear trousers for the rest of the term is little comfort as I leave my friends and head to form, where I’m confronted by yet more images of skirts, tights and long hair.

“Hey Ash,” George- the boy I typically work with in class- says as I sit down next to him.

“Hi George,” I reply.

“Good night last night?” George asks. “Not the prancing about in tights, I mean, but the party.” I force a smile on my face as George chuckles at the thought of my dancing- something that’s hardly new and is hardly the worst reaction I’ve ever got due to being a ‘boy’ who takes ballet. It’s not like I’ve ever suffered physically due to my dancing- the other girls all ‘shield’ me from that ever happening- but I barely go two days without someone at school calling me ‘twinkle toes’ or things a hundred times worse.

“It’s boy’s leggings, not tights,” I retort, making George laugh even louder.

“Yeah, because that’s so much better,” George replies sarcastically. “So come on then, did you get off with any of the girls?”

“That was always going to happen at her house in front of her dad, wasn’t it?” I retort, making George shrug.

“You got a dick, use it!” George chuckles, making me force yet another smile on my face. Unlike me, George is thirteen years old, and also unlike me, he has very clearly started puberty. Almost overnight, his voice dropped from the same pitch as mine to a deep, loud mumble, and his height increased to a (compared to me) huge 5’ 9”. He’d have all the makings of the ‘jock’ my dad clearly wishes I was, if he wasn’t also very noticeably overweight and completely disinterested in sport, instead preferring to watch TV and play videogames. Needless to say, none of the girls have ever shown any ‘interest’ in him, even as a friend instead of a boyfriend. Hell, the only reason I hang out with him is because the only other option is being an outcast in every single class I’m in…

Fortunately, break soon rolls around and I find myself ‘free’ from George and able to go back to the other six girls, who are already deep in conversation as I approach.

“Ugh,” Nicole spits as she pokes at her plaster cast with a long, thin object. “This damned thing will NOT stop itching…”

“It’s your own fault for trying to show off en pointe,” Harriet retorts with an angry look on her face. Whilst Laura may have started to forgive Nicole for stealing her boyfriend, not all of the other girls are willing to be as forgiving, even though they were personally hurt by what Nicole did.

“And it won’t heal as quick is you keep poking at it,” The ever-sensible Priya says.

“I know, I know,” Nicole moans as she puts her ‘scratcher’ back in her bag. “Still want to learn to dance en pointe, Ash?”

“I guess,” I shrug. “It’s not like I’d ever actually dance en pointe, I’d never be in any recitals wearing pointe shoes, it’s just…”

“I get it,” Megan says with a sad smile. “Though it doesn’t make you any less ‘one of the girls’ if you don’t learn to dance en pointe. Look at Nicole, for example.”

“Thanks, Megan!” Nicole replies sarcastically.

“It does help, though,” Laura says, bringing a brief, awkward silence to the table. “Not as much as wearing a leotard and a pair of tights to ballet class, of course, and you’ll always have that option, Ash. You know what it is you have to do…”

“Yeah, that’s looking further away than ever today, though,” I moan.

“Why?” Suriya asks, cuddling my arm yet again. “What happened?”

“Something my dad said last night,” I sigh. “We were talking about you, Laura, and he said he hoped never to see me wearing a dress or make-up…”

“Ugh,” Laura spits. “So what would he prefer you to wear, an ISIL uniform? A Britain First badge, maybe?”

“Bit extreme, isn’t it?” Priya asks.

“There are a million worse things for a boy to wear than a dress or some make-up,” Laura says.

“Not for some people,” I sigh sadly as the bell rings to signify the end of break.

“Wish I had a girlfriend who let me grope her at break,” George laughs as we head to our next class.

“Well you’re not having mine,” I say, making George snort.

“Nah, I don’t want her anyway, can’t even pronounce her name,” George shrugs, though I can tell from his voice that he’s not telling the whole truth.

“Well, Laura’s now single,” I say, grimacing as George scrunches up his face at the thought of going out with my friend.

“Ugh, no thank you!” George spits. “I prefer my girls to NOT have dicks!”

“She has boobs, though,” I shrug.

“That just makes it worse,” George snorts. “That makes it a boy with boobs, not a girl! Though I’ll take your girlfriend and you can have Laura, if that’s the sort of thing you’re into!” I snort and roll my eyes as we take our seats in class, though inside I take George’s rejection of Laura personally- it’s yet another nail in the coffin of my dream of becoming a girl full-time…

Most of my classmates breathe a sigh of relief at as the bell rings later in the afternoon to signify the end of the school day. Normally, I would too, as it normally means I can go home to my sisters, or to ballet, or to see any of my girl friends, but today, my relief has to wait a while, as when I head out to my mum’s car, George is following closely behind me.

"Afternoon, boys!" Dad laughs as George and I get in his car. "Good day today?"

"Yeah, not bad," I say.

"Thanks for letting me come home with Ash, Mr. Moore," George says.

"That's fine, George," dad says with an obvious grin on his face- a grin that shows how happy he is that I have a friend who ISN'T a girl. The same can't be said, however, of the tiny girl we pick up five minutes later.

"Hi Cassie! Hi Bryony!" George says as my two younger sisters sit down next to me on the back seat.

"Hi George," Bryony sighs in her usual annoyed-sounding voice.

"Hi George," Cassie says, clearly unhappy at the boy's presence in the car.

"You girls have fun at school?" Dad asks.

"I did," Bryony says, interrupting our younger sister before she can talk. "All Cassie could talk about at school was how much she's looking forward to ballet..."

"I can't wait to go!" Cassie squeaks, making me giggle at her happy, excited face.

"So you're not the only member of the family who prances around in tights, eh Ash?" George asks, making me roll my eyes.

"Ashley does NOT prance around in tights!" Cassie says, interrupting me before I can speak. "He is a great dancer and he wears leggings!" I give my little sister a quick hug as George laughs at her outburst, causing the tiny girl to frown.

"Yeah, if you say so," George says, chuckling all the way home.

Once we arrive home, I head immediately up to my bedroom with George, though I briefly pause to watch Bryony and Dorothy as they open their advent calendars, which are 'Frozen' and 'Peppa Pig' themed respectively. My advent calendar, however, is one my dad describes as 'extra-special'. Instead of chocolate, behind each door is a piece of Star Wars-themed Lego that I save and build into a special playset. My dad's said on multiple occasions that it's the sort of thing he'd have loved when he was young- he grew up watching and re-watching old films like Star Wars (and has even got tickets for the two of us to go and see the new film when it's released on the 17th). It tears me up inside knowing that I don't have the courage to tell him I'd much rather have a 'Frozen' advent calendar like Bryony and Cassie.

...Though, ironically, he may be inadvertently turning Dorothy into a Star Wars geek by virtue of the fact that I have to open my advent calendar away from the 2 year old girl so that she doesn't accidentally choke on any of the small pieces.

"Come on," I sigh as I close my bedroom door behind George. "Harris will skin us if we don't get this homework done..."

"Mate," George says in a much softer tone than he normally uses at school, "I know I give you a lot of stick for your dancing, but in reality I think it's actually pretty cool."

"What, really?" I snort.

"Seriously," George says. "You get to spend two hours each week staring at and feeling up girls in tight leotards. How ISN'T that cool?"

"Yeah, I guess," I laugh.

"And it's better than being a stupid footballer, anyway," George snorts.

"The football team gets girls too," I shrug, feigning interest.

"Yeah, the stupid ones," George laughs. "Your girlfriends are far too smart for a footballer, especially your actual girlfriend's sister..."

"Oh," I say, a sly grin creeping across my face. "Do you like Priya, by any chance?"

"She's fit, I guess," George shrugs.

"Oh, I am so telling her you said that," I laugh, making George snort and give me a shove.

"Stop being such a girl!" George sighs. "Bros before hoes, man. Only GIRLS gossip about friends behind their back." Thanks, George, I think to myself. As if I needed any further reminders of what I'm NOT...

Thankfully, the homework session only lasts a short while longer, as after an early dinner I head back up to my bedroom and change into the same black leggings and white t-shirt I was wearing last night.

"Ah, here comes Billy Wally-ott," George jokes, making me frown as I walk downstairs.

"Don't you dare tease him!" Cassie squeaks in the angriest voice she can manage, stunning George into silence before he sniggers as he sees what she's wearing- namely, the pink leotard and baby pink tights Cassie had obsessed over since breakfast.

"You like your uniform, Cassie?" I ask, hoping to distract the tiny girl from George's teasing.

"Yeah!" Cassie giggles, nodding and doing a (technically very poor) pirouette. "I love dancing!"

"You haven't even had your first lesson yet," dad chuckles as he takes Cassie's hand and leads her, George and myself out to his car.

"Well I know I'll love it anyway!" Cassie says with a broad grin. After we drop George off at his house, Cassie turns to me with a quizzical look on her face.

"Why ARE you friends with George?" The tiny girl asks. "Your girl friends are much nicer than him..."

"I have to have a friend in my year at school," I shrug.

"But why not have a girl as a friend?" Cassie asks.

"Ashley's a boy," dad says, silencing my sister and interrupting me before I can speak. "He has to have other boys as friends, especially best friends. With a boy, he can talk about football, TV... Girls his age talk about music and swap make-up and clothes tips, Ashley can't very well do that, can he?" If only you knew, father, if only you knew... I think to myself.

I have a wide, genuine grin on my face as we arrive at the dance studio, where Cassie grips my hand as we walk inside out of the cold winter air.

"Miss Fullerton?" I call to the tall, blonde woman, who immediately walks over to me with a wide smile on her face.

"Hi Ash!" The dance teacher says, before bobbing down to talk to my sister. "Hey there, are you Cassidy?" I smile as Cassie shyly nods, her earlier excitement completely replaced by nerves.

"She prefers 'Cassie'," I say.

"'Cassie' it is, then!" Miss Fullerton giggles. "Is this really your first lesson?"

"Yes," Cassie whispers.

"Really?" Miss Fullerton asks. "Because you LOOK like a talented ballerina already, just like your brother- well, like a girl version of your brother!" Even here... I self-pityingly think to myself.

"It's my first lesson," Cassie whispers.

"Well there's nothing to be afraid of," Miss Fullerton says, taking Cassie's hand after dad nods his consent. "You're not the only girl whose first class is today! We'll take it slow, I won't ask you to do anything you don't want to do, okay?"

"Okay," Cassie says, looking back at me and dad as she disappears into the vast hall.

"Keep an eye on her," dad says.

"Yeah, of course I will!" I laugh. "And you know Miss Fullerton, you can trust her, right?"

"Yeah, I suppose," dad sighs. "Have you got a book, some homework to be getting on with?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," I say.

"Right," dad sighs. "I'll see you after your lesson, then!" I smile as dad leaves, before getting out my copy of 'Lord of the Flies', which we have to read for English class. I'm constantly distracted, however, by the sight of the twenty-something little girls dancing around the studio. Every time I see Cassie dance past in her little leotard, I'm reminded that I'm stuck wearing a very boyish t-shirt. How messed up am I that I'm envious of my five year old sister?

Eventually, Cassie and I swap places (she watches my lesson from the side of the studio, where Miss Fullerton and I can keep an eye on her) and the target of my envy changes from my little sister to the twenty girls of my age, who are all dressed in much tighter leotards than the one my sister's still wearing. Whilst I know all the girls, and even have some of them on my Facebook, I'm not particularly close to any of them, not like I am with Laura, Suriya and co- those six girls having already been 'promoted' to the advanced class and pointe shoes. I've been promised a place in the advanced class when I turn thirteen, but that's still five months away, and even then I won't be dancing en pointe like a proper ballerina. Miss Fullerton's said she's happy to give me the lessons if I want- and I do- but I'll have a hard time justifying the cost of the specialised pointe shoes to my parents.

Eventually, the lesson ends and Cassie and I head home with dad, both of us tired from the day's dancing. Cassie heads immediately to bed- after reluctantly taking off her ballet uniform- whilst I stay up a little longer to finish homework, before diving under my covers and wishing that I didn't have yet another day of school tomorrow.

Nevertheless, as much as I wish it wouldn't, my alarm clock goes off at its usual time and before too long, I'm sat in the front seat of mum's car wearing my shirt, tie and trousers, whilst Bryony and Cassie are sat in the back seat wearing their knee-length skirts, red cardigans and red tights.

"So, Cassie," I say with a grin. "Reckon you'll be a prima ballerina when you're older?"

"I dunno, I'd have to be good enough first," Cassie replies.

"Miss Fullerton seemed to think you were good enough," I say.

"She's only had one lesson," Bryony says, making mum and I chuckle.

"That doesn't mean she isn't good enough," mum says firmly. "And it definitely doesn't mean she won't be good enough. Same goes for you, Bryony."

"Yes, mum," Bryony says, remaining silent as we drop her and Cassie off at school before I'm dropped off at my school gates for the final time this week. I say hi to my six girl friends as usual (and have my arm tightly hugged by Suri, as usual), but before heading into the school building, I become aware of another familiar face following closely behind- that of George, who follows me to form after I say goodbye to the other six girls.

"God, your girlfriend won't let you go, will she?" George laughs as we sit down.

"She's just a little excited," I say. "It IS Friday..."

"Hey Ash," one of the other boys says in a sarcastic tone. "How was dancing last night?" I sigh and roll my eyes at the boy, who simply laughs even louder before turning back round to talk to his friends.

"Bit rich seeing as he spends his evenings playing FIFA and wanking into a sock," George snorts.

"I- I don't care what he thinks, mate," I say as our form tutor comes to start our lesson. Our school has a zero tolerance approach to bullying of every kind- an approach that became even stricter when Laura started the year before I did- but I'm still regularly teased and called names because of my 'hobbies' and my association with the girls. It's got slightly better since I also started hanging out with George, and I've never been physically bullies, but I know it's only a matter of time- and whilst Laura has special measures in place to severely punish anyone who physically bullies her, to the teachers I'm just another one of the boys, meaning that to the other boys in school, I'm fair game.

Fortunately, there's nothing the other kids can do whilst I'm sat with Laura and the other girls, which is where I immediately head at break time.

"Hey Ash!" Suri says, grabbing my arm and giving it a tight cuddle. "We missed you at rehearsals last night..."

"Yeah, it sucks that you can't come any more," Harriet sighs.

"I didn't have a part in the play anyway," I sigh. "And if I went, it'd mean that Cassie couldn't go to ballet- my parents can't be everywhere at once. Maybe next year."

"Or maybe Miss Fullerton can get off her arse and give you a spot in our class," Suriya says. "Then your dad can drop you off at rehearsals before taking Cassie to ballet, right?"

"Or my mum could give you a lift," Laura says.

"Honestly," I sigh. "I'll be fine..."

"Not until you get into a skirt on a daily basis, you won't," Laura sighs.

"Speaking of," Suri says, "I take it we're still okay to come round after OUR ballet tonight?"

"Of course!" I laugh. "Only thing all week I've actually looked forward to, heh."

"I'm sure you'd look forward to school more if you could attend as the REAL Ashley," Harriet says, making me smile sadly before the conversation turns to the usual topics of boyfriends, clothes and dancing. The conversation resumes at lunchtime, during which I again allow myself to become immersed in the discussion. Laura's often told me that during the early days of her transition, she treasured the moments when she was able to forget that she'd ever been a boy. I've longed for my own moment like that on many occasions, but I've never been able to achieve it- any time I feel myself sliding further into femininity- such as our lunchtime discussions- I'm always 'snapped back' by the reminder that I'm wearing trousers, that I have short hair... Or the reminder that I'm not, and will never truly be, a girl.

As always, I slide onto the passenger seat of dad's car just after 3pm with a heavy sigh, though my mood improves when Cassie and Bryony climb onto the back seat, both girls sporting smiles for the beginning of the weekend. After we arrive home, we eat dinner and fuss over Dorothy- our youngest sister (for now) - a bit, before a knock comes from our front door just after 7:30pm that puts a wide smile on my face.

"Hey Ash!" Suri squeaks, grabbing me in a tight hug before Laura follows suit and I'm forced to lead them into the front room with them still clinging to me- though the sight of my parents' disapproving stares soon forces them to release their hold on me.

"He-hello Mr. & Mrs. Moore," Laura says in a subdued voice.

"Hi girls," dad says, barely suppressing a sigh. "What time are your parents coming to pick you up?"

"My mum will be at about 8:30," Laura says.

"Well- you three have fun," dad says. "Try not to make too much noise, we've just put Dorothy to bed and Cassie will be going up in a couple of minutes."

"We won't," Suri says, before giggling as she takes my hand and leads me up to my bedroom, shutting the door behind the three of us. Laura and Suri are still dressed in their ballet gear of pink tights, black leotards and flimsy, translucent black skirts. Normally, the sight of them dressed like this would filly me with an almost painful envy, but not tonight- tonight, even if it's only for a brief period of time, I can finally be what- and who- I want to be.

The two girls smile as I remove my suitcase from my wardrobe and retrieve from it a pair of white cotton panties, a pair of silky pink tights and a light blue tank leotard. The girls briefly step out of the room as I quickly strip off my clothes and step into the panties, before stretching the tights over my legs and finally stepping into the leotard, giggling uncontrollably as it snugly clings to my body.

"Eeeeeee!" Suri squeaks as I allow her back into the room and she gives me a tight hug. "My best ballerina boyfriend buddy!"

"GIRLfriend," Laura says, giving me a giggly hug.

"Keep it down!" I whisper. "Don't need my parents to find out that I'm dressed like this..."

"Or maybe that's exactly what you DO need?" Laura asks, before sighing as I shake my head.

"Eventually, I promise," I say, before smiling as I straighten my tights.

"Does- does it still feel as, you know, as good?" Laura asks.

"Better than good," I say.

"Your mum's looking bigger," Suri says. "Do you know what gender the baby will be yet?"

"No," I say. "They've got a scan on Monday, they say they'll find out then. Cassie's desperate for yet another sister..."

"Even if the baby's a boy, you could always give her another sister," Laura says, making me moan with frustration.

"I'm sorry," I say. "But- but can we drop it for tonight, please?"

"Sorry, sorry," Laura sighs. "It just hurts to see you like this... I know better than anyone how much it must be hurting you right now..."

"Thanks," I say, gently squeezing Laura's hand.

"Anyway," Suri says, grabbing my hand away from Laura's, "I thought we were here to dance?"

"Right!" Laura giggles, taking her pointe shoes out of her dance bag and tying them to her feet. "Have you asked Miss Fullerton about your own pointe shoes yet, or am I supposed to 'drop' that as well?"

"No, I don't mind talking about that," I giggle. "She's given me exercises to do, the same she gave you girls... Just don't know how I'm meant to justify the cost of the shoes to my parents when obviously I won't be dancing in them..."

"Unless..." Laura says, before playfully 'zipping' her lips. "Sorry! Anyway, here's what you're missing out on!" I smile as the two girls perform pointe steps on my bedroom floor, taking extra care not to injure themselves like Nicole did a few weeks ago. After the girls have finished dancing, they sit down either side of me on their bed and strip off their shoes, showing me their bruised feet.

"It's not just broken ankles you have to worry about!" Suri says, pointing to a painful-looking blister next to her toenail. "Sure you still want to learn pointe?"

"More than anything," I sigh. "I also want to paint my toenails the same colour as yours..."

"Assuming that is black nail polish and her nails aren't just dying!" Laura giggles, making Suri give her a playful push.

"If Ash had more than one pillow we would SO be having a pillow sight right now!" Suri laughs, before leaning her head on my shoulder. I instinctively reach out my arm for her to cuddle in her normal manner, but much to my surprise, she simply pushes it away.

"Umm, something wrong with my arm tonight?" I ask, making Suri giggle sadly.

"Yeah," the tiny Indian girl says. "It's a GIRL's arm. I only like cuddling my boyfriend's arm, and you can't be my boyfriend, because you're not a boy!"

"You yourself said," Laura says with a smug voice. "Best part of being a boy is being a boyfriend. No boy, no boyfriend!"

"Though we love you as the girl you are just as much," Suri says. "Just not in THAT way, hehe!" Even though when I held Laura's hand, you couldn't snatch it away fast enough? I think to myself.

"So... You'll only be my girlfriend for as long as I'm a boy?" I ask.

"Oh, stop being so disappointed," Suri says. "You're twelve, I'm thirteen, it's not like we're serious anyway..."

"And it's not like being a girl can stop you from finding a girl," Laura says. "Just ask Nikki Thomas! Though you don't know what you're missing, kissing boys is REALLY fun..."

"And you WILL find another boy!" Suri says, giving the recently-single Laura a brief, tight hug. "One much better than that arsehole Phil!"

"Well let's face it," Laura laughs. "I couldn't do much WORSE than him, could I?" The three of us giggle girlishly as we gossip for the next 45 minutes, during which I desperately- but futilely- try to induce one of those 'moments' where I forget I'm a boy. Ultimately, though, I'm forced to eject the girls from my bedroom again as I change back into my boy clothes.

"What time will you be over tomorrow?" Laura asks as she fiddles with the strap of her bra underneath her leotard.

"About 10, 10:30 maybe," I say. "Got the dress I want to wear right here..." I hand Laura the long-sleeved garment I 'inherited' from Priya a couple of weeks back, only for her to push it back to me.

"No need," the blonde girl says with a smug smile. "I'm getting rid of some clothes I don't wear any more, you can wear some of them tomorrow!"

"You're really getting rid of clothes?" Suri asks with a giggle. "You!?"

"I know!" Laura laughs. "I've finally reached the point where I actually have so many girls' clothes that I'm getting rid of some... And you'll reach that stage too, Ash, I know you will."

"And then you'll be able to pass those clothes onto your sisters!" Suri giggles. "Much like that dress was SUPPOSED to be handed on to me..."

"Well you can't have it," I say, making Suri giggle. "You can, however, have this, now that I'm a boy again..." I hold out my left arm and wiggle my fingers, making Suri roll her eyes before giggling and wrapping the arm in a tight hug, a hug she maintains all the way down the stairs to the front door, where I wave the girls off.

"You seem to like those girls a lot more than you like George," dad muses as I sprawl out on the sofa.

"I do," I say. "I really, really do..."

"Umm, okay," dad says, clearly uncomfortable with my 'revelation'. "Ash...?"

"...Dad?" I ask.

"...Never mind," dad sighs. "You'd better start getting ready for bed yourself... Have you opened your advent calendar yet?"

"Not yet," I say, before sighing at dad's obvious hint.

"What have you got?" Dad asks as I peel open the cardboard door.

"Another little robot thing," I reply. Unlike my sisters, who had pictures of princesses...

"Cool," dad chuckles. "That complete set's going to be awesome when it's done! What time do you want to be up tomorrow?"

"Say around 8:30, 9-ish," I reply.

"Can do," dad laughs. "Now put that robot away in your room before Dorothy wraps her gums around it!"

"Can do," I say, echoing dad's words. "Dad..."

"...Ash?" Dad asks.

"The baby... What are you hoping for, you and mum?" I ask. "I mean, you find out in a couple of days..."

"We want a healthy, happy child," Dad replies. "Obviously, what with clothes, it'd be easier if the child was a girl. Unless you want to keep your old clothes in a cupboard for thirteen years for the baby to grow into them, heh."

"So by that token, it'd have been easier if I was a girl?" I ask, taking advantage of the rare opportunity to ask the question I've wanted to ask my whole life.

"Nah," dad chuckles. "You were here first. It'd have been easier if your sisters were all boys!"

"...Night, dad," I say as I slink upstairs and get ready for bed. I quickly fall into a deep sleep, despite the fact that I'm sleeping in a pair of boys' cotton pyjamas whilst all my friends are undoubtedly wearing nighties- even if they're plain cotton nightdresses, they'd still be a hundred thousand times better than what I'm wearing now...

"Wakey wakey!" Dad yells, drawing back my curtains and making me wince as the morning sun streams through my window. "You're not a teenager yet, you're not allowed to be tired in the morning until you hit thirteen. Now get up! You don't want to keep your harem waiting..." I force a smile on my face as I wash my face and change into the jeans and sweatshirt I'm forced to wear today, before slinking downstairs for breakfast with my sisters, all of whom are excited about also going to see friends today (even Dorothy, who mum is taking on a 'play date' to one of her friends).

"I can't wait to show my friends my dancing!" Cassie squeaks in her typical over-excited voice. "Bryony, are you going to dance for your friends?"

"No," Bryony retorts. "We have better things to do with our time..."

"Oh come on," I laugh. "Nothing's better than ballet, right Cassie?"

"Right!" Cassie giggles. "Ash, will your friends dance for you?"

"And if they do, it had better only be ballet that they dance!" Dad jokes.

"What else would they dance?" Cassie asks. "Do they also do tap dancing?" Dad and I both chuckle at Cassie's innocence, prompting me to give her a quick cuddle.

"Don't ever get older, Cassie," dad says with a sad smile on his face. "Come on, eat up, don't want to keep your friends waiting..." I smile as I finish my breakfast before getting in my dad's car, as it's not just my friends who will be waiting for me at Laura's house.

"Hey Ash!" Laura giggles, giving me a quick hug as I walk into her front room. In contrast to my slouchy boy clothes, she's dressed in a very cute long-sleeved pink top, a knee-length denim skirt and thick black tights. As with last night, normally this would make me boil over with envy, but for the same reason as last night, I'm feeling fine about the sight of my role model in her girly clothing.

"Mum!" Laura yells. "Ash is here."

"Hi Ashley!" Laura's mother yells.

"Hi Mrs. White," I reply. "Umm, thanks for letting me come over!"

"Oh, it's perfectly fine," Mrs. White responds. "God only knows the tantrum I'd have to deal with if I ever said 'no' to Laura..."

"Mum!" Laura snaps, clearly embarrassed by her parent. "Don't you have a friend to go and have lunch with?"

"Well- yes," Mrs. White responds. "But it's only 10 o'clock, you don't have lunch this early. Honestly, why do you want me gone so quickly? D- Don’t tell me you and Ashley..."

"Mu- mum!" Laura hisses, her embarrassment and frustration growing with every passing second. "No, me and Ashley aren't 'are'..."

"Then what is it?" Mrs. White asks, prompting Laura to look at me with expectant eyes. "Is it about tonight?" I look on in confusion as Laura scrunches up her face in a look of pure exasperation.

"Kind of, yeah," Laura says.

"What about tonight?" I ask.

"Oh, didn't the girls tell you about their sleepover?" Mrs. White asks.

"Sleepover?" I ask.

"Yes..." Laura grimaces. "For Priya's birthday... She's never had a real sleepover before, nor has Suri, and obviously I haven't, so tonight, we're... We're kinda all crashing at their house, you know, sleeping bags, makeovers, gossiping about boys..." I feign the disinterest expected of a boy, but it's clear from the look on Laura's face that she feels terrible about me being left out- almost as terrible as I feel.

"For obvious reasons, Mr. and Mrs. Malik wanted to keep the party 'girls only'," Mrs. White says. "As close as you are with the girls, Ashley, you ARE a boy, so obviously you couldn't attend."

"It's okay," I shrug.

"I, um, I'll get out of your way," Mrs. White says, obviously on the prompting of a glare from her daughter. "You two have fun!"

"We will," Laura says, waiting for her front door to shut before resting her head on my shoulder. "I'm so, so sorry Ash... We didn't want to keep you in the dark, but we knew how devastated you'd be..."

"I'm fine, honestly," I say.

"Honestly?" Laura asks.

"...No," I moan, prompting Laura to take my hand and lead me up to her room, where she has a selection of skirts and dresses laid out for me.

"Pick one," Laura commands, also handing me a pair of tights identical to the ones she's wearing. "And change into it now! Hopefully it'll make you feel a little better..." I smile as Laura leaves me alone in her room and I eagerly strip off my boy clothes, stepping into the tights before pulling on a (somewhat juvenile) long-sleeved short grey dress.

"I'm ready," I say, bringing Laura back into the room with a wide smile on her face.

"Better?" Laura asks.

"...It'd be better with some make-up," I say, making Laura giggle and hand me a mascara brush and eyeliner pencil.

"You know," Laura muses as I apply the make-up, "I know I keep harping on at you- in fact, everyone keeps harping on at you to tell your parents... But there was nothing stopping you from telling MY mum..."

"Other than the fact that she'd immediately go and tell my parents?" I say. "And then I'd never even so much as SEE a skirt again... And I'd definitely never get to see all you guy-girls again either..."

"Over-reacting a bit?" Laura giggles. "I don't want to keep harping on about Nikki Thomas either, but she told her best friend's parents before she told her own about who she really was..."

"...She was sixteen," I sigh. "I'm twelve."

"And I was eleven when I started living as a girl!" Laura retorts. "It doesn't matter how old you are, if you know, you just know!"

"Can- can I just enjoy today, please?" I ask, handing Laura back her cosmetics and shaking my short hair out into a cute feminine style.

"...Of course," Laura sighs. "Sorry, Ashley, it's just- it's just that you frustrate me at times, I think of you as a younger sister, and- Oh no, oh my god..."

"What?" I ask, panicking at Laura's sudden worry. "What is it?"

"Oh my god, I am so, so sorry," Laura says, before letting out a small giggle. "I'm turning into my brother and I didn't even realise!" I giggle along with Laura at her 'revelation'- I've only met her brother once, but from the stories Laura's told me, he can be quote 'forceful' and highly arrogant.

"Don't worry," I say, letting out a light giggle. "You're nothing like your brother. You've got WAY better legs, for starters!" I laugh as Laura lays back on her bed and playfully 'bicycles' her nylon-covered legs in the air, before grabbing my hand and leading me back downstairs. Less than fifteen minutes later, we're joined by the two sisters who'll be hosting tonight's sleepover- the youngest of whom makes a beeline for me and gives me a gentle, girlish hug.

"Hey, Ashley girl!" Suri squeaks. "You know, you make a much cuter girl than you do a boy!"

"You do," Priya says, before sighing at my sad expression. "Did- did you find out about-"

"It's okay," I sigh.

"No, it isn't!" The fifteen year old sighs as she crashes onto Laura's sofa. "I want ALL of my best friends with me for my sleepover..."

"Even if Ashley came out today, daddy wouldn't allow her to come over anyway," Suri says.

"Yeah, I guess," Priya sighs.

"And I don't want to, you know, ruin it by everyone worrying about me feeling miserable at being left out," I say, making Priya smile.

"Best boyfriend ever!" Suri giggles, giving me another quick hug. "Or you would be, if you were a boy!" I giggle as Suri tightens her hug, and soon the other three girls arrive to begin our day of girlish gossip. Just before lunch, however, Laura leaves the room to go up to her bedroom, and much to my surprise, asks me to go with her.

"Hands off Ashley!" Suri says as we leave, making the other four girls giggle.

"I've told you before," Laura snorts. "I'm not INTO girls!" Suri laughs as Laura and I head up to her room, where she collapses on her bed and lets out a long, frustrated sigh.

"...Nicole?" I ask the stricken girl.

"...Yeah," Laura moans. "I mean, I know Phil's an arsehole, but every time she mentions his name, I just want to stamp down on her damned plaster cast..."

"I did notice she had the name 'Charlotte' on the back, but there isn't anyone named Charlotte in her school," I say.

"Yeah, she wrote the C, the T and the E on herself," Laura chuckles. "Actually thanked me as it made her look like Charlotte Hutchinson had signed her cast, heh."

"How are you going to get through an entire sleepover with her?" I ask. "Why even invite her here today?"

"Ugh, I just want to work through this as fast as possible," Laura sighs. "At least she can't follow us upstairs, figure the same goes for Priya's house. And..." Laura smiles as she opens a drawer in her dresser and produces a small bottle of pills. "I've got medicine that makes it easier to forgive!"

"Is- is that your oestrogen?" I ask.

"Yep!" Laura says happily, popping a pill out of the bottle and playing with it. "I've already taken my dose for today, sometimes even looking at it makes me feel girlier... Do you want one?"

"One what?" I ask. "A pill?"

"Yeah," Laura says. "Just one isn't going to hurt you. And it'll help you feel better..."

"I- I shouldn't," I say.

"Oh come on," Laura pleads.

"If- if I take oestrogen, I want it to be my own," I say.

"Huh, fair enough," Laura says, putting the pill back in the bottle. "Now come on, the girls think you've come up here to change, so pick out another dress!" I smile as I change my grey dress for one of Laura's old stripy tops and a denim pinafore dress, much to the delight of Laura and the other girls, who coo happily as I 'model' it for them. I smile as I pose in the short dress, but I can't stop thinking about the pill Laura offered me... And how badly I wanted to take it.

Laura's spoken in detail about how different she feels even after just two weeks of taking oestrogen tablets, how much more confident she is now that she's on the path to being a 'real' girl. I would give literally anything for that same confidence, but even I know that taking medication that hasn't been prescribed to me is wrong... Even if it the only opportunity I'll ever get to put oestrogen into my body.

And the confidence I'd gain wouldn't even nearly make up for the guilt I'd feel for going behind my parents' backs to take the oestrogen. Even now, when I'm 'chemically' unchanged, I feel pangs of guilt every time I feel my nylon-covered legs rub against each other, or I feel the tingle of the make-up around my eyes. If my parents could see me now, if any of my friends' parents could see me now, they'd go ballistic. Especially dad- I AM his only boy, he's often said he's closer to me than he is to my sisters, and I simply can't take that away from him. However, as often as I wish that I'd been born a real girl... There are times when I wish I'd been born as a 'real' boy, free from these conflicted feelings. I wish I could just be like George and enjoy being a boy, and look down on Laura as being a weirdo for abandoning boyhood... But that's not who I am, nor is it ever who I'll be.

Just as soon as I'd changed into Laura's pinafore, I'm forced out of it by the return of Laura's mother, and when the middle-aged woman enters the living room, she sees me sat in the same jeans and sweatshirt I wore to the house, my face scrubbed clean of any and all make-up. Less than an hour later, my dad comes to pick me up and I reluctantly leave the other six girls to their sleepover, even as Suri and Laura each cling to one of my arms as I walk out to the car.

"Aww, I so wish you were coming tonight," Suri moans.

"So do I," I sigh.

"Before you go, Ash," Laura says, turning away from dad's car and whispering to me. "You remember what I said about telling one of our parents? You know... There is another option you might like. You know I've got a counsellor, Dr Williamson?"

"Yes?" I ask.

"I may..." Laura says with a grimace. "I may have told her about you in the past."

"You wh-" I snap, my heart beginning to race.

"Don't panic!" Laura hisses. "I didn't mention you by name, and she's bound by this professional ethic 'can't go behind people's backs' thing. But you should talk to her yourself... Talk to your GP, they're also bound by that ethic thing, THEN you can talk to Dr Williamson and take it from me: she CAN help you."

"...I'll think about it," I say as I jump into dad's car. "Have fun tonight!"

"We will!" Suri says, blowing kisses at me as we speed away.

"What's happening tonight?" Dad asks.

"Suri's sister's having a sleepover," I explain. "I really wish I was going..."

"I don't doubt it!" Dad laughs. "Ah, just wait, six years from now you'll be having quote-unquote sleepovers with girls every night of the week... Just thank god you'll be at uni then so I don't have to explain to your sisters what all the noise is!"

"Heh," I say, sighing as we quickly return home where Cassie immediately collars me and tells me about her day, which provides a nice relief from my self-pity until I head to bed just after 9pm. I'm only in bed a few minutes, however, before my tablet computer repeatedly wakes me with new message notifications. Upon checking the tablet, I find I have four missed Skype calls- all from Suri.

"Umm, okay..." I whisper as I lower the volume on my tablet and call Suri back- and it's a good job I lowered the volume too, as when the call is answered, the screen is filled with all six of my friends, all of whom yell 'Ashley!' when they see my face.

"What's happening?" I ask, a grin creeping across my face at the sight of the girls.

"Well," Suri explains, "despite what you said, we still felt really bad about leaving you out of the sleepover, so Megan came up with the idea of a 'Skypeover'!"

"A- a 'Skypeover'?" I ask.

"Yeah," Megan says. "It's like a sleepover, only instead of being here in person, you get to join in by Skype!"

"I know it's not perfect," Laura says, "but-"

"No, it IS perfect," I giggle, huddling under my bed sheets with my tablet in hand. For the next three hours, I watch enthralled as the girls give each other makeovers, plait their hair, model their (very modest) night dresses for me and dance around Priya's bedroom before getting into their sleeping bags just after midnight and ending the Skype call. As amazing as the gesture was to include me by Skype, when the call ends, it only serves to remind me of how isolated I truly am, a feeling that persists into Sunday as I finish off my homework by myself, before helping Bryony with hers.

"What year are you in now, Year 5?" I ask the 9 year old girl as she fills in her arithmetic workbook.

"Yeah," Bryony replies. "So you'll be in Year 10 when I go to your school."

"That'll be cool," I say. "My friends will all be in Year 11, so you'll be able to hang out with us, they can be like older sisters to you, guide you through the school..."

"Why can't my older brother do that?" Bryony asks.

"Well, obviously I CAN," I say, "but wouldn't you rather have, you know, a girl to help you settle in?"

"What difference does it make?" Bryony asks. "I know you. I DON'T know your friends."

"You could always get to know them," I feebly retort. "Don't- don't you sometimes wish you had an older sister, you know, someone who can be for you like you are to Cassie and Dorothy?"

"Not really," Bryony says. "Besides, you're more of a big sister to Cassie than I am!" You don't know how right you are... I think to myself. Mere minutes later, Cassie plops herself down on the sofa next to Bryony and stares intently at the nine year old girl as she finishes her homework.

"Are you excited?" Cassie asks.

"About what?" Bryony retorts.

"About the baby!" Cassie squeaks. "We find out tomorrow if it's a boy or a girl! I hope it's a girl, I want another sister!" Yeah, I want you to have another sister as well, Cassie... I think to myself.

"I'm not going to sleep tonight, I'm so excited!" Cassie squeaks. "First ballet, now the baby, this is the best week ever!" I smile as Cassie dances a few ballet steps for me and Bryony, before dad comes in and sits the fidgeting young girl in his lap in a futile effort to calm her down. Even as she heads to bed, though, she's still excited about the 'big reveal' tomorrow, a stark contrast to my own tiredness and misery. Obviously, I want the baby to be a boy, if only because it'll mean I'll no longer be the only boy and I won't have the same pressure on me... At least, I hope I won't. If the baby is yet ANOTHER girl, though...

I force a smile on my face as I wake up on Monday morning and pull on my uniform, musing as always on how wrong my trousers feel when compared to the clingy, comfortable feeling of a pair of thick school tights, like the red tights covering my sisters' legs and the grey and black tights covering the legs of my friends as they greet me at the school gate, Suri (as always) cuddling my arm like a security blanket, though I can't help but feel that her cuddle seems somehow 'less' than normal.

"Suri..." I say as we head into the school building. "Are you okay? Was the sleepover fun?"

"Oh, it was fun," Suri says, before leading me away from the group to talk in private. "It's just... Ash, do- do you like Laura? I mean, you know, do you, you know, 'like' Laura?"

"I- I don't know what you mean," I mumble.

"Oh, don't be stupid, yes you know what I mean!" Suri sighs, letting go of my arm. "It's just, you seem to spend a lot more time with her, especially now that she's single... Ash, would you rather be her boyfriend? I mean, I'd understand if you did, like I said, we're not really 'serious'..."

"Laura..." I whisper, "She- she doesn't see me as a boy. Ever. Even when I'm dressed like this... I don't think SHE'd be interested in me, heh. And besides..." I look over Suri's shoulder and catch a glimpse of George staring at me with a knowing smirk on his face. God only know what his reaction would be if I dumped Suri- clever, cute and popular- in favour of Laura, who whilst popular, will always have her 'stigma' hanging over her.

"Besides... What?" Suri asks.

"I've got to get to form," I sigh. "See you at break?"

"Sure!" Suri giggles. "But don't forget it's dance club at lunch, so you won't get to 'like' either me or Laura today!"

"I won't forget," I laugh as I meet up with George.

"Mate, I know every Monday I say this, but well done!" George laughs as we head to form. I force out a laugh, and I have to acknowledge that George isn't wrong- I'm extremely lucky, especially at my age, to have a girlfriend as cool as Suri- almost to the point where being a boy actually seems appealing. Almost... But not quite.

I hang out with the girls at break, but at lunch, with Laura and Suri absent at their dance club, I opt to sit with George instead, listening to his tales of what he did over the weekend, which girls he thinks are 'fit' and which aren't... All the while, my eyes are drawn to my usual lunch table, where Priya, Nicole, Megan and Harriet are sat eating as usual. With every word George says, I yearn more and more to be sat with the girls, where I truly belong... But I also wish that I didn't truly belong with them.

As we head to our final class of the day, George says one more sentence that further convinces me that my true place is with the girls.

"You're finding out today whether you're getting a brother or a sister, aren't you?" George asks, chuckling as I nod. "Definitely let me know, mate. If it's a boy, I'll make sure you don't ruin him with your ballet and girly shit the way you were!" Screw you, George, I think to myself as I sit down next to the large boy and get out my books ready for the class ahead.

Unsurprisingly, when dad arrives to pick me up after the end of the school day, he has a wide smile on his face, an infectious smile that soon creeps over my face as well.

"...Well?" I ask.

"'Well' what?" Dad asks.

"'Well', am I getting a brother or a sister?" I ask.

"Yes," dad replies with a smug grin.

"Oh- come on..." I moan.

"You know how this works," dad says, his smugness increasing. "You find out when your sisters find out, it was the same when Cassie and Dorothy were born, and it'll be the same for E- I've said too much already..."

"What, that the kid's name will begin with an 'E' and end with a 'Y'?" I ask. "I think even Dorothy's figured that one out already..." I sigh as dad laughs out loud, his laughter increasing as Bryony and Cassie climb onto the back seat of the car with wide, excited grins on both their faces.

"Brother or sister?" Cassie squeaks. "Brother or sister?" yeah, Cassie, that is indeed the question...

"You'll find out when we get home," dad says. "I can't tell you three without telling Dorothy, can I?"

"She's two," Bryony retorts. "She barely knows what's going on anyway..."

"She's almost three," dad says. "And you can remember when we told you that Cassie was going to be a girl, can't you?"

"...Yes," Bryony sighs.

"And no, he hasn't told me either," I say to my sisters, making them moan with frustration, though all three of us eagerly bound through the front door the second we return home and sit down next to our (current) youngest sister on the sofa, staring at our pregnant mother with expectant eyes.

"Ashley," mum says in a torturously slow voice. "Bryony... Cassidy... Dorothy..."

"You're enjoying this too much," I say, making our mother laugh.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," mum says, before pointing at her swollen belly. "Say hello to your new..." I hold my breath as mum pauses for dramatic effect. In truth, as much as I'd love a baby brother, a bay sister wouldn't be too bad- I love all three of my sisters, and I'd certainly love a fourth just as much. I just wish I knew for certain whether or not Bryony, Cassie and Dorothy would love having four sisters as much as I would...

"...Brother," mum says, making my jaw drop.

"A- a boy?" I ask.

"Yes!" Mum giggles. "You're not going to be the only boy anymore, Ashley!"

"A boy?" I ask again, my jaw still hanging loose.

"I knew you'd be excited!" Dad says, giving me a tight, manly hug. "Finally, a little brother to boss around, to coach through life, to pass down all your boyish knowledge to... As long as none of your dancing and acting is in that 'wisdom', though!" Way to put a damper on it, dad... I think, but even that can't wipe the smile off my face. Mum and dad are going to have another boy, another son... Someone who can carry on the family name, someone with whom dad can do all the father/son things he inflicts on me, fishing trips, days out to see QPR play... I can't help but feel that today, I'm a step closer to being the girl I always wanted to be. It's going to take a lot more courage on my part, and the help of all my friends- and the counsellor Laura recommended- but maybe, just maybe, I'll get that magical say soon where I can wake up, look at myself in the mirror and say 'yes, my name is Ashley, and I am a girl'.

The following morning, however, I wake up to find a damp, sticky patch on the front of my pyjama bottoms, causing me a moment of panic, followed by a much longer feeling of utter despair. My one step closer to being the girl I always wanted to be has just turned into a hundred steps further away...

“Come on, cheer up!” Dad urges me as I comb my long- for a boy- floppy blonde hair. “Don’t think there’s a single twelve year old boy who wouldn’t kill to go where you’re going tonight, getting to see the best film ever with your girlfriend AND being surrounded by a bunch of celebrities…”

“Yeah, I guess,” I say with a long sigh.

“What’s wrong?” Dad asks. “Just a little tired? Don’t tell me you don’t like Star Wars…”

“No, the film was alright,” I say, making dad sigh.

“’Alright’,” dad laughs. “Well, I guess there are worse things you can be than someone who doesn’t like Star Wars, heh.” I laugh along with dad as we head downstairs, though my insides are churning- if he’s disappointed at me for not liking his favourite film, god knows how he’ll react when he finds out that I don’t like being a boy…

“Aww,” mum sighs happily as she sees me in my smart shirt and trousers. “My little boy’s really not that little anymore!”

“Thanks, mum,” I say, blushing with embarrassment as my three sisters all giggle at my expense.

“Make sure you thank that Nikki girl for getting you and your friends these tickets for tonight,” mum yells as dad and I head outside to his car.

“And make sure you thank Suriya’s brother for chaperoning you as well,” dad says. “Enjoy being twelve while it lasts, five or six years from now you’ll be the one driving your sisters around their dates, being ‘the heavy’ in case their boyfriends decide they’re not going to be perfect gentlemen…”

“Getting ahead of yourself a bit?” I say, making dad laugh.

“Well, maybe,” dad chuckles. “But you are becoming a man, and that brings with it plenty of responsibilities. It’s not going to be all about having a girl on each arm, you know.”

“I know,” I sigh. “I don’t mind having responsibilities all that much.” Becoming a man, on the other hand…

I force a smile on my face as we arrive at the cinema in Highbury that’s hosting our ‘party’. There’s a red carpet leading up to the main entrance, but that’s for the big celebrities, meaning dad and I enter through the side entrance- where I’m immediately ambushed by my girlfriend grabbing my arm and cuddling it close to her chest.

“Hey Ash!” Suri squeaks, extending her cuddle to my entire body as my dad lets out yet another laugh. “This is SO cool, I’m so glad we got tickets for this… I’ve already had a selfie with Kayla from Out of Heaven!”

“Cool!” I say as Suri leads me toward the rest of our friends. I smile as I greet the girls with hugs, but deep inside the sight of the six of them in their pretty party dresses, fancy make-up and nail polish, translucent tights and cute, heeled shoes just makes me feel all the more frustrated to be wearing my shirt and trousers.

“Hey Ash!” Laura squeaks, greeting me with a hug. “This is SO cool…”

“Already said that!” Suri giggles.

“God, just look at all the famous faces here,” Megan sighs. “Kinda feel out of place, I mean, we’re just schoolkids…”

“I still reckon Nikki only gave us our tickets because Nicole first tried to persuade Phil’s sister into getting them for us,” Suri says. “The suck-up…”

“I’m not complaining!” Harriet laughs.

“Me either,” Laura says with a smile. “I mean yes, it’ll take more than just this to make me trust her again, but this is a step in the right direction.”

“And you get to spend the evening wearing your poshest dress and your highest-heeled shoes,” Suri giggles, before grimacing and releasing my arm. “Oh… Sorry, Ash…”

“It’s okay,” I sigh, even though deep inside, I’m very much not okay. I open my mouth to speak again, only to be interrupted when Priya returns along with her boyfriend and her brother- neither of whom know about my ‘secret’.

“Here you go,” Priya says as the two older boys hand soft drinks to all of us.

“Hey, it’s Ashley, isn’t it?” The tall Caucasian boy- who I recognise as Priya’s boyfriend Carl- says to me.

“Yeah,” I say, shaking Carl’s hand.

“You two HAVE met before,” Suri giggles. “You’ve been going out with me and my sister for over a year!” Carl laughs at Suri’s teasing, before turning back to face me.

“Pri says that you’ve already seen the movie, is that right?” The tall, friendly boy asks.

“Uhh, yeah,” I say. “It’s not bad, I guess.”

“Not really a sci-fi geek?” Carl chuckles. “Fair enough, I guess. Doubt you’d get much chance to be one anyway, seeing how you only ever hang out with the girls!” I force out a chuckle at Carl’s teasing- he no doubt sees my friendship with the girls as a bit of fun, rather than the lifeline it is. God only knows how he’d react if he found out about the ‘real’ me- the cautious way he’s looking at Laura tells me that I might not want to find out.

“Come on then,” Mohan- Suri’s brother- urges, snapping me out of my daydream. “Line up in front of the poster, dad wants plenty of photos of the five of you.” I smile as I find myself instinctively drift toward the five girls, only to be stopped by Mohan’s strong hand on my shoulder.

“Sorry mate,” the young Indian man says. “Girls only in this photo. Doubt dad would like it much if I got any photos of Suri clawing at you like she usually does!”

“You shut your face!” Suri admonishes her brother as he takes the requested photographs, before all of us slowly filter into the cinema to watch the film. As I’ve already seen the film, my attention wonders throughout, staring at all the beautiful women sat in the cinema in their beautiful clothing. And as usual, it’s Suri and Laura who I mainly focus on.

Both girls look utterly beautiful- Suri’s knee-length dark blue dress complements her dark skin and jet-black shoulder-length hair wonderfully, whilst her long black fingernails and 3” heeled shoes make her look a lot older than her thirteen years. Laura looks even more mature than Suri- she’s been taking oestrogen pills for a month now, and even though it’s not a full dose, it’s enough to make her start to ‘develop’. Her waist is narrowing whilst her chest is swelling and her hips and backside are expanding, an effect enhanced by her slinky silver-coloured dress and matching high heeled shoes. Her shoulder-length blonde hair has been styled into a cute wave, her nails have been painted a blood red colour and her face is as immaculately made-up as Suri’s. It’s not just difficult to believe that she’s genetically the same as me- it’s downright impossible.

…Especially as I scratch my leg and wince as I feel short, wiry hairs starting to poke through my skin. My chest is also widening, but not in the same way as Laura’s. My muscles are growing- as am I- and my voice constantly wavers between baritone and soprano, sometimes over the course of a single sentence. Laura will never have to worry about her voice deepening. She’ll never have to worry about her chest and waist widening, about her muscles growing, she’ll never wake up to find that she’s had an ‘incident’ in the middle of the night…

I grin as the movie ends and we head back into the cinema foyer, Suri clinging to my arm in her trademark way and all five girls giddy with excitement- not about the movie, but about the fact that they’re walking side-by-side with women they’ve known and admired for months, if not years.

“Oh my god,” Laura breathes excitedly as she grabs my free arm and points at a young, dark-haired woman a few feet in front of us. “Ash! That’s Nikki Thomas!”

“Who, the woman who got us our tickets?” I ask.

“AND the literal Angel who helped me out after my hospital visit earlier in the year,” Laura giggles.

“We should thank her for our tickets,” Priya says, leading us over to where the tall girl is getting herself a drink.

“Um, excuse me?” Laura asks cautiously.

“Oh, Laura, hi!” Nikki replies with a giggle. “And, I guess, hey girlies! Well, girlies and ‘boyie’, heh!” I blush as the eighteen year old transwoman singles me out, even as I wish that I was one of the ‘girlies’.

“Thanks for getting us our tickets today,” Priya says, to which Nikki simply waves dismissively.

“Least I could do,” Nikki says with a warm smile. “I figured that after everything you’ve been through this year and last, you deserved a super-glam evening wearing your best dresses. Even if it was, you know, just watching Star Wars. You girls want a selfie?”

“Hell yeah!” Suri squeaks excitedly, letting go of my arm and- along with the other girls- posing with Nikki for a selfie. Even though the girls’ excitement is infectious, I’ve never felt more left out than I do at this exact moment. My feelings of exclusion only grow further when Miss Fullerton- our ballet teacher and one of the ‘Angels’ who organised tonight’s event- comes over and playfully rests her head on Nikki’s shoulder.

“Aww,” Miss Fullerton giggles as she sees the five girls. “Hope you’re not trying to steal my ‘Little Angels’ away from me!”

“As if you’d let me,” Nikki laughs.

“Hope you girls are up for some work over the Christmas break,” Miss Fullerton says with a smug grin. “My- sorry, OUR new dance studio isn’t going to decorate itself, much as I’d like it to!”

“Do they make dungaree tutus?” Nikki asks, making Miss Fullerton laugh as I feel more and more miserable. I try to slip away from the group to avoid getting more upset about my ‘exclusion’, only for my sudden movement to attract the attention of our teacher.

“Ah, Ashley Moore!” Miss Fullerton giggles, making me blush. “Should’ve known you’d be here, even if Suri ISN’T clinging to your arm like a security blanket as usual!” I smile and blush an even deeper shade of red as my girlfriend takes this as her cue to rush over to me and tightly cuddle my arm to her chest, nearly scratching my arm on her long black fingernails.

“Hi, Miss Fullerton,” I say nervously.

“Oh please,” my teacher laughs dismissively. “I’m only ‘Miss Fullerton’ in class, outside it you can call me Krystie, same as everyone else! Honestly, Nikki, you should see this boy move, I’ve never seen a boy dance so gracefully. Can’t wait to get him in my advanced class and dancing with the pointe students… Even if he did ask me if he could learn pointe himself!”

“Really?” Nikki asks, her interested suddenly piqued by my desire to dance en pointe like the other girls.

“I, uh- umm, I think my dad’s here to pick me up,” I mumble, slinking away from Krystie, Nikki and the girls so as to avoid any further embarrassment.

“Aww, don’t be so coy!” Miss Fullerton shouts after me as I head toward where my father is stood with a wide grin on his face.

“Did you have fun?” Dad asks. “Or were you too distracted by all the girls, as usual?”

“…I had fun,” I shrug as I get in dad’s car.

“How much of the film did you spend snogging your girlfriend on the back seats?” Dad asks, making my cheeks flush again.

“We didn’t snog,” I mumble.

“Of course you didn’t,” dad laughs, though I can tell from his voice that he doesn’t believe me for a second. He almost certainly wouldn’t believe me- and certainly wouldn’t want to believe me- if I told him that I’d spent the entire evening gazing longingly at all the girls’ dresses, imagining what it’d be like to wear such beautiful clothes- and to be as beautiful as the girls themselves.

Once we arrive home, I head straight up to my bedroom to get ready for bed (even though it’s a school holiday, it is also 10pm and I am very tired), but before pulling on my pyjamas, I open up the suitcase in the back of my wardrobe and pick out a short pale blue dress, pulling it over my head and sighing happily at the feeling of the light fabric swishing around my legs, just as it had for Laura, Suri and the rest of my friends earlier tonight. Sadly, whilst they had no doubt worn their dresses for hours, I can only wear mine for a mere five minutes before stripping it off, carefully folding it away in my suitcase and pulling on the plain cotton t-shirt and trousers that I’d worn to bed for the last three days- though I moan with frustration when I wake up and feel a familiar sticky sensation on the front of the trousers, signifying that I won’t be wearing these pyjamas again tonight.

After stuffing my pyjamas in the washing basket and showering, I dress in my plain, boring jeans and sweatshirt and head downstairs, where I’m immediately ambushed by the most excitable of all my sisters.

“IT’S ONLY TWO DAYS ‘TILL CHRISTMAS!” Cassie squeaks loudly in my ear as she clings to me, bouncing up and down even after we sit down on the sofa.

“Cassidy, leave your brother alone, he had a late night last night!” Mum laughs as she- and her vastly swollen belly- relax in her armchair.

“Well, I’m awake now, I guess,” I laugh.

“Did you have fun last night, Ashley?” Mum asks. “I’ve had a look on various news websites but the photographers were all very well-behaved, not getting any photos of you or anyone underage.”

“Are you going to be in the news, Ashley?” Cassie gasps excitedly.

“No,” I laugh. “You know Miss Fullerton, our ballet teacher? She organised last night’s trip to the cinema, and as she’s famous, she-“ Before I can continue, I’m interrupted by a loud reprimand from my mother- not directed at me, but at the 9 year old girl who’s just walked down the stairs wearing even more make-up than my friends did last night.

“Bryony Francesca Moore, what do you think you’re doing wearing that much make-up?” Mum asks, making even me cringe.

“It’s the school holidays,” Bryony argues. “Why can’t I wear make-up?”

“You’re not going anywhere today,” mum says. “And more importantly- you’re nine years old! You don’t NEED to wear any make-up!”

“But I want to wear it,” Bryony pleads. “I LOVE wearing make-up…”

“Next you’ll be encouraging Cassie or Dorothy to start wearing it,” mum says. “Go and wash it off. Now.” I bite my lip as Bryony stomps back upstairs in a huff, returning ten minutes later with a frown on her make-up free face.

“Believe me, when you’re older, you’ll be thankful to have a day when you don’t have to wear make-up,” mum says, though Bryony looks far from convinced. It’s amazing how, over the course of a few short weeks, Bryony has gone from being level-headed to the point of calling everything she doesn’t like childish and silly, to being a wannabe teen rebel, wearing make-up, nail polish and experimenting with fashion- all the things I wished I could do when I was nine, and still wish I can do now that I’m twelve.

“Can I at least paint Cassie’s nails?” Bryony- whose own nails are painted a pail red colour- asks, making mum sigh and roll her eyes, especially as Cassie herself looks at her expectantly.

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” mum laughs. “Though you’re not painting Dorothy’s nails!”

“Or mine,” I say half-jokingly after the two little girls as they leave the room.

“Eww, you’re a BOY,” Bryony snorts. “Boys don’t get to wear nail polish or make-up!” I force out a laugh as Bryony and Cassie head into the kitchen for their ‘makeover’, even though her words cut deep.

“You know, sometimes I do wonder what exactly it is you do when you go round to one of the girls’ houses,” mum laughs. “Whether or not they’ve coerced you into getting a makeover in the past…” Believe me, I don’t take that much coercing. Rather than allowing mum to prove further, I simply let out a snort of laughter and turn my attention to the television, hoping it’ll ‘cure’ the envy I feel toward my little sisters- who return a short while later with light red fingernails that they both show off for the rest of the morning.

Before I slip even deeper into my misery, however, I’m ‘saved’ when a knock comes from the front door, which I answer to find Suri and Laura staring at me with faces that are barely suppressing excited giggles.

“Hey girlies!” I squeak just loud enough for Laura and Suri- but crucially, none of my family- to hear.

“Hey Ash!” Suri squeaks in a voice much louder than the one I used.

“Hi Suriya!” Mum yells from the living room.

“Hi Mrs. Moore!” Laura yells.

“We’re here to ki-“ Suri says, before grimacing as she remembers the ordeal that Laura was put through less than eighteen months ago, the ordeal that’s still playing a major role in my not coming out to my parents. “Umm, is it okay if we take Ashley to Laura’s house, please?”

“Of course,” mum yells. “But we have plenty of space here, you girls are welcome to come and hang out here if you’d like.” No chance, I think to myself as I stare longingly at the thick make-up, glossy black tights and short black skirts being worn by my friends.

“That’s okay, Mrs. Moore,” Laura says, still clearly rattled by Suri’s ‘kidnap’ joke. “We, uh, don’t want to get in your way.”

“Huh, okay,” mum says. “Be back by teatime!”

“Will do!” I say, my voice almost breaking into a girlish giggle as I follow the girls to Laura’s mum’s car, where Suri immediately groans in frustration.

“Ugh, Laura, I am so, so sorry,” Suri moans. “I need to watch what I say in future…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Laura says, calming down. “God knows there are worse things you could’ve said. ‘I’m stealing your boyfriend’, for starters…”

“No, I’m perfectly happy with the one I have!” Suri giggles, cuddling my arm close to her chest. “God, Ash, are you getting hunkier every day or something?”

“I wish,” I sigh, though the looks on my friends’ faces tell me that they can instantly tell that I wish for the exact opposite. “Thanks for letting me come over, Mrs. White.”

“My pleasure,” Laura’s mother says with a chuckle. “Thank you for agreeing to put up with the company of two excitable teenaged girls for the day!”

“My pleasure,” I say, making Laura and Suri both giggle as they realised that this time, what I’m saying is 100% truthful.

“After I drop you home I need to head out to Tesco, to get a few things for Christmas Day,” Mrs. White says. “I trust I can leave you alone for a couple of hours?”

“Mum!” Laura retorts as though offended. “I’m fourteen, I’m not a little kid, you don’t need to watch me every second of every day.”

“I know,” Mrs. White says, “it’s the house I’m more worried about!” Suri and I both giggle as Laura groans with embarrassed frustration, though that quickly turns to giddy excitement once we arrive home- and once Laura’s taken me up to her bedroom, it’s easy to see why. Laid out on Laura’s bed is a pair of glittery grey tights, a pleated black miniskirt, a tight, striped girl’s top and more make-up than I’ve ever seen in my entire life. My entire body tingles with excitement as I see the beautiful clothes laid out on the bed, though that’s nothing compared to the tingles I feel as I strip down to my underpants (once I’m alone in the room, of course) and slowly ease the beautiful clothing onto my body. I’m so excited that I can barely keep still as Laura and Suri apply my make-up, and once my look is complete, I’m almost ready to burst with happiness.

“Hello, MISS Moore!” Laura squeaks happily as we exchange a girlish hug.

“Thank you so much,” I sigh as I play with my hair, which Laura and Suri have brushed out into a very feminine style. “This feels SO good, so right…”

“The more you wear these clothes, the more ‘right’ they feel,” Laura says. “And you CAN wear them more, you know what you have to do…”

“Laura!” Suri admonishes the older girl. “Leave her alone, let her enjoy this time!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Laura says, before a wicked smile creeps across her face. “Are you ready?”

“Always,” Suri replies with a smug smile.

“Ready for what?” I ask, before watching with confusion as Laura and Suri strip off their skirts and their tops, revealing short-sleeved dark blue leotards underneath their clothes.

“A little treat we planned for you,” Suri says, taking her pointe shoes out of her bag and knocking the solid toe boxes together.

“Miss Fullerton’s been teaching us some more advanced pointe steps,” Laura explains as she gets out her pointe shoes and ties them to her feet. “And as we don’t go to ballet over the Christmas holidays, we figured we ought to get in some practice… So we’re going to do a dance just for you!”

“Even though we all know you’d prefer to be the one doing the dancing!” Suri giggles.

“Just wearing a leotard would be enough for me today,” I sigh happily.

“That can be arranged,” Laura says smugly as she leads us downstairs to her small kitchen, where Laura and Suri spend the next five minutes delighting me with their ‘dance’, which is really just a collection of random pointe steps.

“Beautiful,” I say as the two girls finish their dance and both dip into a perfect ballerina’s bow.

“Aww, thanks!” Laura and Suri say, both giving me girlish hugs as we return to the living room and crash on the sofa.

“Have you asked Miss Fullerton again about pointe lessons for yourself?” Suri asks.

“She’s given me exercises to do,” I sigh. “She says she'll teach me if I want, but I doubt she'd be willing to teach me pointe with the other girls.”

“I bet she would if you told her that you were transgendered, like me,” Laura says.

“I- I couldn’t tell her that,” I say, my entire body clenching with fear at the mere thought of revealing the ‘real’ me.

“Why not?” Laura shrugs. “You know she’d accept you, I mean, she accepted me without question, one of her best friends is transgendered, she taught Nikki Thomas ballet, and she’s transgendered.”

“And you need someone like her to confide in,” Suri says. “Do any adults actually know about you- well, ‘girl you’?”

“…No, actually,” I say after a moment’s thought. “It’s just the six of you who know.”

“I bet,” Laura says confidently, “if you tell her, she’ll support you 100% AND help you come out to your parents.”

“Yeah,” Suri says. “Come out to her in January and you could be wearing a skirt to school by February!” I smile as I play with the fabric of my skirt, which is very close in style to the skirts Laura and Suri wear to school. Wearing a skirt to school would be a dream, and as Laura’s proved, dreams CAN sometimes come true…

“You really don’t have anything to lose,” Laura advises. “And if not Miss Fullerton, then someone else, maybe Nikki herself, she’s helped me a lot and I know she’d do the same for you.”

“They’re all famous, though,” I say. “I wouldn’t feel right pestering them for help…”

“Oh, LOSE the pair already!” Laura sighs. “Yes, Miss Fullerton’s famous, but she also knows you personally through her class.”

“Okay,” I say, making the two girls giggle. “I’ll tell her next month, first class I have… But I’ll need your help, I’ll need backup.”

“We can come along to your class just this once,” Suri says. “I’ll bully my sister into coming too.”

“AND Harriet and Megan!” Laura giggles. “This is going to be so cool, believe me, once you’ve got an adult you can confide in, you’ll find life a LOT easier.” I giggle happily as Laura gives me a hug, but the giggles soon stop as the front door suddenly starts to open.

“Uh- what?” I stammer in a state of near-panic. “I thought we were going to be alone for hours!”

“It’s only me!” Laura’s mother says. “Tesco was just ridiculously busy so I’m going to go tonight instead. Have you three had lunch yet…” Mrs. White’s voice trails off as she enters the living room and sees me sat on her sofa, dressed in her daughter’s clothes and wearing her make-up. My heart jumps into my mouth as the middle-aged woman’s face flickers between shock and confusion, before finally settling on anger.

“What- what have you done?” Mrs. White whispers, barely containing her fury. I open my mouth to try to respond, but before I’m able to make a sound, Mrs. White launches into a full-fledged tirade- which, much to my surprise, is directed not at me, but at her own daughter. “Laura, what the hell did you do to Ashley!?”

“Mu- mum?” Laura stammers, recoiling in surprise and fear.

“Just because you’ve chosen to be a girl, it doesn’t mean you can force it onto anyone you please!” Mrs. White yells. “You too, Suriya! I’m shocked and appalled that you’ve coerced Ashley into dressing the way he has!”

“Bu- but Mrs. White…” Suri mumbles.

“I’m not finished!” Laura’s mother snaps. “Here I was, thinking that now you’re fourteen, now you’re taking oestrogen, that you might be a little bit mature, a little bit grown-up, but I can see that I’m sadly mistaken! Consider yourself grounded for a month, young lady!” My jaw starts to quiver as tears form in Laura’s eyes- this is clearly the most trouble she’s ever been in, and it’s all my fault. The time has come for me to stand up and be a- a woman.

“Mrs. White,” I whisper.

“It’s okay, Ashley, we’ll get you out of that soon,” Mrs. White says in a kind voice, before turning back to face her daughter with a face full of fury. “As for you, young lady, NO Facebook, NO television and most definitely NO friends over for the next month! And I’ll make sure your parents hear about this too, Suriya!” The sight of tears starting to form in the corners of Suri’s eyes tells me that I need to act now- even though Mrs. White’s anger has made me feel smaller than a fly.

“Mrs. White!” I say more forcefully, gulping as the middle-aged woman turns to face me.

“Come on, Ashley,” Mrs. White says. “Let’s go upstairs, we can wash off that make-up and you can change back into your clothes while these two LITTLE girls think about what they did!”

“…No,” I say with a quivering, nervous voice.

“I’m sorry?” Mrs. White asks.

“No,” I say more confidently. “Laura and Suriya didn’t make me dress like this. I wanted to, because I… I’m also transgendered, like Laura.”

“You don’t have to say this just to get them out of trouble,” Mrs. White says.

“I’m not,” I say. “I want… I want to be a girl. I feel like a girl, on the inside.”

“Well… Okay then,” Mrs. White says, sitting down in her chair and trying to process what I’ve just said.

“Does- does this mean that I-“ Laura says, before being silenced by her mother.

“Yes, you’re not grounded,” Mrs. White sighs. “I’m disappointed that you feel you couldn’t trust me with this information, though in a way I can understand why. Ashley, do your parents know about this- well, this?”

“No,” I whisper. “I can’t tell them, they’d go ballistic!”

“You don’t know that for sure,” Mrs. White says. “And they need to know.”

“I- I can’t,” I say, my panic levels rising. “Please, please don’t tell them.”

“…Okay,” Mrs. White says. “I won’t. For now. But you won’t get to be a girl unless you tell them.”

“…I know,” I sigh.

“We’ve been telling her this for years,” Laura interjects, earning a stern stare from her mother that silences her.

“And I’m obviously not happy that you’re wearing my daughter’s clothes,” Mrs. White says.

“They’re cast-offs, clothes I don’t wear anymore…” Laura says, before yet another stern stare silences her.

“Believe me, you’ll get the chance to talk later,” Mrs. White says to Laura, before turning back to me. “Even if they’re cast-offs, I don’t like you doing this- well, ‘this’ under my roof. In your own house is fine, but not here.”

“How is that any different from me wearing what I’m wearing now?” Laura asks, making her mother sigh in exasperation.

“Go and wait in the kitchen,” Mrs. White orders her daughter, clearly tired of Laura’s constant interruptions.

“But Ashley-“ Laura pleads.

“Laura Jade White, go and wait in the kitchen until I’ve finished speaking to Ashley!” Mrs. White commands in an angry voice. “You too, Suriya.”

“But Ashley and I ARE the same!” Laura says. “I was lucky because I had you to recognise who I truly was. Ashley’s not that lucky, and she needs our help.” Laura braces herself for another telling-off from her mother, but to both our surprise, Mrs. White relents upon listening to what Laura has to say.

“The only people who can truly support Ashley are his parents,” Mrs. White argues.

“HER parents, not ‘his’,” Laura retorts.

“’Her’ parents,” Mrs. White concedes. “Ashley, if you don’t want to tell your parents now, I’m not going to force you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. White,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief.

“But they need to know, if only so that they can help you,” the middle-aged woman continues. “If you don’t tell them soon, eventually I will have to.”

“No- please, no…” I plead.

“You can’t keep this from them forever,” Mrs. White says. “I can tell that this is a genuine thing, not just some silly game. It’s in your best interests to tell them sooner, rather than later. If you haven’t told your parents by the end of the school year in July… I will.” I open my mouth to protest, but I know it’d be futile to even try.

“I understand,” I whisper.

“There has to be something else we can do for her,” Laura says, making me tingle at her use of the word ‘her’. “Get her an appointment to see Dr Williamson, maybe?”

“Before you came home we were talking about getting Ashley an ‘adult confidante’,” Suriya says nervously. “Guess that’s now sorted, heh.”

“I’m not going to be Ashley’s counsellor, or her confidante,” Mrs. White says firmly. “She would need to be referred to Dr Williamson by her GP. Ashley, do you know who that is?”

“Umm, Dr Singh, I think,” I reply. “At the doctor’s on Sheffield Road. Though I can’t go there without my parents, and they’d ask why I wanted to see the doctor…”

“Mum?” Laura asks expectantly.

“I can’t take someone else’s child to see the doctor!” Laura’s mother snorts. “Do you have a counsellor at your school who Ashley can see?”

“I don’t think so,” Laura sighs. “Whenever I have a problem I just go to see my head of year…”

“Better than no one,” Mrs. White shrugs.

“Tell- tell a teacher!?” I exclaim.

“They’re professionals, they won’t blab if you ask them to keep it private,” Mrs. White says.

“And Mr. Peters is very understanding,” Laura says. “He’s still head of year eight, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“Then it’s settled,” Mrs. White says. “Ashley will go and see her head of year in January, and one or both of you will go with her for support.”

“Yes, mum,” Laura sighs, though it’s clear from her smile she had every intention of accompanying me anyway.

“In the meantime,” Mrs. White continues, “there’s the question of what we do for the rest of today. Obviously Ashley can’t stay dressed like this for the rest of the day.” My heart sinks as I realise that I’ll have to change back into my dreaded boy’s clothes, though I knew that this was inevitable.

“Why not?” Laura asks. “It’s what makes her feel comfortable…”

“I- I do prefer this to my boy clothes,” I say in a quiet, feeble voice.

“…Fine,” Mrs. White sighs. “But only for today. And in the future, you let me know if you’re going to pass any clothes onto Ashley, okay?”

“Okay,” Laura says as a smile starts to creep across her face. I breathe a sigh of relief as I sit back down on the sofa, keeping my knees pressed tightly together. I spend the rest of the afternoon as ‘girl Ashley’, smiling every time I lick my lips and taste my strawberry-flavoured lipstick, and every time I cross my legs and feel the thick material of my tights rubbing together. If Laura’s mother hadn’t returned early, I’d have changed out of this outfit after little more than an hour of wearing it, but because she caught me in it, I've now worn this outfit for longer than I've worn any item of female clothing, and it almost brings tears to my eyes when the time comes to step out of the skirt and peel off the tights to pull my boy clothes back on.

"You okay?" Suri asks, cuddling my arm as I step out of Laura's bathroom in my jeans and sweatshirt, my face scrubbed free of make-up.

"No," I sigh.

"You know, if you want someone to go to the doctor's with you, I'm sure my sister will," Suri says. "She's only fifteen herself but she's very mature."

"She has to be, with you as her sister!" Laura says, giggling as Suri sticks her tongue out at her. "But seriously, Priya would be a good choice."

"I know," I sigh. "Mrs. White? I'm ready now." I sigh as Laura gives me a long, gentle hug, the kind one sister would give another. Suri's hug is even longer and even tighter, and punctuated with a soft kiss on my lips.

"I'll talk to my sister," Suri says. "If need be, I'll make her go with you!"

"Come on, you two," Mrs. White says. "Laura? You coming with us?"

"Of course!" Laura giggles.

"You know, Ashley," Mrs. White says. "If you did want to tell your parents now, I'll happily stand by you. You'll have friends with you, and speaking to another adult- especially one who's gone through the same thing they'll be going through- will make things go a lot more smoothly." My heart beats faster as I consider Mrs. White's offer- the conditions are definitely perfect for me to come out, of that there's no doubt. But to do so now, without preparing myself... My legs turn to jelly at the mere thought of telling my parents.

"No," I whisper, making Laura groan with frustration. "Maybe- maybe after Christmas."

"Which Christmas, Christmas 2080?" Laura asks, earning a stern stare from her mother.

"Laura..." Mrs. White says as a clear caution to her daughter. "She is right though, Ashley. The longer you put it off, the harder it'll be. But if you don't want to tell them now, I respect that decision."

"Thank you," I whisper, though I feel extra awkward as the car ride home is conducted in silence- Laura and Suri are obviously disappointed by my cowardice. They still give me hugs as I'm dropped off, though it's clear that they'd rather be hugging the 'other me'.

"Evening, Ash!" Dad chuckles as I walk through the front door and crash onto the sofa. "Have fun with your girlfriends?"

"Yeah," I say.

"Too bad George had to go away for Christmas," dad continues. "I'm sure you'd have much preferred to hang out with him, right?"

"Actually, I prefer Suri and Laura," I reply honestly.

"I'm sure you do!" Dad laughs. "Was there much talk of last night?"

"Not really," I reply.

"Bet there would've been if George had gone with you," dad says. "I'm not going to criticise you for having a girlfriend, Ash, but you do need a male best friend to hang out with, a proper 'best mate', especially now that you're nearly a teenager. The older you get, the more different you'll get from the girls, even if you do have shared 'interests'."

"Yeah... You don't need to remind me of that," I say with a barely-suppressed grimace.

"Now I'm not saying you shouldn't have female friends," dad says, "but as they get older they're going to spend more of their time talking about things like make-up and especially other boys. Things you won't- or at least, I hope you won't- have any interest in whatsoever."

"Didn't you have any female friends at school, then?" I ask.

"Not at secondary school," dad says, shaking his head. "None who weren't girlfriends. A couple at primary school, but we drifted apart before we went to secondary."

"...Then how do you know what you're saying is true?" I ask. "About what girls talk about..."

"Ask your mother if you don't believe me!" Dad laughs derisively. "Trust me Ash, if you go round to Laura's house twelve months from now you'll be bored stiff. Or bored AND stiff, heh!" That's an appropriate joke to say to a twelve year old, I think to myself. Even if I have heard George say it about a hundred times already.

I head to bed shortly after 9pm, musing on how today I came closer than I've ever been to permanently being a girl, only for dad and his words and actions to drag me back even further. I shed a solitary tear as I cuddle my blankets around me, my pyjamas feeling more and more like a prison when compared to the soft nightdresses Laura, Suri and my friends will inevitably be wearing.

The sound of my excited younger sisters downstairs wakes me just after 7am on Christmas Eve, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I check myself to discover that tears were the only bodily fluid that leaked from me during the night. After showering and dressing in my usual jeans and sweatshirt, I head back into my room and stare at the suitcase in the back of my wardrobe. Sighing, I pick out a cute, short black skirt and tight grey top similar to the ones I wore yesterday, along with a thick black pair of tights. I stare at the gorgeous items of clothing for at least five minutes as every cell in my body urges me to strip off my boy clothes and pull the girl clothes on, but I know that ultimately, it'd be futile. Ultimately, I'd just have to change back into my boy clothes anyway, so why bother even pulling on the girl clothes in the first place?

I shed another single tear, frowning as the drop leaves a dark stain on my tights, before returning the clothes to my suitcase and grabbing my tablet computer. I login to Facebook and smile as I see that all of my friends are already awake and online. My smile widens as I type out a message to Suri, only for her to send a message to me before I've finished writing.

'Hey girlfriend!' Suri types, making me giggle.

'Hey girlfriend!' I reply.

'I've talked to Pri,' Suri types. 'She's happy to go with you to the doctor's if you want. Just let us know when you get your appointment.'

'Thanks,' I reply, as my heart begins to beat faster at the prospect of actually having to tell my doctor about who I really am...

'I can't stay on long,' Suri types. 'Our grandparents are over from India for Christmas, mum and dad are taking us out sightseeing in London. Talk soon, girlfriend! xxxx'

'Ttyl xxxx,' I type, before Suri goes offline and leaves me to my thoughts, but all I can think about is the look of utter disappointment on Laura's face yesterday when I turned down her mother's offer to help me come out to my parents. Laura clearly thinks I'm never going to come out unless I'm pushed into doing so... And she may be right.

After a quick breakfast- during which I open the final door of my Lego Star Wars advent calendar and chuckle as dad 'helps me put it together', I head back up to my bedroom, secretly taking the house telephone with me. I shiver with nerves as I dial the number for the surgery, letting out a small gasp as it’s answered after just two rings.

“Hello, Sheffield Road Surgery, how can I help you?” The receptionist on the other end of the phone asks.

“He-hello,” I stammer. “I’d- I’d like to book an appointment, please.”

“We don’t have any until next Wednesday, the 30th,” the receptionist says. “Will 10am be okay?”

“Ye-yes, that’ll be fine,” I say, shocked at the ease of getting the appointment. “Do- do I need to bring my parents with me?”

“No,” the receptionist says with confusion. “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Twelve,” I say in a quiet voice.

“Well obviously we’d recommend you bring your parents,” the receptionist says, “but you don’t have to if you need to discuss a personal matter with your doctor.” That’s good, it doesn’t get any more personal than this, I think to myself. “Will you be able to get here alright?”

“Yeah, that’ll be fine,” I say. After giving the receptionist my name and date of birth- so they can expect me- I hang up the phone and let out a sigh of relief. If only coming out to my parents could be as easy as it was to get the doctor’s appointment…

I send a quick Facebook message to Priya and Suriya to let them know about the appointment before changing my sweatshirt for a smart button-up shirt and heading downstairs, smiling sadly as I see my three sisters all dressed in their smartest, prettiest dresses, their long, blonde hair immaculately brushed and held in place with shiny hairclips.

“Nice of you to join us at last,” dad laughs as he adjusts his own smart shirt and trousers. “Are you four excited to see your grandparents?”

“Yes!” Cassie squeaks loudly, bouncing up and down in her seat.

“Grandpa! Grandma!” Dorothy yells happily, making even Bryony crack a smile. Less than ten minutes later, I follow my three sisters to the front door as we see a familiar blue car pull up outside the house. The car’s occupants- a couple in their late fifties- barely take two steps into the house before their mobbed with hugs from all three of my sisters.

“Okay, okay!” Mum laughs, making my sisters blush as they sit back down in the living room. “Hi mum, hi dad!”

“Hello, Clare!” my grandmother says, giving my mother a tight hug despite her vast belly. “My, Ashley, aren’t you turning into a tall, handsome man!”

“Thanks, grandma,” I say, giving the 55 year old woman a hug.

“Hello Alan, hello Wendy!” Dad says, greeting his in-laws with a hug (for grandma) and a firm handshake (for grandpa). “Come on Ash, roll up your sleeves, we need to get more chairs out of the shed.”

“Couldn’t you have asked him that before he put on his best shirt?” Mum sighs, to which dad simply shrugs.

“You don’t mind getting your hands dirty, do you, Ash?” Dad asks.

“Nope!” I lie as I follow dad out to the shed. Over the course of the next half hour, my other grandparents- my father’s parents- arrive, along with all five of my living great-grandparents. The great thing about being born into such a young family (my parents were only 22 when I was born) is that you have plenty of living relatives. For the first 8 months of my life I even had a living great-great-grandparent. This of course means that I’m always spoiled at Christmas and on my birthday, even despite my three (soon to be four) siblings. The bad thing about this, though, is how old-fashioned seemingly all of my grandparents and great-grandparents are.

“So, Ash,” grandpa Greg- my mother’s father’s father- asks me. “What d’you reckon are Rangers' chances of going up this year?"

“Umm… I dunno,” I say, freezing as I’m suddenly put on the spot.

“Ash isn’t really a football fan,” dad laughs. “Unless it involves girls, Ash isn’t interested!”

“Do you still go to your dance class, Ashley?” Grandma Joanne- my father’s mother- asks.

“Umm, yes,” I say. “I should be joining the advance class next year, after my birthday.”

“Boys dancing ballet,” Grandpa Harry- my mother’s mother’s father- tuts. “You should be out playing football with your mates, not prancing around a dance studio!”

“I like dancing too…” Cassie whines, making grandpa Harry chuckle and pull her onto his lap.

“Well you’re allowed to,” Grandpa Harry laughs. “You’re a girl, and I’ll bet you’re the most beautiful ballerina in your class, aren’t you?” The smile returns to Cassie’s face as she nods enthusiastically, making our great-grandfather chuckle. “Go on, do a few steps for us!” My grandparents and great-grandparents all coo happily as space is cleared in the room (not easy when there’s fifteen people in it) and Cassie does a few steps from her junior class. The coos grow even louder as Bryony joins in and dances with Cassie, and by the time Dorothy (who’s recently joined Miss Fullerton’s toddler class) does some steps, the room is filled with happy laughter.

“Ashley’s a better dancer than all of us,” Cassie says. “He should do some steps too!”

“No, no, that’s alright,” grandpa Harry says, clearly uncomfortable with the mere thought of me dancing.

“Oh come on, Harry, let the poor kid dance,” Grandpa Chris- my father’s father- urges. “Just because he’s a dance it doesn’t make him gay, or a girl. Just look at Anton du Beke, or that other guy from Strictly, you know, the one who’s seeing that girl from Countdown?”

“I don’t like either of them, either,” Grandpa Harry snorts.

“But you do like Ashley, don’t you?” Grandma Catherine- grandpa Harry’s wife- asks.

“Well obviously I like Ashley,” Grandpa Harry retorts. “I LOVE Ashley. Doesn’t mean I want to see him prance around the room though, does it?”

“Ash, do you do any sports at school?” Grandpa Greg asks in an attempt to change the topic of conversation.

“Umm, we did rugby this last term,” I say, shuddering at the memory of running around a muddy field getting body tackled by boys much larger than me. “I didn’t really like it…”

“Do you like ANY sports?” Grandpa Greg asks.

“Oh, leave the poor boy alone!” Grandma Eleanor- grandpa Greg’s wife- says.

“I kinda like basketball,” I shrug. No physical contact, the sport’s played entirely indoors… What’s NOT to like about basketball? “We only do that in the summer, though.”

“Basketball?” Grandpa Greg laughs. “You’re not much of an ‘outdoor’ kid, are you?” I start to blush as my great-grandfather teases me- clearly he has an idea of what a boy should me, and I’m not living up to his expectations.

“Now be fair, Andy wasn’t either,” Grandma Jo- my father’s mother- says. “When he was Ashley’s age, all he’d do is sit in front of his Playstation for hours on end.”

“Not much has changed,” mum says, making dad playfully sigh and shake his head. I also chuckle, happy that the attention has been drawn away from me.

“Frankly, I’m happy that Ashley has a hobby he enjoys, like dancing,” grandpa Chris says. “If he wants to dance, I say let him dance! Every time I see a photo of him on Facebook, he’s surrounded by girls. This surely can’t be a coincidence?”

“And I’m so glad he’s got such a nice girlfriend in that Indian girl,” grandma Wendy- my mother’s mother and the youngest of my grandparents- says.

“Boys having girlfriends at the age of twelve…” Grandpa Harry sighs.

“Welcome to the 21st century, granddad,” mum says, making my great-grandfather tut disapprovingly. “You know that fifty years ago, there’s no way a white boy and an Indian girl would’ve been allowed to go out together.”

“I’m not denying that THAT is an improvement,” Grandpa Harry concedes. “And Ashley’s girlfriend IS very sweet.”

“And it could be worse,” grandpa Alan- my mother’s father- laughs. “Ashley could be going out with that transsexual girl!” I grimace as my grandparents and great-grandparents all have a long laugh at Laura’s expense.

“Girls, go and get us some snacks,” dad orders my sisters, who all dutifully traipse off to the kitchen.

“In Laura’s defense,” mum says once the girls are gone, “she is very nice and has always been a good friend to Ashley.”

“Well, okay,” Grandpa Alan concedes, “but it’s a bit weird, isn’t it? Deciding one day that you’re going to stop being a boy and be a girl instead?”

“I’m pretty sure she put more thought into it than you’re implying, Alan,” grandpa Chris says. “It’s not just a case of ‘waking up one morning and suddenly being a girl’.”

“I still don’t like it,” Grandpa Greg says with a shudder. “What if she-he-she- what if this Laura person corrupts Ashley into wanting to be a girl?” My entire body starts to clench as my family discusses this most sensitive subject.

“Dad’s right,” Grandpa Alan says. “It has to be really confusing for Ashley to have a friend who used to be a boy but is now a girl.”

“I- I’m not confused,” I meekly stutter.

“’Course he isn’t,” grandpa Chris says. “He’s twelve, he’s not a little kid.”

“Frankly, I’m glad Ashley’s got such an open and accepting heart,” grandma Jo says, making me blush as my sisters return with trays full of food and the subject abruptly changes from Laura’s ‘status’, not going back to the topic for the rest of the day. My grandparents and great-grandparents depart just after 6pm, at which I breathe a sigh of relief. As much as I love them, being in a crowded room with fourteen other people- especially when I’m dressed the way I am in my uncomfortable shirt, whilst my sisters are all wearing pretty dresses- really is something I can only take for so long.

After helping dad put away the chairs (and musing on how this is a ‘man’s job’ as opposed to the washing-up my mum and my sisters are doing), I head upstairs to my bedroom and strip off my shirt and my trousers, before reaching into my suitcase for a dress very similar to the ones my sisters were wearing this afternoon. I sigh sadly as I pull it over my head and replace my thick black socks with soft white tights, before staring at my reflection in the mirror. I really could be a pre-teen girl, if only I had the courage. I really could…

“Ash? You in there?” Dad asks, knocking on my door and making me panic.

“Uh- hang on, I’m just getting changed,” I say, grimacing as I tear a large hole in my tights in my rush to remove them from my legs. No wonder the girls always carry spare pairs with them…

“Come on, Ash, what’s taking so long?” Dad asks. “It isn’t anything I haven’t seen before, you know…”

“Okay, ready,” I say, hastily stuffing the dress into my suitcase and pulling my jeans and sweatshirt back on.

“Going barefoot, are we?” Dad chuckles as he stares at my bare toes and my discarded socks.

“Oh, um- yeah,” I say, making dad chuckle.

“Sit down,” dad laughs, patting at a spot on my bed, which I dutifully sit down on. “You know your grandparents are only teasing you, right? When they’re talking about your dancing?”

“I know,” I sigh. “It’s- it just hurts a bit, that’s all.”

“I know it does, mate,” dad says, giving me a firm pat on my shoulder. “But they’re just a bit set in their ways. If you want to dance, you dance! If you want to act, you act!” And if I want to be a girl? I self-pityingly think to myself. “And if you want to play basketball, you play basketball! I will admit, I did not see THAT one coming!”

“I like basketball,” I shrug.

“Fair enough,” dad shrugs. “I think Grandpa Greg just wanted a footballer in the family, heh. He’ll just have to wait for your baby brother to become one, won’t he? And besides, basketball’s a decent sport, they occasionally have NBA games in London, we’ll have to go to one sometime!”

“Yeah,” I say, even though the prospect of seeing a basketball game is only slightly more appealing than seeing a football game.

“As long as it actually is basketball,” dad chuckles. “And you haven’t followed the girls and joined the netball team instead!”

“No, no, I bounce the ball when I play,” I say, making dad laugh as he leaves the room. I sigh as I head over to my wardrobe, where my dress- which used to belong to Megan- lays crumpled and creased on top of my now-ruined tights, which were my only pair of white tights. I sigh as I stuff the tights into a plastic bag which contains all my ruined or dirty girl’s clothes, before carefully folding my dress back into my suitcase.

I shed a single tear at the destruction of my tights as I lay down on my bed, trying to relax and let all the frustration in my life roll away, though I know any such attempt is futile- any attempt that doesn’t involve wearing a dress, anyway, and tonight’s ‘session’ got terminated after less than five minutes. After half an hour of ‘destressing’, I head back downstairs, sighing sadly as I see my sisters sat on the sofa, still wearing their fancy party dresses. I spend the rest of the evening on the sofa watching television with my sisters (they’re allowed to stay up late on Christmas Eve in the vain hope that it’ll make them sleep late on Christmas morning}, before heading to bed.

The anticipation of Christmas morning means that I don’t sleep much, even though I know that I won’t get any of the things that I truly want. Nonetheless, I am asleep when my alarm clock wakes me at 6:30am. I pull on my dressing gown and head downstairs, where my sisters are, unsurprisingly, already tearing open their presents, and every present they open makes my heart sink further and further. In their present piles I see skirts, dresses, girly shoes and dolls. Bryony’s pile even includes a small amount of make-up, and both Bryony and Cassie have received new ballet leotards and- adding insult to injury- packets of new white dance tights.

“Happy Christmas Ash!” Cassie yells, giving me a tight hug before doing a twirl in her sparkly pink tutu. “Do you like my tutu?”

“Yes, very cute!” I say, leaving out the fact that I once wore a very similar costume during a dress-up session at Nicole’s house earlier in the year.

“Oh my gosh!” Bryony squeaks as she opens her next box- which is, to my dismay, one of the special ‘Angel boxes’ that all of my female friends get- a random selection of cosmetics and fashion-related merchandise delivered monthly, endorsed by the modelling group that includes our dance teacher.

“It’s a bit old for you,” mum laughs as Bryony gives her a hug. “Then again, YOU’RE a bit old for you! And technically, two months of that comes from Ashley!” I smile as Bryony gives me a hug, but inside, I’m even more churned up than ever. Not only am I not getting anything girly, I’m actually giving girly stuff away to my sisters (rather than buy each other presents, my siblings and I always give money to our parents and ask them to get presents on our behalf).

“Speaking of your brother,” dad says, “is there a reason he’s NOT opening his presents yet?” I roll my eyes, before opening my own generous pile of presents. I force a smile on my face after each present is opened, despite the fact that I could happily have gone without any of them this year. I’ve got a new pair of trousers, new school shoes, a whole clutch of Lego Star Wars sets, a new pair of football boots- though dad did say he’ll change them for sneakers, given my supposed new-found love of basketball- men’s deodorant… But, as expected, nothing feminine whatsoever. I don’t even get any new boy’s ballet shoes, despite the fact that my sisters all got leotards and tights and I’m badly in need of a new pair of shoes.

“This is all so cool,” I say with forced enthusiasm. “Thank you all so much!” My heart starts to beat faster as my parents look at each other with coy smiles on their faces.

“Did you really think that was it?” Mum asks as dad leaves the room. “Did you really think we hadn’t noticed over the last few months? All those hints you’ve been dropping…”

“R-Really?” I ask, my hands shaking with anticipation.

“I know my son,” mum says with a smug smile as dad opens the door to the living room. I picture him in my mind, staggering through the door clutching several presents in his arms, all of which are beautiful items of girl’s clothing, or cosmetics, or fashion accessories… But instead, he’s carrying a small, rectangular box, deflating my hopes for a real Christmas miracle. Nonetheless, I unwrap the present, letting out a gasp of happiness when I see what’s inside- a brand-new Android smartphone.

“This is also probably a bit old for you,” mum says as I thank her with a long hug. “But I didn’t want you feeling left out, after all, all your friends at school have one.”

“This is awesome!” I giggle. “Thank you so much!”

“You’ll only get £3 credit each week,” mum says as I calm down and start unboxing the phone. “Anything else you’ll have to get with your pocket money, or earn with chores.” My smile widens- £3 a week will be more than enough for my needs, which will include the odd text message to Suri and, with any lucky, telephone consultations with Laura's counsellor.

I spend the rest of Christmas Day fiddling with my new phone- much to my parents' dismay- sending texts to all my friends and chatting with them after installing Facebook on the phone. After my sisters go to bed, I relax on the sofa with my parents a while longer, only to be surprised when my new phone suddenly rings- and the number showing on the screen is Laura's.

"I, uh, I have to get this," I say, taking the phone to my room to avoid my parents' teasing laughter.

"Hey Ash!" Laura squeaks excitedly into the phone. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Laura!" I laugh.

"It's SO cool that your parents got you a phone for Christmas," Laura says. "Now we can chat anytime we want, girl to girl!" I feel my insides start to shake with excitement as Laura describes me as a 'girl'- even though I'm wearing all male clothing, her acceptance makes me feel just that tiny bit better about myself.

"And thank GOD you booked that appointment," Laura laughs. "I'm telling you, Ash, this time next year you will be MISS Ashley Moore. Just lucky you've got such an androgynous name, heh! Would I be right in guessing, though, that your phone was the only present you got this year that you truly enjoyed?"

"...Yes," I sigh. "Would I be right in guessing that every present you got would make me green with envy?"

"Yes," Laura says with a sympathetic voice. "I got a new dress, two new skirts, a new ballet leotard, a new gymnastics leotard, make-up, nail polish, perfume... I even got a MASSIVELY girly box of stuff from my brother, to make up for him not being able to come home for Christmas this year."

"Sounds amazing," I say, my voice quivering.

"Mum even bought me a packet of thongs," Laura laughs. "Mum. Bought me. Thongs. It's like she's actually ready to start treating me as a young woman, not just a girl. My grandmothers, of course, got me stuff for younger girls, not that I'm complaining, hehe!"

"Sounds amazing," I repeat in the same monotone voice as before.

"Oh, Ash..." Laura says with a long sigh. "Next year. I promise you. You may not get any thongs, but your Christmas WILL be better than this one. Though that said... You busy tomorrow?"

"Umm, no, just watching TV," I say. "Why?"

"I've kinda got a free day too," Laura says, the smugness dripping off her voice. "Wanna come over and, you know, 'be yourself'?"

"I thought I wasn't allowed to 'be myself' at your house anymore?" I reply.

"Let's just say it's going to be mum's Christmas present to you," Laura says. "Bring tights but no clothes. I may have a Christmas present for you too..."

"I'll be there!" I squeak happily, before ending the call and heading back downstairs to my parents. "Hey, is it okay if I go to Laura's tomorrow?"

"Sure, I guess," dad shrugs. "Are you sure she's not your girlfriend instead of Suriya? You seem to be spending a lot of time with her lately..."

"She's one of my best friends," I shrug.

"I thought George was your best friend?" Dad asks, leading to an awkward pause. "Okay, okay, I'll drive you to Laura's tomorrow. Just- just don't prove your grandparents right by coming home in a skirt, okay?"

"I promise," I say with a smug grin. I won't be coming home in one, but I can't guarantee I won't be wearing one at some point tomorrow...

Sure enough, the following morning, I arrive at Laura's house wearing a plain (albeit new) sweater and pair of jeans, but within half an hour I've changed into a pair of thick black tights, a knee-length grey skirt and a girlish pink blouse... And everything suddenly feels right, as though this was who I was meant to be, especially once I've had make-up applied to my face.

"Thank you for letting me dress like this, Mrs. White," I say as I sit down next to Laura on the sofa.

"I suppose it isn't doing anyone any harm," Mrs. White says, making it clear from the tone of her voice just how big a favour she's doing me. "And Laura's told me that you've booked in to see your GP next week- that's all the proof I need that allowing you to, well, 'be yourself' is the right thing to do."

"The day of my GP appointment was the first day I ever got to dress as a girl," Laura says. "That was almost three years ago! After the appointment, mum took me shopping and bought me a skirt... I think I wore that skirt every day for a month!"

"So jealous," I sigh as I smooth my own skirt over my knees.

"Obviously it's not been all good," Laura says with a sombre voice. "But it was the best thing that ever happened to me, becoming a girl. And it'll be the best thing that ever happens to you, too!" I smile as Laura and I share a girlish hug, before a knock comes from the front door and we're joined by Suri and her sister, who greet us both with girlish hugs.

"SO good to see you being happy and girly!" Suri says as she hugs me. "Even if it does mean I become single every time you pull on a skirt, heh."

"Well I for one can't wait for us 'magnificent seven' to finally, properly be a 'seven'!" Priya laughs as she gives me a hug.

"Thank you so much for agreeing to come with me on Wednesday," I say to the fifteen year old girl.

"Hey, when you're not my sister's boyfriend, you're one of my best friends," Priya says. "Girls gotta watch out for each other, right?"

"Right!" I cheer as Suri and Laura join Priya and I in a group hug. For the next five hours, the four of us share a proper girly day. We braid each other's hair- taking extra-special care with Priya's almost waist-length hair- we paint each other's nails (even if my nail polish has to be removed before I go home), we gossip about school and about ballet... And every second of the experience is something I treasure.

When it comes time to strip away my girlishness, I briefly hesitate, and for one second, I actually consider taking Mrs. White up on her offer, of driving home in my skirt, letting her talk to my parents and introducing myself to them as their daughter... But as my 'dream' reaches that point, it becomes a nightmare, as I imagine dad's furious reaction, his forbidding me from ever having any contact with my friends, from ever wearing a skirt again, from ever being a proper girl... At least the way I am now, I can be a girl some of the time. Some is much better than none. But at the same time, 'some' will never become 'all' unless I tell my parents…

“We’ll bring your new clothes to school, first day of the new term, so you can take them home,” Laura says as her mother drops me off back at home. “Ash… I meant what I said. I really do believe that this time next year, you’ll be just as girly as I am.”

“As girly as WE are!” Suri giggles, giving my arm a cuddle and my cheek a long kiss before I get out of the car.

“See you on Wednesday!” Priya says, waving as she and my friends drive away.

“Evening, Ash!” Dad says as I walk through the front door. "Bloody Ipswich, nicking it at the last minute... Though, of course, given that they didn’t bounce the ball in their hands, I’m assuming you’re not that interested?”

“You assume right,” I say. Though not just for that reason…

“Though I suppose if you’re hanging out with your friends all day, it means you’re not going to burn through the credit on your new phone in five seconds flat,” dad laughs. “You- you did like all your presents, didn’t you? I hope we didn’t overload you with Star Wars stuff…” I bristle slightly- now’s as good a time as ever to be honest with dad, to tell him with I truly wanted for Christmas, but I can’t shake the ‘worst case scenario’ out of my brain.

“I liked all my presents,” I say. “Especially the phone!”

“Even the football boots?” Dad asks. “Ash, don’t feel that you have to spare our feelings, if there’s stuff you’d rather have got, tell us!”

“Well, I, um,” I stammer. “I…”

“Go on,” dad says.

“I… I kinda needed new dance shoes,” I mumble. “Mine are starting to split a little…”

“Ugh, and you told me that before Christmas,” dad sighs. It actually takes me a couple of seconds to realise that his disappointment is directed toward himself for forgetting to get me new shoes, rather than toward me for needed dance shoes in the first place. “Well- you’ve got time before your next dance lesson, I’ll take you out during the week, we’ll get some from that store your dance teacher endorses. How does Wednesday sound?”

“Great!” I say, before remembering that I have another, even more important appointment on Wednesday. “Umm… Thursday would be better, actually…”

“Thursday’s New Year’s Eve,” dad chuckles. “I’ll be working all day, mate. What are you doing on Wednesday that’s so important?”

“Umm, just hanging out with Suri,” I lie. “In the morning.”

“Then we’ll go shopping in the afternoon,” dad shrugs. “You want black leather shoes, soft sole, size 6, right?”

“Yeah,” I say. Even though they should be stiff, pink, satin pointe shoes in that size, I think to myself. And all being well, this time next year, they may very well be that type of shoe.

Before I get into bed, I take the dress I wore on Christmas Eve out of my suitcase and carefully lay it out on my bed, frowning at the creases in the delicate material. Before changing into my pyjamas, I pull the dress over my head and smile as I feel the soft fabric swish around my legs with every step I take. Even though it’s crumpled and creased, it’s still a dress, it’s still beautiful, it’s still girly, and most importantly, it’s still mine, the property of MISS Ashley Moore.

I carefully fold the dress back into my suitcase, making a mental note to iron it, before changing into my pyjamas and climbing into bed, trying my hardest to cling to the memories of the dress flowing around my legs, and the feelings from earlier today of my tights- MY tights- clinging to my legs, of my skirt falling softly over my thighs, of my make-up making me look just as beautiful as Laura and the other girls…

When I wake up, though, the only feeling I get from my clothes is that of a sticky sensation on the front of my pyjama bottoms. I moan as I stuff my pyjamas into the laundry, before changing into my new jeans and sweatshirt and heading downstairs, where I’m forced to let out a giggle at the sight of Cassie and Dorothy still wearing the tutus they got for Christmas yesterday.

“You do know they’re not real clothes, right?” I ask my sisters.

“Yes they are!” Cassie argues. “They cover me, so they’re clothes!”

“If you covered yourself with a cardboard box, would that make the box clothes?” I ask.

“YES!” Cassie boldly replies.

“Fair enough,” I giggle. “Who am I to argue with a princess?”

“Come on, Dorothy,” Cassie says, taking our younger sister’s hand. “We’ve got princess things to do!”

“Aww,” mum sighs as the two little girls go into the living room to play, whilst I head into the kitchen for breakfast. “They are SO adorable… Pity I know it’s not going to last!”

“Just as long as they know their baby brother ISN’T going to be a princess!” Dad chuckles. “Obviously he’ll be adorable, but in his own way, like his big bro was!”

“’Was’, thanks,” I say, making dad snort.

“Boys don’t get to be adorable, not once they learn to walk and talk, anyway!” Dad says. “You’ll have to settle for ‘cool’ and, if you’re really lucky, ‘rugged’. Hell, a couple of years from now, you’ll actually need to learn how to shave! I’ve even picked out a razor for you, got it all ready and waiting!” The only place I want to use that razor is on my legs, I think to myself.

“…Thanks,” I mumble.

“What’ve you got planned for today?” Mum asks. “Hanging out with your hundreds of girlfriends again?”

“No,” I sigh. “Suri’s grandparents are over from India, Laura’s visiting her grandmother today…”

“You mean we’re actually going to see you for a whole day during this holiday?” Mum teases. “Assuming you don’t vanish to your room for the rest of the day, anyway!”

“I’m not promising anything,” I say, making my parents laugh, though any plans to head to my room for some ‘Miss Ashley’ time are thwarted when a knock comes from the front door, which I open to reveal the smiling faces of my father’s parents.

“Hello Ashley!” Grandpa Chris says, giving me a hearty pat on the shoulder, before Grandma Jo gives me a quick hug.

“Oh my,” grandma Jo says as she sees Cassie and Dorothy in their tutus. “Aren’t you two just the most beautiful ballerinas ever?” Despite myself, I let out a giggle as Dorothy enthusiastically nods, whilst Cassie dances a few steps for my grandparents.

“Grandpa and Grandma are here!” Cassie yells as she dances, whilst I lead the middle-aged couple into the living room.

“Hi Chris! Hi Jo!” Mum says as she lowers her expanding form into a chair. “Bryony! Grandpa and grandma are here!”

“Are you sure that girl’s nine and not nineteen?” Grandma Jo chuckles.

“That’s the thing about having lots of children,” mum laughs. “The older ones get older a lot quicker than they should. Speaking of, Ash, show your grandparents your new phone!” I blush slightly, before grabbing my phone and showing it to Grandpa Chris.

“Oh, that is nice,” my grandfather coos as he handles the phone and compares it to his own expensive smartphone. “I take it you thanks your parents properly for this?”

“Of course,” I say. “And thank you too for my videogame.”

“You’re more than welcome, Ashley!” Grandma Jo laughs. “I hope we got the right one, that it’s not too young for you…”

“No, no, it was fine,” I say, bringing a smile to my grandmother’s face, even as I secretly wish that I’d received the same gift that they’d bought for my sisters- matching bracelets in a very feminine pink and silver.

“Grandma! Grandpa!” Bryony yells as she rushes over to my grandparents to give them each a hug.

“Hello, Bryony!” Grandma Jo chuckles. “How much make-up do you NEED to wear, young lady?”

“I’m only wearing eyeliner and lipstick,” Bryony complains, little knowing how envious even this amount of make-up is making me. “Thank you very much for my bracelet.”

“Ah, you’re very welcome,” Grandpa Chris laughs. “Did your parents not get you a tutu like your sisters, then? Or are you much too old and mature for things like that now?”

“…I got a tutu too,” Bryony says, her own cheeks starting to flush.

“Well then, go on, show us!” Grandpa Chris urges as Bryony starts to cringe.

“It’s silly,” Bryony complains. I’ll wear it if you don’t want to, I think to myself.

“Come on, just this once, for your old granddad?” Grandpa Chris asks.

“Well… Okay,” Bryony mumbles, traipsing up the stairs and returning minutes later wearing a pair of pink tights and her own pink tutu.

“Beautiful!” Grandma Jo says, taking out her own smartphone and kneeling down in front of the three girls. “Come on, smile for the camera!”

“They are not going to thank for that photo fifteen years from now, mum!” Dad laughs as Bryony, Cassie and Dorothy pose for the camera, even doing a few steps as our grandmother records a video.

“Ashley should dance with us!” Cassie suddenly exclaims in the middle of her ‘performance’, catching me- and our parents and grandparents- off-guard.

“No, no, no,” Grandma Jo coos. “YOU’RE the ballerinas! You can’t be a ballerina if you’re a boy, can you?”

“But he’s a better dancer than us,” Cassie complains as I try to put Grandma Jo’s comment about ballerinas and boys out of my head.

“Yeah,” Bryony says. “He’s been dancing for over a year, we’ve only been going to ballet for a few weeks.”

“…I don’t mind,” I shrug. Even if I will only be wearing a t-shirt and my leggings, instead of those gorgeous costumes…

“Oh, let the boy dance,” Grandpa Chris laughs. “See if he’s as good as he’s made out to be!”

“Thanks, Bryony,” I say sarcastically, making my sister blush while the adults in the room all laugh.

“Go on, Ash, go and get changed,” Grandma Jo chuckles, making me smile as I run up the stairs, returning five minutes later in my t-shirt, leggings and worn-out dance shoes. As promised, I perform a quick routine for the camera, taking care only to dance the male steps taught to be by Miss Fullerton instead of the female steps ‘taught’ to me by Laura, Suri and the other girls. I even briefly dance with Bryony, much to the younger girl’s embarrassment at her relative lack of skill.

“Bravo!” Grandpa Chris says, giving me a standing ovation as I finish. “Why couldn’t you have been as talented as Ashley when you were a boy?”

“Oh leave me alone,” dad moans. “I didn’t do too badly, did I?”

“Not everybody can be as… ‘Artistic’ as Ashley,” Grandma Jo reprimands her husband, even as I blush from his praise. “Though you are a very, very good dancer! I’ll bet all the girls in your class want to dance with you!”

“Probably not as much as Ashley wants to dance with them!” Grandpa Chris chuckles. You’re right, grandpa, I think to myself. Just not in the way you’re thinking…

I keep my t-shirt and leggings on for the rest of my grandparents’ visit- which only consists of a quick lunch in front of the television- before heading upstairs to my bedroom to change. However, I don’t change back into my jeans and my sweatshirt. As I enter my bedroom, I pull back my sheets, smiling as I see what I hid away whilst changing into my t-shirt and leggings. There, on my bed, is a pair of soft pink tights and a girl’s pale blue leotard. I waste no time I stripping off my t-shirt and my leggings and tossing them in the laundry, before slowly sliding the tights up my legs and stepping into the leotard, shivering with excitement as I stretch the clingy material across my chest. I pin my hair back using silver hair clips Harriet ‘donated’ to me, before wrapping a flimsy, translucent dance skirt around my waist. Even though the dance shoes on my feet are my own black leather ones rather than any of my friends’ pink canvas or satin ones, and I’m wearing absolutely zero make-up, when I stare in the mirror, the ‘illusion’ is complete- I AM just like any other girl going to her ballet lesson.

I spend the next twenty minutes performing all the female steps I wanted to downstairs but- for obvious reasons- couldn’t, before taking the photocopies pages Miss Fullerton and my friends gave me and running through the various foot-strengthening exercises, the same exercises my six friends were doing over the past few months before they received their pointe shoes. I don’t just look like a girl, as I dance and do my exercises I FEEL like a girl… And those feelings don’t go away even as I strip off my dancewear and pull my jeans and sweatshirt back on. In the past I’ve read columns by various famous transgendered people such as Nikki Thomas, who explained that in the weeks leading up to the start of their transition, they felt less and less like boys pretending to be girls, and more like girls pretending to be boys. It’s not until today, as I stare at my reflection, my supposedly male reflection, that I know what they mean.

Three days- and three ‘Miss Ashley’ sessions, two at home and one at Harriet’s house- later, Priya, Suri and I find ourselves sitting in the cramped waiting room of my local GP. I start to tremble slightly as my name is called, but Suri’s hand quickly finds its way to mine, giving it a quick, supportive squeeze.

“Just tell him everything,” Suri whispers. “We’ll be waiting out here until you’re done.” I nod, squeezing Suri’s hand back, before heading into the small room where the doctor is sat with a smile on his face.

“Hello Ashley,” Doctor Singh says. “Are you here without your parents today?”

“Yes,” I say nervously as I sit down. “It’s- it’s a personal thing I want to talk about.”

“Of course,” Dr Singh says. “How can I help you today?”

“I- I think I’m transsexual,” I say, my heart beating twice as fast as normal. “I- I feel like a girl, a girl trapped in a boy’s body.”

“Okay,” Dr Singh says, nodding matter-of-factly. “Tell me more, and I’ll see what help we can give you.” I laugh nervously as I continue speaking, amazed that the confession, the thing I’ve wanted to say for so long was accepted so unquestioningly.

I leave the appointment with a smile on my face and a referral to a counsellor who works with the counsellor Laura regularly sees. Obviously, I can’t see her in person without my parents either being present or driving me to her. Even if I got a lift from a friend’s parent, it’d raise too many questions, but there’s nothing stopping me from having telephone consultations, especially now that I have a mobile phone of my own.

On the afternoon of Monday, 18th January, I‘m sat on my bed, nervously wringing my hands together in anticipation. Finally, at exactly 4:15pm, my phone buzzes and vibrates on my bedside table.

“He-hello?” I ask nervously.

“Hello, is that Ashley?” The kind-sounding middle-aged woman asks. “This is Doctor Elaine Maxwell, I believe you’re expecting my call?”

“Hi, yes, this is Ashley,” I say.

“It’s nice to speak to you, Ashley,” the doctor says. “Your GP referred you to me because of a suspected case of gender dysphoria, is that correct?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“I understand,” Dr Maxwell says. “You need to understand that I can’t issue a diagnosis of gender dysphoria over the telephone, that can only be diagnosed following two face-to-face appointments. What I can do, however, is offer help and advice, to listen to what you have to say and help you through what is undoubtedly a difficult time.”

“I understand,” I say.

“This initial call can take up to an hour, are you okay to speak now?” Dr Maxwell asks.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m okay,” I say with a smile. And I am okay. I truly do feel okay. I don’t know whether it’s the smooth black tights on my legs, the knee-length skirt hanging from my waist, or the three uniformed teenage girls in my bedroom offering moral support that’s making me feel as positive as I am right now, and frankly, I don’t care. All I know is that, after so, so many setbacks, I’m finally a step closer to being that which I always wanted to be, a step closer to being who I always wanted to be- a person called MISS Ashley Moore.

Of course, I’m still thousands upon thousands of steps away from my goal. But I am at least facing in the right direction, and as I bare my soul to Dr Maxwell, a part of me believes that maybe, just maybe, by Christmas 2016, I WILL be unwrapping the same feminine gifts my sisters did this Christmas just gone.

“You don’t lie to me,” Suri sings in her rhythmic, accented voice.

“You don’t lie to me,” Priya sings, trying her best not to giggle.

“You don’t lie to me,” Laura sings, casting an excited glance in my direction.

“You don’t lie to me,” I sing in as authentic a girl’s voice as my wavering vocal chords can manage.

“No more lies!” The four of us all yell simultaneously, earning cheers from Harriet and Megan on the sofa.

“Out of Heaven have got NOTHING on you girls!” Megan giggles, giving all four of us hugs as we return to the sofa. I smile as I press together my knees, which are covered in thick black tights, before sweeping my knee-length patterned black dress underneath me as I slowly lower my bottom onto the sofa.

“Especially you, MISS Moore!” Harriet giggles, giving me a tight hug.

“Hands off!” Suri says, hugging me and trying to wrest me free from Harriet’s embrace.

“Nuh-uh,” Harriet says. “MISTER Moore is your boyfriend, but MISS Moore is just another one of the girls!” I giggle girlishly as Suri and Harriet ultimately decide to ‘share’ me, though Harriet does manage to sneak a squeeze of my nylon-covered thigh when Suri’s not looking.

“And MISS Moore is a million times better as a dance partner than PISS Wyatt!” Laura says, letting out a smug snort as she sits down and crosses one long, nylon-covered leg over the other.

“Oh come on, she’s not been THAT bad lately,” Priya says. “Not since she started talking to someone about her Asperger’s.”

“Yeah, well I don’t see her here, do you?” Laura asks, dramatically looking around Priya and Suri’s vast living room. Her hostility is understandable, though- a week ago today was Valentine’s Day, and despite her popularity at school (and her undeniable beauty, which seems to be increasing every day that she takes oestrogen), she’s still single, whilst Nicole is still going out with the boy who dumped Laura last November. Even though they’re nowhere near the enemies that they used to be- Laura even went to Nicole’s birthday party earlier in the month- it’s still a very sensitive subject for Laura.

Fortunately, my own relationship is very steady- or at the very least, MISTER Ashley Moore’s relationship is steady. Suri’s made it very clear on numerous occasions that her relationship with MISS Ashley Moore is strictly that of a close friend, not a girlfriend. Not that it makes much of a difference when she’s only thirteen and I’m only twelve, but it’s still a dilemma for me, especially when my relationship with Suri is literally the only thing giving me any street cred with the other boys at school.

“Forget about Nicole!” Priya advises Laura. “I’ve already told you, there are plenty of year 10 boys who fancy you. Let me set you up with one of them, wipe that frown off your face!”

“Doubt mum will like me going out with an older boy,” Laura mumbles.

“Oh, whatever,” Priya snorts. “You’re fourteen, these boys will all be fourteen too, they’ll just get to fifteen a couple of months before you do, that’s all.”

“I think it’s SIXteen that Laura’s mum’s most worried about,” Megan teases the blonde girl. “And we all know what ‘sixteen’ means…”

“Someone cover Ashley’s ears!” Harriet giggles as I roll my eyes.

“Laura and her boyfriend, laying in a tree,” Suri teases in a sing-song voice. “F-U-“

“Definitely cover Ashley’s ears!” Priya giggles. “Fine, then, if you don’t want a year 10 boy, how about you, Harriet? I can understand you not liking little boys, younger boys-“

“Hey!” Suri protests as she cuddles my arm close to her chest.

“Younger BOYS, I said,” Priya laughs. “Do you see any boys in here?”

“I certainly don’t,” Laura says with a smug smile, giving me a warm feeling inside.

“And I’ll pass on your boys,” Harriet laughs.

“God, Harriet, are you allergic to boys or something?” Megan asks, making the ginger-haired girl laugh.

“Yes, they give me a rash,” Harriet says, sticking her tongue out at Megan. “Now can we get back to dancing, please? I brought my pointes and everything…”

“And I brought this,” Laura says, holding up a well-worn, short-sleeved red leotard, “for MISS Moore!” I giggle excitedly as Laura hands me the leotard, which I quickly change into before rejoining the girls in the living room, where we all practice various female ballet steps- though I’m forced to sit down once the girls start practising in their pointe shoes, which I obviously still don’t have.

I remain in my leotard- pulling my dress back on over it once ‘dance practice’ is over- until Priya & Suri’s parents return later in the evening. As I stuff ‘Miss Moore’s clothes into a bag to take home, I feel the usual twinge of sadness every time I’m forced to be the boy I desperately don’t want to be, which prompts a tight cuddle from Suri when she comes in and sees me on the verge of tears.

“Aww, Ash…” Suri sighs. “Let me and Priya and Laura come home with you, we’ll explain everything to your parents, get that dress on you on a permanent basis!”

“And when they turn round and say ‘no you can’t be a girl’?” I ask. “When they say ‘you’ll never be a girl again’, when they say ‘you’ll never hang out with Suri and her friends again’?”

“They won’t say that!” Suri says firmly. “And besides, they can’t stop you from hanging out with us at school, can they?”

“Harriet’s father stopped her, didn’t he?” I ask, making Suri frown.

“Your parents aren’t anything like the bigot that he was!” Suri snaps. “They let Laura hang out, they let her play with your sisters, don’t they?”

“They also refuse to acknowledge that Laura was ever anything other than female,” I sigh. “It’s like- it’s okay her being a girl who used to be a boy, but me being a boy who wants to be a girl is something completely different.”

“It’s the exact same thing!” Suri pleads.

“Not for me it’s not,” I moan, making Suri growl with frustration before leading me downstairs.

“Take the BOY home,” Suri urges Laura, who leads me out to her mother’s car.

“Do I even need to ask what that was about, MISTER Moore?” Laura asks, sighing as I shake my head. “Didn’t think so.”

“Hello Ashley,” Mrs. White says as Laura and I get in her car. “Laura, I don’t remember your skirt being that short when I dropped you off this morning…” I barely suppress a smirk as Laura sighs petulantly, before tugging the hem of her skirt down to cover more of her thighs.

“I’ve got legs for the first time ever,” Laura pleads. “So what if I want to show them off a bit?”

“You’re also only fourteen years old,” Mrs. White reminds her daughter, who tugs her skirt even lower.

“And lucky you can bare any leg at all,” I say, bringing a very guilty look to Laura’s face as she lowers the hem of her skirt to the same height it was when she arrived at Suri’s house this morning.

“The offer’s always open, Ashley,” Mrs. White says, making my heart beat faster as nerves grip my body.

“…I’ll pass,” I say, before remaining silent all the way home. After bidding Laura farewell with a quick hug (and feeling envious of her ever-growing ‘shape’, especially on her chest), I head into my home where, as always, my dad is sat waiting with a smug grin on his face.

“Evening, butch!” Dad says, making me roll my eyes. “How are the harem?”

“They’re fine,” I say. “Where’s mum?”

“Relaxing, putting her feet up,” dad says. “Just five weeks to go…”

“Yep,” I say. “Are- are you really looking forward to having, you know, another boy?”

“Don’t tell your sisters this, Ash,” dad whispers, “but yes. You’ve got to be looking forward to it too, surely? Finally having a brother, someone who you can connect with, boy-to-boy, so you don’t have to keep doing girlish things with your sisters like ballet?” Umm… Except I started doing ballet BEFORE any of my sisters, I think, inwardly screaming at dad’s seemingly endless denial of my love of all things feminine.

“I don’t mind, I like my sisters,” I shrug.

“Yeah, I should hope so, you ARE their brother,” dad chuckles. “You’re the one who’s going to have to go around beating people up when they break their hearts, picking them up from dates and parties and sleepovers…”

“Can you give them a chance to grow up first?” I ask dad, who laughs. “Could you give ME a chance to grow up first?”

“You’re the oldest, that means you have responsibilities,” dad shrugs. “And you ARE mature for your age. And I don’t just mean those muscles I know you’re growing!”

“…Thanks,” I sigh, before relaxing on the sofa and spending the rest of the night watching television.

The following morning, my alarm wakes me up and, as always, I shower, brush my teeth and pull on the shirt, tie and trousers that make up my school uniform. As always, I meet up with my six friends at the school gate, and immediately burn with envy as they stride into school in their skirts, tights and blouses. As we walk to our forms, however, it’s clear that all is not well with one of the girls.

“We missed you yesterday, Nicole,” Priya says, barely earning a nod from the mousey-haired girl.

“…Nicole?” Megan asks. “Are- are you okay?” Nicole shakes her head, earning immediately sympathy from all of the girls, who huddle around her- even Laura, who looks especially worried for Nicole despite her betrayal last year. Before I’m able to learn anymore about Nicole’s distress, though, the school bell rings, causing all the students in the corridor to hurry to their forms out of fear of being late.

I worry about Nicole all throughout my first two lessons of the day, before meeting up with the girls at break time. My heart sinks as I sit down and I see Nicole slumped over the table, quietly sobbing into the sleeve of her uniform.

“What- what’s happened?” I ask.

“All men suck!” Nicole screeches, causing me to recoil in shock. “Except you Ashley, but- we all know WHY you don’t suck. But all other men can go to hell!”

“Ph-Phil?” I ask quietly.

“I don’t ever want to hear the name ‘Phil Brooks’ again!” Nicole wails, before going back to sobbing into her sleeve.

“You and me both,” Laura snorts. Even though I’m not outright told what happened, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Nicole and Phil are no longer boyfriend and girlfriend- and it was Phil who made the decision to end the relationship. At lunch, I return to our usual table, but to my surprise, the only people sat there are Laura and Suri- and rather than allowing me to wedge myself between them as usual, they direct me to a seat on the opposite side of the table.

“Where are the others?” I ask.

“Consoling Nicole,” Laura sighs. “She’s been crying all day, apparently Phil dumped her last night over Facebook.”

“That- that’s just rotten,” I spit.

“Yep,” Suri says. “Why is it that the only REAL men are really girls on the inside?” I blush as my girlfriend flashes her trademark sweet grin at me.

“Apparently,” Laura continues, “he told Nicole that she was ‘too much hard work’. Hard to imagine, I know, heh.”

“How do you know that?” Suri asks, her face screwed up in confusion. “Did Nicole tell you that?”

“No,” Laura sighs. “Phil himself told me.”

“What- what?” Suri asks “Why- just- what- why are you messaging Phil? After what he did to you? After what he did to Nicole? After what they both did to you and to each other?”

“I didn’t message him, he messaged me,” Laura clarifies. “About twenty minutes after he’d dumped Nicole, he sent me a message saying he wanted me back.”

“And- and you accepted him back?” Suri asks, her confusion giving way for anger.

“No, of course not!” Laura snorts. “Though… I haven’t actually rejected him either, not yet, anyway…”

“Ugh, Laura…” Suri moans. I watch in silence for the next half an hour as Suri and Laura argue, never once being asked for my opinion- which suits me fine. As desperate as I am to become a girl, there are some parts of feminine life I simply can’t wrap my head around, and relationships are probably the biggest thing I simply don’t ‘get’ yet. I’m sure as I get older, I’ll grow to understand them more, though as I head into my final lesson of the day, I get a very sharp reminder that I might end up understanding them even less.

“Alright, mate?” George asks as he sits down next to me and gets out his pencil case. “Noticed you only had your girlfriend and the ladyboy sat with you at lunch- didn’t feel like inviting me over to sit with you, then? Didn’t want the competition?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly it,” I say, rolling my eyes as George chuckles good-naturedly.

“What was up with the other four, then?” George asks.

“Umm, apparently Nicole’s boyfriend dumped her,” I say.

“What- really?” George asks, suddenly paying me a lot of attention. “The one who broke her ankle last term?”

“She’s not going to be interested in you, not yet, anyway,” I say, making George laugh.

“Ah, come on,” George snorts. “She’s just split up, she’s at her most vulnerable, she needs someone to lean on. Or lean into, if she wants!” I go to respond, but am interrupted by the teacher starting the lesson- an interruption I’m very grateful for. Where the girls’ discussion of Nicole made me feel excluded, hearing George talk about his ‘plans’ for Nicole makes me want to be excluded, not just from the conversation but from the entire male gender.

Things don’t get any better when George accompanies out to my dad’s car at the end of the school day. All the way home- despite Bryony and Cassie also being in the car- George persistently asks me about Nicole and her taste in boys, and once we’re up in my bedroom to (supposedly) do homework, his questioning intensifies.

“Come on, mate,” George insists. “At least give her the chance to meet me. Next to your girl she’s probably the fittest of the lot of them, it’s not going to do any harm if you just let me sit with you once, right?”

“You’re making it sound like I’d be doing HER a favour,” I snort.

“Well obviously I’d owe you one too,” George laughs. “But she isn’t going to want to be single forever, you know.”

“She is for now,” I retort.

“Easy for you to say,” George snorts.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, shocked by George’s sudden hostility.

“It’s easy for you to say because you walk around everywhere with the cutest girl in year 9 literally hanging off your arm,” George says. “And it’s like you don’t even realise how lucky you are! You’re- you’re like a legend to the other year 8 boys.”

“Some ‘legend’,” I snort. These boys definitely wouldn’t think I was a legend if they what I did whilst I was with Suri and the girls… Especially if they could see what I usually wore.

“You’re right,” George chuckles. “Legends set their mates up with girls.” I sigh as we continue doing our homework, and yet a part of me can’t help but feel sorry for George- he’s right in that I’m the envy of the whole school because I’m Suri’s boyfriend. A ‘normal’ boy would kill to go out with her, and by ‘hogging her for myself’ I’m preventing a boy from having that chance. At the same time, though, I know for a fact that Suri- and all the other girls- would loathe going out with someone who has George’s chauvinistic attitude, so in a way, by going out with Suri, I’m sparing her from the meatheads and idiots who drool over her and the other girls- and would undoubtedly treat her as badly as Phil treated Nicole and Laura.

As always, when I fall asleep later in the night, my thoughts are on how uncomfortable my pyjamas are, and how much nicer a girl’s nightie would be, but for tonight, I’m also thinking about what George said- specifically about his insistence that I set him up with one of the girls, as a ‘true’ friend should do.

When I arrive at school the following day, it’s my six girl friends who greet me at the school gate as usual, though their attention is still focussed on Nicole, where it remains throughout break and lunch. After lunch (and drama club), however, I become aware that it’s not just the girls who are paying attention to Nicole.

“Mate,” George says as we sit down for our final lesson of the day, “your friend Nicole is obviously gagging for it!”

“She’s also the one who yesterday screamed, and I quote, ‘all men suck’,” I retort.

“Meh, that’s just what girls say when they’re upset, they don’t mean it really,” George snorts. Ugh, could you make it any more obvious that you know nothing about girls? I think to myself.

“She seems pretty sure about this,” I say, making George snort derisively as the teacher arrives to begin the class.

“Bet you she’ll have got with another guy before Easter,” George whispers. “You could always put in a good word, make sure that guy’s me…” I roll my eyes in response, though I know this isn’t going to deter George from pestering me about it for the rest of the term.

Fortunately, when the bell rings to signify the end of the day, I head down to the car park alone, having already got the week’s ‘George evening’ out of the way yesterday. Instead of climbing into my father’s car, I instead get into the back seat of Laura’s mother’s car, where I’m squashed onto the back seat between Suri and, much to my surprise, Nicole.

“Hey, backseat girlies!” Laura giggles from the passenger seat of the car.

“And honorary girlie!” Nicole giggles as she gives me a tight squeeze- an action that puts a very dark look into Suri’s eyes.

“NOT honorary anymore!” Suri giggles, cuddling my arm in the way I’ve grown so accustomed to over the past few months.

“Umm, I don’t understand,” Nicole says.

“I know about Ashley’s ‘secret’,” Mrs. White explains. “Though I did only find out by accident.”

“Thank you again for letting me come home with you tonight, Mrs. White,” I say.

“Ooh, so you can have, like, public girly days at Laura’s?” Nicole asks.

“Not quite,” Mrs. White says. “Not until SHE is open with her parents. I don’t want them accusing me of sneaking around behind their backs!”

“Aww,” Nicole coos. “Well you’ll always be able to have girly days at MY house!”

“And mine!” Suri says, cuddling my arm ever tighter. I silently grin as Suri and Nicole fawn over me on the backseat- if only George could see me now…

Immediately after arriving back at Laura’s house, I park myself on the sofa whilst the three girls- the three OTHER girls- head up to Laura’s bedroom to change into the regulation pink tights and black leotards they wear at their ballet classes. All three girls also have their hair tied into tight, severe buns- even Laura, whose hair has only recently grown long enough to be tied into a bun.

“Ugh, I am SO looking forward to properly getting back to ballet,” Nicole sighs as she sits down on Laura’s sofa, playfully bicycling her legs in the air and pointing her feet as far as they’ll go.

“I hope you learned your lesson from last November!” Suri says, sitting down next to me and cuddling my arm, which also allows me to gently caress the stretchy material of her leotard as it clings to her waist.

“NEVER doing that again!” Nicole laughs. “I’m not so much as going en pointe unless Miss Fullerton or Mademoiselle Renou tell me to!”

“Have you ever met Mademoiselle Renou yet, Ashley?” Laura asks.

“Umm, not yet,” I reply. “Think she only teaches the advanced classes.”

“She’s REALLY strict,” Nicole laughs. “My first lesson back, when she learned how I broke my ankle, I got, like, a ten minute lecture on how to treat pointe shoes with respect.”

“Which, in fairness, you needed,” Laura says with a smug smile. “Ahh… Think we’re making Ashley go green, all this talk of pointe shoes…”

“If I’m not used to it by now, I never will be,” I say, making the other three girls giggle, before sighing.

“You WILL get there,” Laura says. “I told you, by this time next year, you’ll be wearing one of these-“ Laura stretches the fabric of her leotard, creating a loud snapping sound- “and you’ll be as much a girl as any of us.”

“Hell yeah!” Suri giggles, squeezing my arm tighter. “Even if it does mean I’ll need to find a new arm to cuddle!”

“We ALL need arms to cuddle,” Nicole sighs. “But you know what? A group hug with my best girlies sounds MUCH better, hehe!” Shows what you know, George, I think to myself. I smile as Suri releases my arm and joins Laura and Nicole in the three-way hug, before Laura and Nicole separate and gesture for me to join them.

“Come on,” Nicole whispers.

“Umm, isn’t this a ‘girlie’ group hug?” I ask.

“You ARE a girl, aren’t you?” Laura asks.

“Not dressed like this, I’m not,” I sigh.

“It’s not the clothes you wear that make you a girl,” Nicole says.

“Well- I’m not, you know, ‘physically’ a girl,” I say.

“And it’s certainly not THAT that makes you a girl!” Laura giggles. “It’s what you are inside that counts, and we all know what you REALLY are inside, so come on, non-honorary girlie!” I giggle girlishly as I jump off the sofa and join in the group hug. Even despite my clothes and my increasingly-masculine body, being accepted as a girl in such an unconditional manner just makes me feel… Content, like this is who I’m supposed to be.

Ten minutes later, I’m sat in Laura’s kitchen, awaiting my fortnightly phone call from my counsellor. At Nicole’s insistence, I’ve swapped my school trousers for her school skirt (neither Laura’s nor Suri’s will fit me) and I’m loving the feeling of the soft lining touching my bare thighs (Laura’s mother won’t let me wear any tights), even if it does mean my increasingly-hairy legs are on display for all to see.

“Since when did you and Nicole become friends again?” I ask Laura, who simply sighs and plays with the straps of her leotard again.

“Since we discovered that all boys are jerks,” Laura says. “And I’m NOT saying no offence, because you’re NOT a boy!” Laura and I share a giggle, even as the blonde girl sighs once again. “Yeah, it’ll take a while to trust her again, but I’d rather have her as a friend than as an enemy. God knows I have enough of those at school…”

“I thought it was much worse in your first year than last year or this?” I ask.

“Oh, it was,” Laura says with a shudder. “Even got physical at one point… Kinda why I only hang out with you girlies, better to have a few true friends than a lot of fake friends, but even then I still hear the other kids whispering, pointing at me, giggling whenever I walk past… You sure you’re willing to pay the price of wearing a skirt to school?”

“…I don’t know,” I whisper, making Laura sigh and give me a quick hug that she only releases once my mobile phone starts ringing.

“Good luck,” Laura whispers, kissing me on my cheek before leaving me alone.

“Hello?” I ask as I answer my phone.

“Hello Ashley, it’s Dr Maxwell,” my counsellor says. “Are you free to talk now?”

“Yes, yes of course,” I reply.

“Good,” Dr Maxwell says. “How have things been over the past two weeks?”

“…Okay, I guess,” I reply, before going into detail about the past two weeks, my anxieties about my gender, school, my physical changes and several other topics that the doctor helps me rationalise in my mind. The sixty minutes pass quickly, and by the time we’re done, I feel like we’ve barely scratched the surface of my stress- though I take comfort in the fact that, as Dr Maxwell reminds me before hanging up, I’ll get another chance to talk to her in two weeks’ time.

After pulling my trousers back on and handing Nicole her skirt back, I follow the three girls out to Laura’s mother’s car, again smiling as I’m squashed between Suri and Nicole on the back seat of the car.

“You know,” Laura says, “you could always confide in Miss Fullerton or Mademoiselle Renou. Both of them have transgendered friends, and I’m sure if they knew the truth they’d be happy to teach you pointe, too.”

“We could be ‘the magnificent seven ballerinas’!” Suri giggles.

“Yeah, but they’d inevitably tell my parents,” I sigh. “I’m still not ready for that yet.”

“Even after an hour on the phone to your counsellor?” Laura’s mother asks. “I know it’s a big step, possibly the biggest, but once you’ve taken that step, everything from there on will be easier.”

“In fairness, I don’t know if I’d have had the courage to come out, if you hadn’t forced things by asking me,” Laura whispers. “But I’m so glad you did, and I’m so glad that I’ve been able to be who I am for the last two and a half years.”

“I’m glad too,” Mrs. White says with a smile as we pull up outside the new, fancy dance studio that Miss Fullerton moved her class to over the Christmas holidays. The tall blonde woman herself is there to greet us as we step out of the cold winter air.

“Hey girls!” Miss Fullerton giggles, before turning to me and inadvertently making my heart sink. “Well, girls and Ashley, anyway!” I smile as Suri links her fingers with me- Miss Fullerton obviously has no way of knowing how badly she just snubbed me, but the supportive gesture is nice nonetheless.

“Hi Miss Fullerton,” I say, before grinning at the small, familiar girl sat at the side of the reception area in her pink leotard and flimsy pink skirt. “Hi Bryony!”

“Hi Ashley,” my younger sister replies in a tired-sounding voice. “Hi Laura, Nicole, Suri.”

“Hi Bryony!” My three friends say simultaneously, waving at the nine year old girl.

“Ashley,” Miss Fullerton says as a tall, beautiful dark-haired woman approaches our group. “This is Mademoiselle Renou, who’ll be teaching you when you move up to the advance class in May.”

“Um, bonjour,” I say, shaking the young woman’s hand.

“Ah, merci beaucoup, bonjour, monsieur Moore!” Mademoiselle Renou says with a soft giggle.

“He doesn’t actually study French at school, he just does German,” Suri says, making me blush.

“Oh, na dann, guten Abend Ashley, es ist schön, Sie kennen zu lernen!” Mademoiselle Renou says, giggling even harder and seeming like a far cry from the strict teacher Laura and her friends make her out to be.

“You just keep showing me up with your fancy foreign languages,” Miss Fullerton giggles. “Zoe, Ashley’s one of our more talented male dancers AND the token boy of my ‘Little Angels’. He’s only been dancing for a little over a year but really has a knack for it. Even asked me to teach him pointe a couple of months ago.”

“Really?” Mademoiselle Renou asks. “I’d love to teach a boy pointe. None of my boys from Paris would let me, they were all too afraid it’d make them look ‘sissy’. It’s good to meet a boy who’s comfortable enough AS a boy that he’ll ‘experiment’ like this, hehe!”

“So- so can you teach me pointe?” I ask.

“Of course!” Mademoiselle Renou says with a warm smile. “As long as your parents don’t mind buying you the pointe shoes, of course!” My smiles remains on my face as the rest of my face falls- that’s one obstacle that’ll be almost impossible to overcome.

I spend the entirety of the lesson sat at the side of the room with Bryony and Mrs. White, watching as the girls- including all six of my friends- practise their steps, both on their feet and standing daintily on the tips of their toes, the same as any other ballerina. I watch in envy as one of the other girls in the class, and older girl I’m not familiar with, gets to dance a two minute long routine in a fluffy pink tutu to celebrate her birthday.

I close my eyes for a brief second and allow myself to believe, just for one moment, that on my next birthday, or the birthday afterward, I’ll be able to dance in that same tutu, wearing the same pointe shoes as the other girls. By then, I’ll be fourteen years old, which is the same age Laura is now, and as the twenty-odd teenaged girls file out of the dance studio, I actually have trouble picking Laura out of the crowd, she blends in so well, almost as though she’s been a girl her whole life.

“Hey,” Laura says with a smile as she comes over to us. “So, Bryony, excited at getting your own pointe shoes yet?”

“I guess,” Bryony says with one of her trademark shrugs. “Thank you for giving me a lift home, Mrs. White.”

“You’re very welcome, Bryony,” Mrs. White says. “Come on, let’s get you home.” I smile sadly as I’m forced to tear myself away from the bubble of femininity that is the dance class, though we barely take two steps outside before Laura freezes, a look of shock on her face.

“What is it?” I ask the blonde girl as her look changes from shock to utter contempt.

“Hi, PHIL,” she says to the dark-haired boy stood at the entrance to the car park. I wince a little at the volume of her voice, before realising that she’s being deliberately loud to draw a crowd over to her. Something tells me that Phil isn’t going to leave the studio with his dignity intact…

“H- hi Laura,” Phil says nervously. “You- you look nice.”

“Yep,” Laura says smugly as the rest of our ‘gang’ gathers around.

“Did- did you get my message?” Phil asks.

“Oh, you mean the one you sent after you dumped Nicole, begging and grovelling for me to take you back?” Laura asks. “Yeah, I got it.”

“…And?” Phil asks, an expectant look on his face.

“And…” Laura says as she strides up to the tall teenaged boy. “And… You like the look of my bum in this leotard, Phil?”

“Well- well, um, yes,” Phil replies.

“Good,” Laura says. “Because you can kiss it! Come on Ashley, let’s go home, you’re more of a REAL man than he ever was!” I flinch slightly as Laura links her fingers with mine, but an approving nod from Suri tells me to go along with the ‘act’.

“And you can kiss mine too!” Nicole laughs, wiggling her leotard-clad backside at the humiliated young man.

“…I’m never having a boyfriend,” Bryony says as we get into Laura’s mother’s car. “It looks far too confusing…”

“Yeah, you’re probably the smartest of all of us, Bryony!” Laura giggles as she takes out her phone and composes a quick text message. Moments later, my phone beeps to let me know I have a new text message, which is unsurprisingly from Laura.

‘Sorry I called you a real man,’ the message reads. ‘Couldn’t say anything with your sis in the car but we know there isn’t a trace of man in you, girlie!’ I giggle as I text a smiley face back to Laura by way of a reply, and minutes later Bryony and I are dropped off at our home. My sister immediately heads upstairs to get ready for bed, whilst I relax in the living room for an hour, watching TV and finishing off my homework. Between talking to my counsellor and spending the evening at the dance class, I’m feeling more feminine than ever- which of course means I’m feeling more mentally positive than ever.

My smile doesn’t fade even as I pull on my dreaded school trousers the following morning, I’m in such a good mood- and this doesn’t go unnoticed on the drive to school.

“You’re happy this morning,” dad says. “What’s brought this on all of a sudden?”

“Meh, just a few good things all happening at once,” I say.

“Well, whatever it is, I’m glad,” dad laughs. “You’ve been looking pretty down at times over the last few weeks. Thought for a second that it was because of the new baby, but if things are looking up, then great, I guess!”

“Yeah,” I laugh.

“Ashley…” Dad says. “I know I’ve said this three times before, but just because we’re going to have a new child, it doesn’t mean we’re not going to be there for you if you need us. Whatever’s up, whatever’s bothering you- and I don’t even care what it is- just tell us. I promise we won’t judge, we’ll only love you.” My heart almost skips a beat as dad speaks in this very out-of-character way. Has he ‘sussed me out’?

“Dad…” I whisper. “I- you- you’re being a bit, you know ‘touchy-feely’…”

“Oh- shut up,” dad laughs. “Go on son, your friends are waiting for you.” I smile as I leave the car and meet up with the six girls at the gate, and whilst the sight of them in their uniform threatens to wipe the smile off my face, I make a mental note to do something about it tonight- namely, spend as much time as possible after ballet wearing the same skirt, tights and blouse that the six girls are wearing now.

As I leave the girls to head to form, however, I suddenly become aware of several girls giggling very loud- giggling that only gets louder as I walk past the source, almost as though they were giggling at me.

“Getting paranoid,” I whisper to myself as I remember what Laura said last night about the teasing she had to endure. “Thinking people are giggling at you and you haven’t even come out yet…”

“Hey Ashley,” a different group of girls- from year 10, judging by their uniforms- coo as I walk past, putting an emphasis on the second syllable of my name. I wave back, confused by the sudden interest in me, before heading to form where the giggling continues.

“Morning,” I say to George as I sit down next to him at our usual desk.

“Morning,” the overweight boy says in a tone much more cautious than he usually uses.

“Umm, what’s up?” I ask, George’s wariness causing my smile to start to fall.

“Umm- nothing, nothing,” George says. “Good night last night?”

“Yeah, it was, actually,” I say with a laugh. “Even if I did have to pretend to be Laura’s boyfriend for a bit.” Much to my confusion, George then breathes a sigh of relief and lets out a small chuckle.

“That explains it, then,” George laughs.

“Explains what?” I ask, but before George can answer, we’re interrupted by the arrival of our form tutor to commence the session. All throughout the morning, wherever I go, I’m followed by the same whispers and giggles I faced en route to form this morning, and they only intensify during morning break as I wedge myself between Laura and Suri at our usual table.

“Hey girlies!” I say with a smile. “Any of you- any of you notice anything different, today?”

“Nope…” Suri says. “Different how, exactly?”

“Just- I dunno,” I sigh. “I think it’s what Laura said yesterday about all the teasing she got in year 7, now I’m imagining it happening to me, heh.”

“Aww,” Laura coos, giving me a tight cuddle. “If you’re already getting the teasing, you may as well ‘earn’ it…” I giggle quietly as Laura smoothes her skirt, and my body starts to tingle at the thought of being able to do the same thing at some point in the near future.

“…I hope so,” I say, making Laura tighten her hug. “Whilst we’re making me envious, Nicole, how did it feel to finally dance en pointe?”

“Ugh, absolute AGONY,” Nicole sighs. “Think my ankle hasn’t healed properly but it was swollen up like a football this morning.”

“Oh no,” Megan moans. “Don’t tell me you’re dropping ballet…”

“I don’t WANT to, obviously,” Nicole sighs. “I’ll just have to dance in flat shoes for a while, I guess.”

“I hope you’re not planning on dropping gymnastics as well?” Laura asks.

“Well, I AM wearing my leotard,” Nicole says, sharing a giggle with Laura and Suri, who are also members of the school’s gymnastics teams (and who have both won medals from inter-school competitions over the past few months).

“…And now we ARE making Ashley green with envy!” Suri giggles, tightening her grip on my arm.

“Well, SHE knows what SHE needs to do if SHE wants one of these!” Laura giggles as she rolls up her sleeve to reveal her own skin-tight sparkly leotard.

“And I will,” I say. “Soon. I promise. By the end of the school year at the latest.”

“Yay!” Laura cheers, giving me a tight hug. “I can’t wait for us to finally be able to have the girly days- I mean, PROPERLY have girly days, all seven of us, without having to hide.”

“You can’t wait?” I ask, making Laura giggle.

“The magnificent seven ballerinas!” Priya cheers, making me giggle happily and putting the smile back on my face, a smile that doesn’t fade even as I face the same giggles and whispers as before when I head to my next class. Whilst I’ve made an effort to sound brave for my friends, the prospect of revealing my ‘true self’ to my parents is still terrifying- though a lot less terrifying than it was this time last week. Between what Dr Maxwell said last night about it being the hardest step, and what dad said this morning about being able to tell him anything, I’m almost at the point where I could tell my parents tonight- though I know it’s not just them I’d need to tell, but my grandparents, my great-grandparents, my friends’ parents, my school, George…

After another slightly uncomfortable lesson with my ‘best male friend’, I head out to our usual table at lunch to find it almost deserted save for the oldest of our ‘magnificent seven’. Laura, Suri and Nicole usually attend gymnastics club on Wednesday afternoons, whilst Megan, Harriet and Priya usually take the time to catch up on homework- making me wonder why there’s been a break in the normal routine.

“Hey,” I say as I sit down opposite the fifteen year old girl.

“Hey Ash,” Priya says with a smile. “So… Do you usually come here when none of us do?”

“I- I usually check, heh,” I reply. “About what I said at break…”

“Obviously if you decide to come out, I’ll support you,” Priya says with a warm smile on her dark-skinned face. “And you know Suri will.”

“Will- will your parents, you know, mind?” I ask.

“They didn’t mind about Laura,” Priya shrugs. “In fact, dad was over the moon, I reckon he thought it made him look ‘inclusive’ and ‘politically correct’ if his daughters had a transgendered friend. Especially as it’s still illegal to be gay in India, though it is one of those countries in Asia where you CAN change your legal gender.”

“Would he be ‘over the moon’ if his daughter’s boyfriend turned out to be a girl, though?” I ask.

“Don’t worry about dad,” Priya says with a smile. “Suriya and I will make it clear that he HAS to support you. Our brother, too.”

“Thanks,” I say, returning the older girl’s smile.

“If I have to say something, though…” Priya says cautiously. “I’d- I’d talk to your parents sooner rather than later, if I were you.”

“As soon as I find the courage, I will,” I sigh.

After lunch I head to my final lesson of the day, and the whispers and giggles that followed me around all day persist even as the bell rings and I head out to the car park and get into dad’s car.

“Afternoon, Ash!” dad laughs. “Good day at school?”

“It was… Different,” I laugh, before turning around to face the two girls on the back seat. “How about you two?”

“It was okay,” Bryony shrugs. “When Cassie wasn’t talking about ballet tonight, anyway…”

“Eee!” Cassie squeaks, making dad and I laugh whilst Bryony huffs in frustration. “Can’t wait for ballet! Miss Fullerton is SO pretty!”

“You know, she used to be a model, right?” I ask. “Still is, actually.”

“She’s one of the girls who makes the make-up box I get each month,” Bryony explains. “And the TV show dad won’t let me watch…”

“It’s on at 10pm, he won’t even let ME watch it,” I laugh.

“There are other reasons I won’t let you watch a show about six women talking about clothes, make-up and boys,” dad chuckles. Not YET, father, I think to myself.

“Even though I know one of them?” Bryony argues.

“End of discussion,” dad says, making Bryony huff petulantly again as we head home. Once home, I head upstairs and change into the black leggings and white t-shirt that make up my ballet uniform, but I pause before heading downstairs to dinner and stare into my suitcase at all the feminine delights contained within- including the pleated school skirt and thick grey tights that I intend to wear later tonight, and the light blue leotard I so badly want to wear to my dance class tonight.

“Soon,” I whisper, before heading downstairs to dinner. Immediately after dinner, we head to the dance studio, where I spend the first hour of the evening doing my homework as Cassie dances her heart out for Miss Fullerton. When the time comes for me to swap places with Cassie, however, I find myself confronted with same whispers and giggling I faced at school today, only this time, coming from my own classmates- some of whom don’t even go to the same secondary school as me.

“Hey girls,” I say nervously as I approach a group of four girls the same age as me. “What’s- what’s the joke?”

“Nothing,” the four girls say simultaneously, before giggling even louder than ever.

“Hey, Ash,” Jessica- one of the girls- asks. “When are you getting your pointe shoes?” I roll my eyes and laugh- obviously they’d overheard my request somehow.

“Mademoiselle Renou said she always wanted to teach pointe to a boy,” I half-lie. “I- I just volunteered, that’s all.” The continued giggling of the girls, however, tells me that I’m not fully believed.

Fortunately, Miss Fullerton’s presence calms the girls down enough that I get through the lesson without any more giggling, though it returns in force as I prepare to leave the dance studio (though Cassie holding my hand may be playing a part).

“Ashley,” the five year old girl asks as we get into dad’s car, “why were those big girls laughing at you?”

“Umm, I don’t know,” I reply honestly.

“They probably just fancy Ash, that’s all,” dad laughs. “They think he’s a good-looking young man, and that makes teenaged girls giggle excitedly.”

“Ashley IS a good-looking young man,” Cassie says, making me chuckle.

“Aww, thanks, Cassie!” I say. “And you’re a very pretty young girl!”

“I know!” Cassie giggles as she happily dances around on her car booster seat. “Bryony and Dorothy are also pretty, but I’m probably the prettiest.”

“Yep,” dad says, secretly rolling his eyes at me. “Just don’t tell your sisters I said that, okay?”

“Okay!” Cassie says, making me chuckle even more. “The baby WON’T be pretty though, because he’ll be a boy, and boys shouldn’t be pretty.” Way to burst my bubble as always, Cassie, I think to myself.

“No, be he’ll still be handsome, won’t he?” I ask. “Like his big brother?” I smile sadly as Cassie nods. For all my life, my sisters have been constantly complimented on how pretty they are, by our grandparents and great-grandparents and sometimes by friends of the family. It’s taken almost thirteen years for me to finally get compliments on my appearance- and they’re the wrong type of compliments.

Once we arrive back home, I immediately head up to my room, strip off my dancewear and reach into my suitcase for the precious contraband that I've had on my mind all day. As I'm in the mood to make this a special occasion, I also retrieve a packet of girl's panties and a delicate light blue girl's vest, all of which has a very light, very delicate trim to it that boy's underwear simply doesn't have. I quickly strip off my boy's underwear and stand fully naked in my room, shivering with anticipation.

Taking a deep breath, I step into the panties one leg at a time, slowly drawing them up my legs until they're tight around my waist, before pulling the soft vest over my head. When it comes to underwear, I have to be careful- obviously I have no way of washing it, so I can only really use it once, but when I do wear it, it's always worth it. I pull a pair of thick grey school tights out of the suitcase and slowly step into them, stretching them up one leg at a time until the waistband is snug against my belly button. I pull on a soft, long-sleeved blouse that used to belong to Nicole before stepping into Megan's old pleated grey skirt, smiling as the elasticated waistband of the skirt hugs the waistband of my tights. I fasten my own school tie around my neck before stepping into a pair of tiny black ballerina pumps that used to belong to Harriet and pulling on my own school blazer. Even though the buttons are on the wrong side, it's more than close enough for my needs. I clip my hair back using the same hairclips I used during my 'ballet lesson' on Tuesday, before reaching into my make-up bag for my mascara brush. The brush was a gift from Laura and Suri for Christmas, and is virtually unused- and now's as good a time as any to 'break it in'.

After applying the beautiful make-up to my eyelashes, my hands tremble as I look at myself in my full-length mirror. With my hair held back by clips and the mascara enhancing my eyes, the ‘illusion’ is complete. I’m as indistinguishable as Laura is from the other girls at school. I AM a girl. A very large part of me wants to march downstairs right now and present myself to my parents as their daughter… But I know that if I did, the fallout would be extreme. Dr Maxwell’s always telling me that something like this needs to be handled gently. Something like this need to be said calmly, not shouted… And dressed the way I am, in my skirt and my blouse- MY skirt, MY blouse- I’m shouting louder than I’ve ever shouted before.

I feel the usual sense of depression as I slowly remove my uniform and wash off my mascara, once again disguising the ‘real me’ underneath the façade of masculinity I’ve had to project for the past twelve and a half years. It’s the same depression I feel as I arrive at school the following day to see my six friends wearing the exact same uniform I wore last night- even down to the underwear, no doubt. As with yesterday, I find myself facing the same whispering and giggling on my way to form, though I brush it off as before.

When I meet up with my friends at break, however, I can immediately tell that all is not well.

“Hey gir… lies?” I ask, confused by the worried, almost scared faces of my six friends as I sit down between Laura and Suri- who are giving me a LOT more personal space than usual. “Umm… What’s up?”

“Ashley…” Laura whispers. “I- I need to tell you something. It’s something you’re not going to like.”

“What is it?” I ask, my confusion growing. The girls and I have very few secrets from each other- hell, I trust all six of them enough to tell them the biggest secret I have.

“The reason-“ Laura stutters, before gulping and taking a deep breath. “The reason you- the reason you’re being, you know, teased, the reason for the whispers…”

“It- it’s kinda got out around school,” Nicole says, finishing Laura’s sentence and looking exceptionally guilty herself.

“What has?” I ask, the girls’ worry causing my own panic levels to rise.

“The ‘truth’ about you,” Laura whispers. “About ‘girl you’.” I start to hyperventilate as Laura drops her bombshell- no wonder the girls are all giggling at me, no wonder they teased me about pointe shoes at ballet last night, no wonder George was acting strangely…

“H- how,” I ask, a wave of nausea washing over me.

“Phil,” Laura whispers.

“How the hell did he find out!?” I ask, barely controlling my voice. “Nicole, did you-“

“I told him,” Laura says, causing my jaw to drop open. Of all the people to betray my trust…

“Who- you!?” I ask, my panic replaced by utter shock.

“Ashley, calm down,” Suri says, gently taking a hold of my arm.

“It was when we were going out,” Laura says as tears start to form in her eyes. “He was jealous, I thought if I told him the truth he’d-“

“He’d use it to get back at me after your ‘act’ on Tuesday?” I snap. “I- I can’t believe you, Laura! Of all the people- You!? You’d betray me like this?”

“Ash, I’m so, so sorry-“ Laura blubs.

“Save it!” I yell, shocking the other girls and causing Suri to release my arm. “You- I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to trust you again, Laura.” I get up and walk away from the table, tears forming in my own eyes as I hear Laura openly cry into her friends’ shoulders.

I head into the relative quiet of the boy’s toilets and splash my face with water to disguise my tears, before looking at my face in the mirror. As I stare at my reflection, however, a wave of emotion washes over me, and that emotion isn’t sadness, or panic, or fear… It’s anger. Pure, burning anger, at Laura, at Phil, at my parents… Anger at my whole life for being one colossal joke. Every time I think I’ve taken one step forward- as I had at the start of the week- I always end up getting yanked straight back again, thanks to the selfish actions or other people.

And yet, this is an opportunity. All I need to do is confirm the rumours and the ball would start rolling on my transition. By this time next week, I really could be dressed the same as Laura and the other girls, part of a ‘sisterhood’… At the cost of being bullied for the rest of my school life, if not the rest of my life full stop. The mere thought that I might be a girl inside has caused the entire school to treat me as a laughing stock. And that… That makes me even angrier.

I allow my anger to stew for the next two lessons, choosing to hang out with George at lunch instead of face the other girls. George also explains the ‘rumour’ to me, but also explains that he believes it was spread by Phil as a way of getting back at me for pretending to be Laura’s boyfriend. George also explains that he’s done his best to quell the rumours by telling the other kids at school that Phil made it up as a way of getting back at me. George can be such a good friend when he wants to be.

The same, however, can’t be said of Laura. Despite all the material things she’s done for me, the way she’s betrayed my trust is unforgivable. She was the first person I ever entrusted with my secret, and the airhead blabbed it her boyfriend without as much as a second thought. As I enter the school’s main hall for drama rehearsals at the end of the school day, the mere sight of her causes my blood to start to boil again- though that’s followed by a sight that causes me to lose it completely- the sight of Philip Brooks, my archenemy, standing with a friend, laughing as though it was just a big joke that he’d just ruined my life. With my face almost turning red with anger, I walk toward the tall boy, who regards me with a snort of laughter.

“Oh, hey Ashley,” Phil laughs. “How’s the-“ Phil doesn’t get the opportunity to finish his sentence, as I punch him in the abdomen as hard as my pre-teen arm will allow. Whilst it didn’t feel like a hard punch as I was swinging it, it must have done the trick, as Phil is literally knocked off his feet and falls to the floor, doubled over in pain and gasping for air. Before I can throw a second punch, however, I feel a pair of arms restrain me from behind. My adrenaline thins as Phil gets up and staggers away, supported by his friend, and it’s only when I’m face to face with the stern, almost angry face of Mrs. Ingram that I realise just how much I’ve screwed up.

“This is unacceptable!” Mrs. Houghton- our headteacher- barks as I stand before her, my head cowed in shame. “I don’t care about any reason that you have that you THINK justifies hitting another pupil. In this school, violence is NEVER the answer!”

“I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“I’m not the one you should be apologising to,” Mrs. Houghton says. “I’m suspending you for one day. I’d have hoped that being friends with Laura and her gang would’ve instilled a sense of responsibility in you. Clearly that isn’t the case. Your parents have been called, and when you come back to school on Monday, I expect you to have with you a written apology to the boy you assaulted.”

“Yes, Mrs. Houghton,” I mumble again.

“Go and wait in reception for your parents,” Mrs. Houghton sighs, dismissing me from her office with a wave of her hand. I slowly walk down the stairs toward reception, passing the main hall (and its ongoing drama rehearsal) as I go. As I look through the door’s window at the rehearsal, my eyes momentarily meet Laura’s, and I’m filled with a deep feeling of shame, a feeling that only intensifies when dad arrives twenty minutes later with a look of utter disappointment on his face.

“Fighting, Ash?” Dad asks. “Really?”

“I’m sorry, dad,” I mumble.

“I didn’t raise you to be a thug,” dad says. Yeah, right, I think to myself. “What kind of example is this going to set to your sisters? Or to your brother after he’s born?”

“I don’t know,” I say.

“What could have possessed you to go and do something like that, anyway?” Dad asks. “What did this boy do that made you go in there and lamp him?”

“He- he spread a rumour about me around the school,” I say, my nerves building, but for a different reason than before. Dad’s inevitably going to ask a question now…

“That’s still no reason to hit someone,” dad snorts. “What rumour, anyway?” I take a deep breath before continuing. Now is the time for the truth. Dad surely can’t get any more disappointed in me than he already is.

“He- he spread a rumour saying that I was transgendered,” I say. “That I wanted to be a girl, like Laura.” The look of shock and disgust on dad’s face makes me wince- my belief that dad couldn’t get any more disappointed is obviously going to be put to the test.

“And- and is that true!?” Dad asks in disbelief. This is it, I think to myself. He’s either going to be furious, or ultimately accepting. Either way, here I go.

“…Yes,” I say, looking dad straight in the eye. What I didn’t consider was that there was another reaction dad could have had, as proven when he bursts into a fit of laughter.

“Haha!” dad laughs heartily. “You almost had me going there for a second, Ash! Come on, let’s go home.” My smile remains on my face as my brain gets more and more scrambled by dad’s reaction. I finally find the courage to tell him, I finally say the thing I’ve wanted to say my whole life, and he reacts like this!?

“Yeah,” I laugh, playing along with dad’s delusion in the absence of any better option.

“God knows if someone said that about me, I’d probably chin them too!” Dad chuckles. “Doesn’t mean you aren’t getting punished, though. If I was feeling cruel, I WOULD make you wear a dress for your suspension tomorrow, heh!” My mind remains a blur as we head home, and once we arrive, I head straight up to my bedroom, where I break down in a flood of tears. All my anxiety, all my stress was for nothing. Right now, I feel like less than nothing. I finally told my parents… And all I have to show for it is a one-day suspension from school. I’m no closer to being a girl than I was before- in fact, I’m further away than I ever was.

After dinner- and a cringing explanation of the situation to my mum and my sisters, minus the specifics of the rumour, of course- I head back to my bedroom with a roll of black bin liners in my hand. Normally, today would be my second ballet lesson of the week, but right now, all I want to do is put as much distance as possible between myself and anything feminine. The only thing my desire to be a girl has ever got me is misery, and it’s finally time to stop pretending. I’m NOT a girl. I never will be, and the sooner I get rid of this fantasy, the better.

I wipe a tear away from my eye as I stuff all of my girl clothes into a bin liner, taking no care to keep them tidy or folded. I double-check my suitcase once it’s empty, making sure nothing is left behind, and tie a knot in the top of the bin liner, sealing it up forever. Before heading back downstairs, I grab my tablet computer. I’ll need to hand it over to my parents over the weekend (as part of my punishment), but before I do, I take the opportunity to check it for any new messages- and unsurprisingly, there are new messages from Laura, Suriya, Harriet and Nicole.

‘OMG!’ Laura’s message reads. ‘WTF were you thinking, punching Phil!?’ I scowl at the message, not even dignifying it with a response before closing the window and browsing to Laura’s profile, first clicking ‘remove friend’ before clicking ‘block’.

‘What is wrong with you?’ Harriet’s message reads. ‘I thought you were cool, not like all the other stupid boys!’

‘Eat shit,’ I type in reply, before also unfriending and blocking the ginger girl.

‘Why did you punch Phil?’ Nicole’s message says. ‘Yeah, he was a jerk, but he didn’t deserve that!’

‘Really?’ I reply. ‘After the way you were weeping over him on Monday?’ Before waiting for a response, I also unfriend and block Nicole. Finally, I read Suriya’s message, which makes my heart sink furthest of all.

‘You’re such a thug,’ Suriya’s message reads, and I can almost taste the bile in her words. ‘Here I was thinking you were mature for your age.’

‘Yeah, well you got that wrong, didn’t you?’ I reply. ‘Goodbye, Suriya. Forever.’ I hesitate before unfriending the tiny Indian girl, but I go through with it anyway and also block her from my Facebook profile. After blocking Megan and Priya- even though they didn’t message me- I grab my phone and head downstairs, handing my electronic devices over to dad.

“What’s in the bin bag?” Dad asks as he locks my phone and tablet in his desk drawer.

“Figured I’d get a head start on cleaning out my room,” I say. “Just stuff I don’t want anymore.”

“Huh, fair enough,” dad shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to go any easier on you this weekend. You know where the bins are.” I nod, before dragging my rubbish out to the big black wheelie bin. I pause after opening the lid, tossing the heavy black bag back and forth in my hands- a bag that represents over a year of hopes and aspirations… But also represents how cruelly those hopes and aspirations were dashed.

“Goodbye,” I whisper, hurling the bag into the wheelie bin and slamming the lid shut.

I spend the following three days doing chores and acting as a general helper for my heavily-pregnant mother. On all three mornings I wake up and pull on my jeans and sweatshirt, and on all three mornings I try to disregard the pang of regret in my body that tells me that I should- and could- be wearing a cute skirt and a pair of tights instead. That was a life that was not meant to be, and therefore isn’t.

The ‘pang’ is stronger than ever when I wake up on Monday and pull on my school uniform. Five days ago, I pulled on a school uniform, but it consisted of a blouse, a skirt and a pair of thick grey tights, rather than the shirt and trousers I’m wearing now. As I head out to dad’s car, I watch the bin lorry pick up our wheelie bin and tip its contents- including all of my once-precious femininity- into the crusher at the back. I nearly have to restrain myself from rushing toward the lorry and retrieving my bag of clothes, but once the bag is out of sight, I resign myself to the fact that ‘Miss’ Ashley Moore is now gone for good.

As we arrive at the school gates, I’m unsurprised to find that none of the six girls who used to be my friends are waiting for me, but the second I enter the vast building, I’m surprised by a dark-skinned hand grabbing my arm- Priya’s hand.

“You little rat,” Priya spits at me. “Suri was on the verge of tears all weekend thanks to what you said.”

“Leave me alone,” I snort, shaking myself free of Priya’s grip.

“Not until you apologise to her!” Priya says, making me scream internally.

“Fine. Sorry. Whatever,” I say, before spotting George walking to form alone. I leave the angry Indian girl far behind before catching up with my best friend.

“Oh, hey mate,” George says. “Heard about what happened on Thursday…”

“Yeah, not my finest hour, that,” I snort.

“Are you kidding?” George laughs. “You knocked out a year 9, how cool is that?”

“Hardly ‘knocked him out’,” I say. “Maybe winded him a bit.”

“Either way, I know who I’m turning to if I need defending,” George says. “Take it you got bollocked by your folks when you got home?”

“Yeah, grounded all weekend,” I sigh.

“Ah, that sucks,” George says. “Didn’t get to show off your new ‘tough guy’ to your girlfriend then?”

“She’s not my girlfriend anymore,” I whisper, desperately trying to control my emotions. “She didn’t like me hitting Phil, so she- so I dumped her.”

“Oh, mate,” George says, his smile widening even further. “As if you couldn’t get any cooler! Dumping the cutest girl in year 9 and beating one up. Don’t think anyone’s going to believe those rumours about you ever again!”

“That’s kinda the plan,” I laugh as I head into form and sit down next to my best friend, my ONLY friend. For the first two lessons of the day, I focus entirely on my work and/or talking to George, trying my best to ignore the girls as they walk around us in their grey tights and pleated skirts. I try my best to forget what it feels like to wear the clothes, to gossip with the girls, to BE a girl… And yet, when break comes, I find myself staring longingly at my old lunch table, where my six friends- and their uniforms- are sat consoling Suri, whose tiny body is slumped over the table in much the same way Nicole’s was a week ago today.

“Come on mate,” George says. “You don’t need them.”

“No, no I don’t,” I whisper as I follow George onto the playing field and my new ‘spot’, which is also where I find myself at lunchtime as I slowly settle into my new routine. I’d almost put the girls out of my mind by the time the bell rings to signify the end of the day when my phone beeps with a text message- and it’s from Laura.

‘I’m sorry,’ the message reads. ‘We miss you.’ My finger hovers over the ‘delete’ button- if it wasn’t for Laura, I’d never have been suspended, I’d never have had my ‘coming out’ thrown back in my face, I’d never have been forced to abandon the girl that I used to be… But if it wasn’t for Laura, I’d never have had the chance to be the girl I used to be.

I put my phone away with the message still on it as I get into dad’s car. I’d tried my best on Friday evening to put the girls- all seven of them, myself included- as far behind me as possible, but despite Priya’s anger and Suri’s distress, they’re not quite ready to give up on me, and the girl I was, just yet. The question is, will I ever be ready to accept ‘her’ into my life again- and more to the point, will I ever be allowed to?

“Urgh,” I moan as I wake up from a dreamless sleep, only to grimace as I feel the front of my pyjamas to discover that whilst I may not have had a ‘normal’ dream, I certainly had another type of ‘dream’ during the night. I sigh as I wash my face, before pulling on my school uniform and slinking down the stairs, where my parents are waiting with a wide smile on their face, as are all three of my sisters… And my new baby brother.

“Morning, Ashley!” Dad chuckles in an artificially deep voice, light-heartedly mocking the fact that my own voice has recently deepened a lot.

“Morning,” I grunt, making dad chuckle.

“Come on, you should be happy!” Dad says. “Big week for you… One step closer to being a real man!”

“Yeah,” I laugh, even though no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake the feeling of dread that comes with the thought that I will soon be a ‘real man’.

In the two and a half months since I distanced myself from Laura, Suri and the other girls, I don’t think there’s been a single day when I haven’t felt utterly, truly miserable. Even though my brain has come to terms with the fact that I’ll never be a girl, the rest of my body still yearns to pull on a pair of tights and a skirt and dance and gossip with the girls, just as I’d done before. And yet, I know that’ll never happen again. I don’t even own a single item of girls’ clothing anymore, despite my repeated searches through my suitcase and my wardrobe, hoping in vain that I’d missed something when I’d ‘purged’ my collection of girls’ clothes.

And even if I wanted to replace my ‘collection’, I have no way of doing so. I haven’t exchanged any words with any of the six girls since my suspension in February, either face-to-face or online. Every time I glance in their direction, either when we pass in the corridor or when I walk past our- sorry, THEIR- table at break or lunch, they regard me with a condescending sneer, as though I was just another stupid boy who they want nothing to do with.

Priya’s probably the worst of the lot. I can tell by the look in her eyes that she truly HATES me, both for what I supposedly did to Suriya and the way I spoke to her after my return from suspension. Suriya’s probably the next worst, having quickly found herself a new boyfriend (one of Priya’s year 10 friends) whose arm she clings to just as tightly as she clung to mine. Harriet, Megan and Nicole all make a point of ignoring me whenever they see me, and Laura… Whenever Laura looks at me, her eyes aren’t filled with hatred or condescension, but rather a look of confusion, as though she was surprised by my actions- which goes to show what a massive hypocrite she is, especially when my actions were a direct consequence of HER actions.

Or maybe Laura’s look is a look of guilt, I don’t know. After all, she is living the exact life I crave, performing in ballet recitals, competing in gymnastics tournaments, wearing skirts and tights and girlish underwear literally every day, never looking back at when she used to be a boy… And she has to know that thanks to her actions, I’ll never be able to live the life that she so obviously loves.

“Come on,” mum says as I finish my breakfast and my baby brother is carefully lowered into my arms. “Time for your picture!” I sigh as I gently cradle Eddy and stand in front of the kitchen wall, forcing a smile on my face as dad snaps a photo of me on his smartphone, just as he has done every day since Eddy was born.

“…And that’s a month’s worth!” Dad says proudly.

“Happy monthday, Eddy!” Cassie giggles.

“That’s not a real thing,” Bryony retorts as she finishes her breakfast.

“Did you take photos of me and Bryony and Dorothy when we were babies?” Cassie asks, and I smirk as I both know the answer to the question- an obvious ‘no’- and the reason why dad didn’t, a reason he can’t say out loud because of how sexist it is- because his second, third and fourth children were all girls.

“I wish I had,” dad laughs, giving Cassie a quick cuddle. Nice save, dad… I think to myself as I (along with Bryony and Cassie) follow dad out to his car. A short while later, I arrive at the front gate of my school, where I’m greeted as always by my best friend.

“Alright, mate?” George laughs as we walk to form together. “Got your big party this weekend coming! Hope you’re gonna have some girls there, heh!”

“…I doubt it,” I sigh, making George laugh even more. The first few lessons pass as always, with me immersing myself in my work to avoid thinking about the girls and their uniforms (and avoid George’s constant ‘jokes’), before heading to break and my new usual ‘spot’ with George, where the conversation, as always, is centred around which girls George considers to be ‘fit’. This continues through to the end of lunch, though as George and I head to our next class, I feel myself tense up, as walking toward us down the corridor is Laura. She's by herself- which is extremely rare- and any chance of slipping by her undetected goes straight out of the window as our eyes lock. I immediately look away, but it's too late- Laura increases her pace to intercept myself and George, and all of a sudden, she's straight in front of me.

"Ash," Laura says in her soft, feminine voice, "we- we can't keep avoiding each other like this. We NEED to talk."

"I don't have anything to say to you," I mumble. "Or the rest of the girls."

"Yes you do!" Laura protests, scrambling my emotions as she crosses one tights-covered leg in front of the other- an action I would often imitate in the privacy of my bedroom. "Ash, I can tell that you're miserable, please, just talk to us, unblock us from Facebook so we can chat there..."

"No," I say firmly, pushing past the fourteen year old girl and continuing on my way to my next class. Secretly, though, I'm fighting every instinct in my body that's telling me to turn around and spend the next five hours chatting to the girl who used to be one of my best ever friends...

"Oh mate, you told her!" George chuckles.

"Thanks for the backup," I snort.

"Yeah," George grimaces. "Mate, I'm not going to get told off for fighting with the ladyboy. You were her friend, not me, you can talk to her like that, I can't."

"Wimp," I snort.

"Oh really?" George asks. "Which one of us used to take ballet again?"

"Dancing doesn't make anyone any less of a wimp," I say. No matter what people like my dad say... I think to myself.

Laura occupies my thoughts for the whole of the final lesson of the day, and as I head home in dad's car. I fake an illness so that George doesn't come home with me tonight, which also gives me an excuse to head straight up to my bedroom once we arrive home, where I strip off my uniform and collapse on my bed, before bursting into floods of tears.

"No," I sniffle, choking back the tears. "Boys don't cry. Boys don't cry. Boys don't cry..." And whether I like it or not, I AM a boy.

I spend the rest of the night either doing homework or browsing the internet, though I stay off Facebook- every time I've been on that site lately, I've found myself staring at the six names on my 'blocked users' list, and after today, the last thing I need is to be tempted into unblocking them.

And yet, I can't shake the feeling that my life would be so, so much better if I did just unblock them...

The following day, I make a conscious decision to stay as far away from the girls as possible, instead immersing myself- or rather, attempting to immerse myself- in George's seemingly endless streams of waffle. By the end of the school day, my brain feels almost numb from my best friend's talk of which girls he wants to date, but as far as I'm concerned, 'numb' is infinitely preferable to the mental states I've been experiencing lately.

I'm so 'numb', in fact, that on the ride home, I barely notice when dad starts talking directly to me.

"Earth to Ashley?" Dad asks, snapping me out of my 'trance'. "You there, son?"

"Um, yeah, I guess," I mumble.

"You 'guess'?" Dad asks. "Typical teenager, heh. I was saying, you, Dorothy and Eddy will need to come with me to pick Bryony up from her ballet lesson today, as your mum will be at Cassie's parents evening. That okay with you?"

"Um, I guess," I say. "I don't mind staying at home alone, though..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," dad says. "You're not thirteen YET, and that means you don't get left alone. Besides, I'll need someone to keep an eye on the little two!"

"Fine," I sigh. It'll be the first time I've been back to the dance studio since I suddenly and unceremoniously quit, and given how much that upset both of my teachers, I'm not looking forward to returning to face a roasting from both of them.

When we arrive at the school to pick Bryony up, though, I realise that it's not just my teachers who I need to worry about, as parked outside the school is a very familiar people carrier- a people carrier I've ridden in on several occasions.

"Come on, Ash, let's get your sister and go home," dad says as he unfolds his double pushchair and straps Dorothy and Eddy into it.

"Umm," I mumble. "I'm, um, going to stay in the car, if that's okay..." After spending a whole day avoiding the girls, the last thing I need is to run into them here- and I'm kicking myself that I forgot that Tuesday was one of their regular ballet nights.

"Umm, no, it's not okay," dad says, doing an unflattering impersonation of my deepening voice. "Now come on, hup two."

"But- um, the girls are in there," I say. "Laura, Suri, those girls..."

"So what?" Dad shrugs. "Just ignore them if you don't want to talk to them." Jesus Christ, dad, I think to myself. Have you completely forgotten what it's like being a teenager?

Nonetheless, I follow dad and the two infants into the ballet studio, keeping my head down in the vain hope that my arrival won't be noticed- a hope that's immediately dashed when I turn the corner into the waiting area and run straight into Laura and her gang, all six of whom are dressed in soft, smooth pink tights and tight black leotards, and who all have their long hair tied into tight buns. The mere sight of the girls causes my heart to ache with envy, an envy that only gets worse when I see Suri giggle excitedly as she composes a text on her phone.

"Ash," Laura says as we lock eyes for the second time in as many days.

"I'm just here with dad to pick up Bryony," I mumble. "Can't stick around."

"We NEED to talk," Laura hisses.

"We ALL need to talk to you," Megan says, and I suddenly feel extremely small as the remaining girls all fix me with their stares. It's almost a relief when Mademoiselle Renou approaches our group, despite the stern stare on her face.

"Ah, Ashley, come crawling back to us, eh?" The young Frenchwoman says in an accusing tone.

"Um, uh," I stutter.

"We're just here to pick up Bryony," dad says, making me inwardly breathe a sigh of relief, even as the girls snigger at me for having to have dad speak on my behalf.

"Pity," Mademoiselle Renou says, her demeanour instantly lightening. "Krystie and I would give anything to have more big, strong young men in our classes!"

"Well, the only dancing Ash will be doing from now on is at weddings, parties, and when he turns eighteen, nightclubs," dad chuckles. "No more prancing around in tights for him!"

"Why?" Mademoiselle Renou asks, her arms folded and a smug expression on her face. "You object to people 'prancing around in tights'?"

"Well, not girls, obviously," dad says, suddenly taken aback by the dark-haired woman's confident attitude. "But for boys, well, it's not, you know, it's not normal, is it?"

"How so?" Mademoiselle Renou asks.

"Well, um," dad splutters, before sighing. "Look, can I just have my daughter back, please?"

"Of course," Mademoiselle Renou laughs, summoning Bryony over to our little 'huddle'. "Oh, and there'll be a space for your youngest daughter in our pre-school class next month, one of the older girls is moving up to the next class."

"Thank you," dad mumbles.

"And shall I put your littlest down on our waiting list too?" Mademoiselle Renou asks, making me cringe and all of Laura's gang giggle.

"HE'S a BOY," dad says.

"Even better," Mademoiselle Renou says smugly. "Through ballet, HE can grow up to be tall, strong, handsome and surrounded by girls, just like HIS brother."

"Way to ruin ballet for me," I whisper to Laura, causing her to giggle before a stern stare from our teacher silences her.

"I think we should go now," dad sighs. "You should maybe work on your customer service skills. Come on Ash, we're going." I turn around to wave to my friends, and it actually takes me a couple of seconds to realise that the six girls actually aren't my friends anymore. I'd exchanged a joke with Laura without thinking, not even realising that it had been the first friendly thing I'd said to her in almost three months...

"Umm..." I mutter, bringing a look of hope to Laura's face, as well as to the faces of Nicole, Megan and Harriet.

"We-" Laura stammers. "Um, we can always give Ashley a lift home, Mr. Moore."

"Really, Ash?" Dad laughs. "You want to spend all evening watching a bunch of girls dancing?" More than anything, I think to myself. Well, there's one thing I'd rather do than watch a bunch of girls dancing- and that's to BE one of the girls dancing.

"It's really no trouble, Mr. Moore," Laura says in a hasty, almost desperate voice as my mind is almost torn apart by the inner conflict.

After what Laura did, the way she betrayed my trust, I should hate her. I should DESPISE her. She's the reason I haven't been to ballet in three months, the reason I haven't experienced anything even remotely feminine in all that time... The reason I've spent the last three months trying to persuade myself that all things feminine are bad. And yet, just five minutes in her presence and I've immediately fallen back into all my old habits. Five minutes is all it's taken to remind me that all things feminine are GOOD. No, all things feminine are WONDERFUL.

I've spent the last three months trying to convince myself that I should be the tough, macho man I'm expected to be, but the fact that that can be almost completely undone in mere minutes tells me something- that I am not, nor will I ever be, the macho man dad wants me to be, or George thinks I already am. Every fibre of my being is telling me to stick around, to try to mend bridges with Laura and the rest of the girls. I try to focus on the pain they caused me, but all I can think about are the good times, being the 'seventh ballerina', being MISS Ashley Moore...

As hard as I try... I simply can't hate Laura anymore.

"Yes, I'd like to stick around to watch the lesson," I say, making Laura squeak excitedly.

"Huh, fair enough," dad shrugs. "It's your free time, I suppose. Just as long as you don't come home wearing a leo-thingy too!" I force out a chuckle as dad leaves, despite the unfunniness of his joke. The second the door closes behind him and my three siblings, Laura spins me around and looks deeply into my eyes.

"Ash," Laura says, blinking back tears. "I am so, so, so, sorry for what happened, I am so sorry for betraying your trust, I was stupid, I was selfish... Forgive me, please?"

"I shouldn't forgive you," I say, wincing as I hear an exasperated sigh from Priya. "But I do, I do forgive you, and I'm sorry... I'm sorry for everything I said, sorry for what I put on Facebook..."

"Apology accepted," Nicole says, giving me a tight hug.

"Same here," Megan says, also giving me a hug that's quickly followed by a hug from Harriet. Four down, two to go... I think to myself.

"Suri," I whisper as I approach my ex-girlfriend, who's deliberately avoiding my gaze. "I- I'm sorry for what I said. I was a jerk, I accept that..."

"Just tell me why," the normally bubbly Indian girl spits in a dark tone.

"After- um, after I, you know..." I say.

"After you punched another boy without provocation," Priya spits. "Go on."

"Oh- be fair," Nicole says, interrupting me before I have a chance to speak. "Ash WAS provoked, you know that..."

"Doesn't give ANYONE the right to just punch someone," Priya says.

"After..." I mumble. "Well, um, dad came to pick me up, and I, um, I told him about the rumour and I, um, I, well, I came out. Told him about 'girl Ashley'..."

"Oh. My. God!" Laura gasps. "What- what did he say?"

"He said 'good one Ash, almost had me going there for a second'," I sigh, making Laura moan sadly and give me yet another tight hug.

"Oh god, that's AWFUL," Laura says. "No wonder you went off the deep end... It's just like when I came out to my brother, he just sat there and shook his head, said 'no, HE isn't a girl', even though I was stood there wearing a skirt and everything..."

"But your brother came round, didn't he?" Megan asks.

"Next to you, my mum and my grandma, he's probably my biggest source of support," Laura chuckles.

"My dad WON'T come round," I moan.

"You don't know that for sure!" Nicole says.

"Believe me, I do," I sigh. "After I got home, my head just went loopy, I took you all off Facebook, I- I got rid of all my girl clothes..." My cheeks burn with shame as I recount the destruction of the stash of clothes I'd so carefully put together- or rather, the stash of clothes my friends had so generously donated to me.

"Oh god, Ash..." Laura sighs, tears now freely streaming down her cheeks. "I- I'm so, so sorry..."

"You've already apologised," Suri whispers. "It's HIS turn now."

"And- and the last two and a half months have been like torture," I say. "I've tried to repress 'girl me', tried desperately not to think about being a girl, but nothing works, it's like it's constantly in my mind, no matter what I do."

"Seeing us in these can't help," Harriet chuckles, snapping the fabric of her leotard.

"Just ten minutes here and I'm desperate to be a girl again," I moan. "It's all I can think about- I don't think the thoughts, the need to be a girl will EVER go away, no matter how hard I wish they would..."

"You- you'd rather now be, you know, like me?" Laura asks. "You'd rather be, um, just a normal boy?"

"I'd rather be allowed to live like you do," I say. "But I'd rather be happy than miserable all the time."

"I forgive you," Suriya says, giving my hand an awkward, tentative squeeze. "What you've gone through... It can't have been easy."

"It was hell," I whisper.

"If Suriya forgives you, I guess I can too," Priya says, though her lack of hug tells me that her forgiveness isn't unconditional.

"Filles!" Mademoiselle Renou shouts, ending the 'reconciliation' and summoning the girls into the class. "Miss Fullerton isn't here tonight as it's her brother's birthday, so you'll have me for your whole lesson." I let out a small snicker as the news is met with groans, before taking a seat among the other parents and siblings at the side of the class.

By the time the class ends an hour later, all I can think about is defying my father and pulling on a pair of tights and a leotard and dancing with the girls- and how I'm no longer able to do just that when I get home. However, there is something I CAN do.

"Mademoiselle Renou?" I call, attracting the attention of the dark-haired woman as she leaves the class. "I, um, I'd like to rejoin the class if I may, please."

"Yes!" Laura squeaks, giving my shoulders a tight squeeze as we follow Mademoiselle Renou to her office.

"I'm so, so glad you said that, Ashley," The Frenchwoman beams as she hands me a complicated-looking form. "This will reinstate the direct debit, just get your dad to sign that and if you still have your uniform, you can come back tomorrow if you wanted."

"This is SO cool," Laura gushes. "We've got our seventh balle- um, we've got our seventh member back!" I bristle as Laura grimaces, having nearly given me away yet again, but a quick smile from me reassures her that she is quickly forgiven.

"It'll probably be next week," I say as I put the form in my pocket.

"We'll be here when you're ready for us," Mademoiselle Renou shrugs as Laura and I leave her office.

"Oh my god," Laura moans as we rejoin the rest of the girls. "I am SO sorry Ash, you only just forgive me and then I nearly blow your cover AGAIN..."

"It's okay," I shrug.

"Besides," Nicole says, "I reckon you COULD tell Mademoiselle Renou and Miss Fullerton and they'd both be really understanding."

"Ehh..." I groan. "I'd rather keep this to as little people as possible."

"That's not really going to be an option if you're going to live full-time as a girl," Harriet says.

"I know, I know," I moan. "I- I'm not sure I want to live full-time, not yet, anyway..."

"Well when you're ready to try coming out to your dad again, we'll support you," Laura says, giving me a tight hug. "Right, girls?"

"Right!" The other five girls cheer- though Priya and Suriya's cheers seem particularly 'forced'.

"I- I'm not sure that's going to do any good," I say, trembling with nerves at the prospect of trying to explain 'girl Ashley' to my dad... Again.

"The first time you came out, you were on the spot and alone," Laura says. "This time, we'll do it properly. We'll all be with you, we'll get my mum along for support, see if Miss Fullerton can help too. I may even be able to call on some extra support. Everything will go smoothly, you'll see."

"And you can't go on the way you're going now," Nicole says. "You yourself said that five minutes with us and you're desperate to be a girl again."

"Well- yes, I guess..." I moan as I follow the girls to Laura's mother's car.

"We've really, really missed you the last few months," Megan says. "Now that we know what the problem was... We can help."

"We WANT to help," Nicole says, giving me a tight hug as she, Megan and I climb onto the backseat of Laura's mother's car.

"Hi girls," Mrs. White says. "Hello, Ashley! Long time no see! Are you dancing in the advanced class now?"

"Umm... Not quite," I grimace. "It's kinda a long story..."

After the drive- during which I catch Laura's mother up on events and receive, as Laura promised, her unconditional support if I want to come out again- I arrive home feeling refreshed, as though a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

One of the things that hurt the most about the disaster that was my first coming out was the way I ostracised myself from the girls, who are easily some of the best friends I've ever had. If I'd only tried to explain myself to them rather than pushed them away in anger, I wouldn't have spent the last three months feeling miserable- another thing for which I can thank the testosterone poisoning my body. Knowing that I can talk to the girls whenever I want is a great relief- even if it'll be a long time before I'm ready to talk to my dad again.

Before I've even had a chance to say hello to dad and my sisters, I head straight up to my bedroom, grabbing my tablet computer and opening up Facebook, where I unblock all six girls and send them friend requests. Laura, Nicole and Megan all instantly accept my requests, with Harriet following a couple of minutes later, but even as I head to bed, there's no response from Priya or Suriya.

For the first time in months, I have a smile on my face when I wake up, which remains even as I pull on my nasty boy's school uniform and head down to breakfast.

"Morning, twinkle toes," dad sighs. "You look happy today, guess that's because you've got your harem back?"

"What's a harmeem?" Cassie asks, forcing me to stifle a laugh.

"Nothing you need to worry about," mum says as she shoots a very disapproving stare at dad.

"Oh, speaking of," I say cautiously. "I, um, I've decided to go to ballet class again, if that's, um, okay?"

"Oh- Ash..." Dad moans.

"We said that when you dropped it, we wouldn't just start paying for it again if you suddenly changed your mind," mum says, making me grimace.

"I know," I say. "But- but I just needed a break, um, you can call it one of my birthday presents?"

"Your birthday's tomorrow, we've already bought all of your presents," dad snorts.

"Christmas then?" I plead, making dad snort again.

"Oh, please, daddy," Cassie unexpectedly interjects. "I loved watching Ashley dance..."

"...Okay then," dad sighs.

"But if you decide to drop it again, we're NOT paying for it again," mum says sternly.

"Thanks dad, thanks mum!" I giggle. "It'll be Wednesdays and Thursdays again until I join the advanced class, when it'll be Tuesdays and Fridays, is that okay?"

"Like we have any other choice," dad says. "Knew I shouldn't have taken you to that class last night..."

"Oh come on, Andrew," mum says. "It's good for him to have a hobby, and it's not like he's going to be interested in any of those sports you try to shove down his throat, is it?"

"His loss," dad shrugs. "Come on you three, got to get you to school." I grin as I follow dad, Bryony and Cassie out to dad's car, and soon I'm stood at the gates to my school, where my smile widens further as I see my six best female friends stood waiting for me, just as they'd done every school day before my 'incident' in February.

"Umm... Hi?" I ask the girls, all of whom- apart from Priya and Suriya- greet me with hugs. "So... Are we picking up from where we left off?"

"As I said last night," Megan giggles, "we really, really missed you. So yes, we are picking up from where we left off!" Most of us, anyway, I think to myself as I try to avoid the Indian girls' accusing stares.

Another person whose stare I avoid is that of my best friend- or rather, my best male friend- as I arrive at form to find him already sat in his usual spot.

"Morning," George says in an accusatory tone. "See you're hanging around with those girls again."

"Yeah," I say. "We- we kinda talked things out, they want to be friends again... I said yes."

"Just talked it through, huh?" George asks. "Sure you're not wearing their panties under there too?"

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?" I ask, but before I can get an answer, I'm interrupted by our form tutor arriving to start the lesson. All throughout the morning, though, it's clear that George is unhappy for me because of my reconciliation with the girls, and the look on his face when I head to the girls' normal table makes it clear that I may not be able to have both him and the girls as my friends, as much as I may want that.

Right now, though, I want nothing more than to be the seventh girl in the 'gang', and I have a wide grin on my face as I approach our usual picnic table- which falls slightly as I'm directed to sit between Laura and Megan, rather my normal spot than between Laura and Suri.

"Hey girlies!" I say, making all the girls- except, predictably, for Priya and Suriya- squeak happily.

"It's SO good to be a seven again!" Nicole laughs. "Soo... Did you tell your dad about starting ballet again?"

"I did," I say with a smile. "Predictably, he was NOT happy..."

"Did you ask for it to be part of your birthday present?" Harriet giggles.

"Yes, didn't work," I sigh. "I'm starting class again, but if I drop out again, I won't be allowed to restart again."

"You'll just have to stick it out then, won't you?" Laura laughs. "Now, as for your 'wardrobe situation'..."

"Oh- no," I say, shaking my head. "I couldn't, really... We've only been friends again for less than 24 hours..."

"No, we've been friends for well over a year," Laura says. "And you can't tell me that you wouldn't give anything to wear a pair of these right now, surely?" I try to control my feelings as Laura strokes the tights covering her legs, before snapping a patch of the thick grey material.

"More than anything," I sigh, earning hugs from Laura and Megan. "But- I threw that life away, I can't simply demand it back..."

"Yes you can!" Harriet insists. "Take it from someone else who had to be 'forgiven'."

"Take it from TWO people who had to be 'forgiven'," Nicole says. "You have much right to be a girl and wear these clothes as any of us do, and we're going to ensure that that happens to you!"

"...I really don't deserve to have friends as good as you," I laugh, earning yet more hugs from Nicole and Megan.

"In fact," Harriet says with a smirk, "how about you come round to my house tonight- all of you- I've got something there that I reckon might help our reluctant seventh girl!"

"Umm, okay," I say. "I'll have to clear it with my dad, though..."

"Use my phone," Nicole says, shoving her sweet-smelling, pink-cased phone underneath my nose. Sure enough, by the end of break, I have permission to hang out at Harriet's house- albeit permission from my mum, who seems a lot happier than dad was that I'm friends again with the girls.

One person who definitely isn't happy, though, is George, whose stare is outright foul when I sit down next to him for our next lesson.

"So which one are you snogging now?" George asks.

"Umm, what?" I reply.

"Which one are you snogging?" George repeats. "That's why you hung out with them before, 'cause you were snogging the little Indian girl, weren't you?"

"Well- yes," I stutter, not wanting to give away the real reason for my friendship with the girls. Even if I said that I genuinely liked hanging out with the girls as friends, George almost certainly wouldn't understand- the idea that a boy and a girl can be friends without snogging each other is a completely alien concept to him.

"So which one are you snogging now?" George asks.

"None of your business," I say.

"So the ladyboy, then?" George teases.

"Piss off," I whisper, biting my tongue as the teacher enters the room to start the class.

After the class, I head to the usual table for lunch to find it only half-populated- Laura, Nicole and Suri are all absent, which makes me very uncomfortable as I sit down opposite Priya and her withering stare.

"Umm... Where's Laura?" I ask.

"I'll try not to take that personally," Megan giggles. "She's at gymnastics club, I think they get out a few minutes before the end of lunch so you can talk to her then, if you'd like?"

"Any reason we're not good enough for you?" Harriet teases.

"Umm, no..." I mumble. "It's just- it's just that, umm, the boys in my year think I'm going out with one of you again..."

"Have you been spreading rumours, MISTER Moore?" Harriet giggles as Priya's stare grows darker.

"No, just, um, George-"

"Ugh, him," Megan spits. "Mr. 'girls are only for cooking, cleaning and kissing', right?"

"That's him," I sigh. "I know before, with Suri, I was just pretending, so-"

"You may have been 'just pretending'," Priya spits. "You really hurt her with what you said."

"I know," I moan. "And I'm really, really sorry, but-"

"None of us are going to pretend to be your boyfriend," Priya says. "If you have a problem with that, then you can work through it yourself."

"Whoa, Priya," Harriet says, clearly shocked by the older girl's hostility. "Give Ash a chance, yes, HE acted stupidly, but we can't blame HER forever for something that happened in a moment of anger, right?"

"I'm still not pretending to be his boyfriend," Priya snorts. "Besides, I already HAVE a boyfriend, and so do you, Megan." I look expectantly at Harriet, who simply grimaces and avoids my gaze.

"...Ask me again after tonight and we'll see," Harriet laughs. "In the meantime, I'm sure Laura will agree to pretend to be your girlfriend for now." Sure enough, when I meet up with the transgendered girl after her gymnastics club and explain the situation, the first thing she does is giggle and cuddle my arm close to her chest, just as Suri used to do- an action that sends tingles all throughout my body at the feelings of two distinct 'shapes' underneath her blouse- though the tingles are more likely due to the fact that less than three years ago, Laura was just an ordinary pre-teen boy, just like myself, but is now a gorgeous, glamorous and most importantly of all, girly girl.

Fortunately, George isn't in my final lesson of the day, which I spend feeling excited by what Harriet's 'help' might be, excitement that grows when the seven of us arrive at the ginger girl's house- with Laura still cuddling my arm just as she'd done after the end of lunch, sending the same 'tingles' through my body as she had earlier.

"Mmm," Laura giggles. "I can see why you liked this so much, Suri!"

"If you say so," Suriya mumbles, clearly uneasy at the sight of me growing closer to Laura. "Just remember you're not REALLY boyfriend and girlfriend, okay?"

"Doesn't mean I can't enjoy the 'benefits' of boy Ash," Laura says. "While he lasts, anyway!"

"'Boy Ash' is going to stick around for a while," I sigh. "It's going to take something pretty incredible for 'girl Ash' to be a permanent thing..."

"Well," Harriet says smugly, "hopefully what I have planned for tonight will help that 'pretty incredible' thing become a reality sooner rather than later! Just need to wait for my dad to get here..."

"Oh- what?" Laura asks, releasing my arm. "Why's your dad coming here?"

"Because, for the first time in years, I actually NEED him here," Harriet says. "And don't worry, he's been told to behave himself, you won't get any 'comments' from him."

"Umm..." I mumble, unclear about the history between Laura, Harriet and the ginger girl's father.

"Harriet's dad is hugely transphobic," Laura explains. "Actually forced Harriet to bully me when we were in year 7, threatened to punish her if she didn't..."

"...Which is why I now live with my mum," Harriet explains. "I really, really hate my dad... But what I have planned tonight really won't work without him here." Laura nods, though it's obvious she's uneasy about meeting Harriet's father again, and from the look on his face when he arrives and sees Laura in the sitting room, the feeling is mutual.

"Now that everyone's here," Harriet announces. "Mum, dad, girls, honorary girl... I have something I need to tell all of you."

"What is it, dear?" Harriet's mother asks.

"Mum... I'm gay," Harriet says, earning shocked gasps from everyone in the room- myself included.

"You're WHAT?" Harriet's father asks angrily.

"I'm gay!" Harriet repeats. "I'm queer! I'm a lesbian! A HO-MO-SEXUAL!"

"Not if I have anything to say about it!" Harriet's father growls.

"Well that's just it, father dear," Harriet sneers. "You DON'T have anything to say about it. And you won't EVER have anything to say about it. So you can either accept that your daughter fancies other girls, or you can get the hell out of my life!" I cringe as the middle-aged man's face grows redder and redder, but much to everyone's relief- not least Harriet's- he keeps quiet.

"Harriet... How long have you felt like this?" The ginger girl's mother asks.

"Pretty much since the start of secondary school," Harriet says. "All the other girls- you girls- keep talking about boys and I try to feign interest, but the truth is... I hate boys. I want nothing to do with them... I only like girls, and I only, you know, LIKE girls. I just- I just didn't want to hide who I really was any longer." Harriet's eyes meet mine as she says this, and all of a sudden, I realise what Harriet meant when she said she had something at her house that would help me. What she did must have taken more courage than I can possibly imagine- but she did it anyway, and I can tell just by looking at her just how relieved she is, as though a weight has been lifted from her shoulders.

For the rest of the evening, Harriet fields questions from the other girls about her announcement, but I remain quiet, right up until dad comes to pick me up.

"Did you like my 'early birthday present'?" Harriet asks, giving me a gentle hug as I prepare to leave.

"It was... Good. Thank you," I whisper.

"Your turn next," Harriet whispers, giving me another hug as I leave.

"You have fun, then?" Dad asks as I jump in his car. "I didn't remember you being all that close to that Harriet girl, thought it was Laura and the two Indian girls you hung around with most."

"Harriet's cool," I reply. "She- she told her parents, and us, that she was gay."

"She's what?" Dad asks. "Gay? How would she know, she's only fourteen?"

"She seemed pretty sure," I say.

"Well, as long as you don't come out," dad laughs.

"And what if I did?" I ask, before grimacing as I realise just what I said.

"Well- um..." Dad mumbles. "That's not something we have to worry about, right?" Dear god, could you be any more in denial? I think to myself. "Now come on, let's get home, you'll want an early night as you'll no doubt be up extra early tomorrow morning!" I grin as I head home, where I follow dad's suggestion and get an early night.

The following morning- the morning of my thirteenth birthday- I wake up long before my alarm goes off, even though I know none of the presents waiting for me downstairs will contain what I REALLY want.

Nonetheless, I have a genuine smile on my face when I head downstairs to be greeted by a banner that reads 'Happy birthday teenager' (though I ignore the pictures of footballs and cars on the banner) and my parents sat next to a massive pile of presents. Predictably, the presents are all either clothes- boy's clothes, of course- sport-related or Star Wars-related, but the presents from my grandparents and great-grandparents are very much welcome- cash and cheques that total a nice £120.

"Make sure you don't waste all that money!" Mum cautions me as I put the money away.

"I won't," I say with a smile on my face.

"And when you're at school, ask George what time he's coming over on Saturday," dad says.

"For my party?" I ask. "Is- is it okay if the girls all come too?"

"It's- it's kind-of a boy's party, Ash," dad says, making my face fall as I realise just which male member of the family the party will REALLY be for.

"Andrew, if he wants the girls to come, let him invite them," mum says. "I'm glad you've made friends with them again, they were all such sensible young women."

"Yeah..." I say as I remember my 'arrangement' with Laura from yesterday. "Oh, um, and I'm also kinda going out with Laura now..."

"Well, so much for not being gay," dad snorts.

"Andrew!" Mum snaps, silencing dad. "Of course your friends and your girlfriend can come on Saturday. It's YOUR party, you invite who you want."

"Thanks," I say with a happy smile- a smile that widens as I'm greeted at the school date by a big group hug and 'happy birthday's from all six girls.

"Mmm, teenaged arm!" Laura giggles as she cuddles my arm close to her contoured chest.

"Soooo," Nicole teases. "Did you get anything nice?"

"Boy's clothes, sport DVDs, Star Wars toys," I say, making the other girls snort in disgust. "...And over a hundred pounds in cash!"

"Yay!" Laura giggles. "And I bet you know just what you want to buy, don't you?"

"I know what I want," I sigh. "I also know there's no chance of me being allowed to actually buy it..."

"What about your party?" Nicole asks. "Me, Laura, Harriet and Suri have drama rehearsals tonight, but we always come round afterward if you'd like?"

"Actually, I already have a party planned for Saturday," I say. "It was going to be just me and George, but you're all welcome to come if you want?"

"Count me in!" Laura squeaks excitedly.

"Me too!" Nicole says, with Megan and Harriet nodding in agreement.

"...Priya?" Laura asks the dark-skinned girl, who sighs and nods.

"I DO want us to be a 'seven' again," Priya mumbles. "We'll be there, won't we, Suri?"

"...Okay," Suriya sighs. "But only if you use this as an opportunity to come out, I mean, PROPERLY come out."

"Umm..." I say, freezing as I'm suddenly put on the spot. "I- I'm not sure I'm ready..."

"Trust me," Harriet says with a warm smile. "The sooner you do it, the happier you'll be in the long run. And I'm sure Laura can rustle up some extra support, can't she?"

"Umm, I guess," Laura says, blinking at suddenly being put on the spot, just as I was. "I'll ask Miss Fullerton and Mademoiselle Renou at ballet tomorrow... Ash, do you reckon you could persuade your dad to take you to class again?"

"I can always ask him," I shrug.

"Perfect," Nicole says with a grin. "Now come on, we're going to be late for form!" I laugh as I watch the other six girls head off to their respective forms, though my smile soon fades when I enter form to see George looking at me with a look of utter disgust on his face.

"...So you're going out with the ladyboy, then," George spits.

"So what if I am?" I ask.

"It makes you a poof, mate!" George pleads, making me roll my eyes in disgust.

"No it doesn't," I retort. "Laura's a girl. She has tits, for god's sake."

"She has a dick!" George retorts.

"It's not like I'm going to see it anytime soon," I say. "Besides which, I reckon if you showed her to any boy in the school and didn't mention that she's transgendered, that boy would think she's cute. And she IS."

"Well- only because she does, you knowing, dancing and sports..." George mumbles.

"And you're calling her 'her' and 'she'," I say.

"Only because the school says we have to," George says.

"If you didn't know in advance that she was a born a boy, would you think she was cute?" I ask. "Be honest."

"Well... Yes, I guess," George sighs. "Doesn't mean I want to go out with her, though, she's not as cute as your ex, or that Nicole girl."

"But you'd put her third out of my friends?" I ask.

"Okay! Alright! She's not bad!" George sighs. "Can we change the subject, please?" From deciding which girls are and aren't fit? I think to myself. Miracles DO happen...

I spend the rest of the school day- the breaks, anyway- hanging out with the girls, during which Laura tries her hardest to broadcast to the entire school that we are boyfriend and girlfriend, culminating in her catching up with me at the end of the school day and giving me a long kiss on the lips- something that catches me totally by surprise.

"Happy birthday," Laura giggles. "I know we're only pretending, but it IS nice to kind-of have a boyfriend again. While it lasts, anyway, hehe!"

"Umm, yeah," I say, before Laura gives me another kiss and heads into her drama rehearsal. A quick glance behind me reveals part of the reason why Laura was being so 'affectionate'- her ex-boyfriend Phil, the same boy I'd punched a few months ago, has just walked in the school and is looking at me with a VERY dark look on his face. I simply grin at him in response- given that he technically lost our last fight, he's not going to do anything, especially not in the middle of a crowded hallway.

"You've got a spring in your step," dad chuckles as I sit down in his car. "Even considering it's your birthday."

"Ashley's got a girlfriend," Bryony playfully sings, making Cassie gasp excitedly.

"Have you got a girlfriend, Ashley?" The five year old girl asks.

"...Yes," I say, making my sisters squeak excitedly. "It's Laura, the girl who used to hang out at our house from time to time."

"Yay!" Cassie cheers. "She is SO pretty and SO good at ballet!"

"I kinda wish I had an older sister like Laura," Bryony says. "She's really smart and friendly..." Not all the time, I think to myself.

"Looks like she's got the Bryony and Cassidy seal of approval," dad chuckles tiredly. "What time will she and her friends be over on Saturday?"

"Umm, just after 10:30," I say.

"And is George still coming too?" Dad asks.

"...I think so," I say, inwardly gulping. If I have to come out to my parents on Saturday, I'll have to come out to George as well... And that's probably going to be the toughest thing of all.

I spend the rest of the night pretending to engross myself in my birthday presents, whilst simultaneously making a list of things to replace my old girl's wardrobe- skirts, dresses, tights... With luck, I could be wearing those things as early as Sunday.

But for now, though, the only clothes I have in my wardrobe are boy's clothes. In my heart, however, I have hope- something I haven't felt for a long, long time.

The final day of the school week whizzes by in a blur, due largely to my anxiety about my party/second coming out tomorrow, and my excitement about observing another one of the girls' ballet classes tonight. George, thankfully, doesn't kick up any more of a stink about my restarting ballet lessons and my 'relationship' with Laura, who, predictably, gives my arm a tight cuddle the second I arrive at the posh dance studio.

"Eee!" Laura squeaks. "Big day tomorrow..."

"Um, yeah," I say nervously.

"And do NOT try to back out of it," Harriet cautions me as she ties her long hair into a bun. "We'll all be there for support... We want our seventh ballerina back and as soon as possible, don't we?"

"Yeah!" The other girls- even Priya and Suriya- all cheer.

"Though if nerves do get the better of you," Megan says softly, "that's also okay- but it is what you really want, isn't it?"

"I'm surer of it now than I ever was," I whisper. "Being 'one of the girls' again... I'm happier than I've been in a long, long time."

"Aww, I'm so glad to hear that!" Laura giggles, tightening her squeeze. "There are two other people you should tell, though..."

"Umm, after class, if that's okay?" I ask, smiling as the girls all nod before proceeding into the vast studio. I take my seat amongst the other parents and siblings at the side of the room, and at the end of the class, after shaking off my feelings of envy at watching the girls (particularly Laura) dance in their tights, leotards and pointe shoes, I enter the office of the tall blonde woman who manages the dance studio.

"Ashley!" Miss Fullerton beams. "So good to see you again... Here I was thinking you'd dropped ballet because you'd decided that you'd rather be a big, macho man who prefers sports, heh!"

"No..." I chuckle. "I decided that isn't really for me."

"Good decision," Miss Fullerton chuckles. "Oh, and happy birthday for yesterday! Thirteen's a big age, not least because you can now finally join the advanced class- well, when you're up to speed, anyway!"

"Yeah," I say, handing the teacher the direct debit form mum filled in on Wednesday evening.

"...Something else?" Miss Fullerton asks as I stick around in front of her desk.

"Um, no," I mumble, before remembering Laura's words of advice- Miss Fullerton and Mademoiselle Renou are obviously not transphobic, otherwise they'd never have agreed to teach Laura, and even if they do tell my parents... Well, I'm telling them myself tomorrow anyway, aren't I? "...Yes, there's something I need- want- I want to tell you something, you and Mademoiselle Renou."

"Okay," Miss Fullerton shrugs. "Zoe! Could you come here, please?"

"Of course," the tall Frenchwoman says, daintily skipping toward Miss Fullerton's desk.

"Go ahead, Ashley," Miss Fullerton says, making my heart beat faster- my 'backup' are all getting changed right now...

"Umm, umm, I need the other girls as well," I say, barely suppressing my sense of panic.

"Okay..." Miss Fullerton says, obviously getting impatient with my delay. "Whatever it is, I hope it's important, I told my friends I'd meet them straight after class."

"It- it is," I stammer. "It's, um, about me..." I breathe a sigh of relief as Laura, freshly changed back into the skirt and top she wore to the studio, runs up to me and gives my arm a tight cuddle. The other five girls follow in quick succession, and I take a deep breath as I prepare to bare my soul.

"What it is," I say with a shaky voice, "is... I'm transgendered." I nearly stumble as I say the words I've been desperate to say for so long, but fortunately, Laura's strength keeps me upright. "I wish I'd been born a girl... I'd rather be a girl than a boy."

"This is true," Laura immediately interjects. "What Ashley says, it's all true, it-"

"I believe him, Laura," Miss Fullerton says.

"Ugh, and here I was calling you a 'big strong boy'," Mademoiselle Renou spits. "I'm so, so sorry I said that, Ashley."

"So... You're okay with this?" I ask.

"It's none of our business to be okay or not," Miss Fullerton shrugs. "You are what you are... I'm just curious about why you told us. I mean, do your parents know?"

"No," I say, shaking my head. "I tried telling my dad, but he wouldn't believe me, thought it was just a joke..."

"Ugh," Mademoiselle Renou spits again. "He always seemed like such a smart guy..."

"He is," I say. "But I'm his only son... Well, I was, anyway... But all I think about every second of every day is being a girl."

"We've even tried teaching him some girl's ballet steps," Nicole interrupts. "Only, you know, the basic stuff, the stuff you teach four year olds..."

"No wonder you wanted to learn pointe," Mademoiselle Renou chuckles. "If you want us to teach you pointe, we'll teach it, no more questions, right, Krystie?"

"Of course!" Miss Fullerton laughs. "I'm honoured that you'd confide in us, Ashley, but obviously we can't teach you as a girl without your parents' consent... But if there's anything else you need, any help we can offer, just name it."

"Both Miss Fullerton and I have several transgendered friends who can speak to your parents if you want," Mademoiselle Renou offers.

"Actually..." I grimace. "I'm kinda, gonna, try to come out again... Tomorrow?"

"If you want our help, we'll be there," Miss Fullerton immediately says. "Right, Zoe?"

"Right!" Mademoiselle Renou says, and it's all I can do not to break into floods of tears right there in the office. "I wish you had your uniform with you now, so you could show us a few steps, heh."

"Well, I DID bring my old leotard with me tonight," Megan says.

"And I always bring a pair of spare, clean tights," Nicole offers.

"...My friends can wait a few minutes," Miss Fullerton says with a grin. "As long as it's okay with you, Ashley?"

"More than okay!" I laugh as I'm handed the dancewear- the first items of female clothing I've so much as handled in almost three months.

A few minutes later, I step out of the changing room to a round of applause from my six friends and the two teachers- the only people left in the studio. My legs are covered in Nicole's pink tights, and Megan's leotard is clinging tightly to my body. My hair is pinned back with silver clips, and I have a spare pair of Miss Fullerton's ballet shoes tied to my feet, and everything feels so... Right.

"Yay!" Nicole giggles, giving me a tight hug. "Girl Ash is really back!"

"How does it feel?" Harriet asks.

"SO good," I gush. "I missed this SO much..." I blush as all of my friends giggle happily- even Priya and Suriya, who are clearly happier to see 'girl Ashley' than they were 'boy Ashley'.

"We don't want to keep your parents waiting too long," Miss Fullerton says, ushering me into the studio. "Just do a couple of steps, nothing too complicated." I smile as I adopt the positions I remember from Laura's and Suriya's 'tuition' earlier in the year, stepping gracefully around the studio for a brief minute before coming to a stop in front of Miss Fullerton and bobbing a graceful ballerina's curtsey.

"Brilliant!" The tall, blonde teacher gushes. "You really are a talented ballerina, Ashley!"

"I've done some pointe exercises as well in the past," I say, my voice unconsciously softening as I adjust my leotard. "Just to prepare me for pointe shoes, I never actually danced en pointe."

"Good, otherwise I know six girls who'd be in a LOT of trouble," Miss Fullerton chuckles. "You'd better get changed back now, but you can keep the shoes, call it a birthday present."

"And the leo!" Megan giggles.

"And the tights and the hair clips!" Nicole says.

"Oh my god, thank you all so much!" I gush.

"And who knows?" Mademoiselle Renou laughs. "This time next month, I may be teaching all seven of you to be beautiful, feminine ballerinas!" I smile as I change back into my boy's clothes- all of a sudden, that dream seems a lot closer than it did a week ago.

After finishing off my homework, I get an early night to prepare for tomorrow, which is obviously going to be a big, tiring day. The following morning, I get up and pull on a smart shirt and pair of jeans- though I'm confident I'll be wearing something very different, something much better by the end of the day.

Laura's the first to arrive for my party, greeting me with a kiss and the sight of her pubescent body in a knee-length dark red dress, translucent tights and shoes with a low heel. The other five girls are all dressed similarly, in fancy dresses and heeled shoes, with Suriya's shoes being the highest at 3 inches- though even that doesn't bring her up to my 5' 5" body. Further proof, if it were needed, that I need to come out quickly before I get any more masculine...

George is the last to arrive, wearing a plain sweater and jeans, and when he sees the other six girls in the room, he looks almost lost, like he's wondered into a girl's locker room by mistake and is desperate to escape.

"Umm, hi mate," George says nervously. "So... Am I still, um, coming over today?"

"You're still my friend," I shrug. "It's my party, I'll invite who I want to."

"Yeah, but," George says. "The girls..."

"You're always telling me how much you like girls," I say. "Here's your chance to hang out with a few of them."

"Umm, okay," George says, handing me my present and sitting down opposite the girls with a look of pure terror on his face.

We spend the next hour chatting- unsurprisingly, George has very little to say- whilst mum keeps us supplied with drinks and dad takes Bryony and Cassie to their friends' houses and Dorothy and Eddy to their grandparents for the day. About half an hour after dad returns, though, a knock comes from the front door, and I find myself involuntarily tensing up.

"Who's that?" Dad asks. "Post's already been... Claire, did you order something from Amazon or something?"

"Nope," mum says. "Ash, are you expecting anyone else?" I take a deep, shaky breath before standing up and answering.

"Yes," I say. "I've asked a few more people to come today." I smile at the three young women who stroll into the living room, following my confused father. As promised, Miss Fullerton and Mademoiselle Renou have shown up, as has another guest Laura promised to invite- Nikki Thomas, the same young woman whose column in Teen Globe magazine has inspired Laura on many occasions.

"Umm, hello," dad says, utterly baffled by the presence of the three women. "Glad you could come..."

"I asked them to come," I say, squeezing Laura's hand for support, "because- because there's something I need to tell you, to tell all of you..."

"Go on," Laura whispers, squeezing my hand back.

"I- I'm transgendered," I say, again almost collapsing as the words leave my mouth. "I'm a girl trapped in a boy's body... I wish I was a girl." A moment of silence passes, broken when dad, once again, snorts derisively.

"Yes, yes, very funny Ash," dad sighs. "You had us all going again."

"It's not a joke," I say firmly, wincing as dad's face goes from confused to shocked, before finally settling on a look of pure disgust.

"What do you mean, 'you wish you were a girl'?" Dad asks.

"I mean exactly what I said," I say. "All my life, I wished I was a girl instead of a boy." I scan the faces of everyone in the room, smiling at the looks of pride on my friends' faces and the supporting smiles of the three women I invited for support. My smile falls, however, when I see the look of utter horror on George's face. Mum, on the other hand, hasn't expressed any emotion since I started talking.

"Look- no, Ash, just no," dad says. "You're my son. My SON. You can't wish you were a girl, you- you just can't."

"Mr. Moore-" Nikki says, before dad cuts her off.

"For starters, you're only thirteen!" Dad spits. "You don't know what you want, you're too young!"

"I was eleven," Laura shrugs. "I knew what I wanted then. I knew what I wanted a long time before I reached eleven, actually."

"So did I," Nikki says.

"Who- you're transsexual too?" Dad asks.

"Yep," Nikki says proudly. "Started transitioning three years ago this coming Monday. Best decision I ever made."

"For you, maybe," dad snorts. "But it wouldn't be for Ashley." My heart sinks as I realise that despite my defiance, despite all my support... Dad's going to take a LOT of convincing.

"That's not what it looked like last night," Miss Fullerton said, taking out her phone and showing dad the video she took last night of me dancing in a girl's ballet uniform.

"What- what kind of pervert are you!?" Dad spits. "Dressing a young boy up as a girl and making him dance? I should have you arrested for that!"

"I wasn't 'made' to so anything," I say. "I chose to wear those clothes, I chose to dance. Because it's what I love, because it's what I want to do."

"Well you're never setting foot in that place ever again!" Dad yells. "In fact, you're never seeing any of your friends ever again! Say goodbye, Ash, 'cause this coming Monday I'm enrolling you in a new school far away from these freaks!" I bite my lip to prevent myself from crying and pray for the ground to swallow me up as dad shouts in my face. All of my worst fears, all of my darkest nightmares are coming true in this second...

"No," an unexpected voice says- the voice of my mother, who places a supportive hand on my shoulder.

"Claire!?" Dad asks incredulously.

"The friends Ashley has made are the best he's ever had," mum says defiantly. "He WON'T be moving away from them."

"They're turning him into a girl!" Dad protests.

"I already AM a girl," I say. "I always have been."

"...We already have three girls," dad says, his anger visibly fading.

"Seems like you've got four now," Miss Fullerton shrugs.

"He- he can't simply say 'I'm a girl' and expect to spend the rest of his life as a woman," dad says, sitting back down in his chair.

"I did," Nikki says.

"So did I," Laura says, squeezing my now ice-cold hand even tighter.

"Well it's not gone exactly smoothly for you, has it?" Dad snorts.

"No," Laura concedes. "Are you telling me you intend to kidnap Ashley, take him- sorry, take HER away from her family and friends and force her to be a boy against her will?"

"Well- of course not," dad mumbles, clearly realising just how defeated he is. My hands start to shake as it dawns on me that I might just get to wear a girl's school uniform on Monday after all...

"Because let me tell you," Laura continues, "I would literally rather die than live one second of my life as a boy."

"So would I," Nikki defiantly states. "You think allowing Ashley to be a girl would be harming her. The opposite is true."

"You have been miserable lately," mum says, sitting down next to me and giving me a much-needed hug. "Is it because you fell out with your friends? Did- did they help you dress up in the past?"

"Yes," I sniffle, tears finally beginning to flow from my eyes.

"Well that stops now," dad says, rolling his eyes at the stern stares his statement receives. "What? Are you honestly telling me it's healthy for a 13 year old boy to play dress up with a bunch of girls?"

"If you could see Ashley when she's a girl, you wouldn't ask that," Laura says.

"...Then let's see her," mum says.

"Claire!?" Dad shouts. "Are you honestly telling me you want to see our son put on a dress?"

"I want our CHILD to be happy," mum says. "You should too."

"What if," dad asks, "when he's sixteen, he decides he'd rather be a boy again? We can't simply allow him to keep flip-flopping between genders- what would we tell his brother and his sisters?"

"Bryony's a smart girl, she'd understand," I say. "Cassie would accept me, Dorothy and Eddy are too young to realise what's happening... Please, dad. I NEED this."

"Andrew?" Mum asks.

"...No," dad says, shaking his head and breaking my heart. "I'm sorry, I- I just can't accept this. I refuse to accept that I've spent thirteen years raising a son only for him to turn around and say 'I'm a girl'."

"I was sixteen when I came out to my parents," Nikki says, taking a seat on the arm of a chair. "Do you know what the first thing they said to me was? 'I wish you'd told us sooner'."

"My mum said the exact same thing to me when I came out," Laura whispers. "Ashley is so, so brave to be telling you this now."

"And we'll all support HER," Priya says, warming my heart. "Especially at school."

"Really?" Dad asks, staring straight at the still shell-shocked George. "ALL of you?"

"Umm..." George stammers as the eyes of the room six on him. "...Yes. Better a transgendered friend than no friends at all, I guess..."

"That's a ringing endorsement," dad snorts.

"Actually, you know what?" George asks, making my heart sink yet again. "Ash is cool, whether he's a boy or a girl, I'm glad he- I'm glad THEY'RE my friend. So yes, whatever support you need, mate- just ask." I smile as George gives me a firm, masculine nod- earning himself hugs from both Megan and Harriet, who were sitting either side of him.

"Looks like you're outnumbered," mum says to dad, who simply sighs, knowing he's beaten.

"We- we need to talk about this by ourselves," dad sighs. "Party's over. I'll give you all a lift home."

"We can take people on our car," Miss Fullerton says, before giving Nikki a firm pat on the shoulder. "But if you are going to have a talk, I really recommend keeping this girl around for advice. She's a LOT wiser than their nineteen years!"

"Thanks, I think," Nikki laughs. "My mother-in-law- well, my fiancée’s mum- is also a gender dysphoria expert, I'm happy to give you her number if you want to talk."

"I want Laura to stay too," I say, smiling as Laura squeezes my hand tighter.

"...Fine," dad sighs. "Laura can stay. Can you bring your mother-in-law round?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," Nikki says. "She usually charges for consultations but I'm sure can recommend an NHS counsellor too."

"Ash, Laura, are you okay staying here by yourself?" Mum asks.

"I'll look after him," Laura whispers.

"When we get back, you had better NOT be wearing a skirt," dad warns as he and mum lead the rest of the 'party' into the driveway. Before he leaves, however, George comes over to me and shakes my hand.

"Guess everything makes sense now, heh," George says. "Mate, whether you show up at school on Monday wearing trousers or a skirt, I've still got your back."

"Cheers mate," I laugh. "I appreciate that." As George closes the door behind him, though, I groan loudly and collapse back on the sofa.

"It wasn't THAT bad," Laura says, sitting down next to me and cradling my head in her lap. "And you know, the next time you go to school, you may well be wearing a skirt..."

"Not if dad has anything to say about it," I moan.

"He may be a bit transphobic," Laura says.

"'A bit'!?" I retort.

"Okay, okay," Laura sighs, "But he still has your best interests at heart. He'll come round, I know he will." I nod in agreement, though my nerves still jangle loudly when mum and dad return, with Nikki and her mother-in-law following a few minutes later.

"Thank you for coming, Dr Phillips," Mum says, shaking the middle-aged woman's hand.

"It's my pleasure," Dr Phillips says. "Nikki's explained what's been going on, and it's perfectly natural to be confused."

"'Confused' doesn't even begin to cover it," dad says, trying to disguise the fact that he sounds like he's been crying. "Do thirteen year old boys just suddenly get up one day and say 'I want to be a girl'?"

"The important thing to ask," Dr Phillips replies, "is 'what do I do when that happens?'. It's a simple fact of life that some people are born into the wrong gender. It doesn't make that person any more or less a person."

"We know that, thanks to Laura over there," dad says. "It's just- we-"

"'We always thought it was something that happened to other people'?" Mum asks, making dad sigh and hang his head in shame.

"What you need to acknowledge is that it HAS happened to you," Dr Phillips says. "Ashley has expressed a desire to live the rest of his life as a girl, and as parents, you need to act on that."

"Easy to say when it's not your own child," dad snorts.

"Perhaps," Dr Phillips concedes. "But I've helped countless parents who are in the exact same position you're in now, and I want to help you too."

"Did any of those parents have several children younger than the boy who turned out to be transgendered?" Dad asks. "How do we tell a five year old girl 'your brother, whom you adore, is now your sister'?"

"Carefully, and in such a way that she'll understand," Dr Phillips says. "It is something I've dealt with many times before. I've even dealt with people who have young children themselves who have chosen to transition."

"We- we've got a new born, we can't simply lay down money on a whole new wardrobe for Ashley," dad argues, only stopping as Dr Phillips holds up her hand.

"Mr. Moore," Dr Phillips says, "I'm sure you have a million and one questions, and I'll be happy to answer them, or refer you to a counsellor who can. But the question you really need to ask yourself is: 'What is best for Ashley?'."

"As his parents," dad says, "we should be the ones to decide that."

"Children at the age of thirteen are a lot more capable of thinking for themselves than you might realise," Dr Phillips says, looking directly at me.

"I- I want to be a girl," I say. "I mean, REALLY be a girl, full-time. Go to school, go to ballet as a girl, everything."

"And what if you change your mind later on?" Dad asks.

"Ashley," mum interrupts. "Is it- is it really damaging to you to be a boy?" I pause, not quite understanding what mum means.

"What you mother's asking," dad says, "is- would you rather die than be a boy? Answer honestly now, Ashley. CAN you live as a boy?"

"I- I don't know," I say, shivering as I'm put on the spot. "I'd RATHER be a girl... But- it doesn't HURT to be a boy..." I sigh as dad nods, realising that my dreams of going to school on Monday wearing a skirt may have just evaporated.

"Whilst it's our decision," dad says, "you will live your life as a boy."

"Mr. Moore," Dr Phillips says, "I STRONGLY advise you to allow Ashley to explore their gender identity. Oppressing her inner girl could cause a lot of damage in the long-term, and I would advise booking Ashley in to see a counsellor as soon as possible."

"We will arrange a counsellor," dad says. "But I can't have him cross-dressing around his sisters and especially not his brother, it- it just isn't right."

"But- but you're not totally forbidding it?" I ask.

"I am under this roof," dad says. "And that means at school as well. But when the decision isn't ours anymore... Ash, what I'm trying to say, is that while we're raising you, we're going to raise you as a boy, but when you're sixteen, and it's your decision..."

"If you want to transition then, then you'll have our full support," mum says.

"But- but by then I could be, like, six foot three and built like a rugby player," I moan.

"You should be so lucky," dad snorts.

"Can I at least have the pills Laura takes?" I plead. "To stop her from getting any manlier..."

"Anti-androgens?" Dr Phillips asks. "They're only prescribed in cases where there's a genuine psychological need, I'm afraid."

"But-" I plead, before collapsing back into the sofa, defeated. Any chance I had of becoming a girl in the next few days- or even the next few YEARS- have been utterly dashed.

"Ashley," mum says softly, "I want you to know that we ARE taking this seriously. We will set up the counselling sessions, we'll explain to all your friends' parents what's happening, and when you're sixteen, we'll support any decision you make. But until then, you have to trust that we have your best interests at heart, okay?"

"...Okay," I mumble.

"If you ever need any help, all you need to do is ask," Nikki says, before getting out her smartphone. "That goes for you too, Ashley. I'm only ever a Facebook message away."

"Thanks," I say with a forced grin.

"In the meantime, thank you for your time," dad sighs. "I'll give you a lift home, Laura."

"Um," Laura says hesitantly. "The girls and I, we- we kinda got Ashley some, um, clothes for his birthday..."

"No need to ask what you mean by 'clothes'," dad sighs. "He can't keep them here. But I can't stop him from doing what he wants when he's at your house or the house of one of the other girls... I'll have a word with your mum when I drop you off, explain what's happening."

"Um, okay!" Laura says, flashing me a grin to let me know that she'll smoothe it over in case dad finds out that Laura’s mum knew about 'girl me' before he did. A few seconds later, Nikki and Dr Phillips leave, followed by dad and Laura, leaving me alone to groan once again at my misfortune.

"Ashley..." Mum sighs, giving me a tight hug. "I- I'm going to say it too. I really, really wish you'd told us earlier."

"Would it have made a difference?" I sniffle as I cry into my mother's shoulder. "Dad-"

"I’ll deal with your father," mum says with an angry tone. "He needs to understand that what you want is more important than what he wants."

"I'm still going to be wearing trousers to school, though," I moan. "And around the house, too..."

"For now," mum says. "In the meantime, it's still your birthday party... Try to have fun, and if you can't, at least relax, okay?"

"...Okay," I moan as I slump back into the sofa.

In a way, it would probably have been better if I hadn't told my parents about 'girl me' at all. That way I'd at least have been able to keep dressing at home, or secretly dress at my friends' houses. Now, I'm not even able to dress up when I return home, and have to hope that my friends' parents will all be accepting of the 'real me'.

On the other hand, however, I AM finally out of the closet. I no longer have to hide who I am- well, apart from when I'm at school, or around my sisters, anyway- and when I turn sixteen, I will have the freedom to do what I want. It's just a pity that that seems like a lifetime away...

I get an early night, exhausted as I am following the day's events, but the following morning I'm awakened early by a knock on my bedroom door- after which mum enters, carrying a handful of packages from Amazon.

"...Mum?" I sleepily moan.

"Shh," mum says, tossing the packages onto my bed. "Open them, Ashley." I stare at my mother quizzically before tearing open the first package, the contents of which make my heart melt.

Inside the package, in a clear polythene bag, is a plain, knee-length black skirt- in my size.

"Open the rest!" Mum giggles, and I eagerly do so- the other packages contain another skirt, this time a short denim one, five pairs of black tights, two girly tops, a packet of girl's panties and two girl's vests.

"M-mum?" I ask, shocked by the contents of the packages and desperate to convince myself that this isn't a dream.

"This'll be our little secret," mum says as she opens the packets of panties and vests, handing me the delicate items. "Your dad doesn't need to know about this, and of course, I'll wash them for you. I just don't want to see my little boy- well, little girl, I suppose- upset, especially not on HER birthday."

"Thank you," I sniffle, once again crying into my mum's shoulder as she embraces me. "Thank you so much!"

"Now come on, get dressed!" Mum urges me. "I want to meet my new daughter!" I giggle as I strip off my pyjamas under my bed sheets, sighing as I roll the panties up my legs, followed by a vest and a new pair of tights. My hands shake with excitement as I slip on my new black skirt, followed by a pink t-shirt, and I grin widely as I present myself- my TRUE self- to my mother.

"As beautiful as all my other daughters," mum laughs as she sits me down and brushes my short hair. "Ashley... If this is what you want, then you should have it. It's not harming anyone, and it's helping you, so anytime you need an item of girl's clothing- and you have the money- I'll buy it for you from Amazon."

"But- but what about dad?" I ask.

"If he wants a skirt, he can buy his own," mum says, making me giggle girlishly. "You'll still need to follow his rules, and not be a girl in front of your sister or at school, but this is YOUR life, Ashley. You should live it the way YOU want."

"Thank you," I sigh as I rub my nylon-covered knees together. "Thank you so much!"

"No," mum whispers. "Thank you for being such an amazing daughter."

“Beautiful, girls,” Miss Fullerton announces as the twenty-odd teenagers bow, before extending their arms and legs into the most elegant shapes. “Extend… And pointe.”

“C’est magnifique,” Mademoiselle Renou congratulates in her refined French accent. “Group one, you will continue practising at the barre. Group two, you will practise your pas de deux.” I, as a member of group two, nod, before following Mademoiselle Renou- not to mention a dozen leotard-clad teenaged girls- to the centre of the room.

“Nicole, you first,” Mademoiselle Renou says, and the slender, brown-haired girl smile as she approaches me, adjusting her leotard before taking my hand.

“This should be you, standing where I am,” Nicole whispers sadly as we begin our steps, with Nicole elegantly balancing en pointe whilst I remain off the tips of my toes, my white t-shirt, black boy’s leggings and soft leather dancing shoes a far cry from Nicole’s skin-tight dancewear and shiny satin pointe shoes.

That’s not to say that, in the three months since my thirteenth birthday, I haven’t had (and taken) the opportunity to dress up in pink tights and a skimpy black leotard. It’s just that I’ve never done so in front of strangers… And at the rate things are going, I never will, either.

As was promised, immediately following my second coming out to my parents, I began seeing a counsellor on a fortnightly basis to discuss my stress and frustration about my life as a boy. My frustration levels only increased when I learned that a diagnosis of gender dysphoria couldn’t simply be given out from one counselling session, but had to be established over the course of several sessions, and verified by a second counsellor as well, who I won’t be able to see for months. Laura assured me that she went through the same process to get her diagnosis- but at the time, she was eleven, and not in any danger of turning into a man. I, on the other hand, have already started, despite my best efforts- a fact that’s hammered home as I dance with Laura.

Even though she’s eighteen months older than me, Laura is still an inch shorter than I am, and is much, much skinnier. In fact, every part of her is narrower than I am- with the notable exception of the ‘swelling’ on her chest. This makes it very easy for us to keep pretending that we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, but with every passing day, it makes it harder for me to pretend that I’m a girl. In addition to my height, my skin is growing firmer and starting to sprout hair, my shoulders are widening and my muscles are growing. With the exception of my six close friends and the two teachers (who both know my ‘secret’), every girl in the studio is looking at me and thinks ‘when he’s a few years older, he is going to be a stud’. Whenever I look at myself and think the same thing, I shudder in terror.

I’m just glad I’m not the tallest member of our group, as I’m reminded when I dance with the 5’ 8” Megan. For now, I can at least try to ‘suspend my disbelief’ at my situation, but the more time passes, the more damaged my body will be by the testosterone I’m producing. There is one constant positive in my life, though- the support of my friends and my family- however grudging the latter support is.

“Great lesson, everyone!” Miss Fullerton giggles as she dismisses the class. “We’ll begin rehearsing for la soixante-troisième papillon next week, so make sure you know your steps perfectly.”

“Ashley,” Mademoiselle Renou calls quietly, so as not to attract the attention of the teenagers leaving the studio- well, apart from the six teenaged girls who follow me to where the Frenchwoman is stood. “Not too tired for some ‘extra tuition’, I trust?”

“Of course not,” I say with a warm smile. “Thank you so much again for doing this for me.”

“It’s fifteen minutes, twice a week,” Mademoiselle Renou shrugs. “A small price to pay for a dancer who can dance both male and female parts!” I giggle as I join the other six girls back at the barre, before all seven of us perform the same steps and stretches- the same FEMALE steps and stretches. Despite my out-of-place attire, I feel just as elegant and feminine as the other six young women, and even though it lasts a mere quarter of an hour, the experience gives me a high that I know will last for days- or at least, until the next time I’m stood at the barre with the six girls. The six OTHER girls.

“You are SO talented, Ashleyrina!” Laura squeaks, cuddling my arm close to her ‘contoured’ chest as we leave the studio, before she and the other girls remove their tights (as it’s August, our teachers give them permission to wear their tights over their leotards, rather than under). “It sucks that you couldn’t take the spot that opened in the class a couple of weeks ago…”

“Yeah,” Nicole sighs. “Why did Kayleigh-Ann leave the class again?”

“I think she moved away, or something,” Priya muses as she pulls a loose summer dress on over her petite figure.

“Oh damn,” Harriet mock-sighs after she pulls on her own loose skirt. “Looks like my tights have got a hole in them… Guess I’ll have to put them into the ‘bin’, heh.” The seven of us all giggle as Harriet walks toward the studio’s small bin, before deliberately turning around and shoving the tights into the pocket of my dance bag.

“Make sure you wash them first!” Miss Fullerton giggles as she watches our ‘demonstration’.

“Can do,” I giggle girlishly as I follow Laura, Megan and Harriet into the latter’s mother’s car.

“Hi girls!” Harriet’s mother says with a warm grin.

“Hi Mrs. Cooper,” Laura, Megan and I all respond in unison. As you may be able to tell from Mrs. Cooper saying just ‘girls’ rather than ’girls and boy’, she is perfectly aware of- and accepting of- my ‘situation’, as are all my parents’ friends. Priya’s and Suriya’s father even offered to intervene on my behalf with the school (where he’s one of the governors) to allow me to attend in a girl’s uniform- but that proposal was blocked by one of the fathers, the most important father of them all- my father.

Before I came out- before the second, successful coming out, anyway- dad always tried his best to treat me as ‘one of the guys’. We’d talk- or rather, he’d talk- about football, cars, all manner of manly activities. He’d talk about taking me on fishing trips or going camping, just the two of us, with no girls- not even my sisters- allowed to come along.

Now that he knows who I truly am… It’s almost like I no longer exist in dad’s eyes. Gone is the attempt at male bonding, gone is the friendly teasing, gone is the father I know… And in his place is a man who can barely hide the contempt in his eyes whenever he looks at me. Simply by being who I am, it’s as if I’ve betrayed the entire male gender- and worse yet, betrayed HIM.

“Ash,” dad mumbles as I walk through the door.

“Hi Ashley!” Mum says, giving me a warm hug. “How was ballet?”

“Good,” I giggle. “They’re holding auditions for their autumn production next week. I doubt I’ll beat Thomas to the lead role, but I’ll give it a go anyway.”

“You could always audition for one of the girl roles…” Dad snorts, barely tearing his attention away from his TV show.

“Andrew…” Mum admonishes, silencing her husband. “Go upstairs and get changed, Ashley.” I smile and nod at mum’s instruction, as with my brother and sisters all in bed, it’s obvious what mum means by ‘changed’.

After throwing Harriet’s old tights into my washing basket, I open my wardrobe and smile happily at the contents within. Over the last three months, my friends- especially Laura- have done their best to rebuild the collection of clothes I’d so callously discarded after my first, disastrous coming out, and with mum supplementing the collection with the odd bit here and there, I now have almost as many girl’s clothes as I do boy’s. Dad quickly found out about the ‘collection’, and, as predicted, almost had a fit- but mum made it very clear to him that it was my decision what I wore, not his. I’m still restricted to only wearing these clothes in my bedroom, of course- never in front of my sisters, and most definitely never in front of dad- but the sheer freedom I feel as I strip off my dancewear and pull on a cute, knee-length summer dress more than compensates for this unfair rule. Well, compensates for now, anyway…

After brushing out my hair- which, with mum’s support, I refuse to have cut- I grab my tablet computer and open up Skype, where a conversation between the other six girls is already in progress.

“Hi, Ashleyrina!” The girls all yell, making me giggle girlishly.

“Hey girlies!” I squeak quietly, out of fear out waking up my younger siblings. We spend the next two hours gossiping about our lives, about ballet, about music, about the impending end of the summer holidays, and for every second of it, I’m able to forget that I was ever a boy.

However, reality comes flooding back at the end of the call, as I strip off my dress, slick back my hair and return to being the boy I desperately wish I wasn’t. As I pull on my pyjamas, though, I smile at the knowledge that, much like my time as a girl, my time as a boy will also only be temporary.

“Morning, Ashley!” Cassie and Dorothy both squeak as I head down to breakfast the following morning.

“Morning!” I giggle, giving both of my sisters cuddles before sitting down to eat (Bryony, my other sister, is sleeping in, in her efforts to try to be a typical teenaged girl despite the fact that she’s only ten).

“Morning, Ash!” Mum says. “What time are you going round to Laura’s?”

“Just after breakfast,” I say. “Don’t want to waste any of my Saturday, after all!” I smile, even as dad snorts- the first time this morning that he’s acknowledged my existence.

“I think Laura’s SO pretty!” Cassie squeaks. “And she’s a proper ballerina, too!”

“She’s only fourteen,” I say with a giggle. “She’s not a PROPER ballerina, she goes to school, like I do.”

“When I grow up,” Cassie continues, unfazed by my correction, “I’m going to be the best ballerina in the world, and I want to be just like Laura!” I giggle along with Cassie and Dorothy, even as dad rolls his eyes- in addition to not knowing about me, my sisters all still believe that Laura was born a girl- and dad’s made it very clearly to both myself and Laura that any attempt to shatter this illusion, even to the very mature Bryony, will result in a severe punishment.

After breakfast, I pull on a very simple pair of jeans and a plain, dark blue t-shirt- though I’m safe in the knowledge that I won’t have to tolerate these clothes for long, especially as I stuff a pair of girl’s panties, a plain lace-trimmed vest and the outfit I picked out last night into my backpack before heading down to Mr. Malik’s car to be taken to Laura’s house.

“Hi Ashley,” Priya says calmly as I slide onto the car’s back seat, whilst Suri remains uncharacteristically quiet. The girls may have accepted me again as ‘one of the girls’, but in Priya’s and Suriya’s case, my words and actions cut deep- and it’s clear it’ll take a while before I’m fully forgiven for what I did.

It doesn’t help that, the second I arrive at Laura’s house, the pretty blonde girl launches herself at me, kissing me and cuddling my arm close to her chest, which brings a look of pure envy to Suriya’s face. Still, Suri has her own boyfriend now, as do all the other girls (with the obvious exception of Harriet)- one of whom is already present at Laura’s house.

“Alright, mate?” George says, making me smile. “How long today before me saying that becomes wrong?”

“Not long,” I say with a smug grin as Laura leads me up to her room.

“And don’t come out until you’re GORGEOUS!” Laura giggles, and I don’t need to be told twice. I takes me no time at all to strip off my boy clothes, before pulling on my vest and panties, followed by a cute pleated miniskirt that used to belong to Harriet and one of Megan’s old pink tank tops. After brushing out my hair, I apply some of the make-up I carry with me in my backpack- just some eyeliner, mascara and lipstick, but even this is more than enough to turn the plain teenaged boy that I was into a cute, girly teenaged girl.

I giggle as I walk downstairs to wolf whistles from the girls, whilst George can barely keep a straight face at my appearance- though considering what his reaction could’ve been, a few friendly giggles are more than welcome.

“Mate,” George says, “it’s getting less weird every time, but it’s still pretty bloody weird!”

“But you ARE accepting HER, aren’t you, George?” Megan asks, cuddling George’s arm in the same way that Laura isn’t cuddling mine, now that I’m dressed as the girl I want to be.

“Well- yes, of course I am,” George says, making Megan giggle.

George has changed a lot over the last three months since I came out, in both a physical and mental sense. When he saw how impressed the girls were at his mature attitude when I came out, he made it a point to grow up, and fast. Sure, his new maturity is primarily so he can get girls, but he’s really growing into a sensible young man and a good friend, rather than the loud, laddish oaf he was twelve months ago. He’s even noticeably losing weight, thanks in part to the judo lessons he’s started taking (he’s promised to be my ‘bodyguard’ should I start attending school as a girl) and, at Megan’s insistence, the beginner ballet lessons he started last month. Sure, George was embarrassed at first, mainly as he was dancing with prepubescent girls and at 5’ 9”, he’s very tall for his age, but when Megan promised to go to every lesson with him, he quickly grew to like it. He of course makes it very clearly on a regular basis that there will never be a ‘Georgina’ in our gang- but I’m just happy to have him as a friend, masculinity and all.

“So,” Nicole asks as the eight of us sit down, and I smile at the fact that the one pair of legs that’s wearing trousers DOESN’T belong to me. “What are we doing today?”

“I vote nails!” Suriya giggles.

“Me too!” Megan squeaks.

“Then good news, George,” Laura teases. “You’re about to watch SEVEN gorgeous, girly girls so each other’s nails!”

“Got nowhere else to be,” George shrugs. “As long as the polish doesn’t come anywhere near my nails!”

“Not TODAY, anyway!” Megan teases as I help Laura set up a nail bar in her kitchen.

As always, when we paint each other’s nails, I take the first turn, as I’m going to have to have the polish removed before the end of the day. However, this doesn’t stop me from enjoying the sensation of seeing my nails enhanced with a beautiful fuchsia colour (to match my lipstick), and feeling more and more immersed in femininity with every nail that gets coloured. The whole ‘manicure’ for all seven of us lasts over an hour and a half, but to me, it seems like just a few minutes, I’m having that much fun. George, of course, looks bored stiff, and I can’t help but feel sorry for the boy- if only he knew how joyous it is to be a girl…

The rest of the afternoon is spent gossiping, dancing and listening to music (Miss Fullerton sent us all a preview of one of the tracks on Out of Heaven’s new album last night, which we’re all eager to listen to), before I’m marched up to Laura’s bedroom, where my nail polish and make-up is removed and I once again transform into the boy I don’t want to be. I bite my lip to keep myself from frowning as I exit Laura’s bedroom, though she can instantly see the pain underneath.

“This really sucks,” Laura pouts as she leads me downstairs. “I wish you could, like, live with me full-time as a girl, that way we could live together as sisters, you know? Like Priya and Suriya…”

“I know it sucks,” I sigh. “Tell you what- how about, if we both go to the same university, we agree to be each other’s room-mates? That way we can effectively be sisters, and I KNOW I’m going to be a girl full-time by then, hormones, the lot.”

“…Deal!” Laura giggles, before giving me a quick cuddle and kissing me on my cheek- which leaves behind a lipstick mark that’s very noticeable as I get into mum’s car!

“Hi Ashley!” Bryony and Cassie both squeak from their perches on the car’s back seat.

“Hi girls!” I reply. “Did you have fun with your friends?”

“Not as much fun as you had, Mr. Lipstick!” Bryony smugly replies, and I panic for a moment, wondering if any lipstick was left on my mouth, before realising that Bryony’s referring to the mark Laura just left on my cheek.

“Was it Laura who kissed you, Ashley?” Cassie asks.

“Well Ashley doesn’t have any other girlfriends,” Bryony retorts before I have a chance to respond.

“Laura is so pretty…” Cassie says, once again ignoring Bryony’s taunting.

“Sometimes I wish I had a big sister like Laura,” Bryony muses. “It’s not easy, being the oldest girl…” I bite my lip as I exchange a knowing glance with mum.

“I’m happy,” Cassie says, “because I have an older sister AND an older brother, AND a younger sister AND a younger brother!” My bite on my lip grows stronger as Cassie continues her enthusiastic babbling all the way home- despite what she just said, I know my sister well enough to know that if she was told she had two older sisters instead of an older sister and an older brother, she’d be just as happy as she is now.

As I walk through my house’s front door and am confronted by my dad’s disapproving gaze, I realise that it’s a shame the same thing can’t be said of all my relatives…

After the traditional late-night Skype with the girls- with a short denim skirt around my legs, instead of my jeans- I head to bed, waking up the following morning with a sense of utter dread, a sense that’s not helped as I comb my hair back and pull on a smart shirt and a pair of smart trousers.

“Everyone ready?” Dad- who is equally smartly dressed- asks as I head down the stairs.

“Ready!” Cassie squeaks as she excitedly dances around in her fancy pink party dress.

“Try to smile, Bryony,” mum admonishes the ten year old girl, whose party dress is considerably less fancy than Cassie’s. “We won’t stay for more than a couple of hours.”

“I know,” Bryony sighs.

“And there’ll be plenty of cousins there for you to play with!” Dad laughs. “Same goes for you, Ash. You remember your cousins James and Nick, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” I say, forcing a smile on my face as I try to remember my second cousins.

Nick is the same age as me, is obsessed with football and shares my dad’s extremely narrow view about what constitutes a ‘real man’. James is another two years older than Nick, and is also a black belt at judo, has represented England in tournaments (he’s being tipped to compete at the Tokyo Olympics) and isn’t shy about demonstrating his skills on his younger brother… Or any of his younger cousins. Any of his MALE younger cousins, anyway- he wouldn’t dare touch any of my sisters. Or, for that matter, his younger sister Zara (Nick’s twin), whose existence dad conveniently forgot about.

Sure enough, when we arrive at my great-grandparents’ house, the three teenagers are already there- and before I can exchange a single word with Zara, I’m all but literally dragged away by James and Nick- and before we sit down, I can already feel my brain numbing from Nick’s incessant chatter.

“…No way Leicester will even win a single game in the Champion’s League group stage,” Nick insists. “Hell, I’ll be surprised if they even score any goals. Vardy is overrated, he’s never played in Europe, trust me, they’ll bomb.”

“Vardy is not overrated!” James snorts. “His England games have proved that, right Ash?”

“Umm… Yeah, I guess,” I say, trying to hide the fact that I didn’t watch a single game of the recent European Championships.

“Oh, what?” Nick snorts. “Trust me, Leicester will be lucky if they even stay up this season!”

“You’re only saying that as you’re a Spurs fan!” James retorts, before feigning an attack toward his brother, which makes Nick flinch and James nearly laugh his head off.

“Better that than a QPR fan!” Nick laughs, giving me a playful shove.

“Better that than a fucking ballet dancer!” James snorts, feigning an attack toward me that I don’t dodge in time, leading to me groaning in pain as the larger boy pins my shoulder to the ground.

“Hey!” An adult- presumably the boys’ father- half-laughs, half-yells at James. “Leave Ash alone!” James laughs as he lets me up, his laughter only increasing in volume as I straighten my clothes.

“Seriously, Ash,” James snorts. “Why DO you dance? And don’t say it’s to get girls, as there are better ways of doing that than prancing around like a poof!”

“I enjoy it,” I shrug. “It keeps me fit, and yes, it IS a good way to get girls.”

“Even though all of these supposed ‘girls’ aren’t actually girls!” Nick laughs. “Seriously, why do they still let that Laura PERSON prance around your school in a skirt?”

“If she wants to be a girl, I don’t see why she shouldn’t be,” I shrug. God knows what your reaction would be if you found out I was supposedly going out with her… I think to myself.

“Umm, well A- she has a dick,” James snorts. “And B- and I can’t make this any clearer- SHE HAS A DICK.”

“People live their life as a different gender all the time,” I retort.

“Why are you sticking up for it?” Nick sneers. “You’re not gonna suddenly go queer, are you?”

“Well- no,” I mumble, suddenly realising just how outnumbered I am. “Just, you know, playing devil’s advocate…”

“You know,” James laughs with a cruel smile on his face, “all the people at my school called ‘Ashley’ are girls…”

“Oh come on,” I plead. “I didn’t name myself, did I?”

“Everybody!” Grandpa Alan announces, silencing the crowd and thankfully bringing an end to my ‘interrogation’. “We’re all here right now because eighty years ago today, a child was born, who would grow up to become everybody’s favourite old fart!” I giggle as great-grandpa Greg- the birthday ‘boy’- gives Grandpa Alan a playful whack with his walking stick. “Dad, for the last 57 years, it has been a privilege to be your son, and I know everyone in this room feels the same way. Happy birthday dad!”

“Happy birthday!” Everyone cheers, myself included. I take the opportunity provided by the toast to separate myself from James and Nick’s company, quickly seeking out my cousin Zara, but before I can speak to her, I find myself again being dragged away, this time by Grandpa Alan.

“Come on, Ash,” Grandpa Alan says with a much less jovial voice than when he toasted great-grandpa Greg. “Your great-grandfather wants photos with you and your cousins. He wants a photo of his great-grandsons first, and like it or not, that includes you.” I grimace as grandpa Alan lines me up alongside James, Nick and my other male second cousins, whilst great-grandpa Greg cradles Eddy in his arms.

After I came out- again- to my parents, the next natural step was to come out to the rest of my family. My grandparents were next on the list… And whilst they didn’t exactly take it well, it wasn’t the total disaster I was expecting. They listened to what I had to say, took it all onboard and asked what would ultimately happen to me.

That question was, of course, answered by dad, who assured them that nothing was going to happen to me, that I would grow up as a boy and eventually live my life as a man, and that I’m only going through a ‘phase’. My grandparents openly accepted this explanation, but even I could tell they weren’t 100% convinced. They all either knew Laura or knew of her, and knew that an urge such as mine doesn’t simply vanish- if anything, it gets stronger the older you get. I almost asked if I could go and live with my grandparents, as a girl, but I knew that wasn’t an option- I’d have had to move schools, moving away from my friends- who are a very large part of my wanting to be a girl in the first place- and dad would still likely forbid me from seeing any of my sisters until he deemed that they were ready for the information, and knowing dad, that wouldn’t be until they turn sixteen.

As I pose with my sisters and female cousins for the next photo with my great-grandfather, I realise just how great a sacrifice that would be. Ten years without seeing Cassie’s smiling face or hearing her happy laugh? That’d be almost as painful as ten years without being a girl.

“Okay,” Grandpa Alan says as he flicks through photos on his digital camera. “Any more photos and I’ll fill the whole internet, heh. Yes, kids, that means you can go and have fun again.” I force yet another fake smile onto my face as I’m once again dragged off by James and Nick for another hour of football talk and ambushes, before mum and dad finally, mercifully announce that we’re going home. I barely have time to say a quick ‘bye’ to my cousins, safe in the knowledge that it could be months, if not years before I see them again, before getting into the back seat of our people carrier and breathing a long sigh of relief.

“Did you all have fun with your cousins today?” Dad asks once we’re all in the car.

“Yes!” Cassie cheers. “Zara is so beautiful! Did you know that she’s on her school’s swimming team?”

“That whole side of the family’s sport mad,” dad says. “Zara’s brothers are both big into their sport, aren’t they, Ash?”

“Huh?” I say. “Umm, yeah, I guess…”

“Why don’t you do any sports at school, Ash?” Bryony asks. Thanks, sis… I think to myself as I grimace.

“Well, um,” I reply. “I’m too busy most of the time, what with, you know, dancing and acting…”

“But they’re girl things,” Bryony says, making my internal scream get louder and louder.

“She’s got a point, Ash,” dad says, causing me to bite my lip in frustration.

“No she doesn’t,” mum instantly retorts, easing my stress. “Bryony, there’s nothing wrong with a boy who wants to dance and act instead of playing sports, and at the same time, there’s nothing wrong with a girl who wants to play a ‘boy’s sport’ like football.”

“Huh,” Bryony muses. “It’s just that Zara said that boys who dance instead of playing sports aren’t really boys at all…” Yeah, if only it were that easy, I think to myself.

“Well she’s wrong,” mum says confidently, silencing my sister.

“Well I think boys who dance and act are great!” Cassie cheers, making me smile once again. Why is it that the younger kids are, the more understanding they are, but as they get older, like James, Nick and now- much to my dismay- Bryony, they turn into closed-minded idiots?

Fortunately, when I arrive home and switch on my tablet computer, I’m reminded that some teenagers are open-minded and friendly- and six of them are engaged in a Skype call that I eagerly join.

“Hey girlies!” I squeak in my most feminine voice to the webcam feeds on my screen.

“Hey Ashley!” The girls all reply.

“How was the big family reunion?” Laura asks.

“Ugh,” I spit, making the girls all giggle and sigh.

“That bad, huh?” Priya asks.

“It’s my mum’s side of the family,” I explain, “but they’re all like my dad, especially my cousins.”

“That really sucks,” Harriet sighs. “Why do people feel the need to comment on every damned thing, like, try to force everyone to think the way they do…”

“People like that should be in prison,” Laura spits, and knowing what she went through at the hands of her father- who is in prison as a consequence of his actions- it’s hard to argue. “You know Ash, a year ago we’d all be saying ‘tell your parents’ like that would magically make it all better… Some advice that turned out to be.”

“No, I’m still glad I did tell them,” I say. “If I hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t be spending the whole of tomorrow wearing a cute dress round at Harriet’s house, heh.”

“Or the whole of a day last week wearing a miniskirt and platform sandals!” Megan reminds me.

“Or spent a morning last week wearing a girl’s one-piece to the local pool!” Suri giggles, making me remember the truly nerve-wracking experience as the girls accompanied me into the changing rooms and ‘shielded’ myself and Laura as we changed into and out of our swimsuits. Fortunately, as it was early morning, the pool was relatively empty, but there were still enough people around to make me worry that I’d be ‘found out’ at any moment.

“So yeah,” I giggle. “I’m happier now than I was this time last year… Still not really where I want to be, though.”

“You’ll get there,” Laura confidently says. “Once you get your diagnosis, they’ll be forced to treat you as the girl you really are.”

“In theory, anyway,” I sigh. “Come on… Talk about something girly, please! I need cheering up!”

“Cheerful and girly it is!” Suri giggles, before launching into a speech about one of her new skirts that just makes my stresses melt away.

Even though I’m still dressed in my smart clothes, when I immerse myself in girl chat like I’m doing now, it’s almost like I’m having an out of body experience- or rather, out of my boy’s body and into that of a girl. Laura’s often spoken of the occasions early in her transition when she was able to forget that she’d ever been a boy, and how it was those occasions that convinced her that her decision to transition was 100% the right one. I’ve been experiencing those ‘moments’ very frequently over the last few months, with each subsequent moment last longer than the previous one. If only I could have the body that matched my mind…

I opt for an early night, wanting to save my energy ahead of tomorrow, and as I dress in my boy’s pyjamas, I try my hardest to have another ‘out of body experience’ and imagine that I’m dressed in one of the loose nightdresses that my friends will inevitably be wearing. However, no matter what ‘technique’ I try, nothing works- and when I wake up in the morning to find a sticky patch on the front of my pyjamas, it just hammers home even harder the fact that I am not a girl. Well, not yet, anyway…

After breakfast, I head upstairs to change into a plain pair of jeans and a grey t-shirt. The stress this normally causes me is absent today, though, as these ugly boy’s clothes do a good job of disguising the lace-trimmed girl’s vest and panties I’m wearing underneath, and within fifteen minutes of arriving at Harriet’s house, my jeans and t-shirt have been exchanged for a loose, knee-length summer dress. After the girls apply my make-up (which, as ever, they take great delight in doing), all traces of ‘boy Ashley’ are gone (for now, anyway), and I can finally start being the real me.

“The magnificent seven ballerinas!” Harriet cheers, prompting all of us to pull an elegant, girlish pose. “And as it’s my house, today there will be NO boys, and no talk of anything boyish either!”

“Suits me jussssssst fine!” I say, prompting a mass giggle.

“God, I can’t believe a week today, we’ll be back at school,” Nicole sighs.

“I can’t believe that a year today, I’ll have finished school forever,” Priya laughs.

“Do you know yet what you’ll be doing at college?” Megan asks the fifteen year old girl.

“Heh, I knew when I was eight,” Priya sighs. “Or at least I was told when I was eight. Gonna be an accountant, or a banker, or something to do with economics…”

“Ugh, WHY don’t you just tell daddy that you don’t want to work with money?” Suriya moans, clearly frustrated with her sister.

“Because then he’ll ask me what I DO want to do,” Priya sighs.

“He might help you, assist you in deciding what you want to do,” Laura whispers.

“Yeah,” Suri says. “The first step is to talk, to get the truth out there. Ask Ashley, Laura or Harriet if you don’t believe me!”

“Absolutely,” Harriet says with a smug, defiant smile. “Gay and proud!”

“Girl and proud!” I cheer, with Laura quickly echoing me.

“’Not accountant and proud’ doesn’t have the same ring to it,” Priya says.

“It does to you,” Harriet shrugs. “And if- no, WHEN you tell your dad, we’ll all be there for you, like you were for me, Ash, and Laura, right?”

“Of course!” The five of us all giggle.

“…Kinda pointless now that I’m in the second year of my GCSEs,” Priya sighs. “…But I really appreciate the gesture.”

“Trust me,” Harriet says softly. “It’ll be a HUGE weight off your shoulders.” I smile as Harriet speaks- if it wasn’t for her courage in coming out to her parents (especially her dad, who might be even worse than mine), I’d never have had the courage to come out myself, and just like I feel so much ‘freer’ since coming out, Harriet’s a completely changed person as well.

As I’m a year younger than the other girls (and 2 years younger than Priya), I wasn’t around during Laura & co’s first year at secondary school, but from what I understand, Laura’s relationship with Harriet was difficult to say the least. Harriet was living with her deeply transphobic and homophobic father, who apparently coerced her into bullying Laura and her friends out of fear of reprisals at home if she didn’t. Eventually, Harriet found the strength to stand up to her father, and now lives full-time with her mother, barely having any contact with her father. Even after this change, though, Harriet would often be reserved, sometimes timid- and looking back, it’s easy to see why.

Now, however, Harriet is loud, proud and assertive, and doesn’t care who knows that she’s gay. Obviously, this earned her some teasing at school- unfair teasing, of course, but as I know all too well, that’s just the way of the world- but it was quickly made clear that anyone bullying Harriet for being gay would be punished just as severely as anyone who bullied Laura for being trans. Harriet is still currently single, unfortunately- but she at least doesn’t have the rest of us constantly trying to set her up with any boys we know she’ll immediately reject! Laura even offered to ‘share’ me with Harriet- but obviously, only when I’m ‘girl Ashley’- and even though I said I’d be okay with this, Harriet declined, insisting that she’ll be able to find the girl of her dreams herself.

“So, Ash,” Megan asks, stopping my attention from wandering further. “What are you doing for your GCSEs next year?”

“Umm… Not 100% sure yet,” I say. “Almost definitely drama and English lit, probably history and geography. Definitely NOT PE!”

“Good girl!” Harriet giggles, making me smile and blush at the use of the word ‘girl’. “Though if your PE lessons consisted of wearing a tennis dress or a stretchy gymnastics leotard?”

“…Might be tempted,” I say, prompting yet another mass giggle.

“Aah, wish I’d brought some of my old leos along now,” Laura sighs. “Mum’s really furious ‘cause I grew out of all my old ones last year so I need more… Not that any of my old ones would fit Ash, hehe!”

“It’s okay,” I shrug. “I’ve got plenty of my own anyway!”

“It’s so cool that your mum does that for you,” Nicole sighs. “And she should look at it this way- when you start wearing only girl’s clothes and you grow out of them, you can hand them down to your sisters!”

“Doesn’t your sister start secondary school this year?” Megan asks me, to which I shake my head.

“Next September,” I say. “Same as Nicole’s sister.”

“They’ve already got a little ‘gang’ going at their ballet class,” Nicole giggles. “It’s so cute…”

“Aww, wouldn’t it be so cute if they could, you know, help a girl like Ash or Laura?” Suri asks. “I mean, you know, be their ‘posse’ like we are…”

“Assuming dad doesn’t explode at the thought of Bryony learning that transgendered people exist,” I spit.

“Oh- Bryony’s even more mature than you are!” Suri snorts. “You could come out to her tomorrow and she’d barely bat an eyelid.”

“She wouldn’t, no,” I say. “Dad would probably ship me off to a military school or something…”

“Well then the six of us would just have to rescue you, wouldn’t we?” Harriet asks, making me smile and blush yet again.

“You know,” I say, “I really, really treasure this time we have together. If it wasn’t for the six of you… God knows where, who or even what I’d be right now. Frustrated out of my skull probably, heh.”

“Seems to me that the more ‘girl time’ you have the better!” Nicole giggles.

“You really have NO idea,” I say. “Well, apart from you, Laura.”

“Heh,” Laura giggles as her own cheeks redden. “You know, Ash, sometimes you make me feel really guilty. I- um, I don’t mean that in a bad way, I’m not blaming you, but-“

“I get it,” I whisper, leading to an awkward silence.

“Mum!” Harriet suddenly yells, startling the rest of us. “Can we have a sleepover tonight? All seven of us?”

“Se- seven?” I ask. “Are you sure-“

“Of course,” Harriet’s mother replies before I have a chance to finish my question. “As long as it’s okay with your friends’ parents. ALL of their parents.” No prizes for guessing what- and who- she’s referring to there, I think to myself. Before I have the chance to speak again, though, all of the other girls besides Harriet have taken out their phones and dialled their parents’ numbers.

“Go on,” Harriet urges me with a cheeky smile. “Your mum should be home, shouldn’t she?”

“Umm, yeah,” I say, taking my phone out of my dress’s pocket and dialling my home number. However, when the line is answered, it’s not my mum on the other end, but my father, which instantly puts a grimace on my face.

“Hello?” Dad asks.

“Hi dad,” I say, trying to make my voice as androgynous as possible. “I’m, um, I’m at Harriet’s today…”

“Yes, I know what you’re doing today,” dad sighs. “What do you want, Ash?”

“Well, umm…” I stammer. “Can- can I talk to mum, please?”

“Whatever it is you need, you can ask me,” dad says. Yeah, right… I think to myself.

“Umm… Harriet’s having a sleepover,” I say.

“And you need me to come and pick you up,” dad assumes. “Sure, I can be there in half an hour?”

“Umm, actually…” I say, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Harriet’s- Harriet’s asked me to stay for the sleepover too. Her mum says it’s okay-“

“Ash- no, just no,” dad sighs. “You can’t stay for the sleepover and you know perfectly well why you can’t!”

“But- but Harriet’s mum says it’s okay,” I plead.

“So does mine,” Laura interjects.

“And our dad too,” Priya says.

“My mum’s okay with it,” Megan says.

“So’s my dad,” Nicole says.

“…That’s everyone else’s parents,” I say expectantly.

“Well YOUR parent is saying no,” dad says firmly, anger creeping into his voice. “Get changed back into your normal clothes, Ash, I’m coming to pick you up.” I blink back tears as the call ends, and my friends immediately surround me, giving me a tight hug.

“That really, really sucks,” Harriet sighs.

“No offence, Ash,” Nicole says, “I mean, I know he’s your dad, but- what an arsehole! Especially after our parents gave it the go-ahead!”

“I bet if you were sixteen and he thought you were having sex with all of us, he’d be okay with it,” Suri spits.

“Probably,” I sigh. “I doubt my mum would…” My voice trails off as a light bulb switches on in my mind. With my friends looking on in confusion, I take my phone back out of my pocket and dial a different number- the number for my mum’s mobile phone, which she answers after the second ring.

“Hello Ash!” Mum says cheerfully. “Are you having fun at Harriet’s?”

“I am, yes,” I laugh. “Mum, umm…”

“Is this about what you were talking to your father about?” Mum asks, making my face fall.

“Yes…” I sigh. “All the other girls’ parents are okay with it-“

“I’ll talk to your father,” mum says. “Those six girls are the best friends you ever had, and if their parents are okay with you staying over, then I’m okay with it too.”

“R-really?” I ask, my hands shaking with excitement. “But- but dad-“

“I said I’ll speak to him,” mum laughs. “Don’t worry about him, Ashley. You just have fun with your friends. I’ll be by to pick you up tomorrow morning. Will you be able to borrow a nightie from one of the girls?”

“Umm… I’m kinda gonna need a nightie,” I say to the other girls, all of whom raise their hands.

“I’ll get mum to bring a spare one for you!” Laura giggles. “This is gonna be so AWESOME!”

“Okay,” I laugh. “I’ll, um, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, mum.”

“I’ll see you then,” mum says, before ending the call.

“This is so cool!” Harriet squeaks as she gives me a tight hug. “All seven of us for the first time ever!”

“First time of many!” Suri giggles happily. “Well, until uni, anyway…”

“Just means we’ll have to pack as much as we can into the time we have!” Priya laughs.

“And first things first,” Harriet says, grabbing my hand, “let’s get some colour on MISS Moore’s fingernails!” I giggle and squeak with excitement as Harriet and the other girls drag me to her dressing table, where all ten of my nails are coated with a metallic pink colour that makes my heart flutter every time I catch sight of them. The other girls, of course, all paint their nails as well- Laura and Nicole paint theirs a glamorous red colour, Priya, Suriya and Megan all go for a glossy black colour, whilst Harriet paints her nails in a shocking green!

After the manicure, we spend the rest of the evening gossiping, listening to music, dancing (including yet more pre-pointe exercises for me) and playing with make-up- all things that make me happier with every passing second. As the evening turns into night, I feel occasional twinges of panic that my dad will show up at any second to drag me away from this feminine paradise I’ve found myself in, but the later it gets, the more I realise it’s not going to happen, and by the time I’ve changed into Laura’s plain yellow nightdress and climbed into Harriet’s sleeping bag, I feel completely relaxed, totally at ease with being just another one of the girls.

When I wake up the following morning, I have a moment of panic as I find myself in an unfamiliar room, before the sight of my pretty pink fingernails remind me of where- and more importantly, who- I am. A second moment of panic washes over me as I feel my panties bunch up underneath my nightdress, as recent nights have seen more than one 'accident', though as I feel the front of panties, I'm surprised- not to mention relieved- to find them bone dry. I'm not aroused from being where, what and who I am- I'm not even excited. I feel... Comfortable. Like this is exactly who I'm meant to be.

After a quick breakfast with the other six girls, I head back to Harriet's room, where I sit down in front of her dresser with a heavy sigh.

“This is so stupid,” Laura complains as she helps me remove my make-up and nail polish. “Your parents know about the real you, so what if you go home wearing nail polish?”

“If only,” I sigh. “Dad would go berserk- huh, he’s probably going to go berserk anyway. It’s so frustrating, he’s constantly watching me, if I’m feminine in any way he has a go at me, and if I’m feminine around my sisters…”

“Ugh,” Laura spits. “Sounds almost as bad as my dad…”

“I wouldn’t go THAT far,” I say. “Hopefully when I get my diagnosis, it’ll give him an attitude adjustment.”

“God knows he needs it,” Laura sighs as the last of my make-up is removed and I pull my jeans and t-shirt back on. “I’ll see you tonight at ballet, okay?”

“Sure,” I say, holding out my arm for Laura to give her traditional cuddle.

“Ehh…” Laura half-grimaces, half-giggles. “Kinda hard to cuddle that arm when I just saw you slide a bra strap down it, hehe! Besides, you don’t need an ‘excuse’ to hang out with us, not now that George and Megan are going out, you can just say you’re hanging out with us through him.”

“…Do you just want a REAL boyfriend?” I tease, making Laura stick her tongue out at me.

“Maybe,” the blonde-haired girl shrugs, before giggling and giving me a gentle, friendly hug. “Come on, your mum’s here.” I smile sadly as I follow Laura downstairs to where mum is waiting in her car, and after dropping off my now ex-fake-girlfriend, we head home- where, as I dreaded, dad is waiting with a look of pure fury on his face.

“You know,” dad snarls, “When I said you couldn’t stay overnight at Harriet’s, I DIDN’T mean ‘call mum to get her permission’!”

“Where is the problem?” I plead. “No one was hurt, I had fun-“

“Don’t. Talk. Back to me!” Dad replies, barely keeping his voice below a shout.

“Andrew,” mum says calmly. “No one was hurt by this. I called all of Ashley’s friend’s parents and they were fine with Ashley attending the sleepover as a girl.” I briefly look around the living room for any trace of my sisters, but unsurprisingly, they’re nowhere to be seen. I doubt mum would speak so openly about the ‘real me’ if they were in the room…

“Well I’m not!” Dad growls.

“Andrew,” mum says in a soothing voice. “You need to accept the fact that Ashley may very well have gender dysphoria. If Ashley is diagnosed… We’ll have to let her live as a girl.”

“You’re acting like HE’s already got the diagnosis!” Dad yells, and my stomach begins to knot as my parents’ argument intensifies. “It’s not normal for thirteen year old boys to turn around and say ‘I want to be a girl’!”

“You heard what Doctor Phillips said when we talked to her in May,” mum retorts. “Just because it isn’t normal doesn’t mean it’s necessarily wrong!”

“And if- IF- Ashley gets the diagnosis,” dad says, “what are we supposed to tell his sisters?”

“We’ve been over this,” mum sighs. “We sit them down and explain it to them calmly and rationally. Frankly, Andrew, I reckon they’ll handle Ashley’s change a lot better and with a lot more maturity than you will!”

“Ashley- go to your room,” dad growls. I meekly nod and head upstairs as the muffled sounds of the argument continue underneath me. Normally, when I’m alone like this, I’d take the opportunity to return to being my girl self, but following my marathon session over the last 24 hours, I’m not feeling the ‘urge’ as badly- and it’s a good thing too, as after just ten minutes, I hear a quiet knock come from my bedroom door.

“Come in,” I sigh, before immediately perking up at the sight of my second youngest sister.

“Ashley…” Cassie moans as she climbs up onto my bed. “Are mum and dad arguing again?”

“They’re just having a little disagreement,” I say, giving the tiny girl a gentle cuddle.

“Did- did I do something wrong?” Cassie sniffles.

“No, of course you didn’t!” I say, turning the cuddle into a full-fledged hug. “It- it’s me that done something wrong.”

“How can you do anything wrong?” Cassie asks. “You’re a superhero!” I giggle for the first time since returning home, bringing the beautiful smile back to my sister’s face.

“I’m hardly a superhero,” I laugh.

“You are!” Cassie insists. “You’re a superhero, and Laura’s a girl superhero!”

“Ah,” I grimace. “Umm… Laura and I, we- we’re not boyfriend and girlfriend anymore.”

“Are you fighting as well?” Cassie asks, her face suddenly falling.

“No, no, we’re still friends,” I say.

“Then you’re also superheroes!” Cassie cheers.

“I guess,” I laugh. “Cassie… Do- do you know what the, um, the word ‘transgender’ means?”

“Trans- trans-“ Cassie stammers, before shaking her head.

“…Never mind,” I say, thinking better than to try to explain the word to the five year old girl and no doubt make dad even angrier.

“I- I think they’ve stopping arguing,” Cassie mumbles as the living room quietens down. “Ashley… Can you come down with me, please?”

“Of course,” I say, taking my sister’s hand and leading her down the stairs, where the tiny girl giggles happily and gives dad a long, tight hug.”

“Easy, easy!” Dad laughs, before fixing me with a tired stare- a stare that’s thankfully devoid of his earlier anger, but still lacking any of the love he used to have for me. Silently, mum head toward the kitchen, and I take her cue and follow her, letting out a long, pained moan as I sit down next to her.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” mum whispers as she gives me a hug and I let tears freely flow from my eyes.

“I- I’m sorry I made you argue,” I sniffle.

“No you didn’t make us argue!” Mum insists. “Don’t you ever dare be sorry for being who you want to be. And being a girl- that is truly what you want to be, isn’t it?”

“I’m more and more sure of it every day,” I say. “I’ve never been happier than I was last night.”

“You WILL get that diagnosis, Ashley,” mum says, giving me another very welcome hug. “In the meantime, you just have to give your dad a little time. He WILL come round and accept you as his daughter. I won’t give him any other choice!”

“In my dreams,” I moan.

“He’s just being a little stubborn, that’s all,” mum says.

“A little!?” I retort, making mum laugh.

“Okay, maybe a lot,” mum says. “He always thought that you and he would be a true team, a real father and son unit like he was with his dad… He’s going to have to learn that what you want comes first. And he WILL learn that.”

“He still has a point about Bryony, Cassie and Dorothy, though,” I say.

“Only in that we need to approach THAT carefully,” mum says. “He seems to think that it’ll be impossible to make them understand. It won’t. They’ll love their big sister just as much as their big brother.”

“But- but what if I don’t get the diagnosis?” I ask.

“Stop focussing on the worst case scenario,” mum says. “Any idiot can see what makes you happiest. To a trained doctor, it’ll be blindingly obvious.”

“Well… Okay,” I sigh.

“Now go on,” mum laughs. “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, you’ve got ballet this evening!” I smile as I head back upstairs to my room, avoiding dad’s gaze, and spend the rest of the afternoon browsing the internet or chatting with my friends on Facebook, before the time comes to change into my tight white t-shirt and black leggings.

As always, when I arrive at the dance studio, I feel a twinge of envy as I see all the girls arriving in their soft pink tights and their tight black leotards, though as with every lesson I’ve had since my birthday, mum is on hand to make me feel better.

“That’ll be you in a few months,” mum whispers, before heading home and leaving me in the company of my friends, who all whisper the same thing to me as they attach their ballet slippers to their feet and tie their hair into tight buns. The girls have been giving me the same encouragement for as long as I can remember, though coming from mum, it somehow means so much more.

The lesson goes smoothly, as always. All the girls look so elegant as they dance en pointe, especially Laura and Suriya, who have secured solo roles in one of the class’s regular productions, and will soon be dancing on stage wearing a big, extravagant tutu and thick stage make-up. I’ll be dancing on stage too, performing a pas de deux with one of the other girls in the class (an older girl named Brooke), but my costume will be considerably less beautiful than the girls’. That doesn’t stop me from enjoying the additional tuition Mademoiselle Renou gives me after the lesson, though, especially the pre-pointe exercises. Miss Fullerton and Mademoiselle Renou have even hinted that they may choreograph a male pointe solo for me to perform- though even this won’t be the same as wearing a tutu like the other girls.

“You are SO talented,” Laura says, giving me a gentle hug as we leave the studio. “I can’t wait to see you in a tutu!”

“Yeah,” Suriya laughs. “I really hope that Mademoiselle Renou or Miss Fullerton can make a performance for all seven of us GIRLS to do!”

“That can be arranged,” Miss Fullerton giggles as she passes us en route to her office. “Get practising on those exercises, Ash… One way or another I WILL get you into pointe shoes within the next six months!”

“Can do,” I laugh, before heading out to my lift home.

“Hi Sean,” Laura says as she climbs into her mother’s boyfriend’s car. “Hi Lily!” Laura giggles as the young girl- Sean’s daughter- happily waves at her.

“Thank you for the lift home, Mr. Ruddock,” I say to the middle-aged man.

“You’re welcome, Ash!” Mr. Ruddock cheerfully replies. “Did you two enjoy your dance lesson?”

“It was AWESOME as always,” Laura laughs. “Especially as we’re really getting into practice for the show.”

“Ah,” Mr. Ruddock laughs. “Should’ve guessed you’d really only be interested in the tutus!”

“Not JUST the tutu,” Laura retorts. “There’s also the tights, the pointe shoes, the tiara, the make-up…”

“Heh, bet you never thought you’d get to wear ANY of that when you were Lily’s age!” Mr. Ruddock says, bringing a quizzical expression to my face.

“Umm…” I say.

“Laura used to be a boy called ‘Leon’,” Lily explains. “Didn’t you know that?”

“Umm, I did,” I say. “I’m just kinda surprised you knew that, that’s all… No offence, but- but how old-“

“Lily’s nine,” Mr. Ruddock says. “That’s more than old enough to understand that some people are simply born the wrong gender, and choose to live their lives as the opposite gender.”

“Well- okay, I guess…” I say. I know someone who’d disagree with you… I think to myself.

“I also know that some people aren’t allowed to live their lives that way,” Lily says. “Don’t worry, Ashley, you’ll get to be a girl soon. I actually think you’d make a beautiful girl, just like Laura.” My jaw drops as I’m paid one of the best compliments of my life from probably the most unexpected source.

“Umm…” I mumble. “…Thanks?”

“You’re welcome!” Lily says with a smug voice.

“Fancy that, Ash,” Laura giggles. “A nine year old girl’s more mature than a thirty-five year old man!”

“I don’t suppose you could have a word with my dad, could you?” I ask with a laugh.

“I’m probably not the best person to talk to there,” Mr. Ruddock says, “but if you really want me to I can have a word., I suppose.”

“Ehh… I’ll think about it,” I say as the car pulls up outside my house. “Thanks for the lift, Mr. Ruddock.”

“You’re very welcome, Ashley!” The grinning man says before pulling away.

As I enter my home, I see that dad’s deeply engrossed in his TV show, to the extent that he doesn’t even make eye contact with me as I walk past the living room en route to the stairs. How can a man who’s only known me for ten minutes seem more like a father to me than my own father?

After reaching my room, I strip off my dancewear, before opening one of my drawers and staring at its beautiful contents- more dancewear, but completely unlike the clothes I’d just stripped off. I smile happily as I stretch a pair of soft pink tights up my legs, before stepping into a shiny black tank leotard and tying a pair of shiny satin ballet slippers to my feet with ribbons. After applying a tiny amount of make-up- just some eyeliner and mascara- I pin my hair back, wrap a flimsy dance skirt around my waist and practise the same steps I’d practised mere minutes ago under the careful eye of Mademoiselle Renou.

Of course, my ‘lesson’ only lasts about minutes before I’m forced to strip off my beautiful dancewear, putting my tights in the wash and returning my leotard and skirt to my drawer, but even this short amount of time is enough to ease my stresses, especially as the fantasy of being able to wear it on a more regular basis is getting more real with every passing day.

And yet, as I wake up the following morning, I can’t help but feel the usual amount of misery and frustration as I pull on my usual jeans and t-shirt- a reminder that however closer I’m getting to fulfilling my dream, it’s still not yet within reach.

Even worse, today is the day mum’s set aside for getting our new school uniform, meaning that I get to go around the vast uniform store with Bryony and watch her try on skirts, blouses and cardigans for her final year of primary school, all the while remembering just how envious I was of the girls as I sat staring at them in my dull grey trousers- two pairs of which, in my size, also go into mum’s shopping bags, along with 5 white shirts with the buttons on the right-hand side. After our shopping trip, we head to a nearby McDonald’s for lunch- though I don’t feel particularly hungry.

“Miss Fullerton says the fast food isn’t good for you,” Bryony says as she picks away at her Happy Meal.

“Well, it’s not too bad for you as a treat every now and again,” mum says. “Aren’t you hungry either, Ashley?”

“Not really,” I say- and it’s obvious from mum’s smile that she knows exactly why I’m miserable. “You know, Laura hates McDonald’s…”

“I thought you weren’t going out with her anymore?” Bryony asks.

“I’m not,” I say. “We’re still friends though.”

“Why does she hate McDonald’s?” Bryony asks. “Is it because she thinks it’s not good for you either? Because she’s probably right.”

“No, it’s because of her dad…” I say, trailing off as I realise that I’m giving Bryony way more information than she needs to know. Then again, Lily probably knows about Laura and her history with her father, and she’s even younger than Bryony…

“What about her dad?” Bryony asks.

“Bryony…” I say, looking cautiously at mum before continuing. “Do you- do you know what the word ‘transgender’ means?” I look at mum again, expecting to be told off for my question, only for her to nod approvingly at both me and my sister.

“I think so,” Bryony says. “Is that where someone’s a boy, but thinks they’re a girl? Or they’re a girl, but think they’re a boy?”

“Ehh… Sort-of,” I say. “It’s where someone was born as a boy or a girl, but they choose to live their life as the opposite. Say, they were born a boy, but choose to live their life as a girl.”

“Huh, okay,” Bryony shrugs, making my jaw drop at her nonchalant reaction to the news that people live their lives as the opposite gender. “What does this have to do with Laura and her dad?”

“Laura…” I say hesitantly, fearing dad’s reaction when he finds out about this ‘chat’.

“Laura is transgendered,” mum says boldly. “When she was born, she was a boy called ‘Leon’, but at the start of secondary school, she started living as a girl.”

“Huh,” Bryony says. “Okay. Didn’t her dad like that, or something?”

“Umm, no,” I say.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” mum says, intervening. “What’s important is that Laura is now a girl, and always will be.”

“Okay,” Bryony shrugs.

“…And Ashley feels the same way,” mum says, nearly making me choke on my burger.

“Really?” Bryony asks, looking at me with confusion in her eyes. “Ashley, do you wish you were a girl?”

“Yes,” I say, my heart racing. “Yes, I do.”

“Why?” Bryony asks, her question asked out of curiosity and not containing any judgemental overtones.

“Imagine if you were forced to live your life as a boy,” I explain. “Imagine if you were told you could never wear dresses, or make-up, or go to ballet, but you had to play rugby and football instead.”

“Ugh,” Bryony spits. “That sounds horrible.”

“It does,” I nod. “And that’s how I feel.”

“But you ARE a boy,” Bryony says, making me inwardly sigh- this will always, always be the one hurdle that some people can’t get over. Please, Bryony, be as smart as they say you are…

“But I don’t FEEL like a boy,” I say. “I don’t want to be a boy, and every second of every day, I wish I’d been born a girl. That’s why I only have girl friends, why I don’t play rugby or football.”

“Huh,” Bryony says. “Okay.”

“You- you understand what I’m explaining, right?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Bryony says. “You were born a boy, but you want to be a girl instead, just like Laura.”

“Yes,” mum says with a proud smile. “That’s exactly it.”

“So…” Bryony asks. “Why doesn’t Ashley start living as a girl?” It’s all I can do not to give my sister a big hug and dance around the restaurant as she asks the most important question of them all.

“Well,” mum says, hesitating herself for the first time in this conversation. “It’s- it’s not quite as simple as that, Bryony.”

“But why not?” Bryony asks. “Laura lives her life as a girl.” My smile grows wider as my sister protests, especially as mum doesn’t have an answer for her- an answer that doesn’t implicate our father, anyway.

“We have to see a doctor first,” I say. “If they give the say-so, then I can start taking a medicine that will slowly turn me into a proper girl. It’s the type of medicine that Laura takes.”

“Huh, okay,” Bryony says for what seems like the millionth time this meal.

“You- you wouldn’t miss me?” I ask. “I mean, if I changed into a girl…”

“Why would I miss you?” Bryony asks. “You’re not going anywhere, you’re just living differently.” I actually have to blink back tears as Bryony takes the news of my transgendered status completely in her stride.

“Bryony,” mum says softly, “I’m very proud of you for the way you reacted to your brother’s news. You behaved very maturely.”

“Thanks,” Bryony says with a smug smile on her face, as a knowing smile also creeps across our mother’s.

“You know,” mum says, “I don’t think we’re done shopping for school uniform JUST yet…”

I’m barely able to contain my excitement when I return home an hour later and immediately run up the stairs to my bedroom, where I carefully hang up my new uniform. And when I say ‘uniform’, I of course DON’T mean the trousers and shirts mum bought, but rather the knee-length pleated grey skirts, soft white blouses, girl’s blazer, thick grey tights and tiny black ballerina flats that mum bought during our second shopping trip. It’s all I can do not to strip off my clothes and pull on my uniform right now, but mum was quite clear that this uniform is only ever to be worn to and from school- especially as in years to come, it’ll be handed down to my sisters in the same way that my other clothes weren’t.

Later that evening, I beam with pride as I open my wardrobe to show Laura and Harriet the new clothing hidden within.

“Your. Mum. Is so. AWESOME!” Laura squeaks as she gently strokes the thick material of the skirt- even though she’s worn an identical skirt to school for the whole of the past three years.

“I never thought I’d be so excited to see a school uniform!” Harriet giggles, even though she’s been wearing said uniform for the last NINE years.

“Really?” I say, gesturing to the loose skirt and t-shirt I’m currently wearing. “More attention to the clothes I’m NOT wearing?”

“Oh- sorry, Ash!” Laura giggles. “It’s just, you know- there’s a very, very real chance you’ll be wearing this uniform, like, for real!”

“…I know what you mean,” I giggle as I join in the admiration of the skirt. “But that isn’t even the coolest thing to come out of today!”

“What could possibly be cooler than this?” Laura asks.

“Well…” I say with a coy smile as I open my bedroom door and Bryony walks in, looking understandably nervous to be surrounded by three teenaged girls.

“Oh, so cool!” Laura squeaks. “Hey, Bryony!”

“Hi, Laura,” my sister nervously says as she sits down on my bed next to me and my friends. “Hi Harriet.”

“Hi Bryony!” Harriet giggles in a sing-song voice. “So… How do you like your new BIG SISTER?”

“She's cool!” Bryony says. “It’s a bit weird, though, knowing that she used to be my brother.”

“And will have to be her brother again when she leaves this room,” I sigh. "But you're not confused, are you, Bryony?"

"Not really," Bryony shrugs. "Eventually Ashley will be just my sister."

"Exactly," Laura says with a smug grin.

"Are you looking forward to hanging out with your sister and the rest of us at secondary school next year, Bryony?" Harriet asks.

"Yeah," my sister says with a smile. "It'll be fun, especially all the clubs Ashley's told me about."

"Aww," Laura coos. "Looks like we've got another awesome dancer coming along!"

"Just like her SISTER!" Harriet giggles as she gives me a hug. As I take one more glance at my new, desired uniform, I'm filled with a sense of optimism, but I know I still have several obstacles to overcome.

Sure, I now have the pleated skirt and grey tights I've envied for two years- but it's still going to take time before I'm allowed to wear it. Sure, one of my sisters has accepted me as the girl I am, but there are still two who don't know about the real me. And sure, I have one parent who will do anything to ensure I'm happy as the girl I want to be... But there's still one who will oppose it at any cost.

It feels like I'm taking steps forward all the time- but my desired goal is still out of reach. The fact remains, though, that I AM taking steps forward. My pre-pointe lessons from Mademoiselle Renou, the sleepover and now the uniform are all bringing me closer to being the girl I long to be, even if it doesn't seem that way- I just have to have faith that eventually, I will arrive at that goal.

No matter what other obstacles people- such as my 'father'- might put in my way...

A wide, happy grin creeps across my lips as I dance for the cheering crowd. My face has been made-up with thick stage make-up, making me look a lot older than my thirteen and a half years. My shoulder-length blonde hair has been tied into a bun, and a white, feathered headdress has been pinned to my hair- but none of this compares to my costume.

I’m wearing a brilliant white tutu with thin shoulder straps and a stiff net skirt that sticks out several inches from my narrow waist. My slender legs are encased in white tights and on my feet are a pair of brand-new satin pointe shoes, which I’m using to balance my entire bodyweight on the tips of my toes. I look and feel like the princess I have always dreamed of being, and as the music reaches a crescendo, I dip into a perfect ballerina’s curtsey, giggling happily as the crowd all cheer.

“Oh my god, thank you so much!” I squeak in my high-pitched, feminine voice, giggling as I try to push the tutu’s skirt out of my face. However, no matter how hard I try, the skirt just keeps springing back, tickling my face until it smothers it completely, leaving me panicking at the darkness…

I gasp as I awake with a start, before groaning as the memory of my wonderful dream begins to fade. My face isn’t made-up- in fact, it’s completely bare. Well, apart from the thin, wispy hairs starting to grow on my top lip, anyway. My hair is shoulder-length, but lose and straggly. My legs aren’t covered in tights, they’re covered by a pair of boy’s pyjamas, which have a frustratingly familiar sticky patch on the front. And not only are my feet not encased in pointe shoes, they have never been encased in them, and if my father has his way, they never will be. Even the knowledge that I have a huge stash of make-up in my drawers and more pairs of tights than all three of my sisters combined isn’t enough to put the smile back on my face, as when I get up, I pull on a pair of boy’s jeans and a smart, baggy sweatshirt, and as has been the case every time I see my reflection in the mirror, it’s all I can do not to scream at the top of my lungs.

“Morning, Ashley!” Mum says with a grin as I walk downstairs.

“Morning, Ashley,” dad says with a cold voice.

“Morning,” I say, trying to stifle a yawn.

“Oh, stop that,” mum laughs. “I know you’re up early- heh, you’re a teenager now, getting up at ANY time is getting up early- but you know you’ll have fun today, won’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I say, frowning as dad regards me with a stern stare. In truth, though, I am really, really looking forward to today- well, right up until I have to come home, anyway.

My dream of being a ballerina, wearing a tutu, make-up and pointe shoes actually came true earlier in the week- but it came true for Laura rather than me. Tuesday was her fifteenth birthday, and was also a ballet night, so she got to close the lesson by performing the solo routine from our upcoming recital for the whole class, before going home and sitting in a pile of presents that included make-up, nail polish, clothes… All the things I crave, yet have to hide for fear of angering my father or ‘corrupting’ my younger siblings. Today, as Laura’s ‘birthday’ party, all of her friends- myself included- are being treated to a day at a local salon, getting our hair, make-up and nails done. All of my friends will return home looking like beautiful young women, but before I can return home, I’ll be forced to scrub away all the layers of femininity I’d wrapped myself in throughout the day.

If Laura’s birthday was just one week later, however, I might not have needed to do this. Ever since my successful coming-out to my family in May, I’ve been attending fortnightly meetings with a counsellor to help me through the misery involved with being born the wrong gender, and whilst they’ve helped, there’s only so much help they can give. A couple of weeks ago, however, I attended a special meeting with a second counsellor. This second meeting was for one reason, and one reason only- to get a ‘second opinion’, and with it, a diagnosis of gender identity dysphoria- medical confirmation that I am indeed a girl trapped in the body of a boy.

There’s no guarantee, of course, that I’ll receive the diagnosis, something that dad is all too keen to remind me of every time we return from one of my meetings. To him, this is just a ‘phase’, something I’ll get over once I become a ‘real man’… Despite the fact that the more I become a ‘real man’, the more depressed I get. Sometimes I wonder what it’ll take to get through to dad, whether I need to take more ‘extreme measures’… But I could never do that to mum, who’s shown me nothing but love and support, and I especially couldn’t do it to my sisters.

Ever since I told her about my ‘real self’, Bryony has been a constant source of support. Even though she’s only ten, I can talk to her just like I would one of my older friends. Often, when I’m ‘dressed’ at home, I’ll sneak into Bryony’s room to help her with her homework, or she’ll sneak into my room and we’ll experiment with our hair or make-up. If dad found out about this, he’d probably have a fit- even though we’re not doing anything that any other pre-teen girl doesn’t do.

“I wish I could go with you,” Bryony moans as I pack an outfit- a proper, girl’s outfit- in my bag to take to Laura’s (for obvious reasons, I can’t change at home). “Sounds so cool, getting a makeover…”

“It will be,” I say. “Doubt Laura’s stepfather could afford it for a ninth girl, though.”

“Reckon dad will do this for me and my friends for my birthday?” Bryony asks.

“You could always ask him,” I shrug.

“Yeah…” Bryony sighs. “He wouldn’t let you go too, though. I wouldn’t want it if you couldn’t come as well.”

“No, don’t worry about me,” I say, giving the small girl a quick cuddle. “You should have what you want.”

“I WANT a big sister,” Bryony says firmly.

“And I want to BE a big sister,” I sigh. “It’ll be okay. Soon, Bryony… We’ll both get what we want.”

“I hope so,” Bryony whispers as I head into Laura’s stepfather’s waiting car.

“Hello Ashley!” The middle-aged man greets me with a wide grin.

“Hi Ashley!” Lily- Laura’s stepsister- greets me with an enthusiastic wave.

“Hello Mr. Ruddock,” I politely reply. “Hi Lily!”

“Lily will be joining you girls at the salon today, if that’s okay,” Mr. Ruddock says.

“Fine with me,” I shrug.

“She found out what we had planned and sulked until we let her come too,” Mr. Ruddock laughs.

“I didn’t sulk!” Lily pouts, making me and her father laugh as we pull up outside a familiar middle-class house. I force a smile on my face as two teenaged Asian girls climb onto the back seat of the car alongside Lily, smiling politely at me as we set off.

“Thank you for the lift, Mr. Ruddock,” Priya says.

“You’re very welcome, Priya,” Mr. Ruddock chuckles. “It’s your big day in less than two weeks, isn’t it? A BIG big day, too!”

“…It’s not THAT big,” Priya mumbles shyly.

“You’re turning sixteen, yes it IS that big!” Suriya protests as Priya laughs nervously. “When I turn sixteen the whole of London’s going to know about it!”

“I guess,” Priya laughs as Suriya continues to tease her. Even though I’ve long since been forgiven for the way I treated the two girls earlier in the year, following my disastrous first coming out, the sisters are still slightly uneasy around me, and it’s easy to understand why. Fortunately, I know that once I’ve changed into the cute short skirt and clingy top I have in my bag, the sisters will be a lot friendlier, but it still hurts to get the cold shoulder from them, especially as I want myself and Bryony to grow as close as Priya and Suriya so obviously are.

A short while later, the full car arrives at Laura’s house, where the other girls- Nicole, Megan, Harriet, our new friend Mia and the birthday girl herself- are waiting, along with Laura’s mother and brother. As always, I get a cautious stare from Laura’s brother as I walk into the house, but the awkward feeling soon passes when Laura herself grabs my hands and drags me up to her bedroom to get changed into my ‘proper’ clothes.

“Ugh, sorry about Ricky,” the fifteen year old girl spits as I pull on a pair of comfortable girls' panties, before fastening a training bra behind my chest. “Sometimes I forget what a knob he can be.”

“S’okay,” I shrug. “He’s no worse than my dad…”

“Ahh... Sorry,” Laura mumbles. “Still, you never know, this time next week…”

“I doubt it,” I moan.

“Oh- don’t be like that…” Laura sighs. “Anyone with half a brain can see what you are. And it ISN’T a boy.”

“Thanks,” I whisper as I stretch the clingy top I’d brought over my head before trying to rearrange my messy blonde hair into some sort of feminine style. “Okay, you can look now.”

“…Gorgeous and girly!” Laura squeaks, before grabbing my hand and leading me downstairs, where the other seven girls (Lily included) all compliment me on my appearance. Even though my face is make-up free (as we are heading to a salon, after all), the mere act of being my ‘real self’ is enough to put me at ease as we all get back in the cars.

“It’s so weird,” Suriya laughs as we head to the salon for our afternoon of treats and pampering. “You get into the car as a boy and it’s like you’re one big dark cloud, but pull on a skirt and all of a sudden you’re happy.”

“And, all of a sudden, you’re talking to me,” I say, making the tiny Indian girl frown.

“That’s because ‘Ashley my ex-boyfriend’ is an insensitive jerk,” Suriya says, her frown turning into a smug grin. “But ‘Ashley my girl friend’ is sweet, sensitive and cool!”

“Aww!” I coo, giggling girlishly.

“Are you sure you’ll keep the name ‘Ashley’ when you start transitioning?” Priya asks.

“No reason why not, it CAN be a girl’s name too,” I reply.

“But you could maybe spell it differently?” Priya suggests. “Like, there’s a girl in our year who spells it A-S-H-L-E-I-G-H.”

“I’m happy with the ‘Y’ at the end of my name,” I shrug.

“I’m just, you know, worried that you might see it is, sort-of, erm, a part of your old life,” Priya mumbles.

“Aww,” I giggle. “You’re worried about me…”

“Priya’s just being a big sister to everyone,” Suriya laughs. “Something you should know about, Ash!”

“Something I’ll hopefully get to know about,” I sigh as I stare at the nylon-covered legs poking out from underneath my skirt.

“And you WILL,” Suriya says. “Isn’t that right, Lily?”

“Yeah!” The nine year old girl cheers, as I once again muse on how maturely a primary school student like Lily (or Bryony, for that matter) can take my change when compared to a so-called adult like my dad.

The convoy arrives at the salon not long afterward, and the nine of us all spill out the cars almost giddy with excitement at our upcoming treat, myself included- though as I step into the posh salon I do suddenly feel VERY self-conscious about the hairs growing on my top lip, faint as they are.

“Isn’t this cool?” Megan squeaks as we’re greeted by the salon receptionist, who take us to the area that’s been reserved for us- an area filled with pink ribbons and balloons, and with two huge balloons at one end- one in the shape of a ‘1’ and the other in the shape of a ‘5’.

“Oh my god!” Laura squeaks as she bounces up and down, excitedly fanning her face with her hands. “Thank you so much…”

I smile nervously as I follow the other girls in selecting a chair, and before long, my hair is being washed and my nails are being shaped and polished to perfection. After my hair is wrapped in a big, fluffy towel to dry, the beautician turns her attention to my face, before frowning as she sees something- and it’s obvious what’s confusing her.

“You- you’ve kind-of got something, erm, on your top lip…” The young woman says to me, clearly afraid of saying something that would cause offence. “I, um, I can-“

“Ashley has a little bit a hormone- um, a problem with her hormone levels,” Suriya- who’s sat in the chair next to me- says, and I can’t help but giggle at the half-truth.

“Well, we’ve got plenty of ways of dealing with THESE, then!” The beautician laughs as she carefully eliminates the hairs, leaving my top lip as smooth as any of the other girls’, before reshaping my eyebrows from their usually bushy mess to a much sleeker look.

My make-up is next- a plain concealer, followed by a slightly tan-coloured foundation, then thick mascara and eyeliner and a cute fuchsia coloured eyeshadow. The final treatment is on my lips- a frosty pink lip liner, combined with my new hairless lips, fully disguise any evidence that I was ever a boy.

After our makeovers are completed, our hair is styled next. As my hair is still the shortest of the group (but still long for a boy), it’s styled into a very basic bob with a cute fringe at the front. As I look at myself in the mirror, I muse on how similar my hair looks to Suriya’s old style, the style she wore when we first met. Back then, Suriya and Laura were my idols, girls I desperately wished to emulate. Seeing myself with the same hairstyle, I can’t help but think ‘mission accomplished’… Even though I know that it won’t last, however much I desperately wish it would.

Suriya’s current hairstyle, of course, is much more elaborate now that her hair has grown longer, and despite my own cute look, I find myself envying the other girls- even Lily- as they show off their new, carefully-sculpted looks. The most beautiful of all the girls, of course, is Laura. I suppose it’s only fair, given that it IS her birthday and all, but as I stare at her, my heart fills to the brim with envy- and sadness at the thought that I might never get to look like her, that I might never get to BE her.

Laura’s long blonde hair has had several waves styled into it and cascades freely over her shoulders. Her make-up is just as elaborate and professional as mine, only her eyeshadow is darker and her lips and nails are a blood-red colour. Laura looks as beautiful as any model or celebrity I have ever seen, and the thought that I might be told, possible soon rather than later, that I will never get the opportunity to be like her? It’s enough to tear my heart in half. The only thing stopping me from crying is the thought that I might ruin my make-up…

“Okay, girls!” The head beautician laughs as she claps, gaining our attention. “Tights off, we’ll do your legs next.” I look quizzically at Suriya as I remove my tights, but the Indian girl simply giggles in response.

“Will this be your first time?” Suriya asks me as Laura’s stepfather takes Lily home, leaving only the teenaged girls in the room.

“…First time for what, exactly?” I ask, before my eyes go wide as several pots of hot wax are brought into the room.

I don’t mind confessing that I shed a tear or two over the course of the following hour, as I imagine all of the other girls did as well. None of us- myself included- had particularly long or noticeable leg hair, but by the time the beauticians were done, all eight of us have legs as soft and smooth as a baby’s bottom.

“Oh my god,” Mia giggles as she strokes her legs. “Kinda don’t want to put my tights back on now, hehe!”

“Then don’t,” Harriet shrugs. “God knows this is a one-off treat, might as well enjoy it while it lasts!” I bite my lip as the ginger haired girl stares in my direction- what she said was clearly intended for me ahead of the other girls.

“Even though it’s freezing outside?” Suriya protests.

“Some people like the feeling of a skirt blowing around bare legs,” I shrug, earning happy coos and hugs from the other girls.

Naturally, despite the cold, I leave my tights off as I get into Laura’s mother’s car along with Priya, Suriya and the birthday girl herself- a decision that causes several giggles as Suriya keeps playfully grabbing my knee!

“Stop groping Ashley,” Priya chastises her sister. “I thought you had a boyfriend, anyway?”

“I do,” Suriya giggles. “And do you see any BOYS anywhere in this car?”

“…My mistake,” Priya says with a smug grin.

“You all look so beautiful,” Laura’s mother gushes, making all four of us blush. “Good to see that salon was worth the money!”

“It was,” Laura sighs happily. “Thank you SO much for today.”

“I’ve left myself with a hell of a task, trying to top this next year for your sixteenth,” Mrs. White laughs. “Girls, we’ll drop you off at your homes to change, then be back in about 45 minutes to pick you up, okay?”

“Drop me off!?” I exclaim.

“Yeah,” Laura says. “You know, the second part of the party, the ‘tea party’? We all change into fancy dresses and we… Ah.”

“Yeah,” I grimace. In fairness, Laura HAD told me about the second part of the party, but hadn’t mentioned the need to change OR to bring additional clothes apart from what I’m wearing. “My sisters are at home, so’s my dad-“

“I’ll lend you one of my dresses,” Laura says softly. “I already know which one I’m wearing anyway.”

“…Thanks,” I whisper.

A few minutes later, we’ve dropped off the two sisters at their home, and a few minutes after that, Laura and I head back to her house, heading up to her bedroom where she opens her wardrobe, and I can’t help but sigh at the sight inside. Her wardrobe is full of beautiful creations including dresses, skirts and blouses. Along the bottom of the wardrobe are a collection of girly shoes, mostly flats but some heeled shoes too- some of which have higher heels than I’ve ever seen on any pair of shoes.

“Here,” Laura says, pulling a smart royal blue dress out of her wardrobe and holding it against my body. Obviously, the dress is gorgeous- Laura has great taste in fashion, after all. It’s got long sleeves and a high collar, but they are both cut in a very feminine style, and the lightly pleated skirt comes to just below my knees. It’s not very playful, but it is smart, and Laura wouldn’t have picked it out if it wasn’t appropriate for the occasion.

“Umm… Turn around?” I say, making Laura snort and roll her eyes.

“Umm, no?” Laura chuckles. “You’re only stripping to your underwear, it’s nothing I don’t see at ballet. And we ARE both girls, aren’t we?”

Well- yeah, I guess,” I say as I step out of my skirt and remove my top.

“I don’t ‘guess’, I KNOW,” Laura retorts as she removes her own skirt, thinking nothing of standing in front of me wearing just a thong and her lacy bra. Even stripped to her underwear, it’s impossible to tell that she is anatomically the same as me. Well, the same apart from the two very noticeable mounds on her chest, anyway. I giggle excitedly as Laura pulls her chosen dress out of her wardrobe. The dress is truly stunning- it’s a dusky pink colour, made out of a shimmering fabric that seems to sparkle every time it catches the light. It fits Laura’s slender body perfectly, with the hem of the skirt coming to a couple of inches above her knee. Rather than a zip, it has several buttons on the back that I have to fasten for Laura, before giggling as she orders me to turn my back whilst she removes her bra. Laura completes her look with a pair of high-heeled shoes that match her dress, before pulling on a dainty white cardigan to shield her arms from the cold November air.

“Beautiful,” I giggle as Laura does a playful twirl.

“Thanks!” Laura squeaks, before handing me a pair of shoes that match my dress. Even though the shoes only have a low heel- barely an inch in height- the mere presence of a heel on the shoes is enough to make me almost giddy with excitement.

“Oh please,” Laura laughs as I practise walking in the shoes. “I KNOW you’ve worn higher heels than that before.”

“Only as, you know, ‘dressing up’,” I retort. “Never as part of an actual outfit before.”

“First time for everything,” Laura shrugs. “First time of many!”

I giggle and exchange a quick, sisterly hug with Laura, before we head downstairs to find the rest of Laura’s family just as smartly dressed as we are- her mother is wearing a smart pencil dress and Lily is wearing her best party dress, whilst her brother and stepfather are wearing smart shirts and ties. I’m immediately reminded of my great-grandfather’s birthday a few months ago, when my sisters all wore dresses similar to the one Lily’s wearing, whilst I was stuck wearing clothes identical to the two men in the room… And I felt like screaming every second I was wearing the stupid clothes. But sat here now, wearing these beautiful clothes… I feel at peace, like this is exactly who I was always meant to be.

The other six girls- all wearing smart dresses and shoes like mine and Laura’s- return a short while later, along with Laura’s two grandmothers (who both playfully tell off Laura for wearing too much make-up), and we spent the rest of the afternoon eating tiny, dainty cakes and pastries and drinking tea. The whole party does feel a little ‘juvenile’, like the sort of thing even Bryony would turn her nose up at for her 11th birthday, let alone her 15th, but I actually have to remind myself that Laura’s 11th birthday- which was long before she became ‘Laura’- was undoubtedly very different in tone to this party. Probably like my own birthday ‘party’ six months ago, in fact…

The guests start to depart just after 6:30pm, but I stick around as late as possible, clinging to the vain hope that I can stay in my beautiful clothes and my beautiful make-up just a while longer, but as the clock ticks on, I know that I’m delaying the inevitable.

“Come on,” Laura whispers, gently grabbing my hand and leading me upstairs to her room. Fifteen minutes later, my nails are once again polish-free, my face is scrubbed clean of all make-up and my hair is back in its straggly, boyish style… And I’m only able to stare at my reflection for one second before bursting into floods of tears.

“It’s not fair,” I sob as I pull my jeans back on, before crying even more. “Why can’t I just be who I want to be? Why does my fucking father think that I’m just going to get over this?”

“You’re right, it’s not fair,” Laura said, giving me a comforting hug. “If your counsellor could see you now they’d know that you belong with us, as a girl. It’s who you’re meant to be. It’s who you WILL be.”

“I hope so,” I sob as I dry my eyes and head downstairs, though the stares I get as I pass through the living room en route to the front door tell me that I didn’t do a good enough job of disguising the fact that I’ve been crying.

“Why don’t you just go home in your dress if it upsets you that much?” Laura’s brother asks, earning stern stares from his sister and his mother.

“It’s not that simple,” Laura hisses. “For starters, it was MY dress, and secondly… You know full well that it’s not that simple.” Laura’s brother lowers his head as though he’s remembering something- and the look on Laura’s face makes it clear that they’re both remembering the time Laura’s father kidnapped her and forced her to be a boy again- a fate I thankfully avoided from my father.

As I return home, however, it’s clear that while my father would never take the same extreme measures as Laura’s father, he’s still just as determined as he was to make sure that I never become the girl I want to be.

“Hi Ash,” dad says in a quiet, sombre voice as mum, Bryony and Cassie sit glued to the TV- which of course has Strictly Come Dancing playing on it at the moment.

“Hi dad,” I say, dropping my bag of clothes in the hall before sitting down between my sisters. “Who’s been on so far?”

“Have you heard the QPR score?” Dad asks, and I’m forced to suppress a chuckle as Bryony tuts and rolls her eyes out of sight of our father.

“Umm, yeah,” I lie, immediately cringing as mum, dad and Bryony all fix me with stern stares, having caught me in my lie.

The five of us sit in silence for the next forty-five minutes, watching as the celebrities and professional dancers waltz, tango and salsa across our screen, before Bryony and Cassie are sent up to their bedrooms to get ready for bed. The second the two girls leave the room, dad turns to me with a look of pure fury on his face.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” dad spits, his face angrier than I’ve seen in a long, long time.

“Generally speaking… Yeah, I am,” I say, taken aback by dad’s anger but refusing to be cowed by it.

“Andrew,” mum says with a firm voice that instantly puts dad on the back foot. “You know what Dr Williamson has said, you’ve been there whilst Ashley was discussing hi- while we were discussing Ashley’s feelings. This doesn’t help. And nor does your attitude, Ashley.”

“…Sorry,” I mumble.

“You know,” dad sighs, “I was actually looking forward to teaching Ashley- my SON- how to shave. My dad taught me how to shave, his dad taught him… And now I’ve had that taken away from me.”

“You can always teach Eddy in thirteen years’ time,” I say.

“Ashley!” Mum snaps, silencing me and making me bite my lip.

“Right up until two months before you were born,” dad says in a cold, stoic voice, “the doctors were convinced you were going to be a girl. We’d even picked out pink baby clothes, painted your nursery pink… Then when we found out you were going to be a boy, I was the happiest man in the world. And now you’re taking that away from me.”

“I can’t help who or what I am,” I say. “And believe me, I’ve tried.”

“Not hard enough,” dad snarls. “I don’t want another daughter, I want my son!”

“And if Eddy had been ‘Emily’, would you love him any less?” I ask.

“Well- no, of course not,” dad retorts.

“So why would you love me any less if I was a girl?” I ask, smirking as dad fails to answer my question. “Six months ago you asked me if it hurt to be a boy. Back then I said no. Now I’m saying yes. When it came time to take off my dress today it HURT. It actually hurt. I HATE being a boy. I NEED to be a girl. And you need to acknowledge that.”

“I will never, ever acknowledge you as my daughter,” dad spits.

“ANDREW!” Mum snaps, a look of pure fury in her eyes. “Ashley, go to your room.”

“But-“ I protest, before a stern stare from mum tells me that I’m better off not arguing and I slink upstairs, trying to fight back tears at the sound of mum and dad fighting downstairs, trying to keep the volume just low enough for my sisters not to hear. After just five minutes, however, a tiny knock on my bedroom door tells me that my parents didn’t keep the volume low enough.

“Come in,” I say, smiling at the sight of Cassie creeping in, wearing her tiny pink footed pyjamas.

“Ashley,” the six year old girl sniffles, “are mum and dad fighting again?”

“They’re just tired, that’s all,” I say, inviting Cassie to sit on my bed- an invitation she immediately accepts. “It’s just been a long day, that’s all. You should be in bed, right?” I smile as Cassie nods, before picking the tiny girl up in my arms and carrying her back to hers & Bryony’s bedroom, where I tuck her into her bed.

“Mum and dad will never stop loving you, or any of us,” I whisper as I give the little girl a kiss on her forehead that puts the smile back on her face, even as I contemplate whether or not what I said was actually true.

After I return to my room, I change into my dreaded boy’s pyjamas and collapse down hard onto my bed, trying to drown out the noise of my parents from downstairs as I focus on the positive aspects of my life. I have seven friends, all of whom- their families included- accept me as ‘one of the girls’, as does my sister and my mother. Three days from now- just three days- I may even get the magical piece of paper that confirms that I am indeed a girl trapped in the body of a boy, and dad surely can’t ignore that… Can he?

I sigh as a knock on my door wakes me from a dreamless (and mercifully dry) slumber- the firmness of the knock immediately gives away that it’s not coming from any of my female relatives.

“Come in,” I grunt.

“No,” dad says from the other side of the door. “You come out here!” I sigh as I pull on my dressing gown and open my bedroom door, staring into the face of the 35 year old man who is only slightly less angry than he was yesterday.

“What?” I grunt.

“Get dressed,” dad growls, barely keeping his temper in check. “PROPERLY dressed. We’re going out today.”

“Where?” I ask.

“You’ll see,” dad sighs. “Just- put on some clothes.” I frown as I close my door in dad’s face, before opening my wardrobe and sighing at the contents.

It’s not like I don’t have dresses, blouses and skirts in there- not to mention my girl’s school uniform, which has gone unworn since mum bought it for me at the start of the school year. But the bulk of the wardrobe is taken up by boy’s sweatshirts, school shirts and smart trousers- all things I’ll be happy to throw away and never see again. I’d give anything to have a wardrobe like Laura’s- literally anything.

“I’m ready,” I say as I slink downstairs in a pair of jeans and a comfortable, androgynous-looking sweatshirt.

“Phone,” dad says, holding out his hand expectantly. I sigh as I hand my smartphone to him, only to look on in confusion as he hands it straight back to me. “Actually, get in touch with George, see if he’s doing anything today.”

“It’d help if I knew what I was inviting him to,” I say.

“You’ll see,” dad says with a smug grin as I fire off a Facebook message to my best male friend.

An hour later, I let out a heavy sigh as the car containing myself, George, my father and Grandpa Chris pulls up outside a small, dingy-looking football stadium.

“Really?” I ask dad as we head toward the stands.

“I know, I know,” dad sighs. “It’s not Loftus Road, but I figured some fresh air would do you good. ESPECIALLY after yesterday.”

“Mate, how was yesterday?” George asks. “Obviously I haven’t seen any pictures, but Megan says you-“

“George,” dad says firmly but calmly, silencing my friend. “We’re here to watch football.”

“There are a lot of young players in this team,” Grandpa Chris says. “You never know, you might be watching the next Harry Kane today.” I’m forced to suppress a giggle as George mouths a confused ‘who’ in my direction.

For the next two hours- my phone having obviously been confiscated for the duration- I’m forced to try to entertain myself as dad and grandpa immerse themselves in the sight of twenty-two grown men chasing a leather bag around a pitch. Any time I try to talk to George about anything not related to football, a stern stare from dad immediately ends the conversation, and any time I try to mentally drift away, thinking of happier times- such as yesterday’s salon visit- grandpa Chris gives me a gentle whack on my arm, bringing me crashing back down to reality. And all throughout the match… I feel guiltier than ever.

Dad and grandpa are clearly enjoying the day out, not because of the football, but because they can enjoy it as father and son. Dad clearly wants to have the same relationship with me that he has with his own father… But I’m simply not able to give him what he wants. Sure, dad will probably eventually get the father-son relationship he wants with my brother, but Eddy’s only seven months old- too young to even come to a football game, let alone enjoy it.

When we get back into the car at the end of the game (which I couldn’t even tell you the final score of), my misery and guilt is obvious- and dad is only too happy to make me feel even guiltier with his angry, disappointed stare.

“Cheer up lad,” grandpa says. “I know this wasn’t what you wanted.”

“I’m sorry,” I mumble as we head home.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Ashley, I was talking to MY son,” grandpa says, making me frown with confusion. “Andy, you’re not going to make Ashley into the boy you want him to be by simply taking him to a football game and expecting him to love it.”

“I have to do SOMETHING,” dad protests.

“So when you were thirteen,” grandpa says, “you’d have been okay with me switching off your Sega and forcing you to come out fishing with me?”

“In hindsight, yes, yes I would,” dad says. “Though I’d rather he be a videogame addict than- well, THAN.”

“Really?” grandpa snorts. “What was that game you begged me to get you for Christmas one year, that horrible one with all the blood in it?”

“…Mortal Kombat 2,” dad mumbles.

“Right, that’s the one,” grandpa laughs. “Even though you yourself were only 13 and the game had a ‘15’ on the front.”

“Your point?” Dad asks.

“My point,” grandpa says, “is that Ashley’s ‘hobbies’ are a hell of a lot better than watching two computerised people rip each other to shreds!”

“I turned out alright, didn’t I?” dad shrugs.

“That depends,” grandpa says.

“On what?” Dad asks.

“On whether or not your children live happy, fulfilling lives,” grandpa says firmly, before turning to me. “Ashley, I know you didn’t enjoy today, I know you’d rather be with your girl friends doing whatever girl things you enjoy. I’m never going to understand it, and to be blunt, I don’t want to understand it, but if it’s important to you and it’s what you want, then I won’t try to stop you. But you have to accept that your father only wants what’s best for you.”

“What’s best for me is letting me live my life as the girl I want to be,” I retort, making dad moan with frustration.

“You haven’t been diagnosed with gender whatever,” dad says.

“YET,” I retort. “Will it really change things if I am?”

“You wouldn’t ignore a doctor if Ashley was diagnosed with cancer, would you?” Grandpa asks.

“Of course not,” dad snorts.

“What about if he was diagnosed with depression?” Grandpa asks.

“…I don’t know,” dad mumbles.

“Just ‘cause it isn’t a physical illness, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” grandpa says. “Same with his gender thingy.” Dad’s silence brings a smile to my face- he’s lost this argument and he knows it.

As we arrive home, however, grandpa takes me into the kitchen, and the stern look on his face tells me that dad isn’t the only person getting a telling off today.

“And as for you, Ashley,” grandpa says, “I don’t know how frustrating it is for you to be forced to do these things you don’t like, but they’re a part of growing up, so you need to accept it, and you need to accept the fact that your dad’s only doing what he thinks is best for you.”

“He only thinks about himself!” I moan, immediately regretting my outburst when grandpa glares at me.

“Much like someone else in this room,” grandpa snorts. “You’ll understand when you become a father.”

“Or a mother,” I say, silencing the 61 year old man.

“…Or a mother,” grandpa concedes with a sigh. “I’m not saying that your dad couldn’t try a little harder to accept you. But he IS trying. You need to give him a little more time and stop constantly trying to pick a fight with him!”

“Yes, grandpa,” I mumble as grandpa leaves the kitchen and heads back to his home. Inside, though, I feel more miserable than ever at the guilt that’s been piled on me by virtually every male relative in my family. I know that dad’s trying to accept me, as is grandpa… But the fact is that neither of them have seen me in a skirt, and neither of them want to. Neither of them have seen how happy I am when I’m a girl. All they can think of is ‘losing a son’ or ‘losing a grandson’, and they don’t seem to care that they’d be gaining a daughter/granddaughter.

I spend the rest of the day in my bedroom, chatting with the girls on my tablet computer. Naturally, I have a pair of black tights wrapped around my legs and a short denim skirt hanging from my waist, but compared to yesterday’s extravagance, it feels like I’m barely dressed at all (even if the tights do feel AMAZING against my new-look legs). Nonetheless, once I’m immersed in the girly chat, I feel all my worries melting away as I can imagine, however briefly, that I am the girl I always wanted to be… Even if it is just for a short while.

My alarm clock wakes me at 7:30am and I immediately groan, just as any other teenager would, at the prospect of a full week of school. After getting washed and dressed, I pause before pulling on my shoes and blazer to perform what has become a Monday morning ritual. I gently remove my grey, pleated school skirt from its hangar and hold it against my waist for a few brief seconds, before opening my underwear drawer and gently stroking the pairs of thick grey tights housed within.

After hanging my skirt back up, I finish dressing, comb my hair back away from my face and head down to mum’s car, where Bryony and Cassie are already waiting, dressed in their own red cardigans, grey skirts and red tights. Is it really too much to ask to belong with my sisters- or with the seven friends who greet me with hugs and giggles when I arrive at my school?

“Hey Ash!” Laura giggles as we head towards form.

“Hey Laura!” I reply, trying not to stare at the 15 year old girl’s legs, which are, as always, encased in black tights underneath a straight grey skirt that seems to be getting shorter every day she wears it. “Thank you so much for Saturday… Easily the best birthday party I’ve ever been too, hehe!”

“No pressure for next month, Priya!” Suriya teases her soon-to-be-sixteen sister. “And your birthday’s on a Friday this year, so you have no excuse!”

“Oh, leave me alone, before I pull rank!” Priya retorts, pointing at her prefect’s badge.

“Yes, ma’am!” Suriya playfully salutes, making all eight of us- Priya included- giggle as we head to our forms.

Even though I can’t claim that I actually enjoy schoolwork, it does at least distract me from the fact that half of the class sat around me are the gender I desperately want to be, whilst the other half are the gender I desperately DON’T want to be. This only works for the first lesson of the day, however, and I feel the usual sense of dread associated with Monday mornings intensify as I, along with all the boys in my class, march toward the changing rooms, where I exchange my uniform for a pair of shorts, a long-sleeved dark red sports shirt, studded boots and a gum shield. I'm only glad that many of my classmates are yet to grow hair on their legs, so my own smooth legs don't draw too much attention.

“It’s only one hour a week, mate,” George whispers to me as we head out onto the cold, wet field, shivering from both the outside temperature and the sight of several oval balls in a bag next to our PE teacher. Behind us, I catch a glimpse of the girls from our class heading into the warm gymnasium for their PE lesson. Most are wearing plain shorts and t-shirts, but a select few are wearing long-sleeved, multi-coloured leotards, which make me burn with envy even as I freeze to death in the cold.

An hour later, George and I sit down at the table with Laura and the other girls, grunting as we take the weight off of our sore, tired legs.

“Hey Ash,” Laura says with a sympathetic smile. “Don’t need to ask how PE was…”

“I HATE rugby,” I spit. “It’s so unfair! Why can’t boys do gymnastics instead if they want? The school doesn’t even have a boys’ gymnastics team…”

“I agree,” Nicole says, “and not just because male gymnasts, like male dancers, are h-o-o-o-t!”

“It’s also unfair that there isn’t a girls’ rugby team,” Harriet says, earning quizzical stares from the other girls.

“…You actually WANT to play rugby?” Suriya asks the ginger girl.

“Eww, no!” Harriet sneers. “But that doesn’t mean that any girl who wants to- for whatever reason- shouldn’t if they want to.”

“Ugh, speaking of rugby,” Mia spits as two new faces in the school walk past our table- one year 10 girl and one very tall, very stock year 11 boy. As one, the nine of us all deliberately avoid looking at the two siblings, though it’s obvious they’re sneering at us.

The girl- Samantha- was placed in Laura, Harriet, Nicole and Suriya’s form at the start of the year, and immediately started bullying Laura the second she discovered she was transgendered. Before she found out, she couldn’t have been nicer- but to her, the mere fact that someone might want to live their life as the opposite gender to the one they were born into was so offensive that she felt she had to make that person’s life a living hell. Needless to say, I steer well clear of Sam, especially as she usually hangs around with her brother- who by all accounts, is a hundred times worse than her.

“It sucks that you let her shut you up like that,” George sighs. “What’s she going to do 1 on 9, anyway?”

“TWO on nine,” I say with a shiver. “And you know even together, me and you wouldn’t stand a chance in a fight against Ryan.”

“All the more reason to get your diagnosis as soon as possible<” Laura says. “People think that a skirt is a sign of weakness. It isn’t. It’s a sign of strength, like- like a shield.”

“Tell my dad that,” I snort, making Mia- who has taken over from Suriya and Laura as my ‘pretend girlfriend’- sigh as she rests her head on my shoulder. Mia had originally been part of Sam’s ‘gang’ in bullying Laura, but after speaking candidly to Laura (and being threatened with expulsion from Miss Fullerton’s ballet class) she gradually came to accept us as friends- and I, for one, am very glad that she did.

“Tell you what,” Harriet says with a smug grin, “you tell MY dad, and we’ve got a deal!”

“Ugh, your dad,” Laura spits. “No offence.”

“Trust me, none taken,” Harriet snorts. “You know my name’s ‘Harriet Martina’, right? Obvious that he wanted it to be ‘Harry Martin’ after him and his dad. You know, he actually tried turning me into a tomboy? Actually took me to a football game with him and granddad, same as you yesterday, Ash. At least you looked like you belonged there, I was desperate for him to let me wear a skirt, but he insisted I wore jeans instead.”

“Ugh,” Suriya spits. “No offence to any tomboys, but I MUCH prefer being a girly girl!”

“Girly girls rule!” Nicole cheers. “And we’ve got Saturday as proof of THAT, hehe!”

“Yeah!” I laugh as Harriet smiles sympathetically at me.

Fortunately, the last two lessons of the day go smoothly, thanks to them not being PE, and I almost feel relaxed as I get into my mum’s car, though my stress comes crashing straight back when I realise that only one of my sisters is in the car with me, and the other one is in Nicole’s parents’ car.

Bryony has become close friends with Nicole’s sister Sabrina, having met at Miss Fullerton’s ballet class, and as they’re both starting our school next September, dad thought it would be good for them to become closer friends and arranged for Bryony to go round to Sabrina’s house every Monday evening to play. Obviously, I don’t have a problem with this, but when I suggested that I go along as well, dad angrily refused and actually threatened to ground me if I ever went round to their house on a Monday. Never mind the fact that I’ve been friends with Nicole for longer than Sabrina and Bryony have been friends, never mind the fact that Bryony might want to have her big brother there (or better yet, her big sister), the chance that I might reveal ‘girl Ashley’ is too high for dad. God only knows how he’d react if he found that Bryony (and Sabrina for that matter) already knows about ‘girl Ashley’…

I spend virtually the entire evening in my bedroom chatting to the other girls on Skype (with, of course, eyeliner and mascara on my face and a short skirt wrapped around my waist) about school, Sam & Ryan, Laura’s birthday, Priya’s upcoming birthday, the upcoming ballet recital and a hundred other topics. Through the chat, though, I can’t divert my attention away from Nicole’s image, constantly wondering how our sisters are getting along in the room next to hers- and whether or not I’ll ever be allowed to find out.

A short while after the end of the conversation, as I’m getting ready for bed, my questions look to be answered as I hear a familiar knock on my bedroom door- two gentle knocks in quick succession followed by four knocks that run from the top of the door to the bottom.

“Come in, Bryony,” I say, smiling as the 10 year old girl giggles good-naturedly at the sight of ‘girl Ash’. “How was it at Sabrina’s?”

“S’okay,” Bryony shrugs. “Ash… Sabrina’s sister told me- she told me that you weren’t allowed to go, is that right?”

“’Fraid so,” I whisper.

“But why?” Bryony moans. “You’re friends with her, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah…” I mumble. “But dad- dad said-“

“Ugh!” Bryony spits. “I hate him!”

“No, please don’t,” I sigh, giving my sister a gentle hug. “He loves you, he really does, and he’s only doing what he thinks is best for you. He doesn’t know you know about me, remember?”

“Well, then we should tell him!” Bryony insists.

“Then he WOULD be angry,” I sigh. “Look, tomorrow I’m seeing a doctor who’s going to say whether or not I can be a girl all of the time. If she says yes… Well, there won’t be anything dad can do about it, okay?”

“Okay,” Bryony mumbles. “I really wish you could just stay as a girl forever…”

“So do I,” I whisper. “But we’ll find out tomorrow, this time tomorrow. Just need to wait a little longer…”

Naturally, given the importance of tomorrow’s meeting, I barely sleep through the night, though I have to muffle a frustrated scream when I do wake up to find a sticky patch on the front of my pyjama bottoms.

As I pull on my school uniform, I muse on how, if all goes well tonight, this might be the last ever time I pull on this pair of trousers or lace up my black school shoes. Even though it isn’t Monday, I still perform the ‘ritual’ of removing my school skirt from its hanger and holding it against my waist. This time next week- or maybe even sooner- the skirt could be hanging from my waist, and my feet may be covered by the tiny black flats in my wardrobe, rather than my clunky lace-up shoes.

Or, of course, the counsellor could say that I should stop being so silly, should stop pretending to be something I’m not, and that I should never wear a skirt ever again… And as I head down to the car, the look dad gives me leave me in no doubt as to what decision he would prefer.

School passes by in a blur- my friends are, of course, all excited about my meeting tonight, but I’m so distracted I barely concentrate on what they’re saying- and I almost get in trouble with my teachers when my distraction carries over to my lessons as well. By the time the school bell rings just after 3pm, I’m so tense I can barely move, and actually need George’s help to put my books and stationery away.

“Mate,” George whispers as we head to the car park, “you seriously need to relax, you look like you’re about to explode!”

“Yes, for obvious reasons,” I mumble.

“Well- yeah…” George sighs. “Mate, it’s gonna be weird, you know? Next time you come to school, you’ll look a lot different…”

“Hopefully,” I say. “I- I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be,” George shrugs. “I said I’d stick up for you, I meant it. Besides, I think Megan’d rip my balls off if I didn’t, heh! Mate… Will you mind me calling you, you know, ‘mate’ after you- after you-“

“Anybody else? No,” I say. “You? You can, if you want.”

“Thanks, MATE,” George laughs, giving me a firm handshake before getting in his parents’ car. As I head to my own ride home, I sigh happily as I see seven familiar figures waiting by my car, each of whom greets me with an extra-tight hug before allowing me access to mum’s car. The last to hug me is Laura, the girl without whom I wouldn’t be on this ‘journey’- but who has also caused her own fair share of delays to it.

“This will be you,” Laura whispers as she gestures to the short grey skirt wrapped around her thighs. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” I whisper as I get in the passenger seat of the car and wave at the seven girls as they wave me off.

“That was so nice of your friends, meeting you like that,” mum says, obviously knowing the reason for their ‘farewell’ but not being able to say it with Cassie in the car.

“Are you going out with Laura again, Ashley?” Cassie asks, making me laugh tiredly. “Laura is SO pretty! And she’s a ballerina!”

“She is, both of them,” I laugh. “So are the other girls, you know?”

“I want to be a ballerina just like Laura!” Cassie exclaims, making me, mum and Bryony (who obviously also knows the reason the girls saw me off) giggle.

“You only like her so much because she has blonde hair, like us,” Bryony says in a futile attempt to dampen the six year old’s spirits.

“Don’t you want to be a ballerina as well, Bryony?” Cassie asks.

“I like dancing,” Bryony shrugs. “Have to wait until I get my pointe shoes before I can take it REALLY seriously. Miss Fullerton reckons that’ll be another year, maybe a year and a half.”

“You’ll be the prettiest ballerina ever!” Cassie exclaims, making Bryony giggle. “Well, apart from Laura, of course!”

“…Thanks,” Bryony says, clearly upset by Cassie’s unintended insensitivity, and her quick glance in my direction reassures me that she knows I’m upset as well- I’d love nothing more than to be a ballerina, to pull on a tutu and a pair of pointe shoes and dance, just like Laura danced a week ago today… But Cassie, of course, can’t even conceive of the fact that I might want to do this. Or that I might want to wear a skirt to school, or pull on a stretchy leotard and so gymnastics instead of rugby, or spend my free time reading magazines like Teen Globe, listening to bands like Little Mix or Out of Heaven, making up dance routines to these songs with my friends… Or even having the amazing, wonderful friends that I do. Cassie no doubt sees me as a boy who hangs out with girls. God knows how she’ll react when she learns the truth- will she be able to accept it, to accept me… Or is dad right, should I keep being a boy, if only for their sake?

I hardly eat any of my dinner, I’m that nervous about my meeting. After Grandpa Chris and grandma Jo arrives to babysit the younger three children, Bryony and I get into the family car with mum and dad, Bryony dressed in the lilac leotard and pink tights worn by all ballet students… And that I might be wearing myself very soon. After dropping my sister off at her dance class, we head straight for my counsellor’s office, and by the time we arrive, I’m so nervous I’m almost hyperventilating.

“Try to calm down!” Mum urges me, giving me a comforting hug. “Whatever happens, you’ll still be our child, and we’ll never try to stop you from being who it is you truly want to be. Will we, Andrew?”

“…No,” dad mumbles as we head into the tall, looming building.

“Hello Ashley, Mr. Moore, Mrs. Moore,” Dr Williamson says softly as we sit down in her comfortable chairs, my hands trembling with fear and anticipation. “There’s no need to be so nervous, Ashley. I know today is a different appointment than usual, but we’re only here to support you."

“I know,” I whisper. “Do- do you have-“

“I have the report that my colleague and I put together,” Dr Williamson says. “From our meetings over the last six months, I’ve been able to get to know you and your situation well. You clearly have a strong female identity and a clear preference for that identity. In addition, you’ve displayed symptoms of both depression and stress, not just in this meeting but during virtually every meeting. The conclusion we’ve reached is that your continued struggles with your gender identity are what’s causing this stress and depression. Are- are you following me so far?”

“Yes,” I whisper as my parents also nod.

“This, combined with your description of your feelings when you are expressing your female side,” Dr Williamson continues, making me frown as I feel dad bristle next to me, “is enough to convince myself and my colleague that a diagnosis of gender identity dysphoria is appropriate in your case.” I blink twice as my jaw drops and my ice-cold hands start to shake even more. Did- did she just say what I thought she said? Did I misinterpret it?

“So- so you’re saying-“ dad stammers.

“Yes,” Dr Williamson says. “I am convinced beyond all reasonable doubt that, to put it in its simplest possible terms, Ashley IS a girl trapped in the body of a boy. Would you like me to put the diagnosis in writing for you?”

“Please,” mum says, giving my hand a supportive squeeze as dad looks like he’s about to fall into a state of shock. “How should we proceed now?”

“The sooner Ashley begins living life full-time as a female, the better,” Dr Williamson says as I struggle to believe the good news I’m hearing. “I can’t stress enough how psychologically damaging it would be to prevent Ashley from expressing her true, feminine identity, or to try to force her to live life as a boy, even on a part-time basis. Ashley needs time, space and most importantly of all, support, to grow into her identity.”

“But- but our girls…” Dad mumbles.

“Telling younger siblings is always difficult, I don’t deny that,” Dr Williamson concedes. “But in the long run, it’s better that they find out sooner rather than later. Mr. Moore, I know this must come as a shock to you-“

“You think?” Dad angrily retorts.

“-But you need to focus on what’s best for Ashley,” Dr Williamson continues.

“Surely his parents should be the ones to decide what’s best for him?” Dad asks as my heart sinks- it’s clear that despite the diagnosis, the road ahead is anything but smooth.

“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t agree that Ashley needed additional help,” Dr Williamson retorts, silencing my father. “Mr. Moore… You’re not the first parent to be concerned about their child transitioning, and you’re almost certainly not going to be the last. But you HAVE to focus on Ashley, and what’s best for her.”

“…How?” Dad asks in a small, terrified voice.

“One step at a time,” Dr Williamson replies. “Obviously, given Ashley’s age, school has to be the first priority. I’d recommend that Ashley stays off for the rest of the week, until you have a chance to talk to the head teacher. Obviously, as Laura also attends Ashley’s school, there will be something in place already to cater for girls like Ashley.”

“Girls like Ashley…” dad whispers disbelievingly as the same sentence warms my heart.

“Do- do we send hi- her- do we send Ashley to school in a skirt?” Mum asks. “Because girls can wear trousers too, and it might be easier if, you know…”

“That should be Ashley’s choice,” Dr Williamson asks as dad looks on the verge of tears. “As I said, it’s important for Ashley to find her own identity. The next few days will be crucial to ensure that Ashley makes the best possible start to her new life, and your actions will be a very important part of that.”

“I understand,” mum whispers as it slowly starts to sink in. As of right now, I, Ashley Moore, am officially a girl. I zone out as Dr Williamson talks to my parents about the more technical side of what will happen to me next, though the counsellor regains my attention when she says a word I wasn’t expecting to hear tonight.

“…Hormones, which will-“ The counsellor says, before being interrupted by a predictable source.

“Whoa, whoa,” dad moans. “It’s far too early to be talking about hormones!”

“Yes, yes it is,” Dr Williamson says. “I was referring to prescribing Ashley on a course of hormone therapy only once she reaches sixteen. As she’s already started a male puberty, she will need to start a course of anti-androgens as soon as possible to minimise-“

“They’re still hormones, though!” Dad complains.

“They’re hormone BLOCKERS more than anything,” Dr Williamson explains. “Just to prevent and slowly start to reverse the effects of testosterone on Ashley’s body. I won’t need to prescribe oestrogen until Ashley is sixteen as she’s already started her growth spurt.”

“Are the effects of these- these blockers, um, are they reversible?” Dad asks.

“At first, yes,” Dr Williamson says. “After a certain amount of time, usually 9-12 months, the sterilisation will be permanent. I can write you a prescription for the anti-androgens today, if you’d like?” My heart starts to flutter at the thought of taking the pills. Laura’s often talked about how strong the pills- which she calls ‘boy blockers’- make her feel, and the idea that I might soon have some of my own… It’s almost overwhelming.

“Will it stop- will it stop, my, um, night time…” I mumble.

“Over time, yes,” Dr Williamson says, smiling sympathetically. “Ashley, I know this is a lot to take in, but this IS what you want, isn’t it?”

“Yes, definitely,” I say. “I- I really, really hate being a boy. It’s almost like it hurts.” I sigh as mum gives me a comforting hug whilst Dr Williamson’s smile grows wider.

“Well from now on,” the middle-aged woman says, “you won’t have to be in pain anymore.” I smile at the doctor, laughing happily and feeling so light-headed that mum actually has to hold my hand to help me down the stairs after we leave the office.

All the way home, my mind is occupied by the future. I’ll finally truly be ‘one of the girls’, I’ll go to school wearing a skirt, I’ll go to ballet wearing a leotard, I may even join the school gymnastics or dance teams. Next year, I might even become a cheerleader…

As we arrive home, though, I’m reminded that it’s not all going to be plain sailing. Dad didn’t say one word all the way home, even after picking Bryony up from ballet, and as he sits down in his chair, all he can do is stare at me, his face a mixture of horror and disappointment. After ordering Bryony up to her room, I’m sat down in the living room next to my mother as my father and my grandparents try to take in what’s happened.

“So you got the diagnosis, then?” Grandpa Chris asks, sighing as dad nods. “Well, a medical professional isn’t going to give a diagnosis for a condition someone doesn’t have. The question is, what are you going to do now?”

“What CAN we do?” Dad retorts, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “My son is now my daughter. How am I supposed to react to that? What would you have done if I’d gone up to you when I was thirteen and asked ‘dad, can I please be a girl’?”

“…I’d probably have clouted you,” grandpa Chris concedes. “Which would’ve been the wrong thing to do. But that was 1994, this is 2016, and you have been raised to be tolerant of people who don’t fall into the normal, well, ‘categories’.”

“What your father’s trying to say,” grandma Jo interjects, “is that no matter what, we’d never have stopped loving you.”

“Exactly,” Grandpa Chris says.

“The doctor did say it would actually harm Ashley to prevent hi- to prevent HER from being a girl.”

“Sounds obvious to me what your next steps are, then,” Grandpa Chris shrugs. “If you need any help with money-“

“We’ll be fine,” mum says. “Even with four other children… Guess this way the clothes we get will get four uses instead of three, heh.”

“Well if you need any help at all, you know where to find us,” Grandma Jo says, before coming over to me and giving me a tight hug. “And you, young lady, don’t give your parents any trouble, okay?”

“Bit late for that,” dad mumbles, earning a VERY angry stare from both of my grandparents.

“I won’t,” I whisper, before exchanging an awkward hug with my grandfather.

“It- it’s getting late,” mum mumbles after my grandparents leave. “Ashley, we’re going to keep you off school tomorrow and probably for the rest of the week whilst we, well, get everything sorted. I suppose we’ll need to get you a nightdress for tomorrow… Can you sleep in your boy’s pyjamas for tonight?”

“It’s not going to kill me,” I shrug.

“That’s not what you said on Saturday,” dad snorts.

“Andrew!” Mum snaps. “This- all this- is NOT helping! Yes, it’s going to be a lot to get used to. But that’s just it- we HAVE to get used to it. It was a change every time all five of our children came along. This is no different. We were prepared then, and we’re prepared now. So you need to grow up and accept that we have another daughter!” I have to fight back tears as dad gets up and marches past my mother and myself, regarding us both with dark, angry stares as he goes.

“I- I’m sorry,” I whisper after dad leaves.

“No, don’t you dare be sorry for being who you are!” Mum says, giving me a tight hug as I silently weep onto her shoulder. “Ashley, listen to me. You are our child. We love you, we will never stop loving you. It doesn’t matter if you’re a boy or a girl, we’ll love you all the same, because as your parents, that’s our job. Okay?”

“Okay,” I sniffle.

“Now go on, get an early night,” mum says. “You look exhausted, and it’s understandable why. I’ll get you up tomorrow after your sisters have gone to school and nursery, okay?”

“Okay,” I whisper, heading upstairs where I spend time staring at my collection of girls’ clothes in my wardrobe. Up until today, this had been a secret, a fantasy- every time I wore any of these items of clothing, right the way from my fanciest dress to a simple pair of panties, it had been just ‘dressing up’, almost like this was a game… Now, anytime I pull on any of these clothes, I won’t be ‘dressing up’, I’ll just be ‘dressing’, same as any other teenaged girl. I used to dream of being a girl, and now my dream has come true. But as with all things in life, it’s never THAT simple.

After briefly logging into Facebook to see if any of the girls are online (which they aren’t, having stayed late at ballet to rehearse for the recital), I change into my boy’s pyjamas for what I’m confident will be the last ever time. This time tomorrow night, I’ll be changing into a nightdress, the same as Laura, the same as Suriya and the other girls… Before the end of the year, I may even have a sleepover with the other girls, wearing my own nightdress. I might even HOST a sleepover…

Before I’m able to drift off to sleep, however, I’m reminded that however big my dreams are, there’ll always be someone willing to shatter them- and the man most likely to shatter them lets himself into my room, sitting down on the edge of my bed with a heavy sigh.

“Hi dad,” I say in the same quiet falsetto I use whenever I’m being ‘girl Ashley’, a voice I’m going to have to get using all the time.

“Ashley,” dad mumbles, my voice making him visibly uncomfortable even in the darkness of my bedroom.

“What do you want?” I ask, trying not to sound TOO confrontational.

“What your mother said was right,” dad sighs. “You’ll always be our child, and we’ll always love you, and support you. But I- I’m sorry, Ash. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to accept you as my daughter. For the last thirteen and a half years I’ve thought of us as a team. I wanted us to do all the things me and my dad did when I was growing up. I was going to take you to football games, teach you how to shave… Now I can’t do any of that.”

“You can do them with Eddy,” I shrug, making dad sigh with frustration.

“But I WANTED to do all these thing with YOU,” dad says. “And besides, what if ‘Eddy’ suddenly turns around one day and says ‘I want to be called Emily’?”

“So I’m not allowed to transition in case Eddy wants to?” I retort.

“I never said you weren’t ALLOWED,” dad says. “But you need to understand that what you’re doing affects more than just you. You’re depriving your sisters and your brother of their older brother. And you’re depriving your parents of a son.”

“I’m giving my sisters and brother an older sister, and I’m giving you a daughter,” I retort. “Don’t make me out to be the selfish one here.”

“I am NOT being selfish!” Dad hisses.

“You heard what Dr Williamson said,” I spit. “Some people are so uncomfortable living the way they were born that they kill themselves. Would you rather have an alive daughter or a dead son?” Dad’s anger immediately dissipates as I put the worst case scenario into his mind.

“You’d never do that,” dad says dismissively.

“I don’t need to anymore,” I shrug, causing dad to hang his head, though in the dark I can’t tell whether it’s due to frustration or due to shame.

“Goodnight, Ash,” dad mumbles, leaving my room and closing the door behind him.

My alarm wakes me up at 7:30am as usual, and in my tired state I actually pull on my dressing gown and lay out my school uniform on my chair for the day ahead, when the events of the previous day come rushing back to me. Not only am I being kept off school today, so I won’t have to wear this uniform today… But I won’t have to wear this uniform ever again.

I wait for dad’s car, which contains my three younger sisters, to leave, before getting up, washing my face and stripping off my pyjamas. Once I've returned to my bedroom, I look into my underwear drawer and my heart nearly skips a beat at the thought that from now on, this is all I'll be wearing under my clothes.

I have a wide grin on my face as I slide a brand-new pair of girls' panties up my legs, and I let out a giggle as they 'hold' me in a very snug way. Next comes a lace-trimmed vest- I do own a handful of training bras, but they can wait for now. Well, until I start growing breasts of my own, of course! Next come a pair of sheer, opaque black tights, followed by a short denim skirt and a clingy, long-sleeved grey top.

“Ashley?” Mum asks as she heads up the stairs. “Are you awake?”

“I’m awake,” I respond in my new voice. I fidget as mum opens my bedroom door, before smiling at the sight of me in my feminine glory.

“Beautiful,” mum says with a proud smile. “Though it wouldn’t kill you to put on a little make-up… I know I got told off a lot when I was thirteen, I used to go everywhere wearing the thickest eyeliner imaginable… Do- do you need a hand putting-“

“No, I’m okay,” I say, kneeling down in front of my wardrobe mirror and giggling at the feel of my thick carpet through my thin tights. I try to stop my hands from shaking as I apply a little mascara and a little eyeliner, and by some miracle, I finish applying my make-up without poking myself in the eye even once.

“Perfect,” mum says, kneeling down beside me and brushing my hair out into a feminine style that beautifully frames my face. How do you feel, Ashley?

“I- I can’t put it into words,” I say as I look at my reflection in my mirror. It’s an image I’ve seen before, of course. Many times, in fact, but back then I knew that it wouldn’t last.

It’s only as I help my mum stuff all of my boy clothes into bin liners, ready to take to a charity shop, that the gravity of the situation starts to dawn on me. This is really happening- my life from now on will be female or bust. The more my old, male life disappears, the more anxious I get, until I’m forced to lower myself onto my bed to catch my breath.

“Ashley?” Mum asks, sitting down beside me. “Ashley, are you alright?”

“It’s just- it’s just, you know, BIG,” I pant. “This is real…”

“Yes, yes it is,” mum says, giving me a comforting hug. “But it’s something you’ve spent the whole of the last six months saying that you wanted. Now that it’s real, do- do you still want it?”

“Yes, of course,” I say. “But- I dunno. I just thought…”

“You just thought you’d go to sleep as a boy, wake up as a girl and that’d be the end of it?” Mum asks, sighing as I nod. “Even you should’ve known it won’t be that simple. Yes, you’re living life from now on as a girl. But we all have a lot of work ahead of us, especially you.” I grimace as I hear the front door open and close. In the past, this would be a signal to me to hastily strip off my girl clothes and pull my boy clothes back on, but with all my boy clothes now in bin liners, that’s not an option…

“Big smile,” mum whispers. “He’s never seen you dressed as a girl, has he?”

“No,” I whisper.

“You never know,” mum says. “Maybe this will inject a bit of sense into him.”

“I doubt it,” I spit, but I know I have no choice, and I force a smile on my face as I follow mum out of my bedroom, my toes curling as I pad downstairs and lock eyes with my father. Almost instantly, his eyes begin to fill with tears at the sight of me in my skirt, and he hurries into the kitchen without saying another word.

“I’ll talk to him,” mum says quietly. “You relax on the sofa, grab your tablet computer, watch some TV, try to get settled, okay?”

“Okay,” I whisper, returning to my room to get my tablet as mum heads into the kitchen to talk to dad. Unsurprisingly, when I switch on the tablet, there are several messages from the girls that came through after I went to bed yesterday, each one asking how my meeting with the counsellor went. I grin as I prop the tablet up on a bookcase and take a full-length photo of myself in my new clothes, hair and make-up, which I send to the other seven girls as part of a group message. As they’re all at school, they won’t be able to receive the message for several hours, but I couldn’t wait to spread the good news- though as dad comes back through from the kitchen, I realise that it’s only good news from a certain point of view.

“H- hello, Ashley,” dad mumbles, grimacing as I sit down with my knees pressed tightly together.

“Hi dad,” I whisper.

“Are- are you even comfortable dressed like that?” Dad asks.

“More comfortable than I’ve ever been,” I say. “I don’t have to hide anymore.”

“’Hide’ what, exactly?” Dad asks.

“Me,” I say. “The real me. This is who I’ve dreamed of being for my whole life. Now my dream’s come true.”

“Well you know it’s not going to be that easy, I hope,” dad says. “Your mother was telling me that you’ve bagged up all your boy clothes for a charity shop.”

“Yes,” I say.

“Well there’s no sense in throwing them out just yet,” dad says. “Eddy can wear them when he gets older.”

“They’ll have sat in a cupboard for thirteen years,” I say.

“Still,” dad says. “There’s no sense in just, umm, throwing them away…”

“Dad,” I say firmly. “I’m NOT going back to being a boy. This is who I am now. You have to accept that.”

“And you know I can’t do that,” dad sighs. “I suppose eventually, over time, I might be able to get used to it. But to me, you’ll always be my son. Seeing you looking like that… It hurts me, Ashley.”

“Living my life every day as a boy hurt me,” I whisper. “I was always the odd one out. I never belonged anywhere. Now I do.”

“School WILL be hard for you,” dad says. “Your mother and I will be meeting with your headmaster tomorrow to explain the situation-“

“Head teacher,” I interrupt. “She’s a woman too.”

“…We’ll be explaining the situation,” dad says, clearly irritated at me correcting him. “You’ll probably have the same arrangements as Laura does. And you’ll probably face the same bullying that Laura does. Worse, in fact, since everybody at that school already knows you as a boy."

“…I know,” I mumble. As much as I wish he wasn’t, dad IS telling the truth about the hardships ahead of me.

“And you still want to put yourself through all that?” Dad asks.

“It’s who I am,” I whisper.

“Ash,” dad sighs, “don’t think I don’t know anything about transgendered stuff. I know, for example, that is really, really rare for someone to transition when they’re as young as you or Laura. Most people don’t transition until they’re adults, some don’t transition until they’re even older than I am.”

“I know,” I say.

“What I’m trying to say,” dad sighs, “is that if you want to wait until you finish school and then transition, we’ll support you then. That woman we met at your birthday, that Nikki girl, she told me that’s what she did.”

“You- you spoke to Nikki?” I ask.

“Ash, we only want to help you,” dad says. “Yes, I’d prefer you to be a boy. I always will, and I won’t apologise for that. But if you’re sure you want, well, ‘this’… Then we’ll do all we can to help.”

“You’re kinda giving mixed messages,” I retort.

“What you said last night,” dad mumbles. “I would rather have an alive transgendered daughter than a dead son. But I also know you’d never do anything like that.”

“Because I’ve never been pushed that hard,” I say. “And I always had ‘this’ to look forward to, with my friends, or in private. Now I have ‘this’ 24/7.”

“So what have you got left to look forward to?” Dad asks.

“Sleepovers,” I retort. “Hanging out with my friends as one of the girls, getting pointe shoes for ballet, becoming a cheerleader, starting hormones… Surgery…”

“Fine,” dad says. “I’ll be picking up your sisters this afternoon, we’ll explain to all three of them at the same time. I hope you’re prepared to answer some hard questions, Ashley.”

“I am,” I whisper. “I hope you’re prepared to see me wearing a skirt every day for the rest of my life.”

“Suppose I might as well get used to it now,” dad sighs. “Ash… When you said things to look forward to, you never said anything about getting a boyfriend or a girlfriend. I know when I was thirteen, I was obsessed with girls- though obviously, I wasn’t obsessed with BEING one…”

“I- I don’t know,” I whisper. “I suppose it’s girls I’m interested in… Not really attracted to boys, not like Laura is.”

“So I don’t have to worry about you bringing any boys home?” Dad asks, smiling as I shake my head. “That’s something, I guess.”

“Dad…” I whisper as he starts to leave. “I- I am grateful. I’m grateful that you’re letting me do this. I know a lot of fathers wouldn’t.”

“I only want you to be happy,” dad whispers.

“Happy AND male,” I retort.

“Well, yes,” dad says. “I still don’t see why they have to be mutually exclusive.”

“Well trust me, they are,” I snort as dad heads back into the kitchen and I turn my attention back to my tablet computer, which still has Facebook open on it.

I let out a long sigh as I browse to my profile page, which still has a photo of my old, make-up free, male face, underneath which is the line ‘gender: male’. All I have to do to change this is tap a couple of buttons… And open myself up to the ridicule and bullying that I know I’ll have waiting for me when I return to school next week. I shiver as the angry face of Ryan Reid flashes in front of my eyes. The school has strict rules about discrimination, but if the rumours are true, Ryan’s already been expelled from two schools for violence… He wouldn’t think twice about beating me to a pulp. Maybe it would be best if I did go back to school wearing trousers after all…

I switch off my tablet, leaving my Facebook profile unchanged, before heading back upstairs to my room to rearrange my clothes into my wardrobe and my drawers. Thanks to donations from my friends and the occasional gift here and there from my mum, I have more than enough clothes to live, but my drawers still seem very empty, especially compared to Laura’s packed wardrobe. I pause before closing my underwear drawer, gently stroking the thick grey tights- MY thick grey tights, which I’ll be wearing to school before too long. Assuming I don’t get both of my legs broken on my first day back, of course…

As I leave my bedroom, my eyes are drawn to the three bin liners that contain my old clothes- my old life, in fact. Silently, I return the bag that contains my school uniform to my bedroom, before heading downstairs to relax and TV for the rest of the morning.

As dad promised, he leaves the house just before 3pm to pick up my sisters from school (or, in Dorothy’s case, nursery), and I wait nervously in the kitchen for their return. I’m slightly reassured by the fact that Bryony already knows about and has accepted ‘girl me’, but explaining this to Cassie, who adored her big brother, and Dorothy, who’s only three… This will NOT be easy.

After they return, I remain in the kitchen for an additional couple of minutes whilst mum and dad explain the situation to them. Part of me wants to be out there, explaining to my sisters myself and showing my parents- especially my father- that I can be mature and grown-up about this, but a much bigger part of me is all too happy to let my parents handle this for me.

“Ashley,” mum calls, making me take several deep breaths to compose myself. “Come out here, please.” I stand up, my legs trembling with nerves, before opening the kitchen door and smiling at the shocked faces of my three sisters (Bryony obviously putting on a convincing act for dad).

“Hi Bryony, Cassie, Dorothy,” I say in my soft, feminine voice.

“Hi Ashley!” Bryony says, grinning and coming over to give me a big hug.

“Cassie, Dorothy, say hi to your big sister,” mum says to the two younger girls, who are still stunned into silence.

“Hi Ashley,” Cassie says and she stares intently at my lightly made-up face. “Are you REALLY a girl?”

“Umm,” I say, my eyes going wide as I stare at my father, who simply shrugs in response. “…Yes. I am really a girl. I used to be a boy, but I didn’t want to be a boy anymore, so now I’m a girl.”

“So if I didn’t want to be a girl, could I be a boy?” Cassie asks, making everyone- surprisingly, even dad- giggle.

“Do you want to be a boy?” I ask, giggling further as Cassie screws up her face and shakes her head.

“Boys can’t be ballerinas!” Cassie squeaks, making everyone smile happily. “Ashley, if you’re going to be a girl now, does that mean that you’ll be a ballerina too?”

“I might be,” I say, making Cassie cheer and give me a tight hug as I turn to my still-silent youngest sister. “Dorothy, are you happy now that I’m your sister instead of your brother?” I smile as the toddler nods, before holding out her arms for a hug, which I happily give her. I have a very wide, very smug smile on my face as I turn to face dad, who is simply sat with a sad, resigned smile on his face. I might actually be getting away with this…

“Ashley,” Cassie asks, “if you change your mind, does that mean that you’ll be a boy again?” I pause as my smile fades and dad’s suddenly becomes more and more smug.

“But I won’t want to be a boy again,” I say.

“But you were before,” Cassie retorts. “What if you missed it? Can you be a girl at home or a boy at the weekend, like how I don’t wear my school uniform at weekends?”

“I’m not ever going to be a boy again,” I say firmly, giving the tiny girl a gentle cuddle. “I only ever wanted to be a girl. And now I am.”

“Well, okay,” Cassie says. “Does this mean that Eddy will be a girl too?”

“No,” dad says firmly. “Only Ashley. Eddy’s too young to know what he wants. Ashley…”

“Ashley’s thought about this long and hard,” mum says. “It’s not as simple as deciding what you want for tea, or even what you want for Christmas.”

“I’ve been thinking about this for over two years,” I say to Cassie, trying not to giggle as her jaw overdramatically drops. “It wasn’t an easy decision, but it was the only decision I could make.”

“Okay,” Cassie says uneasily, before immediately perking up. “Can I get changed into my ballet uniform now, please?”

“After tea,” mum chuckles as she escorts my sisters upstairs to get changed out of their uniforms.

“Okay,” dad sighs after my sisters leave. “I will concede, that went a lot better than I expected. And you were very mature, Ashley.”

“Thanks,” I say, sitting down my hands clasped in my lap and grimacing at the discomfort this gesture causes my father. “And… Yeah. You didn’t make it any harder for me, so, um, thanks.”

“I don’t want us to be enemies,” dad says.

“You don’t want us to be father and daughter either,” I retort.

“Well- no, no I don’t,” dad sighs. “But it’s been, what, six hours now? I’m slowly starting to get used to it. Maybe.”

“Thanks,” I whisper, before remembering the photo I sent to my friends earlier and grabbing my tablet from where I left it on the bookcase.

“Ah, teenaged girl obsessed with the internet,” dad says, making me giggle. “Messaging your friends?”

“Yeah,” I say as I wait for the tablet to boot up.

“…Invite them over tomorrow after school,” dad sighs.

“Re-really?” I ask.

“They’re going to be your friends,” dad shrugs.

“They already are,” I retort, silencing my father as I log into Facebook, giggling excitedly at the thousands messages waiting for me, all of them congratulating me on my decision.

“…Go on,” dad sighs, making me giggle as I take my tablet up to my bedroom, where I join in the Facebook chat that’s already in progress.

‘Hey girlies!!!!!!’ I type, my fingers trembling with excitement.

‘GIRLIE!!!!!’ Comes a near-immediate reply from Laura.

‘OMG congratulations!!!!’ Nicole types with several smiley faces after it.

‘Girly girlie!’ Mia types, making me giggle.

‘Can’t stay on long, got dinner,’ I type. ‘Just wanted you all to know the great news! Have come out to sisters too, they’re all cool with it.’

‘Of course they are,’ Laura types. ‘They’ve got the coolest big sister in the world!’

‘Joint coolest!’ Nicole types, earning a stuck-out tongue smiley from Laura.

‘When you coming back to school?’ Priya asks, also sending a stuck-out tongue smiley to Laura.

‘Probably Monday,’ I type. ‘Really nervous about it…’

‘George can be your bodyguard,’ Megan types with a winking smiley.

‘AND you’ve got a prefect to stick up for you too!’ Priya types.

‘Thanks, girlies!’ I type, followed a string of smileys. “Was- was Sam and Ryan a pain today?’

‘Same as always,’ Laura types. ‘I’ve told you before, this skirt is a shield, it will protect you. You ARE wearing a skirt when you come back, right?’

‘Why would I wear trousers?’ I type. ‘I’m not a boy!’ I giggle at the seven grinning smileys I receive from all my friends, before excusing myself from the chat to go down to eat dinner.

I spend the rest of the evening answering questions from my sisters- well, Cassie mostly, and most of those questions are about ballet- and chatting with the other girls over Facebook before having a Skype chat, where my ‘new voice’ gets a lot of positive comments- and for the first time ever, I’m able to speak without fear of being discovered by my father or any of my sisters, meaning I feel completely at ease when the time comes to change out of my skirt and top and into the new nightdress mum ordered off of Amazon yesterday. Even though it’s very plain- more ‘long t-shirt’ than ‘dress’, it’s still feminine enough to soothe my stresses as I cuddle up underneath my bed sheets, where I reflect on my first full day as a girl. It had its ups and downs, for sure, but there were a lot more ‘ups’ than ‘downs’- and most importantly, everyone has accepted that ‘girl’ Ashley is the norm from now on.

I wake up at the same time as my sisters the following day, even though I’m still not going into school today, and I giggle as I head downstairs to be greeted by enthusiastic waves from Bryony, Cassie and Dorothy!

“Hi Ashley!” Cassie squeaks. “Are you still a girl this morning?”

“He- uhh- SHE’ll be a girl every morning!” Bryony says. “Do you remember what I told you last night?” I smile as Cassie nods enthusiastically, before staring quizzically at the older girl.

“…What did you tell her?” I ask the ten year old girl as she eats her cereal.

"That you needed to be a girl, and that we need to treat you as a girl or you'll be miserable," Bryony matter-of-factly replies. "That is right, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I laugh. "Heh, it should be you who's the big sister here, not me!"

"I know," Bryony says smugly, before heading back to her bedroom to change into her school uniform.

After dad drops my sisters off at school and nursery, I change into my outfit for the day. As we're meeting with my head teacher, I dress smartly, but not in my uniform- that's to be saved for my first actual day of school. Instead, I wear a smart, long-sleeved knee-length grey dress with (of course) black tights and plain black flats.

Even though all the kids in the school are in their classes, and it's a short walk from the car park to Mrs. Houghton's office, and I am of course being 'escorted' by mum and dad, I still feel nervous as I walk through the familiar corridors for the first time as the girl I truly am inside. Not long from now, I'll be doing this for real...

"Mr. Moore, Mrs. Moore, please come in," Mrs. Houghton says as we enter her spacious office. "Hello Ashley, might I say, you're looking nice today."

"Thank you," I whisper nervously as I sit down next to my parents.

"I've reviewed the information you emailed me last night," Mrs. Houghton says. "Obviously, I'm not going to ignore what- or rather, who- is sat in front of me, but just so there's a paper trail, do you have the diagnosis?"

"Right here," mum says, handing over a piece of paper. "There's also confirmation on there that Ashley will be taking anti-androgens."

"...Yes," Mrs. Houghton says as she studies the letter. "Well, obviously, as you know- Laura White is one of your friends, after all- the school is more than willing and able to accommodate transgendered students. We will apply the same framework we used for Laura to you, Ashley. She'll be able to tell you which toilets you can use, where you can change for PE, which clubs you can and can't enter. Sports teams are a different matter- we were only able to get away with allowing Laura onto the teams because we were able to persuade all the schools in the area that she'd never been, well, 'chemically' male. I doubt we'll be able to do the same for you, Ashley."

"That's okay," I say quietly. "So will- will I be allowed to wear a skirt?"

"Skirts are permitted as part of the uniform code for girls, so yes," Mrs. Houghton says, before a friendly smile creeps across her face. "Ashley, you have my absolute reassurance that the school will acknowledge you 100% as your chosen gender. If you say you're a girl, and you have the paperwork to back it up, then as far as we're concerned, you are a girl."

"The school will acknowledge hi- Ashley," dad says, still apparently unable to refer to me as 'her'. "But what about the other pupils?"

"We value inclusion at this school," Mrs. Houghton says, her words flying over my head. "Anyone who discriminates anyone else for being a different skin colour, or for being LGBT, will be punished extremely severely. We want Ashley to feel that within these walls, she is free to be whoever she wants to be."

"YOU feel that, yes," dad says. "It's not you who's the problem, it's the people who won't be able to look past what Ashley was." Want to take a look in the mirror there, dad? I think to myself.

"Well obviously, we can't assign Ashley a bodyguard 24/7," Mrs. Houghton says. "But I can say that anyone who does try to harm Ashley will not be given the opportunity to try again, at least not within these walls."

"So if someone beats up Ashley, you'll expel them?" Dad asks as I cringe further and further.

"We will definitely look at exclusion as a potential sanction, yes," Mrs. Houghton says.

"And if thirty people beat up-" dad says, but he is not allowed to finish his sentence.

"Andrew!" Mum snaps, silencing my father. "Thank you for everything you've done, Mrs. Houghton. I'm sure these steps will be more than enough to guarantee our DAUGHTER's safety and happiness."

"You're very welcome, Mrs. Moore," Mrs. Houghton says. "However, it would be remiss of me if I didn't mention another option."

"...Another option?" Dad asks as I try to figure out what Mrs. Houghton could be talking about.

"Yes," the head teacher says. "After Laura started here, the board of governors and I worked together to put forward an 'action plan' for when we had other transgendered students starting with the school. Obviously, the option is there for Ashley to fully attend as her chosen gender, but we also have a 'compromise'."

"I don't want to come to school as a boy," I blurt, earning a stern stare from my head teacher before her kind smile returns.

"And we wouldn't ask you to, Ashley," Mrs. Houghton says. "We would simply not acknowledge your gender either way. You wouldn't use any gender-specific toilets and you wouldn't do any gender-specific team sports or swimming in PE. Any lessons that would involve splitting the class by gender, you would be excused from."

"That sounds like a lot of hassle for you," mum says.

"What's best for Ashley is most important," Mrs. Houghton says. "As it is, if Ashley were to return to school, we would need to cancel lessons to hold a special assembly to announce the transition to his- sorry, HER year group."

"What's the earliest you could do this?" Mum asks.

"Tomorrow," Mrs. Houghton says. "Trust me when I say we are treating this as a top priority."

"We don't want to keep Ashley away from school any longer than necessary," mum says. "Tomorrow it is."

"Hang on," dad says, making me groan. "I want to hear more about this compromise."

"Dad," I hiss. "I am NOT becoming a boy again."

"And I never said you will," dad says. "At home, you can wear whatever you want to wear and act however you want to act, but no one's going to beat you senseless at home. You can still take those blocker pills, and when you're sixteen, then you can go to college as whatever gender you choose and make a clean break. But there's no sense in deliberately putting yourself in harm's way, is there?"

"There also no sense in denying Ashley the chance to be who she truly is," mum argues.

"This isn't an easy decision, I agree," Mrs. Houghton says. "If you want time to discuss it, you have my email address and my mobile number, let me know when you come to a decision or if you need more time to decide. But you're right in what you say, Mrs. Moore- the sooner Ashley returns to school, the better. Classes will be getting out soon, so I'll let you go now before it gets too crowded. Could you let me know either way by this evening?"

"We'll have our decision for you then," mum says, shaking Mrs. Houghton's hand. "Thank you for your time today."

"That's why we're here," my head teacher says with a smile as we head back to the car.

"Obviously, the decision's yours, Ashley," dad says as we drive back home. "But I would think long and hard about that compromise Mrs. Houghton offered if I were you."

"You're only saying that because you want me to go back to being a boy," I spit.

"No," dad angrily retorts. "I'm saying that because I don't want the school to call me and tell me that you've been taken to A&E!"

"But there's no guarantee that would happen if Ashley went to school wearing a skirt," mum says. "She always hangs around with a large group of friends at break times, and no one would dare attack her in class."

"Well whatever you decide," dad sighs, "let us know soon, okay? I don't want to keep your head teacher waiting too long."

"Okay," I whisper.

A short while later, we arrive back home, and I head back up to my bedroom where I stare at the contents of the bin liner I 'saved' yesterday, containing my old boy's school uniform. As much as Laura says her skirt is a shield, the truth is that my anonymity has been far more of a shield. People may tease me for associating with the girls, but I've never not been a pretend boyfriend to any of them, giving me a 'cover story' to keep hanging out with them. If I wore a skirt to school, even once, there'd be no going back from it. And dad's right, when I leave school, I'll be able to do and wear whatever I want, make a fresh start at college... But that's 2 1/2, almost 3 years away. The last two years have been hard enough, trying to hide who and what I am...

I'm still torn by the decision when my friends arrive shortly after the end of school, each one of them giving me a tight hug when they see me wearing my smart dress. Well, each of them apart from George, who looks decidedly uncomfortable as he sits down on the floor next to Megan.

"This is so cool!" Laura squeaks as she squeezes me tighter than any of the other girls. "When are you back at school?"

"T-tomorrow," I say nervously.

"Oh my god!" Priya squeaks, her voice more excited than I've ever heard her. "Oh, I am SO looking out for you tomorrow. Consider me your official bodyguard at breaks and lunches!"

"Assuming I need one," I say.

"That's it, keep optimistic!" Mia says with a sad smile. "Of course, you DO realise I'm going to have to dump you, right? I only date BOYS!"

"Yeah," I giggle. "Girls- girlies... I don't know that I'll be wearing a skirt tomorrow."

"Umm... What?" Laura asks. "Why wouldn't you wear a skirt? You've, like, been dreaming about it for over two years now!"

"AND you actually own one that your mum bought especially for this!" Harriet laughs.

"Mrs. Houghton- Mrs. Houghton offered me a 'compromise'," I mumble, bringing a very angry expression to Laura's face.

"NO!" Laura snaps. "No 'compromise'! You shouldn't have to 'compromise' on who you are!"

"I wouldn't be," I say. "I wouldn't be a boy anymore... I just wouldn't be, you know, 100% a girl either. Not at school, anyway- I could still be as girly as I want at home, at weekends..."

"Even if you did," Suriya says, "it would eventually get round the school as well. Unless you want to keep going to ballet as a boy as well."

"There are other girls from our school who go to Miss Fullerton's class," Mia says, and she's right- Mia herself fell into that 'category' just a few weeks ago.

"Most of them are friends with stupid Sam," Harriet spits.

"...So I wouldn't get to be a ballerina," I shrug. "I can always start girl lessons when I start college, when I'm sixteen."

"By which point I'd be eighteen and away at university," Priya mumbles. "You know Miss Fullerton has always wanted the eight of us to dance together on stage. Then again, your safety IS more important."

"Than her happiness?" Suriya pleads with her sister.

"No, Priya's right," Megan mumbles. "Especially when you're in year 11, Ash, you won't have any of us there to protect you anymore, not apart from George, anyway."

"She wouldn't have either of the Reids, either," Suriya says. "She wouldn't NEED protecting."

"Doesn't mean someone else won't come along," George says. "Mate, you know I'll stick up for you. But if it means I get my face kicked in by Ryan Reid..."

"Well whatever you decide," Priya says, "we'll see you tomorrow morning, okay?"

"Okay," I whisper as the conversation turns to happier topics, like dancing and clothes. Despite this, I'm still not able to concentrate on what's being said- I'd hoped that my friends would be united to help me decide one way or the other about what to do, what to wear tomorrow, but the way they're split just makes the decision worse.

Of course, Laura would be in favour of me going 100% girl- it'd mean she wouldn't be the only transgendered girl in the school anymore. Harriet would obviously support that decision too for similar reasons, and what Suriya says is right- thanks to everyone having a cameraphone, all it would take is one slip-up for 'girl Ashley' to be outed and make the decision irrelevant.

Priya and Megan, of course, just want to avoid trouble where possible, and I'm sure Mia doesn't want to become one of Sam's 'targets'. Sam came down very hard on Mia for 'switching sides', even threatening to start a fight with her once. If she saw me walk into school dressed as a girl, she'd inevitably come straight for me- assuming, of course, that Ryan doesn't get there first.

The decision is an almost impossible one to make. Neither side is completely right or wrong, but I know that I have to make a decision, and quickly. This is the most important decision of my life so far, and it's like my whole life has been leading up to this day. In the end, though, it's not my life that's been that's most important, it's my life that's yet to come that I should focus on. And with that in mind, there's only one decision I can make...

I have a nervous smile on my face as I'm greeted by my friends at the school gate, ready to start the final school day of the week- and the first day of the rest of my life.

"Are you ready?" Priya asks me.

"No turning back now," I say as I straighten my thick grey tights and adjust the waistband of my knee-length pleated skirt. "Let's do this."

TO BE CONTINUED.

"Come on," George whispers, looking every bit as terrified as I am. "Mr. Jackson has said we can go into form early so that we- well, you- don't have the rest of the form staring at you."

"Okay," I whisper.

"Mr. Jackson your form tutor?" Megan- who has joined the 'convoy' of myself, George and Priya- asks.

"Yeah," I say as I take step after step on my quivering legs.

Despite the protection of three of my closest friends surrounding me, the walk to form is still the most terrifying experience of my life, as I walk past people whose faces I recognise, and who clearly recognise my face as they start to giggle excitedly at the sight of me in my skirt. By the time I arrive at form, our 'convoy' has attracted a lot of attention- almost thirty or forty kids from all years have followed us and actually have to be chased off by Mr. Jackson.

"Go on, get to your classes!" Our form tutor barks, scaring away the 'followers' I've gained. "You too, girls, thank you for your help." Megan and Priya both nod as they leave myself and George in the care of our form tutor.

"So much for getting here unnoticed," I moan.

"They'll learn to keep their noses out of where they don't belong," Mr. Jackson snorts confidently. "Come on in, you two. Sit at your normal desk. Ashley, I'll explain to the class first. Don't worry, I won't be parading you in front of the class, just sit at your desk as normal, I'll answer any questions that you don't want to, then we'll head on to the assembly. Okay?"

"Okay," I whisper, sitting at my desk as usual and fidgeting with my fingers as the rest of my class comes in. Needless to say, all of their eyes are turned in my direction, though any comments or giggles are discouraged by the angry glare Mr. Jackson gives each pupil as they walk through the door."

"Good morning," Mr. Jackson says after everyone has sat down. "I'm sure you've all noticed something different with one of the people in this class today. Ashley has taken the decision to live the rest of her life as a girl-" Mr. Jackson is interrupted by a laugh from one of the taller boys in the class, that makes me squirm and puts a truly furious expression on the teacher's face.

"Something funny, Chris?" Mr. Jackson asks, his tone of voice making it clear that he doesn't want to hear any more laughter.

"Well it's weird, innit?" Chris snorts. "Dressing up like a girl..."

"Why, exactly?" Mr. Jackson asks.

"Well, I dunno, but it's weird, innit?" Chris responds, the smile quickly fading from his face.

"Ashley isn't even the first transgendered student in the school," Mr. Jackson says as my nerves begin to settle. "Seems to be that it's not as 'weird' as you think. And if you can't come up with a better reason than 'because it is', maybe you should shut up BEFORE making any more hurtful comments?"

"Yes, Mr. Jackson," Chris mumbles, and I wince as one of the girls sat on the opposite side of the class to me raises her hand.

"Question, Chloe?" Mr. Jackson asks.

"Yeah," Chloe- who is one of the most popular girls in the year- responds. "Will he be let in the girls' toilets? Because I don't want to use them if he does!" I grimace at the use of the word 'he', but not as much as when all the girls in the class murmur in agreement.

"'She'," Mr. Jackson says firmly. "You address Ashley as 'she', not 'he' and most certainly not 'it'."

"But he's got a penis!" Chloe protests.

"And you've got detention this lunchtime," Mr. Jackson retorts.

"What!?" Chloe moans. "That's so unfair!"

"So is discriminating against Ashley," Mr. Jackson says, silencing the thirteen year old girl. "I'll answer your question as you asked it before deciding to verbally abuse Ashley. SHE will use non-gender specific toilets, such as the disabled toilet or the staff toilets, and will be permitted to use the girls' toilets next to the girls' changing room. She will also change in there for PE, and will do the same PE lessons as the girls. Eloise?"

"But that's not fair," Eloise- who had had her hand up- protests. "He- SHE's stronger than us, she'll be better than us girls at PE."

"She won't be on any school teams, or take part in sports day," Mr. Jackson replies, before sighing as yet another hand is raised. "What is it, Darren?"

"Can I get out of doing rugby if I say I'm a girl?" The short, skinny boy asks, and I find myself clenching my fists out of pure frustration.

"If you can get a doctor to diagnose you with a verifiable medical case of gender identity, then sure," the teacher says, before sighing tiredly as he sees another hand raised- my hand. "Would you like to say something, Ashley?"

"Please," I say in my soft, feminine voice, which earns giggles from the girls. After gaining permission to speak from Mr. Jackson, I continue.

"This wasn't a decision I made overnight," I explain. "It's something I've struggled with for my whole life. If I thought there was any way I could be happy with being a boy, I would have taken it. But there isn't. The ONLY way I can be happy is if I live my life as a girl. So that's what I've chosen to do." I grin as Mr. Jackson gives me a round of applause, which is joined in by George and a couple of the other kids in the class, but crucially not by any of the kids who asked questions, and not by any of the boys at all.

"Well said, Ashley," Mr. Jackson says with a wide smile. "Instead of your usual first lessons, we'll be having an assembly during the first period to discuss this change. In the meantime, I shouldn't need to explain this, but I will do so anyway- ANY form of discrimination or bullying that is directed toward Ashley as a result of her change will be punished severely. Am I making myself understood?" I start to calm down as everyone in the room starts to settle down, though there are still a LOT of eyes looking in my direction- and all of a sudden, , my tights feel clingier than ever...

All throughout the long walk from the class to our assembly, I hear my classmates whisper and giggle, but I keep my head held high, even as my arrival attracts some giggles and whispers from the other classes already present. I'm given a slight glimmer of hope, though as that not everyone in my year knows me, so some of the teenagers are clearly confused as to why people are giggling at the girl who just walked in- meaning that I clearly 'pass' as a girl. Well, for now, anyway...

"Good morning," Mrs. Houghton says. "I've called you all into an assembly today to announce a change to one of the students in your year." My hands feel like ice as our headteacher continues her announcement.

"Ashley Moore," Mrs. Houghton continues, "has taken the decision that she can no longer live as a boy, and has decided to live her life at home and attend school as a girl." I frown and try to choke back tears as the announcement is greeting by laughter from several of my fellow students, male and female, and I find myself desperately wishing that I had taken Mrs. Houghton's compromise agreement after all...

"Silence," Mrs. Houghton says firmly, immediately stopping the laughter. "I cannot express just how disappointed I am in that reaction. I had believed the school to have a tolerant and inclusive atmosphere. Clearly, I was wrong. But let me be VERY clear- anybody who discriminates against Ashley because of gender status will be subject to SEVERE punishment, up to and including permanent exclusion." The smile begins to return to my face as no one dares to question our headteacher the way they'd questioned Mr. Jackson.

"We have prepared a small video," Mrs. Houghton continues, clicking the mouse on her laptop. I feel myself shrinking into my chair as a video starts to play on the screen going into details about transgendered issues, and whilst I've no doubt that Mrs. McFarlane meant well, by the end of the video I'm surrounded by so many whispers and so much quiet giggling that I feel like some kind of freak in a circus show. I try to comfort myself with the knowledge that if I wasn't sat here dressed the way I am, I'd be so stressed that it'd be a struggle not to tear my own skin off.

Eventually, the assembly ends, and I almost feel relieved that I'm able to head to class, where at the very least I WON'T be the focus of attention. Or at the very least, I shouldn't be, but if the assembly is anything to go by, it'll be a miracle if anyone in the class gets any work done instead of spending their whole time staring at my skirt.

"I wouldn't worry too much, Ashley," Mr. Jackson says as we leave the assembly. "This time next week, people will have got used to it and moved onto the next 'thing'."

"I hope so," I reply as I head to my next lesson, and I immediately cringe as I enter the door, as it's Science- one of very few lessons that I DON'T take with George. Even worse, rather than the usual chairs found in every other classroom, the lab is filled with high stools that I'm forced to climb onto, and as I do so, virtually every pair of eyes is on me as my skirt starts to ride up and I desperately yank it down to try to avoid flashing my crotch to everyone in the room.

Once I'm sat and settled- as settled as you can be when everyone is staring at you, anyway- I start to get my books out when I hear whispering on my left- however, unlike all the other whispering, this actually appears to be directed at me.

"Ashley!" One of the girls whispers. "Hey, Ashley! Hey, come and sit with us!" I look quizzically over at the girls, but their smiles appear genuine, so I jump down from my stool- again, taking care not to let my skirt ride up- and walk over to their desk, only for them to immediately turn their back on me the second I arrive.

"Eww!" One of the other girls spits. "Get away from us, you freak!" My jaw drops open as I desperately think of a way to respond to their cruelty, but when nothing springs to mind, I simply turn my back to them, trying not to show them how upset I am.

When I arrive back at my original desk, though, I frown when I find another pupil- a boy this time- sat in my original seat. I frown as I head to one of the other free seats in the class, only for that stool to be shoved under the desk and held there, and by the time the teacher arrives to start the lesson, I'm still stood up and the entire class is almost in hysterics at my expense.

"What's happening?" Mr. Hughes sighs. "Ashley, why aren't you at your desk?"

"No one's letting me sit next to them," I say candidly, earning snorts from the other teenagers and a long sigh from my teacher, though he obviously knows why I'm not being allowed to sit down.

"There's a free seat next to Jessica, sit there," Mr. Hughes says, and I can't help but smile smugly as he points at the very seat I was denied right at the start of the lesson.

"Eww, I don't want him sitting next to me," Jessica- the girl who had made the original invitation- spits. "I'll catch gay or something!"

"What you'll 'catch' is a detention if you don't let him sit down," Mr. Hughes says, before grimacing. "Let HER sit down, I-" The teacher's correction, however, is too little, too late, as the entire class immediately bursts out into raucous laughter and both he and I start to furiously blush.

Virtually nothing gets done during the class. I try to focus on my work, but when you're faced on all sides by laughing faces, and the teacher is virtually powerless to stop it, there's only so much you can do, only so much you can drown out. By the time I arrive at the usual table for break, I'm almost in tears. The group hug I get from the other seven girls only goes so far to calming my nerves.

"Oh god, Ash..." Laura sighs. "Not- not gone well, then?"

"I hate school," I moan as I lean forward and rest my head on the table. "Everyone in that last fucking class..."

"Where was George?" Megan asks.

"In set 3, I'm in set 2," I sigh. "He's in the rest of my classes, at least."

"Ugh," Suriya spits. "Why does everyone have to be such a pain about this? So you're wearing a skirt. Big deal, so am I. So's everyone at this table!"

"You know why it's a big deal," I sigh.

"Yes, yes I do," Laura says, adding guilt to my misery.

"...Sorry," I mumble.

"Oh, YOU have nothing to be sorry about," Laura snorts. "It's every other cunt in your year that does."

"Whoa, language, Laura?" Priya chastises the blonde girl.

"I'm only saying what we're all thinking," Laura spits. "Let me guess, whispering behind your back, pointing and giggling, fake offers of friendship?"

"Yes, yes and yes," I sigh.

"I know the feeling," Laura sighs. "I was lucky, first day of school, first class I was in, Nicole, Suri and Harriet... I was sure when they invited me to sit with them they were just going to laugh at me."

"My dad WOULD have killed me if I did," Suriya says.

"And your sister, too!" Priya laughs as Harriet looks increasingly guilty.

"And, of course, my dad threatened to kill me if I DIDN'T," the ginger girl spits. "Ashley, you tell me anyone who's making fun of you, and I'll make sure they regret it."

"You will not!" Priya retorts.

"Oh- don't be such a swot!" Harriet moans at the Indian girl.

"I'm a prefect, it's part of the job," Priya shrugs. "Ashley, not everyone in your year will be- well, what Laura said. And it's not like there aren't ways to play up your 'coolness'."

"Our connection to the Angels, for starters," Nicole suggests.

"The Angels are, like, done," Mia sighs. "Everyone's obsessed with this new 'Constellation' group."

"Which is, of course, transgender-free," Laura moans. "Priya's right, though. Not everyone in your year is gonna suck. There'll be some cool people, like George."

"Where is he, anyway?" Megan asks, concern spreading across her face as we become aware of a commotion not far from our table. As one, we all jump up and head over to the assembled crowd where, much to my horror, George is sprawled on the floor, his glasses broken and his mouth and nose bloodied, whilst Ryan Reid is stood over him with his knuckles covered in my friend's blood. Instinctively, I step in front of the towering bully to shield my friend, as does Megan, and I grind my teeth together as I brace myself for the inevitable...

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!?" A loud, stern voice- which I recognise as belonging to Mr. Allen, one of the deputy headteachers- barks. "Ryan Reid, what a surprise. My office. NOW!" I breathe a sigh of relief as the huge boy walks away, but before he takes two steps, he turns and points a finger straight at my face.

"You're next, you fucking little freak," Ryan grunts in his barely-coherent voice.

"MOVE!" Mr. Allen yells mere inches from Ryan's ear, though the bully doesn't even flinch as he's marched off to receive his punishment. As the crowd starts to disperse, I feel tears form in my eyes.

"Oh god, George," I sob as my best friend moans in pain. Another wave of guilt washes over me, though, as my primary concern isn't for George's well-being, but for the fact that I'm not going to have anyone to sit with for the rest of the day- or possibly even longer, depending on how badly my friend is hurt.

"Easy, stand back," a teacher says as they help George to his feet and help him toward the first aid room.

"This is my fault," I whisper. “I shouldn’t have-“

“Don’t say that!” Megan hisses. “It’s no one’s fault but Ryan bloody Reid’s!”

“Megan’s right,” Laura whispers as the school bell rings to signal the start of the next lesson. “We- um, we’d better get to class. Ashley… Will- will you-“

“I don’t know,” I sigh as I stare at my skirt and wonder just how high a price my other friends will have to pay for it.

“We’ll see you at lunch,” Mia whispers, giving me a tight hug before heading to her next lesson with the other girls. Whilst the hug makes me feel better for a short while, it doesn’t solve my long-term problem, and when I sit down at my next desk for the next lesson, the empty space next to me just drives that home even harder.

As usual, I’m confronted by whispers all throughout the lesson, but at least this time I don’t have to fight for a place to sit down, and the teacher is actually able to control the class. And, much to my relief, the giggles that I’ve faced all day seem to have stopped. For a brief while, I wonder if Mr. Jackson is right and people are getting used to my new situation, but when I leave the class, I find out the real reason the giggles stopped- and I find myself wishing that they hadn’t.

“Hey, Ashley,” Niamh- one of the girls in my class- says cautiously as she approaches me. “We heard about what happened to George, that really sucks…”

“Yeah, it does,” I say, trying to suppress a smirk at how my feminine voice ISN’T making the other girls laugh.

“Some- someone told me that you actually, you know, tried to get between him and Ryan Reid…” Niamh mumbles.

“I- I just did it without thinking,” I mumble.

“Huh,” Niamh says before walking away, clearly deep in thought. At least she did try to make fun of me, I think to myself as I head to my usual lunch table, where the mood is extremely sombre.

“Hey Ashley,” Megan whispers. “Is- have you heard anything about George?”

“No,” I whisper. “He didn’t come back to class… Have- have you seen Ryan?”

“No, and we don’t want to,” Priya spits. “Hope they kick that piece of shit out.”

“I hope they lock him up,” Megan growls.

“Can the police arrest a fifteen year old?” Mia asks.

“He’s sixteen, actually,” Priya explains. “His birthday was in September. And yes, yes they can. Assuming George isn’t too afraid to press charges…”

“We’ll talk him into it, won’t we, Ashley?” Megan says, making my eyes go wide.

“Umm… I guess?” I splutter.

“We can’t let Ryan get away with this!” Megan says. “Ashley, just because you’re wearing a skirt now, it doesn’t mean you can become a wimp.”

“It’s the opposite,” Harriet says with a firm stare. “A skirt is a symbol of strength, women are better than men.”

“Not ALL women,” Laura spits as the sister of George’s attacker walks past our table and fixes all eight of us with very dark, angry stares.

“On your own today, Sam?” Nicole shouts at the blonde girl, who simply snorts in disgust at us before walking away.

“…That was NOT smart,” Megan sighs at Nicole.

“What?” The mousey-haired girl protests. “It’s not like she’s gonna do anything eight on one, is she?”

“You heard what Ryan said to Ashley, though,” Megan mumbles as I feel myself sinking further and further down in my seat.

“If she- or anyone- lays a finger on Ashley, I’ll snap it off,” Mia growls.

“Umm…” I say. “You DO know we’re not pretend boyfriend and girlfriend, right? You don’t have to stick up for me anymore…”

“What, I can’t stick up for one of my best girls?” Mia asks, making me- and everyone else at the table- giggle. It’s the first time all day that I’ve actually smiled, and it’s like a weight’s been lifted from my shoulders.

“There’s only one lesson to go, Ash, then it’s the weekend,” Suriya says with a sad smile.

“And then,” Laura says smugly, “we are going to do your hair, we’re going to do your make-up and your nails, and you’re not going to have to wash off ANY of it when you go home!” This time, I smile a wide, happy grin as I know Laura (and all the other girls, for that matter) has every intention of keeping her promise. All of the girls- even Mia, who’s only known the ‘real me’ a few weeks- have never had the slightest problem with treating me like a girl, even when I wasn’t wear a skirt.

As I sit down to start my final lesson of the day- once again alone, assuming you don’t count the whispers that have become my constant companion- my earlier anxieties start to fade away as I realise that no matter what anyone says, I’ll always have seven really good, really close friends who will stand by me no matter what. I just wish that a few of them could be in my year…

I breathe a long, loud sigh of relief when the bell rings just after 3pm to signify the end of the day, and the end of the week. The walk out to the car park feels like the longest walk of the day so far, though as with my final lesson, I’m accompanied by whispers but no giggles. New of George’s fight- well, ‘beating’, really- must have spread around the school fast. As I walk down the long corridor, it’s almost as though the other pupils are scared of me, but it’s plainly obvious that what they’re actually scared of is associating with me, just in case Ryan Reid hears about it…

“Hi Ashley!” Mum says I climb onto the passenger seat of her car, taking care not to let my skirt ride up before closing the door. “Good ‘first’ day at school?”

“Not really,” I moan, making mu frown. “Everywhere I went, people were whispering and giggling…”

“That’s terrible,” mum sighs. “But this is just the first day, I’m sure people will get used to it given enough time.”

“George got beaten up,” I say, making mu gasp. “Badly. Wasn’t in school the rest of the day, reckon he might have gone to the hospital.”

“What- what kind of scum would do that?” Mum spits.

“The same scum who then turned round and threatened me,” I moaned.

“If anyone lays a finger on you, they get expelled, don’t they?” Mum asks, and I nod in response. “So why would anyone do that?”

“How long has it been since you were a teenager?” I ask.

“Charming,” mum snorts in response. “But I suppose you’ve got a point, it HAS been a while I’ve been at school… And when I was at school, if one of the boys showed up wearing a skirt- not that I’m saying you’re a boy, Ashley, but-“

“I get it,” I sigh.

“And your REAL friends are standing by you, aren’t they?” Mum asks.

“I really don’t know what I’d do without them,” I sigh happily.

“Well fortunately, you won’t have to find out,” mum says. “Whose house are you going round to tomorrow?”

“Umm, Harriet’s, I think,” I reply.

“I’ll call Harriet’s mum, ask if she doesn’t mind us ‘hosting’ instead,” mum says, making me smile.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“Least I could do for the girls who helped my special girl on her first day at school!” Mum says with a wide grin. “And we’re definitely going to have to get George a present as well, even if it’s only a ‘get well soon’ present…”

“Yeah,” I say quietly, my mood immediately darkened again by mention of my best male friend.

When we arrive home (after picking my sisters up first, of course) mum immediately rings George’s parents for an update on his condition, whilst I head upstairs to change. I let out a sigh of relief and a quiet giggle as I slide my itchy, clingy tights off of my soft, smooth legs, before pulling on an entirely different pair of opaque black tights, and exchanging my school uniform (which I put in the wash) for a short denim skirt and a red, girly sweater. This isn’t the first time I’ve dressed like this immediately after coming home from school, however, it is the first time I’ve left my bedroom dressed in this manner, and despite all that’s happened today, I have a grin on my face when I slump down onto the sofa, though my grin soon fades when I look to my right and see my dad’s stern face staring back at me.

“Your mum told me what happened at school today,” dad says. “With George. You’re lucky that wasn’t you.”

“I know,” I whisper.

“Well,” dad sighs. “There’s no going back now, I guess. Even if you did, you’d always be ‘the boy who wore a skirt to school’, that’s something no one will ever get over.”

“My friends got over it almost immediately,” I say.

“That’s because they’re your friends,” dad retorts. “Of course they’ll accept you, and even there you’re lucky that they do. You can’t expect someone who knew you as a boy to just accept you as a girl.”

“Mia did,” I shrug. “She didn’t have any idea I was a girl when we started hanging out and she’d only just started to be friends with Laura.”

“Exactly my point- FRIENDS,” dad says. “Did anyone who wasn’t part of that group even talk to you today? Did they even acknowledge your existence?”

“They did, actually,”” I retort with a smug grin.

“What did they talk about?” dad asks.

“…George’s fight,” I mumble, my grin instantly collapsing.

“I’m not enjoying this, you know,” dad says. “Watching you suffer. I only ever wanted what’s best for you. But you have to accept that you can’t simply show up somewhere in a skirt and expect all the girls to treat you like you’re their ‘sister’ or something. And now your decision is affecting other people as well.” As if on cue, the living room door bursts open and the grin returns to my face as Cassie and Bryony give me a big hug each before sitting down next to me on the sofa.

“You’re my big sister, Ashley!” Cassie squeaks excitedly. “And so are you, Bryony!”

“Yep!” Bryony laughs. “We’re ALL sisters!”

“…I’ll go and check on dinner,” dad mumbles as he slinks off to the kitchen. I giggle as I reach for my tablet computer, whilst Bryony and Cassie switch on the TV. Unsurprisingly, when I open up Facebook, the other seven girls are already deep in conversation- though that conversation pauses the second I enter the chat window.

‘Hey girlie Ashley!!!!!!!!’ Laura types, making me giggle.

‘Hey girlies!!!!!!!’ I type, before my smile quickly fades. ‘Is there any update on George?’

‘He actually messaged me about half an hour ago,’ Megan types. ‘He’s in a lot of pain but nothing was broken. Well, apart from his glasses.’

‘I hope the school forces the Reids to pay for replacements,’ Priya types, her anger obvious from her words.

‘I still reckon it’s my fault,’ I type.

‘No no no no no!’ Suriya replies. ‘You’re not the one who made Ryan into a moron. He chose to act the way he did, so it’s his fault!

‘I guess,’ I type with a sigh.

‘Anyone with any brain cells will realise that you’re not hurting anyone by wearing a skirt,’ Mia types. ‘What’s it got to do with them, anyway?’ My smile returns as the message comes through- at the start of the year, she thought nothing of making fun of Laura and only stopped when she was threatened with punishment. For her to say this… I almost believe that anyone could be made to see sense. ALMOST anyone.

‘G2G girlies,’ Harriet types. ‘Mum’s calling me for dinner. See you all at ballet tonight?’

‘Well not ALL,’ I type.

‘Oh yes,’ Laura types with a string of smileys. ‘Have you told Miss Fullerton yet?’

‘Mum called her yesterday,’ I reply. ‘She said she’d have a new uniform ready for me to pick up.’

‘I’ll pick it up and keep it my house,’ Harriet types. ‘You can pick it up tomorrow.’

‘You can model it for us tomorrow!’ Mia types with a ‘kissy face’ smiley.

‘Lol,’ I reply. ‘Harriet, my mum was going to call yours, see if we can come round to my place tomorrow?’

‘Oh, okay,’ Harriet replies. ‘Works for me!’

‘Me too!’ The other girls all type, making me grin happily.

“Girls!” Mum yells from the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready!”

‘G2G girlies,’ I type. ‘See you all tomorrow!’ I grin as I receive a barrage of ‘see you’s and smileys in response.

‘And don’t forget, Ashley-‘ Harriet types before I log off. ‘A leotard is just as much a symbol of strength as a skirt!’

‘Umm, they make leotards for men, too,’ I retort. ‘Gymnasts, dancers…’

‘Exactly,’ Harriet types. ‘The only men who are strong and cool are the ones who wear leotards!’ I giggle as I logout of Facebook, before joining my parents and my siblings at the kitchen table.

“I’ve spoken to George’s parents,” mum says as I sit down. “He’s not seriously hurt, just a lot of bumps and bruises. He should be back at school on Monday.”

“Yeah, I was talking to the girls,” I reply. “He messaged Megan earlier.”

“Funny he’d message her and not you,” dad says, making me frown- though silently, I have to concede that dad has a point. As much as I value my seven girl friends, George is as important to me as any of them. He stood by me when I came out to my parents in May and has paid the price as a result. If I were in his position, I’d utterly hate me…

After dinner, I spend the rest of the evening watching TV before getting an early night. The girls don’t log onto Facebook again during the night as they have to stay late at ballet to rehearse for the upcoming recital, but before I go to bed I check Facebook anyway to see if George sent me a message, and much to my disappointment (but not my surprise), he hasn’t. I let out a long sigh as I switch off my bedroom light- my first school day as a schoolgirl has been nothing short of a disaster, and it’s hard to see how it can get any worse. That doesn’t mean it won’t get any worse, though…

“Ashley?” Mum asks as she gently knocks on my door, waking me from my slumber. “Come on Ashley, wake up! Your friends will be over in a bit, you don’t want to waste any of your Saturday, do you?”

“No,” I sigh as I get up, though I groan when I feel a familiar damp, sticky patch on the front of the panties I wore to bed. Fortunately, none of it soaked through to my nightdress, though that’s not to say that it won’t in future- and this is my only nightdress. Sure, I still have a pair of androgynous-looking boy pyjamas, but there’s no escaping the fact that they are just that- boy’s pyjamas.

Fortunately, after a quick, refreshing shower, I’m able to put the night’s ‘incident’ behind me as I pull on a clean pair of panties, a soft vest with a delicate trim and a pair of warm, ribbed black tights, before I grin wickedly as I step into my shortest denim skirt (though even that is just a few inches above my knee) and a fashionable long-sleeved striped top. Even though it’s my friends who are coming round today, they are still older girls so I do need to look the part. With this in mind, I also apply a little mascara and eyeliner before heading downstairs, smiling smugly as dad sighs at my appearance. Both Bryony and Cassie, of course, highly approve of my look, giving me tight hugs as I sit down.

“Good morning big sister Ashley!” Cassie squeaks, a wide grin plastered on her tiny face.

“Good morning little sister Cassie!” I reply with a girlish giggle. “And good morning little sister Bryony!”

“Good morning big sister Ashley!” Bryony replies with an equally girlish giggle. “And good morning little sister Cassie!”

“Good morning big sister Bryony!” Cassie squeaks as dad laughs tiredly.

“…This is going to be every weekend, isn’t it?” Dad sighs.

“Yes,” Bryony says with a smug grin. “Yes it is. And when Dorothy gets up, we’ll all say ‘good morning little sister Dorothy’ to her too!”

“I know when I’m not needed,” dad laughs as he heads through to the kitchen, but not before pausing to give gentle, loving cuddles to both of my sisters.

“Ashley…” Cassie asks after dad leaves. “Why didn’t he cuddle you?”

“It- it’s because I’m too old,” I reply. “I’m only a couple of inches shorter than dad.”

“I hope I NEVER get too big for cuddles!” Cassie squeaks, making myself and Bryony laugh.

“But you hope you get big enough to be a proper ballerina, right?” Bryony asks, laughing as Cassie nods.

“Just like Laura!” Cassie squeaks.

“You really look up to her, don’t you?” I ask, making Cassie nod enthusiastically.

“Miss Fullerton says that she might be helping to teach her next year!” Cassie squeaks. “She’s so pretty… Miss Fullerton is, too!”

“And Mademoiselle Renou as well?” I ask, giggling as Cassie nods.

“But not as pretty as Laura!” The six year old girl exclaims.

“You know…” I say with a sly grin. “Laura and her friends ARE coming round here today…” I giggle as Cassie’s eyes light up at the mention of her heroine.

“Will she be doing any dancing?” Cassie asks.

“You’re only allowed to dance in class, you know that,” Bryony retorts, dampening Cassie’s enthusiasm but not completely wiping the smile off her face.

However, when my friends arrive a short while later, the small pink leather bags that they’re all carrying hint that Cassie might just get wish after all.

“Hi Ashleyrina!” Laura squeaks, handing me a carrier bag before giving me a tight hug. “LOVE those tights, hehe!”

“Thanks!” I giggle, doing a quick twirl before looking in the carrier bag and sighing at the contents. “…I love your shorts, too!”

“Thanks!” Laura giggles, playfully wiggling her backside in her tight denim short shorts, only stopping when a familiar tiny girl comes into the hall as though summoned by my friend’s voice.

“Laura! Laura!” Cassie squeaks as she runs up to the fifteen year old girl.

“Hey Cassie!” Laura giggles, crouching down to give the tiny girl a gentle cuddle. “You’re looking GOOD! Are you still enjoying ballet?” Laura and I both giggle as Cassie enthusiastically nods.

“She literally doesn’t know how to talk about anything else,” I laugh as we return to the sofa, where I catch myself staring at Laura’s nylon-covered legs as she crosses one of the long, slender limbs over the other after sitting down. It actually takes me a while to remember that not only am I wearing tights of my own, but I’m wearing a skirt whilst my friend’s wearing shorts- meaning that if anything, I’m actually dressed more femininely than she is.

“Your sister’s going to be a proper ballerina herself, soon!” Laura says to Cassie, who giggles excitedly. “Would you like to see her in her new uniform?”

“Can I see you dance too, Laura?” Cassie asks, making myself and Laura both giggle.

“…Maybe later,” Laura giggles as she thrusts the carrier bag back into my hands. “First, I want to see your sister dance!”

“Aww,” Cassie says, making both myself and Laura grimace. Please, Cassie, not you too…

“Tell you what,” Laura says, “first we see your sister dance, then we’ll ALL dance together, okay?”

“…Mummy says I can’t wear my leotard when I’m not at ballet class,” Cassie mumbles, melting my heart once again.

“If she says anything, I’ll say it was my idea, okay?” I say, making Cassie nod and giggle, before jumping off the sofa and literally running upstairs to get changed.

“You too,” Laura laughs. “The others won’t be here for about half an hour, and you DO want to make sure it fits properly, right?” I smile as I head up to my bedroom with Laura following closely behind.

Once we’re in my room with the door shut, I unbutton my skirt and slowly step out of it, before watching in confusion as Laura starts stripping off her own clothes.

“Umm…” I mumble.

“It’s nothing you didn’t see last week,” Laura snorts as she peels her tights off her legs, giving me a perfect view of the thin rear strap of her thong disappearing between her buttocks. “Besides- and I’m going to repeat this as many times as I have to- we ARE both girls, aren’t we?”

“Well- yeah,” I say, removing my own tights and replacing them with the soft pink tights in the bag Laura brought with her.

“Your vest, too,” Laura says, before rolling her eyes and turning her back to me. “You know, when you’re changing for a recital, you won’t have the luxury of being able to change in private…”

“Yeah, because I’m going to be cast in recitals, aren’t I?” I retort.

“I was,” Laura shrugs. “You’ve been doing ballet since you were eleven, same as me. Think you were probably a few months younger than I was when you started.”

“But-“ I begin to retort, only to be cut off before I can say another word.

“And don’t say ‘I was doing boys’ ballet’,” Laura says. “If that was REALLY the case, Miss Fullerton wouldn’t be trying to get you into pointe shoes within three months, would she?”

“I guess not,” I whisper, stepping into the short-sleeved royal blue leotard from Laura’s bag and sighing happily as I stretch it over my body. “Okay, guess it’s my turn to turn my back…”

“Meh, do or don’t, your choice,” Laura snorts as she unclips her bra, barely giving me enough time to look away. “Ashley… I get changed in front of other girls all the time, don’t see why you’re being so shy about this!”

“Yeah, but-“ I say. “I think- I think I, um, I think I, you know, ‘like’ girls…”

“So does Harriet,” Laura shrugs. “Aww, I just realised, that’d make you like Nikki Thomas- wouldn’t it be cool if you met the love of your life in year 10, just like she did?”

“I’d be happy just to survive year 10,” I sigh, turning around to see Laura finish stretching her black camisole leotard over her slender frame, before removing the dainty gold chain she had clipped around her neck. With us both dressed, we tie each other’s hair back- Laura’s into a tight, elegant bun, whilst my hair (which isn’t long enough yet for a bun) is held back with an army of silver hair clips.

“Gorgeous and girly!” Laura giggles. “How’s the leo fit?”

“Perfect,” I reply, gently smoothing the stretchy fabric over my torso before following Laura down to the living room, where Cassie is already waiting for us in her own white tights and long-sleeved pink leotard. I giggle as Laura hands me a small hairbrush and gestures for me to sit down on the sofa next to my sister.

“Laura, can’t you tie my bun?” Cassie asks, breaking my heart once again.

“Ehh…” Laura grimaces, before showing my sister her own hair. “Cassie, don’t you want a bun just like mine?” I giggle as Cassie nods enthusiastically- I know EXACTLY where this is going. “Well your sister tied my bun, so if you let her do yours, then we’ll look the same, won’t we?” My giggle becomes a full-fledged laugh as Cassie turns her back to me and I gently brush out her hair, before tying it back into a tiny bun that’s almost identical to my friend’s.

“You know,” Laura says, “ballet isn’t really about one person, it’s about a whole team of people working together.”

“Says the soloist,” I say, giggling as Laura sticks her tongue out at me in a very unladylike way!

“My point,” Laura says with a sarcastic snort, “is that you can’t be a great ballerina without listening to your teacher and working with the other students.”

“Okay,” Cassie says.

“And that goes at home as well in class,” Laura continues. “Your sister’s just as good a dancer as I am-“ I try to suppress a snort of laughter at Laura’s exaggeration- “so you should listen to her a LOT if you want to be the best ballerina you can be!”

“Yeah…” Cassie mumbles. “But- but Ashley used to be a boy, though…” Yet again, I feel my heart start to tear at my sister’s snub, but my smile returns when I see a knowing grin spread across Laura’s face.

“Maybe so,” Laura says, “but do you want to know a secret? I used to be a boy too.” Cassie’s jaw drops and her eyes go wider than I have ever seen them as she learns Laura’s ‘secret’- and then, much to my delight and amusement, she jumps off the sofa and gives me (or rather, my leg) the longest, tightest hug I have ever got.

“I love you so much Ashley!” Cassie squeaks, bouncing up and down with excitement.

“…I love you too,” I whisper, blinking back tears as Cassie climbs back on the sofa to watch Laura and I demonstrate some advanced ballet steps for her. Of course, Laura gets more applause than me, especially when she changes into an old pair of pointe shoes, but Cassie cheers at the end of my own solo ‘performance’, and when it comes time to Cassie to do some dancing, it’s my hand she holds onto for support, not Laura’s.

Eventually (and obviously, before mum returns from the shops) our ‘dance lesson’ ends and we return to our bedrooms to change back into our ‘day clothes’, with Laura once again feeling fully comfortable changing her underwear in front of me (though as before, I ensure my back is turned to make sure I don’t see anything I shouldn’t). Our six other friends arrive shortly afterwards (and as before, I get plenty of compliments on my choice of skirt), and with Bryony (who’s never going to pass up an opportunity to hang out with a group of older girls) and Cassie (who spends most of her time clinging to me, Laura or Suriya), our living room quickly turns into a haven of femininity. Normally, being ‘outnumbered’ nine to one by girls- even friends- would be enough to make me feel nervous, but dressed the way I am, accepted the way I am by my friends and my sisters… I feel more at ease now than I ever have been.

However, my stress begins to return when, after everyone has arrived, discussion turns to the topic of my best male friend- who WOULD be outnumbered ten-to-one if he were here. It quickly dawns on me that whilst George may accept and support my change, he himself has no interest in feminine activities and likely never will- and as such, the days when we used to hang out may be a thing of the past.

“…Anyway, he’s feeling better,” Megan says. “Sent me a message this morning after he got up. His parents are definitely looking to press charges against Ryan.”

“Good,” Priya spits. “Sooner he’s behind bars, the better.”

“Can they imprison a 16 year old?” Nicole asks.

“Juvenile detention centre,” Priya shrugs. “Surprised Ryan hasn’t already been in one of them.”

“They should lock him up and throw away the key,” Mia spits as the topic of Ryan- and by extension, his threat against me- makes me feel more and more tense.

“…I think we should change the subject,” Laura says quietly. “Don’t want to scare the little ones, after all…”

“I’m not scared,” Bryony says defiantly, though it’s clear she’s not being entirely true.

“I’m sure you’re not,” Laura laughs. “But I think we should talk about something else instead… Something like, say, hair, make-up, nail polish, that sort of thing…?” Everyone in the room giggles as Bryony and Cassie both nod enthusiastically.

“It probably won’t be as AMAZING as last weekend, but that’s no excuse for us not to try, right?” Nicole asks as she and Laura get out their make-up kits, and I take the hint to get my own supply of make-up and nail polish from my bedroom.

“Last weekend?” Cassie asks. “Ashley, did you get make-up done last weekend?”

“Umm, I did, yeah,” I reply.

“…But weren’t you still a boy last weekend?” Cassie asks, and yet again, I have to remind myself that her questions are the result of naivety and innocence, rather than malice.

“Cassie,” Laura says softly. “Would you like to know another secret?” Everyone giggles once again as Cassie enthusiastically nods. “Girls like me and your sister… We’ve ALWAYS been girls. It just takes a while for what we look like to catch up.”

“Okay!” Cassie squeaks happily as I head up to my bedroom, returning a short while later with my make-up kit, my nail polish collection and a wide, happy smile on my face.

By the time my friends leave, all of our faces- even Bryony’s and Cassie’s, albeit in a small way- have been enhanced by make-up, and all of us have colour on our finger and toenails (in my case, a dark blue polish that belongs to Harriet). Even though I know I’ll have to wash the make-up off at the end of the night, I’m comforted by two facts: firstly, that all my friends will as well, there being no such thing as ‘permanent make-up’; and secondly, that I can put on more make-up anytime I want. After all, girls wear make-up, and as today has proved, I am unquestionably a girl.

Of course, that doesn’t stop dad from sighing at my made-up face when he enters the living room after putting Dorothy and Eddy to bed, and his sighs only get louder when he sees the light make-up on my sisters’ faces.

“If you’re going to be a girl, you could at least be a good influence to your sisters,” dad sighs. “No point in asking if you’ve seen the QPR score, is there?”

“Nope!” I say with a smug smile on my light red lips.

“Fine,” dad sighs. “I hope you’ll wash that all off before you go to bed, and I don’t want to see you wearing any make-up tomorrow.”

“And why can’t I, a girl, wear make-up?” I ask, wincing at how confrontational I’m sounding.

“Because your grandparents and great-grandparents are coming over tomorrow,” dad says, making me frown whilst my sisters both gasp happily.

“Grandma and grandpa are coming tomorrow?” Cassie squeaks.

“They ALL are,” dad says. “But they’re coming to see Ashley. Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll stick around long enough for you to say hi.” This seems to placate my sisters, both of whom utterly adore and are adored by our grandparents.

Of course, the real question is whether or not they'll love their newest granddaughter as much as they adore Bryony and Cassie (and Dorothy and Eddy, for that matter), and as I lay awake in bed later that night, I keep remembering the day of my birthday party over six months ago, when I properly came out to my father. His initial reaction was to threaten to take me away from my friends, to forbid me from ever living the life that I've come to love in a very short amount of time... And he's 35, he isn't even that old. Old-fashioned, maybe... So god only knows how my grandparents and great-grandparents will react.

As per dad's instructions, I skip make-up when I get up the following morning, though I do make sure to brush my hair out into a cute feminine bob that frames my face well. As I pick out my clothes for the day, I remember back to all the occasions when my sisters and I would dress up smartly for a special occasion. The one that sticks in my mind is my great-grandmother's eightieth birthday, three years ago. I was ten years old, and dad took great pride in taking me shopping to get my first 'proper' shirt to wear, along with my first ever tie. I hadn't thought anything of it until I returned home and saw Bryony happily dancing around in her smart dress, white dress and cute t-bar shoes. It was all I could not to burst out into tears at the sight of her when compared to me, and all throughout the party, my grandparents complimented me on how handsome I was, how big and strong I was getting... Whilst my sisters all received endless attention about how cute they were, how adorable... Even though we all probably received the same amount of attention time-wise, I'd never felt as jealous as I did that day, and it began to dawn on me precisely what I needed to make me feel truly happy.

Of course, If I attempted to recreate Bryony's look from that day, I'd just look silly- I'm thirteen, not seven, and at 5' 7", I'm taller than virtually every female relative I have. Rather than go for an 'adorable' look, I opt instead for 'smart and feminine', pulling on a pair of panties and a training bra instead of a vest, before stretching a pair of opaque black tights over my legs. I briefly consider stuffing my bra with tissue paper to give me more 'shape', though ultimately I think better of it (no need to get too over the top, after all). I complete my look by pulling on my smartest black skirt- a knee-length pencil-style skirt- a tight red sweater and a pair of cute black flats. My nail polish stays in place, of course- dad may have forbidden make-up, but he never said anything about nail polish.

"Morning," I say nervously as I walk down the stairs, taking extra care due to the unexpected tightness of my skirt.

"Morning Ashley!" Cassie squeaks, giving me a gentle hug. "Do you like my dress?" I let out a giggle as Cassie does a twirl for me- she's wearing the same dress Bryony wore during the party three years ago. Not the same type of dress, but the exact same dress, handed down from sister to sister in the same way that my skirt and sweater will be handed down to Bryony, then to Cassie, then to Dorothy... And maybe even to Eddy.

"I love it!" I giggle, before smiling at Bryony, whose dress is similar, but much more mature, of course. "I like yours too, Bryony! And yours, Dorothy!" Bryony smiles bashfully whilst our three year old sister laughs at the compliment.

"And we all like your skirt, don't we?" Bryony asks our two younger sisters, both of whom nod enthusiastically. "Can- can I have it? Um, when you don't want it anymore, I mean..."

"Of course you can!" I giggle, prompting a wide grin from the ten year old girl. "Enjoying having an older sister yet?"

"Oh yes!" Bryony laughs, earning a hug from me- though as we sit down at the breakfast table, our father's frown soon ends our giggles.

"I thought I said no make-up?" Dad growls.

"I'm not wearing any," I retort.

"Then what the- what do you call that muck on your fingers?" Dad asks. Jeez, I think to myself. Could you possibly be any more stuck in the past?

"It's nail polish," I shrug. "It's different to make-up."

"Well it had better be gone by the time your grandparents get here," dad snorts angrily.

"Do I have to remove mine too?" Cassie asks in a sad voice, bringing my smile back- now's your chance to show everyone how big a hypocrite you really are, father dear...

"Umm..." Dad splutters. "Umm... No. The nail polish can stay. On ALL of you." I smile smugly as I eat my breakfast, before heading to the sofa to try to relax ahead of my grandparents' arrival.

Of course, as the arrival of my grandparents comes closer, I feel less and less relaxed to the point that when the first knock comes on the door, I almost hyperventilate and mum has to lead me into the kitchen to calm down.

"Don't panic!" Mum urges. "Your grandparents and great-grandparents already know that this is who you are on the inside. All we're doing today is confirming it. Your father and I will talk to them first, then we'll show off their beautiful new granddaughter and great-granddaughter. Okay?"

"Okay," I whisper, clasping my hands together for support- but the sight of my dark blue fingernails only make me more nervous about the upcoming confrontation.

I remain in the kitchen for another half an hour whilst all of my elderly relatives arrive, though it seems like an eternity. Eventually, I hear the voice of my mother calling me through to the living room. I take a deep breath and step out into the packed room, trying to force a smile on my face as I feel eleven pairs of eyes staring at me.

"Ugh," Grandpa Harry (my mother's mother's father) spits, making me bite my lip to keep myself from crying. Grandma Catherine- Grandpa Harry’s wife- simply remains silent, staring at me with a combination of disgust and disbelief in her eyes.

"No," Grandpa Greg (my mother's father's father) growls. "No, no, no! I won't allow this!"

"There's nothing you can do about this, grandpa," mum says. "We've got documentation, medical certificates, the lot. Medically speaking, Ashley IS a girl. We all have to learn to accept this." I can't help but smile as mum looks subtly in dad's direction as she talks about acceptance.

"Over my dead body!" Grandpa Greg snaps, before standing up and heading toward the door. "Come on Eleanor, we're leaving!"

"I'll drive you home, dad," Grandpa Alan (my mother's father) snarls, casting a VERY disapproving look at me that makes me need to lean against a wall for support.

"Dad..." Mum whispers, almost looking like she's about to start crying herself.

"I'll come back once I've driven your grandparents home," Grandpa Alan says. "We have NOT finished here."

"Can- can I say something?" Grandma Jo- my father's mother- says before anybody is able to leave.

"...Go on," Grandpa Alan says, and I shiver as Grandma Jo stares straight in my direction.

"Come here, Ashley," Grandma Jo says, and I try to compose myself as I walk toward the 59 year old woman, wincing at the tightness of my skirt- something that had previously only been a source of joy to me.

"G-grandma?" I whisper in a tiny, feeble voice.

"What I want to say," Grandma Jo says, "it that it's about time." My jaw drops in shock and confusion as Grandma Jo wraps me in a tight, loving hug- a hug I'm happy to reciprocate.

"If this is what you really want," Grandpa Chris says, "then we'll support you. Because that's what grandparents are supposed to do. Isn't it, everyone?" I smile as I share an awkward hug with my grandfather, though inside, I'm still being torn apart- not least by the fact that my paternal grandparents are being infinitely more accepting than my father is.

"Not when they take your great-grandson and put him in a bloody skirt!" Grandpa Greg snaps. "How can you look at him and support that?"

"Her," mum says with a nervous, shaky voice. "The correct way to address Ashley is 'her'."

"I repeat- Over. My. Dead. Body!" Grandpa Greg growls, and inside me, something snaps as my nerves give way for a pure, fiery anger.

"So you'd rather I killed myself, is that it?" I yell, making everyone in the room stop and stare in shock. "Because if I have to go back to being a boy, I will!"

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Grandma Eleanor spits.

"I do!" I plead as tears start to trickle down my cheek.

"Oh for god's sake, stop crying!" Grandpa Harry snorts. "You. Are. Not. A. Girl!"

"She looks like one from where I'm sat," Grandma Hazel (my father's mother's mother, and at 83, the oldest of all my relatives) says with a confident smile.

"...Hazel?" Grandma Eleanor says. "Are you seriously telling me you approve of this?"

"I am indeed," Grandma Hazel says. "And I'll thank you not to shout at my great-granddaughter, who is a clever and beautiful young woman!"

"No. He. Isn't!" Grandpa Harry yells.

"Don't you yell at me, Harry Portman!" Grandma Hazel growls.

"Fine, then, we'll leave!" Grandpa Harry spits, before turning and facing my father with a look of pure venom in his eyes. "I knew you were never good enough for our Claire!"

"And don't you dare speak to my grandson like that!" Grandma Hazel growls in a voice so fearsome, it even makes me shiver. This time, Grandpa Harry has no comeback, instead slinking off, followed by the rest of my grandparents and great-grandparents on my mother's side.

"...Thank you, grandma," dad mumbles in a quiet, shame-filled voice after everyone has left.

"No need to thank me," Grandma Hazel laughs. "You're the one bringing up Ashley, and from what I can tell, you're doing a very good job of it."

"But he- she- Ashley is still, you know, wearing a- a-" dad splutters.

"It's called a skirt, dear," Grandma Hazel says, making Grandma Jo giggle. "And it looks very smart on her. Andrew... You ARE supporting Ashley through her transition, aren't you?"

"...People never did this sort of thing in your day," dad sighs, earning a stern stare from his grandmother.

"Well maybe they should have done," Grandma Hazel says. "You heard what Ashley said, if I was told to choose between burying my great-grandson or watching him become a woman, I know which one I'd prefer!"

"He- SHE wasn't being serious," dad mumbles.

"How do you know?" I ask, making dad's face turn red with shame. "Can you read my mind? I told you last week how much it hurt to be a boy."

"And how do you feel now, Ashley?" Grandma Jo asks.

"...Free," I reply. "For the first time in my life, I honestly feel free, like I don't have to hide who I am."

"And you'll never have to hide it again," Grandma Hazel says confidently. "It's a good job I haven't bought any of your Christmas presents yet!" I giggle bashfully as Grandpa Chris and Grandma Jo nod in agreement.

"It's going to be different this year," Grandma Jo nods. "Having FOUR granddaughters to buy for instead of three..."

"Oh yes!" Grandma Hazel says with a happy giggle. "And where are your other three little treasures?"

"Girls," dad yells, the smile slowly returning to his face. Mere seconds later, the door opens and Cassie literally runs through it with her arms outstretched for a hug- which Grandma Hazel is only too happy to provide, whilst Bryony and Dorothy give hugs to Grandma Jo and Grandpa Chris respectively.

"Don't you all look so beautiful and grown up?" Grandma Hazel says in a happy, proud voice. "Jo, get a few photos of my four beautiful great-granddaughters on your phone for me, would you?"

"Of course," Grandma Jo says, taking out her smartphone and photographing me and my sisters in our smart outfits as I can't stop grinning. I started today thinking I'd be universally rejected by everyone- instead, I'm probably now closer to Grandma Hazel, Grandpa Chris and Grandma Jo than I've ever been.

"You- you shouldn't forget Eddy," dad says in a quiet, cautious voice.

"You're right, we shouldn't," Grandma Hazel says as mum gently hands me the tiny baby boy and my siblings and I pose for yet more photographs.

After handing Eddy back to mum, I sit down on the floor, surrounded by my siblings, and try to relax as talk moves away from my transition and toward the happier topic of Christmas, which is a mere four weeks away. Of course, this doesn't stop my sisters from getting excited, and when my grandparents and great-grandmother strongly hint that for the first time ever, I'll be getting what I REALLY want, I start to get a little excited too!

Of course, my excitement is short-lived, as less than an hour later, a knock comes from the front door, signalling Grandpa Alan and Grandma Wendy (my mother's parents)'s return to the home- and their facial expressions give away the fact that they are still VERY upset by my news.

"Mum, dad..." Mum says quietly. "I know this must upset you, but you have-"

"This doesn't just upset me," Grandpa Alan growls, "it offends me!"

"Well then here's an idea for you, Alan," Grandpa Chris snorts. "Try joining the rest of us in the 21st century sometime."

"And what is THAT supposed to mean?" Grandpa Alan snaps, making me wince as I see tears start to form in all of my sisters' eyes.

"It's supposed to mean," Grandpa Chris retorts, "that Ashley has been diagnosed with a recognised medical condition that means that she- yes, SHE- is incapable of living life as a boy. This sort of thing happens all the time. Now it's happened to our family. So I suggest you learn to live with it."

"Didn't you see how upset it made our parents?" Grandma Wendy asks, gesturing to herself and Grandpa Alan.

"Their problem," Grandma Jo scoffs as Grandma Hazel looks on with pride.

"Dad," mum says with a shaky voice. "This is real. This is happening. You need to accept it." Grandpa Alan takes a deep breath as he considers his next response, leading to an awkward pause that's broken by the most unlikely source.

"Grandpa..." Cassie sniffles in a tiny, scared voice. "Why do you hate Ashley so much?"

"Oh- Cassie..." Grandpa Alan sighs, sitting down next to the tiny girl and giving her a cuddle. "We don't hate Ashley, of course we don't, but you have to understand, what he- what- what Ashley's done, it- it isn't normal, okay?"

"So- so are you saying that Ashley shouldn't be a girl?" Cassie asks, her face falling at the thought of losing her latest sister.

"Well- don't you miss your brother?" Grandma Wendy asks.

"No, Ashley hasn't gone anywhere, she's just my sister now, that's all," Cassie responds, and I feel my heart start to melt at the unconditional love she's showing.

"She's got a point," mum says, making Grandpa Alan and Grandma Wendy sigh heavily.

"...Fine," Grandpa Alan says. "You're obviously not forcing Ashley, and it's not hurting anyone... Just- just- fine. If this is the way it's got to be, we won't interfere. We can't encourage this, obviously, but we won't interfere either."

"Thank you," mum whispers.

"Does this mean that Ashley can still be a girl?" Cassie asks, cheering as Grandma Wendy nods in reply. "Yay! I love my big sister Ashley!" I giggle as I sit down next to Cassie and give her a gentle cuddle, before finally relaxing as talk returns to the upcoming festive season.

Our grandparents (and great-grandparent) don't leave until almost 4pm, by which point I'm so emotionally drained that all I want to do is climb into bed and sleep for the next week.

"Cheer up," mum laughs as I relax on the sofa. "At least it's all over and done with now. Go upstairs and take off your nail polish, you don't want to be told off for that at school tomorrow!" I laugh as I head upstairs, though mum's reminder is the last thing I needed. After a stressful weekend, I've got an inevitably stressful week at school tomorrow... And the Reids will inevitably be waiting for me when I get there.

Fortunately, when I arrive at school on Monday morning- dressed, of course, in my blouse, skirt and tights- it's my seven amazing friends who greet me, rather than Sam or Ryan. After the usual round of hugs and discussion about the weekend- during which I remain quiet about the confrontation with my grandparents- I head to form, where my eighth friend is waiting for me. Whilst he smiles when I sit down next to him, it's clear from his face- especially the cuts and bruises on it- that he's not really THAT pleased to see me.

"Alright, mate?" George asks tiredly.

"Hi," I reply. "Are- how are, um, how are you feeling?"

"Ehh," George shrugs- which is clearly meant to mean 'terrible'.

"I- I'm sorry this happened," I whisper.

"You didn't force that big lump of shit to punch me," George shrugs.

"But he wouldn't have done if I wasn't dressed like this," I sigh as I feel a figure loom over our table.

"You're still wearing a skirt, then," Chloe spits.

"So are you," I retort.

"Yeah, but I AM a girl," Chloe says.

"So am I," I retort.

"But I haven't got a penis," Chloe snorts.

"Chloe, why are you out of your seat?" Mr. Jackson asks as he arrives to start form. Silently, my tormentor returns to her seat, though she makes a point of staring at me all throughout the lesson, which just makes me more and more tense until by the time we head to our first lesson, I feel like I'm about to explode- and the school week has only barely started.

"Mate," George whispers as I stare at Chloe and her posse heading to their next class. "Leave it."

"Why? They won't," I spit as I catch up with the girls and block their path.

"What do you want?" Chloe snorts.

"I don't want anything," I reply. "YOU'RE the one who's been staring at me all morning."

"Yeah, 'cause you're a boy in a skirt!" Chloe spits.

"So... What?" I retort. "You think that if you stare at me long enough, my skirt will magically change into a pair of trousers?"

"I dunno," Chloe replies as she forces her way past me.

"Then maybe you should stop staring!" I yell, before heading to the next class with George.

"Mate..." George whispers. "That'll only make things worse."

"People need to learn that this isn't going anywhere," I say, gesturing to my skirt. "And nor am I, no matter what anyone says or does."

“I wouldn't be so sure,” George says, gesturing to his damaged face. “They can do a LOT.” I remain quiet, as George is of course right, but I can't give in to the fear of physical harm. Harriet's right when she says that a skirt is a symbol of strength. If I took it off... I'd be a coward.

With George sat next to me, the first lesson passes by without incident. Even the whispers and giggles that have threatened to become my constant companions are almost non-existent, and I begin to believe that maybe, just maybe, the other kids are getting used to my presence... But then I remember which lesson I have next, and any hope of normality is dashed after George enters the boys' changing rooms, leaving me waiting outside the entrance of the girls' changing rooms.

“Ah, hello Ashley,” Miss Edwards- my PE teacher for the rest of this term- says. “Obviously we can't let you into the girls' changing room, but you know which toilets you can use to change, right? Or would you rather change in my office?”

“No, umm, I mean, yeah, the toilets will be fine,” I say. “Laura- Laura White showed me which ones.”

“Good,” Miss Edwards replies. “And you have your PE kit with you?”

“Yep!” I say with a nervous giggle, making the normally stern teacher smile kindly.

“There’s no need to be so nervous,” Miss Edwards says. “I'll work with you closely for the first two lessons just to get you up to speed. We're not doing anything I don't think you'll be capable of- I leave that to the girls on the team!” I smile as I walk away, heading to the one set of girls' toilets in the school that I'm actually allowed to use.

As I pull on the dark red shorts and plain white t-shirt that make up my PE kit, I muse on how this will be the first time since my diagnosis that I'll have worn an item of clothing that wasn't open bottomed like a skirt or dress, and as I see the girls at the front of the queue to the gymnasium all dressed in their multi-coloured leotards, I suddenly feel very self-conscious.

A quick glance behind me, though, confirms that I'm far from out of place in the class. For every one girl that's wearing a leotard, there are six that are dressed identically to me- and a quick look out the window at the boys all heading to the rugby field is enough to confirm that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. Just because they're shorts, rather than a skirt or a leotard, it doesn't make them any less feminine.

...And at the end of the lesson, I feel more positive than ever when Miss Edwards catches up to me on the stairs with a wide grin on her face.

“You know,” the young PE teacher says, “you were a lot better than I expected. You sure you've never done gymnastics in the past?”

“Never,” I say, shaking my head. “Never had the opportunity, heh. For obvious reasons. It's probably all the ballet I've been doing.”

“Yeah...” Miss Edwards says. “Ashley- obviously, we won't be allowed to put you on the team or enter any competitions, but... If you, you know, want to come along to the club, you're more than welcome. And you'd get your own leotard, be able to wear it in lessons...”

“I'll- I'll think about it, thanks,” I say with a happy grin.

“Well if you do want to come along, just tell Laura and Suriya and they'll help you out, I'm sure they will,” Miss Edwards says. “It's such a pity you didn't start your change earlier, if you were just a few inches shorter you'd have made a perfect gymnast, and I'd have been able to 'sell' you to the other schools like I did with Laura...”

I grin widely as I head back to my 'private changing room' to pull my uniform back on- the school's gymnastics team is a huge source of pride for everyone in the school, not just the gymnasts or the teachers, so for me to be compared to them is a real compliment. The smiles the other girls give me- having obviously been as impressed by my skills as the teacher was- tell me that maybe, just maybe, things are starting to look up.

Unlike last Friday, I have a smile on my face as I walk up to my friends' table, and this change doesn't go unnoticed.

“Ooh,” Nicole teases as I sit down, sweeping my skirt underneath me without even thinking about what I'm doing. “Looks like someone enjoys gymnastics a hell of a lot more than SHE enjoyed rugby!”

“What GIRL wouldn't?” I retort, earning giggles from the whole table. “Where- where's George? The boys normally get out of the changing rooms faster than we- faster than the girl- no, I was right first time. Faster than WE do.”

“I dunno,” Megan says. “Think he might be keeping his distance, because of Ryan... The wimp.”

“Now hang on,” Priya protests. “George was hurt really badly, it's only natural that he should be scared. I know I would be.”

“Ashley's still sat here,” Megan retorts, making my eyes go wide as I'm unwittingly dragged into the argument. “She has more reason to be scared than anyone. And besides, didn't you say that Ryan was suspended all week?”

“And placed in isolation for the rest of the term when he gets back, yes,” Priya says. “Doesn't give you the right to make fun of someone you claim to be your boyfriend.”

“He said he'd stand by Ashley, but he's nowhere to be seen,” Megan shrugs.

“He IS standing by me,” I say. “Well, sitting by me. In form and in every class he can. He deserves to be given a break.”

“Meh, if you say so,” Megan shrugs, earning disapproving stares from the whole table- not just me. “If he wants to be stronger maybe he should take a leaf out of Harriet and Ashley's book and wear a skirt to school.”

“Huh, didn't know you wanted to 'join my team',” Harriet giggles.

“I don't,” Megan retorts. “I never said I wanted George to become a girl, just to wear a skirt once or twice. There's a difference between a girl and a boy who wears a skirt, isn't there Ashley, Laura?”

“Hell yeah!” Laura and I cheer simultaneously. Just like there's a difference between wearing a pair of shorts for gymnastics or a pair of shorts for rugby, I think to myself- which reminds me of my latest bit of good news.

“Speaking of- well, not really, but close enough,” I say. “Someone at this table may have been offer-” I don't get the chance to finish my sentence, as before I can get the words out, my head explodes in a ball of pain and I find myself laid flat on my back, the only clear image I can see being Samantha Reid brandishing a high heeled shoe that has blood on its heel- undoubtedly my blood.

I barely get my arms up to my face to defend myself from Sam's second swing, though by now my head is swimming so much and my vision is so blurred that I don't even know if her second swing made contact, let alone where it hit, and all I can think about is protecting my head from any further blows.

The next thing I'm aware of, I'm in the back of an ambulance with one of my teachers looking down on me, her face a mixture of concern and fear- and much to my dismay, my blazer, skirt and tights are spattered with blood.

"Wha- where-" I stammer.

"It's okay Ashley, don’t try to move," Miss Collins- the teacher, who normally takes history class- says softly. "You were attacked at school, but you're safe now. We're on our way to the hospital, I've called your father and he'll meet you there."

"Dad? No..." I weakly moan as memories of the attack- and more importantly, my attacker- come flooding back to me. "Sam- Sam Reid-"

"Has almost certainly set foot in the school for the very last time," Miss Collins says, making me smile contentedly. "Both girls are going to be SEVERELY punished."

"Yeah," I laugh, before my face screws up in confusion. "Both- both girls?"

"Harriet Cooper," Miss Collins says matter-of-factly, as though reminding me of something I should know. "She beat Sam almost half to death after she attacked you. She's been suspended too, and the school's looking toward permanently excluding both of them."

"What- no, not Harriet..." I moan as the pain in my head intensifies.

"Just lay back, try not to worry," Miss Collins says. "We'll be at the hospital soon." I weakly nod, but all I can think about is Harriet, who, next to Laura, has become 'girl Ashley's biggest cheerleader. She could be about to be thrown out of the school... And it's all my fault for wearing a skirt. A skirt that's almost certainly going to be permanently stained by my own blood.

After we arrive at the hospital, I'm taken to a small room where my wound is cleaned, before I'm injected with a local anaesthetic (that brings tears to my eyes) and my wound is stitched up and a bandage placed over it. As the doctor is finishing treating me, dad bursts through the door- and much to my surprise, he wraps me in a long, tight hug that makes me start to bawl my eyes out.

"Oh god, Ashley..." Dad moans, almost on the verge of tears himself.

"Dad..." I sniffle. "This- this is all my-"

"Don't," dad says. "This is NOT your fault. You-" dad turns to Miss Collins, startling the young woman. "I hope you'll kick the little shit who did this to my so- hope you'll kick them out so hard they'll go into orbit!"

"Don't worry, Mr. Moore, the school takes hate crimes of this nature VERY seriously," Miss Collins replies. "Though I do have to ask whether or not you'll be pressing criminal charges."

"Is the Pope Catholic?" Dad snorts. "Yes, I'll be pressing charges!"

"I don't have any children," Miss Collins says, "but if I were in your position I'd definitely do the same. Am I okay to leave Ashley with you?"

"Yes, of course," dad says. "Thank you for coming to the hospital with Ashley."

"She's one of our most inspirational pupils," Miss Collins says. "Get well soon, Ashley."

"Th-thanks, Miss Collins," I weakly mumble, blinking back more tears as dad sits down next to me.

"How bad's the damage?" Dad asks.

"It looks worse than it is," the doctor says with a kind smile. "Just a few stitches, a couple of days' rest and your daughter will be right as rain."

"Will- will it scar?" I ask, blinking back yet more tears as the doctor solemnly nods.

"It will leave a scar at first," the doctor replies, making me moan. "It will fade with time, and you will of course be able to disguise it with make-up." I moan further as the mention of make-up makes dad bristle.

"When can I take hi- when can I take Ashley home?" Dad asks.

"We want to keep her in overnight for observation," the doctor says. "Have you brought a change of clothes and some pyjamas?"

"Yeah, I-" dad says, reaching into the carrier bag he brought before pausing. "Umm, no, actually, I don't have any nightclothes... I'll be back in about half an hour. Ashley, will you be okay with the doctor?" Dad smiles as I nod, still barely able to contain my tears.

"Hurry back," I whisper, making dad smile as he leaves the room.

"You're a very brave young woman," the doctor says as she hands me the (admittedly feminine) pair of jeans and t-shirt from dad's bag and turns her back to allow me to change. "If you don't mind me asking, how long- how long have you, umm..."

"Just over a week," I whisper. "You were going to ask 'how long have I been transitioning, right?"

"Yeah," the doctor whispers. "I- I'm sorry if it was a sensitive subject-"

"It's okay," I shrug as I pull on the jeans and the t-shirt and sigh as how ordinary, how boyish I look- and feel. With my hair scraped back away from my make-up free face, it's almost like I'm back to square one- but I at least wasn't getting assaulted when I was at square one...

With me patched up, I'm taken to a ward to get settled in. Dad returns just over an hour later with a second carrier bag, and even though it contains my trusty grey nightdress, I don't greet my father with a smile as I know that when he arrived at the hospital earlier in the day, he DID have pyjamas with him- the wrong kind.

"Here you go," dad says with a smile on his face, which is undoubtedly the result of him seeing me wearing trousers for the first time in almost a week.

"Dad," I sigh. "I know you had my old boy pyjamas with you the first time you came."

"...Sorry," dad mumbles. "I just- I just thought-"

"You thought that because someone smashed my face in for wearing a skirt, I'd never want to wear one again?" I ask, making dad nod shamefully.

"I- I'm sorry, Ashley," dad sighs. "But you do have to admit, if you weren't wearing a skirt, you wouldn't be in hospital now."

"Maybe, maybe not," I say, before letting out a loud sigh of my own. "...Okay, maybe not. Go on, tell me you told me so..."

"Never," dad whispers. "Ashley... Boy or girl, seeing you like this makes me want to cry and tear the little shit who did this limb from limb. You're my child, and you've been hurt, and no matter what, you NEVER deserve this. Even if you went to school in a damned tutu, you wouldn't deserve this."

"...Thanks," I whisper.

"But you do have a decision to make," dad says. "Ashley... I'm never going to deny you the right to be who you want to be. I've said that before and I'll repeat it as many times as you want. When you're sixteen and you want to take full hormones, go to college as a girl... I'll support you. I'll even try to accept you, though I can't guarantee I'll ever really be able to."

"I know," I say.

"But that's three years away," dad says. "In the meantime, you have to decide what you'll do for school. Go back to school in a skirt and there's no guarantee that this won't happen again. In fact, you might get hurt even worse."

"But you yourself said," I retort, "I'll always be 'the boy who went to school wearing a skirt'. I can't not have done that."

"No you can't," dad concedes. "But if you wear trousers, even girls' trousers... You'll paint less of a 'target' on yourself. Mrs. Houghton's compromise isn't that bad, when you think about it. And at weekends and at home, you can be as girly as you want."

"I'll think about it," I mumble, rolling over on my bed to try to get dad to leave me alone.

"I- I have to head home," dad mumbles. "Got to help your mum with your sisters, and Eddy... I'll be back tomorrow morning to pick you up, okay?"

"Okay," I say. "See you tomorrow, dad."

"See you tomorrow," dad says. "I- I love you, Ashley. Don't ever doubt that."

"Goodbye, dad," I whisper as I try to control my emotions and think through my situation in a calm manner.

In the long run, all Mrs. Houghton's compromise means is that I wear trousers to school instead of a skirt. And like dad says, they can be girls' trousers- god knows the jeans I'm wearing now feel WAY different to 'boy Ashley's, and I can always wear the underwear- well, apart from the tights, obviously... Then again, if I do take the compromise, I'll be admitting defeat, admitting that I'm weak, too weak to wear the symbol of strength that is my school skirt... And letting down all my friends in the process- especially Harriet, who's risked expulsion simply to stand up for me. And it's not like I'll be seeing Sam again, at least, not for a long time... But dad's right to say that she won't be the only person at school who feels the way she does about me...

By the time dad comes to collect me the following morning, I'm no closer to making a decision than I was when he left me. Obviously, I'm being kept off of school today, meaning that after being discharged, I'm taken straight home, where I'm greeted by an unexpected face on my doorstep.

"Hi," Harriet says, waving nervously at me as her mum looks on disapprovingly.

"Hi!" I say with a wide, genuine grin, giving the ginger girl a gentle hug before leading her and her mother into our home. "What are you doing here?"

"Suspended," Harriet mumbles in a shame-filled voice. "For the rest of the week at least. School are still deciding whether to make it permanent."

"Is this for giving that evil Sam girl a beating?" dad asks, snorting with laughter as Harriet nods. "Well if you want someone to speak to the school on your behalf, just ask."

"Thanks, Mr. Moore," Harriet says, as I suddenly notice that two of her fingers are bandaged together.

"What- what happened to your hand?" I ask.

"I, uh..." Harriet mumbles. "I kinda- kinda sprained a finger... When punching Sam."

"Oh my god," I whisper.

"She was- ugh," Harriet spits. "After she hit you the first time, she actually laughed before swinging again and I- I just saw you bleeding on the floor, her holding that shoe and laughing and I- I just saw red. I knocked her to the ground and I just couldn't stop hitting her... Took all of the other six girls to drag me off her in the end."

"Good," dad says, earning a disapproving stare from Harriet's mother. "I'm sorry, but after what that girl did to my Ashley, I have absolutely ZERO sympathy for her!"

"Well I'm sure a lot of people will feel that way about Harriet, too!" Mrs. Cooper growls. "She is going to spend the rest of the week doing a LOT of chores, broken finger or no broken finger! The only reason we're here is because she begged to see you, to make sure you're okay. Now that we've done that, we'll be going."

"Well either way, you're welcome in this house anytime," dad says with a warm smile that Harriet reciprocates.

"Thanks," Harriet whispers before turning to me. "Before I go, Ash, what's with the jeans?"

"...Just what I wore at the hospital, why?" I reply.

"Nothing," Harriet says with a sweet smile whilst gesturing to her own knee-length denim skirt. "Just wondered whether you'd forgotten what a symbol of strength looks like, that's all." I smile as Harriet and her mother leave, though once they're gone, I immediately turn to face my father with a defiant look in my eyes.

"Really couldn't have brought a skirt to the hospital?" I ask.

"It's cold on the wards," dad shrugs. "Thought you'd want something warm to cover your legs."

"You mean, something like a pair of tights?" I reply.

"Wearing a pair of trousers isn't going to kill you," dad says.

"It's not going to turn me back into a boy either," I retort.

"Maybe not," dad says. "But if you're going to take Mrs. Houghton's compromise, you'd better get used to wearing them again."

"'If'," I snort, before heading upstairs to exchange my jeans for a pair of black tights and a skirt similar to Harriet's, the sight of which makes dad roll his eyes as I return to the living room.

"Ashley..." dad sighs. "I just don't want you to get hurt again, okay? Honestly, this week has felt like it's lasted a month, and that's just for me. I can't imagine what it must feel like for you."

"I will NOT go back to being a boy," I say, straightening my tights before sitting down. "I've earned the right to wear this."

The same could be said of that bandage on your head," dad says, before heading into the kitchen and leaving me alone with my baby brother, who's happily playing away in his playpen.

"God, Eddy," I sigh at the tiny boy. "You'll never know the old Ashley, I guess. Maybe dad's right, and I am selfish to deprive you of an older brother... Even though I promise I'll be the best older sister I can be." Eddy's sudden tears- undoubtedly at the sight of my bandage- along with Harriet's uncertain future at school are an unwanted reminder that 'girl Ashley's presence has resulted in other people getting hurt- and maybe I am selfish for continuing the charade.

Despite what my friends keep telling me, the truth is that I'll NEVER be a girl- at least not 100%. I'll never have a womb, I'll never have ovaries, I'll always have a Y chromosome... At best I'll be a boy who took a lot of pills and had a lot of plastic surgery to make himself- HIMself- resemble a girl as closely as possible. Then again, you could technically say the same thing about Laura, and she makes a VERY convincing girl. A beautiful girl, even...

And one thing's for certain... I'll never be as beautiful as Laura or any other girl, not with an ugly scar above my eye. And whilst I may eventually gain the acceptance of my father, the same can't be said of the rest of my family. If I went back to being a boy, then I'm sure they'd eventually forgive me, but obviously, my friends at school wouldn't. After the beating he took, George may not even forgive me for giving up so easily, even if it did mean that he'd get his 'best mate' back. And for all dad's talk of 'you can transition fully when you're sixteen and you start college'... I may not even be in touch with any of my friends by that time. They'll all have left school a year earlier than me- two years earlier, in Priya's case- so I may even face the possibility of having to make whole new friends when I go to college- friends who may not be as accepting of 'girl Ashley' as Laura and co.

I manage to calm Eddy down by singing to him and turning my face to make sure he can't see my bandage, and I spend the rest of the afternoon trying to relax, watching TV and catching up on homework and trying to enjoy the fact that I'm sat wearing clothes that are 100% female, right down to my underwear... But the stress of my decision is almost overwhelming. The fact that I've had to make it twice in as many weeks is the worst part- how many more times am I going to face this identity crisis?

Matters are unwittingly made worse at 3:30pm when a knock comes from my front door, and I open it only to be greeted by a tight hug from the school's other transgendered girl.

"Hey Ash!" Laura squeaks happily, before letting herself into my house and sitting down on my sofa, elegantly crossing one slender, nylon-covered leg over the other.

"Hey Laura," I sigh.

"Oh, hi Laura," dad says, poking his head in from the kitchen. "Sorry, but Ashley's really not feeling up to visitors right now..."

"Thanks for telling me what I'm thinking, dad," I retort, making dad sigh and Laura giggle. "...Though he is kinda right... And no offence, but- but you're really the LAST person I want to see right now."

"Aww," Laura says with an upset pout. "Why, exactly?"

"Because-" I reply, before letting out a long sigh. "Because I'm not sure I really want to be a girl anymore." Rather than get angry or critical, Laura surprised me by giving me a long, friendly hug.

"Because of what happened with Sam?" Laura asks. "You needn't worry about her. I heard from Priya earlier today. She and her brother are gone. Done with the school 100%. Finished. Expelled. Gone and good riddance."

"...And Harriet?" I ask, making Laura sigh sadly.

"...Back next Monday," Laura mumbles. "But on a final warning. She REALLY went to town on Sam. They say Sam might even need plastic surgery, Harriet beat her that badly. They were even thinking of pressing criminal charges against Harriet, but then they realised that you'd have to press charges against Sam..."

"None of which would've happened if I hadn't worn a skirt to school," I sigh.

"She'd have just gone after me sooner or later," Laura says.

"Not necessarily," I shrug. "I mean, you ARE a girl. You're way more girly than I am, and you always will be..."

"Thanks," Laura says with a sad smile. "Even though I know that wasn't intended as a compliment. Ash... You're as much a girl as I am. And I'm as much a girl as Harriet, or Nicole, or Suriya... And you're sat on the sofa wearing a skirt. That kinda tells me you know what you're decision's going to be."

"But how many more people am I going to hurt?" I sniffle.

"No one," Laura says confidently. "Because you haven't hurt anyone. Anyone 'hurt' by your decision is hurt by their own actions."

"Even Harriet?" I ask, making Laura frown, before sighing.

"...Yes, even Harriet," the fifteen year old girl sighs. "She chose to beat Sam to a pulp. She didn't have to, but she did anyway. And I'm not going to waste any tears on Sam, but- but you can't blame yourself for either of them, Sam or Harriet. Come back to school in a skirt, Ashley."

"So I can get a matching scar on the other side of my head?" I ask, making Laura frown.

"I can't guarantee we'll be able to protect you," Laura says. "But we will always be there for you."

"Until the end of year 11, when you'll leave and I'll be alone at the school," I say, making Laura moan with frustration.

"God, Ashley..." Laura sighs. "No, we can't magically make you older or us younger. Yes, the 'excellent eight' won't be together forever. Hell, because of Priya we won't be an 'eight' by this time next year, let alone two years from now. Speaking of, you are coming to her birthday on Friday, right?"

"Of course," I say, before letting out a sigh. "Yes, I'll be wearing a dress."

"Good," Laura says with a smug grin. "I- I should let you get your rest now. Got ballet tonight, the big recital's coming up..."

"Ugh, ballet," I spit. "I was really looking forward to starting girl classes tomorrow, too..."

"...Is your head THAT bad that you can't go?" Laura asks.

"No, I can balance fine," I say. "It's just- ugh, never mind."

"Message received," Laura sighs. "When are you next seeing Doctor Williamson?"

"Tonight," I say.

"Good," Laura replies. "Kinda wish I could go with you... But she'll be able to help you out. She should be able, anyway. Back at school tomorrow?"

"Should be," I say as I see Laura out. "See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, Ashley," Laura says, and I let out a long, frustrated moan as she goes, before heading up to my room, stripping off my skirt and my tights and changing back into the jeans I was wearing earlier today.

After fastening the tight trousers, I take a long look at myself in the mirror, and I honestly don't know what I see. When I got my diagnosis I was so confident, so certain that I could just pull on a skirt and pirouette off into the sunset and never look back... I should've known that the reality would be very different. As much as I prefer life as a girl to life as a boy... The fact is that life as a girl is harder. MUCH harder, and not just when people are swinging shoes at my face. If I 'quit', if I took the compromise, or even went back to being a full-time boy, I'd have it a lot easier, especially with my GCSEs starting next year.

...But I know that even that isn't going to be a walk in the park. I'll always be 'the boy who wore a skirt to school', and I'll always be the boy who wants to wear a skirt to school. And I'll be letting down my friends, setting myself up for endless stress for the rest of my life... Why couldn't I have just been born as a girl?

"Hello Ashley," Dr Williamson says as I walk into her office, accompanied by both my parents. All the adults in the room have a concerned look on their face, which is undoubtedly caused by the bandage on my face- and the jeans still wrapped around my legs. "I heard about what happened... I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I mumble. "Doctors say it'll leave a scar..."

"It's a sad fact of life that there are some small-minded people out there who simply can't accept that people like you NEED to live their lives as the opposite gender to which they were born," Dr Williamson sighs. "I wish I could tell you that this will never happen again. But we all know that would be a lie."

"I know," I mumble. "I- I'm not sure I want to go on. Being a girl, I mean."

"Ashley..." Dr Williamson sighs. "I wouldn't have issued you with a diagnosis of GID or written a prescription for anti-androgens- which are ready to pick up, by the way- if I didn't feel that you NEEDED them. We don't give out these diagnoses on a whim, despite what some people might think." I glance over to my right, where dad is sat looking at the floor with a look of pure shame on his face.

"...I'm scared," I whimper, earning a gentle hug from my mother.

"All transgendered people feel scared at one point or another during their transition," Dr Williamson says. "Scared of the changes that will happen to their bodies, scared of how family or friends will react, scared of physical consequences too."

"Sometimes," dad says, turning to face me, "I think you just looked at the clothes your friends were wearing and got so obsessed with them you didn't think about the other consequences. Am I right?" I blink back tears as I nod- my girly life had been such a dream come true that I almost believed it was a dream, when of course, reality will be a lot harsher.

"Ashley," Dr Williamson says softly, "I can't make this decision for you. Nor can your parents. You have to decide what it is that you really want. But I'll repeat what I said last week- in the long run, denying who you really are inside will only be psychologically damaging to you."

"What can we do to help her?" Dad asks.

"Simply be her mum and dad," Dr Williamson replies. "Support her decisions and love her no matter what."

"We'll always do that," mum says confidently as Dr Williamson continues to ask about my feelings over the last few days at school and at home, my wins (including gymnastics class) and my losses (such as my grandparents).

Before I leave the office, I turn to Dr Williamson with one final concern in my mind- probably the thing that's worrying me the most.

"I- I know I have a decision to make," I sigh. "But I don't want to have to keep making decisions every week about what I want."

"That's perfectly understandable," Dr Williamson replies. "But the truth is, no matter what you decide, there will be a part of you that will always wonder if you made the right decision."

"How do I shut that part of me up?" I ask.

"By trying your hardest to make sure that the decision you made is the right one," Dr Williamson says with a smile. "You're not the first person to come in here unsure of what they want, you're not the first person I've seen who's suffered physically as a result of their choice, and you'd be far from the first person who reversed their decision to transition, if that's what you decided you wanted."

"...Laura never reversed her decision, though," I mumble, making mum and dad sigh with frustration.

"Well, obviously I can't break confidentiality," Dr Williamson says. "But I will say that Laura's just like any other teenager- confident and insecure at the same time."

"But she's a ballerina, a cheerleader," I moan. "She's all the things I want to be... And she's popular. She has friends."

"YOU have friends," mum replies. "The same friends, and they love you just as much as they do Laura."

"...And there's no reason you can't be all those things Laura is," dad mumbles.

"No reason at all," Dr Williamson says, and while I nod in response, I'm a long way from convinced.

After returning home, I head up to my bedroom, where I switch on my tablet computer, but before I login to Facebook, I change my mind and switch the tablet off. If I asked the girls for advice, all they'd say is 'you must remain a girl'. A week ago, that'd be all the advice I need, but now, with my head split open and me trembling in fear at returning to school tomorrow... I honestly don't know what I want to hear. Which is why I let out a long groan when dad enters my room with a clean bandage for my head.

"Hi Ashley," dad whispers. "Just- just need to-"

"I know," I whisper, turning my head to allow dad to get to work. "I know what decision you'd rather I made about what I did tomorrow..."

"Ashley..." Dad sighs.

"You say you hate seeing me hurt, but deep down, you must be loving the thought that you might get your son back," I spit, making dad growl angrily.

"Stop it!" Dad snaps. "Just- just- no, Ashley. I am loving exactly nothing about this. I don't love having to see your forehead split open, I don't love seeing you so miserable, and I don't- I don't love-"

"You don't love me?" I ask, tears forming in my eyes.

"...I don't love the fact that you hate me," dad whispers. "Yes. I'd rather have a son than a daughter. And as much as I love your sisters... I'd rather have five sons than one son and four daughters. Or two sons and three daughters. But as a parent, I don't have that luxury. My job is to love all the children I have equally."

"Your 'job'," I snort.

"And I wouldn't trade any of the five of you in for anything," dad says. "Especially not you, Ashley. Boy or girl, you're still out firstborn. That makes you special, and it always will."

"...Thanks," I whisper. "And I- I don't hate you. I just- I just hate you that can't accept me."

"All I can do is try my best," dad sighs as he finishes changing my dressing. "So, have you decided on what you'll wear to school tomorrow? Your mum's finished washing and ironing your skirt, and we've got most of the blood off your blazer."

"I- I don't know," I sigh. "Don't even know if I want to go into school tomorrow..."

"You can't keep missing days, not with your GCSEs just around the corner," dad says. "And you've got your first dance class tomorrow- well, sort-of first, anyway..."

"I just- I just wish I could, you know, just get on with it," I sigh. "Why couldn't I just have been born a girl?"

"Because sometimes life is unfair," dad sighs. "And we've got to work extra hard to get what we want. But in the end, you alone have to decide- is getting what you want worth the effort?"

"I- I don't know," I sigh. "I mean, with Sam Reid gone from school, hopefully I won't get any more of these." Dad laughs as I point to the wound on my head. "But I'm always going to get teased, whispered and giggled at... And then in year 11, none of my friends will be there anymore."

"Your sister will be, though," dad says. "Not that you're to use her as a human shield, you understand. And George will always be your friend."

"Even after I got him beaten up?" I snort, making dad chuckle.

"You know, he actually called yesterday, while you were in hospital?" Dad replies. "Wanted to see how you were. Or wanted to compare scars, I dunno. You've really got a friend for life in him. If my best friend at school suddenly turned into a girl, I'd have run a mile."

"You don't say," I retort, making dad chuckle.

"You've got friends for life in all of them," dad says. "Even when they've gone their separate ways, I reckon you'll stay in touch with each other. And go on reunions, nights out, hen nights, all those things that girls do."

"Assuming I'll still be a girl by then," I sigh.

"Well, that IS the big question, isn't it?" Dad asks. "I can't make the decision for you. God knows you wouldn't want me too, heh. All I can do is- well, no actually, there IS one other thing I can do. Wait right there." I stare at dad in confusion as he leaves my bedroom, returning a short while later with a large rectangular package in his hand.

"Umm..." I say as he hands me the heavy box.

"It's your advent calendar this year," dad says. "I know, it's not December for another couple of days, so you can't actually open any of the doors yet, but I figured you'd like to see it."

"Umm... Okay," I say as I open the package- and the sight of what's inside nearly makes me cry.

Last year, my advent calendar was 'Lego Star Wars' themed. Every day, I'd get a new robot toy to build, so that by Christmas Eve, I'd have an entire Lego Star Wars playset. This year, however, my advent calendar is everything I've dreamed of. Instead of Lego, or even chocolate, behind each door of the advent calendar is a different piece of make-up, from lipstick to eyeliner pencils to even nail polish.

"Thank you," I whisper between sniffles, before reaching forward and surprising dad with a long, tight hug.

"Don't expect this every year," dad laughs, awkwardly wriggling out of my hug. "And keep it in here, we don't want your sisters getting hold of it, and we ESPECIALLY don't want Eddy going anywhere near it!"

"...Because you're afraid it'll make him like me?" I ask.

"No," dad retorts, "because he's less than a year old and will probably try to eat the make-up." I giggle at dad's joke, before putting the advent calendar on my chest of drawers, where I can't stop staring at it, excited about the goodies contained within.

"Any closer to your decision?" Dad asks, making me smile confidently.

"Yeah," I say with a grin. "Thank you. You probably don't know but this- just this- it means a lot to me, you know?"

"I had a feeling it might," dad says with a smug grin. "Get some rest, Ashley." Awkwardly, dad leans in toward me and gives me a gentle kiss on my forehead, just as he's done with my sisters so many times in the past.

The next morning, I wake up with a wide smile on my face, a smile that only gets wider as I pull on a comfortable pair of panties, a lace-trimmed vest and a trusty pair of thick grey tights, before stepping into my clean skirt, fastening my blouse and tie around me and pulling on my blazer. Dad's efforts to clean the blazer were better than he made out- the only trace of blood are a few spots above the buttons (which are, of course, on the left of the garment).

After laying out the pink tights and tight blue leotard I'll be wearing later tonight at ballet, I slip my feet into my tiny black flats, grab my school bag and head downstairs, where my sisters all greet me with happy, giggling hugs- which is also how I'm greeted by my friends at school- well, apart from Harriet, of course.

Just because I've had a setback, it doesn't mean that I should give up on my dream- on any of my dreams. Dad's starting to come to love 'girl Ashley', I have sisters who adore 'girl Ashley', I have true friends who will be in my heart for the rest of my life... And those who aren't on 'girl Ashley's side yet, well, they'll just be left behind.

Harriet was right, a skirt is a symbol of strength, as is make-up, nail polish, tights, leotards, long hair... And more importantly, they're also a symbol of ME. I am Ashley Moore. I am a girl. I am proud to be a girl. And if you knock me down, I'll just get back up again, girlier than ever!

My heart beats faster at the breathtaking sight of the ballerina effortlessly performing her steps. From the tiara pinned to her blonde hair, through her beautiful, embellished tutu and soft pink tights to her shiny satin pointe shoes, she is the very image of grace, elegance and femininity. As I watch her dance in the mirror, I actually have to remind myself that the ballerina… Is me.

Today is Friday the 12th of May 2017, and exactly fourteen years ago, a baby boy was born. Today, that ‘boy’ woke up and pulled on a pair of thick grey tights, a pleated grey skirt and a soft white blouse, before swallowing a pill that would prevent ‘his’ body from being further poisoned by the testosterone ‘his’ reproductive organs was producing. Once ‘he’ had come back from school- and opened ‘his’ birthday presents, of course- ‘he’ changed into a pair of soft pink tights and a skin-tight black tank leotard, before coming to the Krystie Fullerton School of Dance, where SHE was greeted by HER friends as the 14 year old girl that SHE is.

As the music ends and I dip into a perfect ballerina’s curtsey, I take another glimpse in the mirror at my reflection. It’s all I can do not to pinch myself at the sight of me in my tutu- a year ago I thought I would never get the chance to express my feminine side ever again. I thought I’d be ‘locked in’ the way I was- a boy, then a man, for the rest of my life. Now, I’m not only getting the chance to express my feminine side, but it’s my entire life. Most days when I wake up, I have a smile on my face that lasts for the entire day. Some days, though, I wake up in a panic at the thought that this life might not last…

“Oh my god oh my god you are so awesome!” Laura squeaks as she rushes over and gives me a tight hug, taking care not to crash the tutu that’s sticking out from my waist.

“You were SO cool out there!” Mia concurs, giving me a tight hug of her own. Naturally, this quickly turns into an eight-girl group hug as my teachers and the rest of the class applaud my routine- though there are four additional people here tonight whose approval I’m especially interested in.

“Ashley!” Cassie squeaks, rushing toward me with her arms outstretched. I can’t help but giggle as I pick her up and give her a cuddle- she is, of course, dressed in the pink tights and lilac leotard that make up her own ballet uniform, even though she hasn’t had a class today!

“Hey, Cassie!” I giggle. “Did you like my dance?”

“You are SO pretty!” My six year old sister squeaks excitedly, making my heart melt as Bryony and Dorothy also come over for their cuddles, accompanied by our mother. The most heartwarming thing, though, is that when Cassie came over to me to give me my cuddle, she ran straight past Laura without once looking back at her- and given how much Cassie idolised the older girl in the past, that tells me that I’m definitely doing SOMETHING right.

“Very beautiful,” mum says with a proud voice, before making room for my teachers.

“Tres bien,” Mademoiselle Renou says with a proud grin on her face. “You would never tell that you have only been en pointe for two months!”

“Thanks,” I say as my cheeks redden. “I guess I just have the best teachers in the world, heh.”

“Suck-up,” Miss Fullerton teases as she gives me a gentle hug, trying to avoid squashing both my tutu and her swollen belly. “Now go, get changed and enjoy the rest of your birthday, MISS fourteen year old!”

“Yes, ma’am!” I giggle as I remove my tiara, before heading into the costume storage room and exchanging my tutu for the black leotard I wore to class. When I emerge, I’m not surprised to find Cassie taking the opportunity provided by an empty studio to dance to her heart’s content- and even though she’s only six, some of her steps are even better than my own!

“Come on, you four!” Mum urges, trying to calm Cassie down as she ushers me and my sisters back to our car. “Ahh, almost wish you’d all worn your ballet uniforms today, that would’ve made such a cute picture.”

“We can all wear them when Bryony does her birthday dance next month!” Cassie immediately offers, making me giggle.

“I definitely wouldn’t mind,” I shrug. “You wouldn’t either, would you, Dorothy?”

“Nope!” The four year old girl squeaks with a happy grin.

“Just as long as dad doesn’t see the photograph,” Bryony says, immediately lowering the mood of the car as I help mum fasten Cassie and Dorothy’s seatbelts.

“There was no need to speak like that, Bryony,” mum chastises as I climb into the passenger seat and we set off for home. “Your father loves all four of his daughters equally and totally.”

“That’s right,” I say, backing up my mother even as I try to forget the conversation we had several months ago, at the start of my transition, when dad said he’d happily trade in his one son and four daughters for five sons.

Of course, dad’s one son is the (very convenient) reason he didn’t accompany the rest of the family to the ballet studio, and even though I smile when I see dad bouncing Eddy on his knee, the look on dad’s face when he sees me in my skin-tight dancewear immediately makes my heart sink. It isn’t a look of anger, or disapproval, or hatred… But neither is it a look of happiness or love. Dad may have accepted his responsibilities as my father, he may have sworn to protect me no matter what… But he never agreed to like this responsibility.

Dad’s attitude is all the more maddening when I enter the living room and am greeted by a very welcome surprise.

“Happy birthday, Ashley!” Grandma Jo says, giving me a tight hug as my sisters all rush forward, demanding their own hugs.

“Happy birthday, Ashley!” Grandpa Chris says, giving me a much less tight hug- but a loving one nonetheless.

“Happy birthday, young lady!” Great-Grandma Hazel says, chuckling happily as I lean in to give her her hug (being 84, she’s obviously not as mobile as my other grandparents). “I hope you’ve had an enjoyable day?”

“Yep!” I giggle.

“Ashley did a special dance at ballet as it was her birthday and it was SO beautiful!” Cassie excitedly squeaks as she runs around the room with Dorothy, getting their hugs.

“Really?” Grandma Hazel asks. “Clare, I assume you took a video with this on your fancy phone?”

“Of course,” mum says with a smug grin.

“Well then,” Grandma Jo says, “I know what we’ll all be watching now! AFTER the young women have covered up their one-pieces, of course.”

“It’s called a leotard, grandma!” Cassie says in a near-pout.

“I know what a leotard is,” the sixty year old woman says with a knowing grin. “I used to take dance lessons of my own, believe it or not.”

“You- you did ballet!?” Cassie gasps, her jaw dropping.

“Well, tap dancing lessons, but, you know, close enough,” our grandmother replies, her grin widening.

“She was always dancing around the house when she was a little girl,” Grandma Hazel chuckles. “Reminds me of a few other little and not-so-little girls I could name!” I laugh as Cassie and I are ushered out of the room, returning a short while later in smart, long-sleeved knee-length dresses. I giggle as I sit down, keeping my knees pressed firmly together, as my grandparents hand me yet more presents to add to the already very generous pile I opened this morning.

On my ‘pile’ already are tons of clothes, mostly dresses and skirts but some tops, some underwear, a new swimsuit and even a bikini for the summer. I’ve got new dancewear as well, including several pairs of dance tights and two new leotards. I have new make-up, new nail polish and some jewellery- I even have a new pair of earrings, despite the fact that I’ve yet to get my ears pierced. More accessories, feminine-themed books and DVDs round out my present pile, with my grandparents’ presents all fitting into one of the existing ‘themes’. With every present I open, though, dad’s scowl just gets deeper and deeper. Every time I think I’ve had a breakthrough, every time I think I’ve taken a step forward with him, it always ends with him taking a hundred steps back…

“I bet you enjoyed this birthday more than your thirteenth, didn’t you?” Grandma Jo asks, making me giggle girlishly.

“OH yeah,” I reply, earning giggles from all the other women in the room. “And not just because I got all the presents I REALLY wanted. I think this is the first time I’ve ever actually been really happy on my birthday.” I giggle again and try not to cry as mum sits down next to me and gives me a gentle cuddle- something I’ve seen her do to my sisters plenty of times, but something that I thought had stopped for me several years ago.

“Do you have anything special planned with your friends tomorrow?” Grandpa Chris asks.

“Just hanging out,” I shrug. “Same as every other Saturday.”

“The difference being that this Saturday,” mum says, “Ashley’s sisters will all be ‘hanging out’ too, so Ashley WILL be on her best behaviour!”

“Are you saying that there are times when she isn’t on her best behaviour, Clare?” Grandma Hazel asks, and everyone- with the exception of dad- starts to chuckle as I blush.

“…Girls will be girls, I guess,” mum shrugs. “Especially when they’re fourteen years old! We always make sure to step in before this one goes TOO far though, don’t we, Andy?”

“Of course,” dad mumbles. Despite- or maybe because of- his feeble attempt to sound positive, the tone of dad’s voice still causes an awkward silence to fall over the room.

“Well, anyway,” Grandpa Chris says. “As long as Ashley enjoys her birthday weekend, that’s the important thing, right?”

“Right,” everyone replies, trying vainly to regain the celebratory atmosphere that has been lost.

Unsurprisingly, this attempt fails, and my grandparents depart shortly afterward, bidding me and all four of my siblings goodbye with gentle cuddles. It’s all I can do not to breathe a sigh of relief as I relax back into the sofa, taking care not to crease my new dress.

“Well,” dad says, rising from his chair with Eddy in his arms. “This one’s way past his bedtime, and so are you two!”

“Aww,” Cassie pouts as our father points at her and Dorothy.

“You want to be wide awake tomorrow, don’t you?” Dad retorts. “So you can hang out with all the older girls, right?” Dad chuckles happily, and so do I, as Cassie’s disappointment is replaced by an enthusiastic nod and she and Dorothy follow our father upstairs to get ready for bed.

“Once they’re done, it’s your turn, young lady,” mum says, making Bryony sigh.

“Yes, mum,” the ten year old girl mumbles. “Can- can Ashley brush my hair tonight?”

“As long as she doesn’t mind,” mum says, smiling as I nod in agreement. “And yes, she can paint your toenails too, don’t think I don’t know what the two of you have been doing these last few Fridays! Just don’t let your dad see. Or worse yet, your sisters!”

“Thanks mum!” Bryony says with a happy grin as she and I jump off the sofa and head straight up to my bedroom.

In the six months since I became a full-time girl, my bedroom has changed a lot to reflect the change within me. As well the obvious change in what’s contained within my drawers and my wardrobe, the whole décor of the room has changed. Gone is my light blue paint in favour of a lilac colour. My bed sheets are soft pastel colours instead of my old blue and white hoops. My walls are covered with photos of family and friends, rather than football posters, and ornaments and books about fashion, dancing and celebrities fill my shelves instead of football magazines and Star Wars action figures. I love my new room- and judging by the look of awe that spreads across Bryony’s face every time she sets foot in the room, she’s more than a little fond of it too.

“Okay, sit down, socks off, same as always,” I say to my sister, who dutifully parks herself on her bed and removes her lacy white socks. “You know, at secondary school, we have to wear tights with skirts until the start of June, no matter how hot it is.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Bryony says as I fetch a bottle of red nail polish and a wad of tissue paper, and begin painting her tiny toenails.

“It’s not,” I shrug. “But those are the rules. Same way that boys aren’t allowed to wear shorts at all, no matter how hot it gets.”

“Or skirts,” Bryony says, making me briefly pause.

“I think we both know how unfair THAT is,” I mumble as I continue my painting.

“How unfair DAD is,” Bryony spits.

“Now- ugh,” I sigh. “I was going to say ‘try not to hate dad too much’, but you’re not wrong…”

“I hate the way he treats you,” Bryony snarls. “Just because you’re a girl now.”

“He’s trying his hardest,” I say.

“He’s had six months,” Bryony mumbles.

“He had thirteen and a half years before that,” I retort.

“I know,” my sister mumbles. “But it still makes me mad.”

“He’ll come round soon,” I say. “He’ll realise that he’s now got four daughters, and his only option is to get used to it.”

“If he doesn’t, I’ll make him,” Bryony says determinedly.

“You don’t have to fight my battle for me,” I mumble as I hand my sister a small electric fan to dry her toenails.

“You’re my sister, that’s my job,” the ten year old girl replies, warming my heart. “And you’ll watch over me at secondary school next year, won’t you?”

“Of course,” I say with a smile. “Me and all the gang will take care of you in your first year.”

“Does that include that George boy you were friends with?” Bryony asks, immediately draining all the warmth from my heart. “Will he be coming tomorrow?”

“…I don’t know,” I mumble, ushering Bryony and her tiny socks out of my bedroom. “But you will, of course! Plenty of older girls for you to hang around with…”

“I know,” Bryony says with a smug grin as she shuts the door behind her, leaving me alone in my room with my thoughts- all of which are centred around my former best friend.

Six months ago was the first day I went into school wearing a skirt. That day should’ve been one of the happiest of my life, but reality soon conspired to make it one of the most miserable days of my life- not least because of what happened to my friend George. Before the morning had even ended, Ryan Reid- one of the most feared thugs in year 11- had beaten George so badly that he needed to be taken to hospital for treatment, and all for the ‘crime’ of being my friend. The following day, Ryan’s sister Samantha- a girl in the year above me- would assault me with a shoe, leaving a scar above my left eye that will take years to fully heal.

Ryan and Samantha were both expelled for their assaults, of course, and George’s parents are taking legal action against the Reids for what they did, but the damage they caused was irreversible- and I don’t just mean my scar. In the weeks following my and George’s return to school, attitudes toward us changed. We were no longer greeted by giggles and pointed fingers, but by hushed whispers and averted gazes. We went from objects of ridicule to objects of pity, and even fear… And George simply couldn’t cope with it. Despite his insistence that we were friends, that we were tight, in the weeks following the assault, George became more and more ‘distant’. We’d sit together in class, sure, but we’d be all business, focussed on work instead of chatting about our usual nonsense. At break, George would steer clear of our usual table, even despite the presence of his (soon to be ex) girlfriend in the group.

By the start of March, the boy who had once been so open-minded that he’d even started taking ballet lessons had stopped talking to me altogether, instead spending all of his breaks and lunchtimes playing football with the same idiots who sneered at me behind my back in the school corridors. I still had my best girl friends, of course, and I’d even started to make friends with some of the girls in my year (who’d stepped into the ‘George’ role in classes), but I still really, really missed George- and still do, in fact. He could quite easily have turned his back on me the second he discovered that I was transgendered, but he didn’t, and not doing so caused him to be badly hurt. I can’t blame George for hating me, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less…

My alarm clock wakes me early on Saturday morning, and I just about manage to drag myself out of bed and to the shower, where I let the hot water wash away my tiredness ahead of what promises to be a fun, exciting day. After blow-drying my hair, I brush it into a cute, feminine style, with a lop-sided fringe that covers my forehead- or rather, covers the scar on the left hand side of my forehead.

As I cover my face with a light layer of foundation and apply a little mascara and eyeliner, I can’t help but muse on how ‘right’ everything about this feels. The joy of playing with my hair, experimenting with my look, of enhancing my features with make-up… Sometimes I wonder whether or not I’d enjoy it as much if ‘the norm’ was reversed and it was men who wore make-up instead of women. However, I’m fairly sure the answer would be ‘no’, as while the act of applying make-up is an enjoyable one, it’s nothing compared to when I’m finished and I stare in the mirror at the vision of femininity I have created.

The feeling of excitement only grows when I return to my bedroom to take my testosterone blocker (which hasn’t changed my body much since I started taking it- then again, I didn’t expect it to) before picking out my outfit for the day. After pulling on a comfortable pair of panties and a training bra (which I don’t really need to wear, but I don anyway), I pull on a brand-new red and black hooped long-sleeved top I got yesterday, followed by a cute miniskirt made from a shiny black material. I giggle as I do a quick twirl and the skirt flares out away from my waist, but a quick look in my mirror at my bare legs shows that my look for the day is far from complete.

It’s much too warm outside for tights- peeling off my ballet tights last night was a particularly unpleasant experience- and I don’t particularly want to wear leggings underneath this skirt as they’d ruin the look. However, as I sit down on my bed, I’m reminded of Bryony sitting opposite me last night in her tiny white socks, and I immediately know how I’m going to complete my look for today. I open my underwear drawer, but I reach past the wadded-up ball of tights and instead pull out a pair of long, light black socks, smiling wickedly as I stretch them over my legs, the tops coming to rest just above my knees. A final glance in my mirror shows that I look a lot older than my fourteen years and a day- but most importantly, I don’t look in the slightest bit boyish.

This is confirmed for me when I head down the stairs and am instantly greeted by a look of utter discomfort from my father.

“Morning, Ashley,” dad mumbles as he gives Eddy his morning feed.

“Hi dad,” I say, making my father’s look of discomfort worsen as I cross one socked leg over the other.

“What time are your friends arriving?” Dad asks.

“Probably the next 45 minutes,” I reply.

“Right,” dad says with a grimace. “Get this down you, Ed, don’t want you getting hungry in the car!”

“…The car?” I ask.

“Yeah,” dad says, looking at me as though I’ve missed something obvious. “While you’re playing with your friends, me and Eddy will be with your grandparents.”

“O… Kay…” I say.

“Ashley,” dad sighs, “you’ve got to do what you want to do. I’ve accepted that. But it doesn’t mean I’m going to stick around and encourage it. And I’m certainly not going to- well, umm, Eddy-“

“You’re not going to let me ‘corrupt him with girliness’?” I sneer, rolling my eyes as dad averts his gaze. “Dad, I’m not going to make Eddy be anything he doesn’t want to be.”

“…You were meant to defend him from his older sisters, not become one of them,” dad mumbles, making me groan with frustration.

“What does he need ‘defending’ from?” I ask.

“You know,” dad mumbles. “From teasing, that sort of thing…”

“Yeah, because super-smart Bryony, all-loving Cassie and is-a-little-sister-herself Dorothy are going to torture Eddy when he’s older, aren’t they?” I snort.

“It’s when THEY’RE older that worries me,” dad says. “You don’t know what teenage girls can be like.”

“Dad, I AM a teenaged girl,” I say, silencing the older man.

“We’ll be back around dinnertime,” dad says, gently placing Eddy into his car seat before heading into the kitchen to bid my mother and my sisters farewell with a kiss for each for them… But, obviously, no kiss for me.

“Hi Ashley!” Bryony excitedly squeaks as she jumps onto the sofa next to me. “What time are your friends coming round?”

“Umm, soon,” I say, straightening my skirt and my socks. “You’re excited about hanging out with the girls, then?”

“A bit,” Bryony shrugs. “I figure I’d better get to know them now, so that I’ll know them already when I go to your school in September.”

“Yes, that’s the only reason,” I say, before biting my tongue as I realise that I’m acting the exact same way dad stated that my sisters would in the future. “…But it is a good idea, I guess. Most of the girls already know you anyway, heh! You already hang out at Nicole- sorry, Sabrina’s sister’s house most of the time, you go to ballet with Laura’s stepsister…”

“I know,” Bryony shrugs. “But I want to hang out with THEM, not their sisters. I want them to like me…”

“Aww,” I sigh, giving my sister a long, tight hug. “Of COURSE they’ll like you! I won’t give them any other choice!”

“Thanks,” Bryony whispers. Moments later, a knock comes from the door, interrupting out tender moment.

“Huh,” I muse. “Laura must be early today…” However, when I answer the door, I’m surprised to find that it’s not the usually-first Laura stood on my doorstep, but another one of my friends.

“Happy birthday!” Mia giggles, giving me an excited hug. “That is a CUTE skirt, hehe!”

“Thanks!” I squeak, doing a twirl for my friend and giggling as the skirt once again flares out. “Like the socks?”

“LOVE the socks!” Mia gushes as we head into the living room. “Hey, Bryony!”

“Hi Mia,” Bryony replies in a quiet, almost nervous voice.

“Aww,” Mia sighs. “I remember when I was younger, always being dragged along to my big- well, to my older siblings’ birthday parties, but I’ve got two older BROTHERS, and you, Bryony, only have an older SISTER, hehe!”

“And trust me, I didn’t need to ‘drag’ Bryony anywhere!” I say, making my friend giggle as my sister starts to blush.

“Oh, stop embarrassing her!” my black-haired friend chastises me. “So, Bryony, you looking forward to spending all day getting teased by your sister at school!”

“I WAS looking forward to secondary school,” Bryony replies, making Mia giggle even more as I dramatically roll my eyes.

“You’d better start respecting your big sister if you want this skirt handing down to you when you’re older!” I snort, making my sister smile smugly. Before bryony can retort again, another knock comes from the door. However, when I answer the door, I’m surprised to find that it still isn’t my fellow T-girl.

“Happy birthday, birthday girlie!” Harriet squeaks, giving me a tight, giggly hug. “Okay, your birthday was ACTUALLY yesterday, but, like, whatever, right?”

“Right!” I giggle.

“And that is a CUTE skirt!” Harriet giggles, playfully stroking the fabric of the hem. “Goes SO well with those socks.”

“I know, doesn’t it?” Mia replies, having obviously overheard us from the living room. “Hey, Hazza!”

“Hey Mia!” Harriet says, giving the black-haired girl a much less tight hug than the one she gave me. “You been here long?”

“Just a few minutes,” Mia replies. “Just, you know, catching up with the birthday girlie and her little sister.”

“Aww,” Harriet coos. “You looking forward to big school, Bryony?”

“A bit,” Bryony shrugs.

“Oh my god!” Mia says, as though she suddenly remember something. “If you’re eleven, that means you’ll be getting your pointe shoes soon too, won’t you?”

“Miss Fullerton says I’ll probably get them around Christmas time,” Bryony says. “I’m kinda nervous about that, too…”

“There’s no real need to be,” I say. “They don’t hurt as much as everyone makes out, not at first, anyway.”

“And they make you look SO girly and gorgeous,” Mia gushes. “Just look at your sister if you don’t believe me!”

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the girliest of them all?” Harriet asks as she gives me a playful cuddle.

“Me!” I exclaim, pulling a feminine pose on the sofa to the delight of my friends and my sister.

Naturally, talk of pointe shoes soon attracts Cassie through from the kitchen, meaning that ballet dominates our chat for the next few minutes- with Cassie even doing a few steps, much to everyone’s delight- before the rest of my friends arrive. Laura is a little put out to find that she wasn’t the first to arrive, but soon gets over it, especially when Priya and Suriya arrive, with two brightly-coloured packages in their hands.

“Happy birthday!” The sisters both squeak, wrapping me in a tight hug before forcing the packages into my hands.

“Oh my god, thank you so much!” I say. “This has EASILY been the best birthday ever, hehe!”

“Is that because it’s the first birthday that MISS Ashley Moore has celebrated?” Priya asks with a smug grin, bringing a sad smile to my face.

“Of course,” I whisper.

“Then that just means that your fifteenth will be even better!” Suriya giggles. “And then your sixteenth will be better than that, and your seventeenth will be better than that… And we, as the older members of the gang, will make sure that your eighteenth will be the biggest, best and girliest birthday of all time, won’t we, Pri?”

“Duh, of course!” Priya laughs. “Okay, we’ll all be at university by then, but we are SO coming back for that. For everyone’s party, hehe!”

“Too right, you are!” Laura giggles as we return to the living room. “Now, Ash, one of those presents is from us, the other one we picked up at ballet last night. It’s from another friend…” I frown in confusion as I examine the two gifts more closely- one is obviously a pair of shoes, and has the names of all seven of my friends (and about a hundred ‘X’s) on the label, whereas the other- which seems to be an item of clothing- doesn’t seem to have a label at all.

“Is- is it from Miss Fullerton?” I ask as I carefully open the present. “Or Mademoiselle Renou?”

“Not quite,” Laura says smugly as I fully unwrap the gift- which is an absolutely STUNNING dress.

The dress is knee-length, has cap sleeves and a fairly low neckline, and is made of a shimmering red fabric that seems to sparkle in the sunlight. Clipped to the dress is a handwritten note that I read aloud for the benefit of my friends.

“Happy birthday, Ashley,” I say. “Every girl deserves to be treated like a princess on her birthday, no matter how she was born or what anyone else says. This creation of my fiancée’s might not be a super-huge ball gown but it should do for now. With love, Nikki Thomas.”

“Oh, that is SO cool,” Nicole gushes. “Now you’ve both got Sarah Phillips dresses!”

“I know!” Laura squeaks. “You have GOT to try that dress on, Ash.”

“AFTER you open your other present!” Suriya orders, making me blush as I tear the wrapping paper off the other gift, which, as I predicted, is a shoebox- but when I look inside the box, my heart instantly melts.

The shoes are the same colour red as my new dress and made of a soft fabric, but that’s not the most exciting thing about them- that would be the two inch high heel on the back of the shoes.

“After what your mum said at the photoshoot last month, I figured that you SHOULD have your own pair of heels,” Laura says as I excitedly examine the shoes. “Though obviously, don’t let her see them!”

“…And don’t let my sisters try them on either,” I say, regarding my three younger siblings with a smug grin as they let out sighs of disappointment.

“NOW you can try them on,” Priya says with a grin just as smug as my own as I head toward the living room door.

“Not with her nails looking like that, she can’t!” Laura suddenly interrupts, producing a bottle of dark red nail polish from her handbag and making me giggle even more excitedly.

Ten minutes later, with nails that match my outfit, I sweep into the living room in my new dress and my new shoes, earning cheers from all of the other girls in the room- even the ones with single-digit ages.

“You are SO pretty, Ashley!” Cassie (whose nails have also been painted by Laura) squeaks, before running over to give me a tight hug.

“Thanks, Cassie!” I squeak in response, gently cuddling the tiny girl as I exchange a quick look with Laura- the girl Cassie had idolised for months before the start of my transition, but who barely gets any attention from her anymore. The smile on my friend’s face is enough to tell me that she’s more than happy to pass the ‘responsibility’ onto me- and I, of course, am only too happy to take it!

“How does it feel?” Megan asks, excitedly bouncing up and down as I twirl and pose for the girls.

“INCREDIBLE,” I reply. “I’ve never worn a dress like this before, it’s so soft and smooth… And the shoes are AMAZING too, hehe! I almost feel like I’m at prom…”

“It’s your birthday,” Priya says. “It’s better than prom!”

“Says the girl who’ll be going to her own prom in a few weeks!” Suriya teases her sister, who simply rolls her eyes in response.

“What’s ‘prom’?” Dorothy asks, earning ‘aww’s from all of the teenaged girls.

“Prom,” Laura explains, “is the single BEST thing about school!”

“After you leave school,” Suriya continues, “when you’re sixteen, like Priya, you have a special party where all the girls wear fancy make-up, gorgeous jewellery… And the biggest, fanciest dress that money can buy!” I giggle as Suriya’s obvious excitement for prom quickly spreads to my sisters, who are all hanging on every word she’s saying.

“Of course,” Nicole interjects, “the BEST part about prom is that you get to dance with boys!” I grimace as my sisters- who of course, don’t have the same ‘fondness’ for boys that Nicole does- screw their faces up in disgust.

“Eww,” Bryony spits. “Boys are horrid!”

“Well it doesn’t HAVE to be a boy you dance with,” Harriet says, winking in my direction to let me know that she has the same attitude toward boys as my sisters- and more to the point, the same attitude that I have.

“Ashley,” Cassie asks, “will you dance with a boy at your prom?”

“Umm…” I stammer, flustered at having suddenly been put on the spot. “I, umm- it’s not something I have to think about, not for a while.”

“Wimp,” Suriya whispers to me with a giggle.

“Oh my god,” Nicole suddenly exclaims. “I just had an idea- everyone say who would be your ultimate prom date!”

“Everyone old enough to think of a prom date, anyway!” Mia laughs. “And mine would HAVE to be… Justin Bieber.”

“Good choice!” Suriya giggles. “Okay, mine… Zayn Malik.” I’m forced to giggle as everyone else in the room showers Suriya with frustrated groans. “Okay, so it’s an obvious choice,” the tiny Indian girl continues. “But he IS cute, and if we get married, I don’t have to change my surname, right?”

“So does that mean that Harriet would go to prom with Bradley Cooper?” Priya asks, making our ginger-haired friend grimace.

“Eww, no thank you!” Harriet sneers. “Try Jennifer Lawrence. Or Taylor Swift, or Hannah Dexter…”

“You like tall girls, then?” Nicole asks, playfully pushing Harriet toward the six foot tall Megan.

“Well who’d be your choice then, Nicole?” Harriet asks.

“Guy Martin,” Nicole says with a smug grin.

“Really?” Laura asks. “That motorbike guy from the north?”

“You can’t tell me he ISN’T cool,” Nicole says. “And CUTE!”

“And covered in grease half the time,” Megan snorts.

“Okay then, Miss Cartman,” Nicole says. “Who’s be your pick?”

“I…” Megan begins, before grimacing. “I don’t really want to think about BOYS right now.” The look Megan gives me tells me why without her having to say a word- my former best friend obviously caused a lot more damage than I thought when they split up

“Okay,” Nicole says quietly, obviously sensitive to Megan’s pain. “Birthday girl, pick someone… Boy OR girl.”

“Ehh,” I grimace as I’m suddenly put on the spot.

“It CAN be someone in this room, if you want,” Harriet giggles.

“Ooh! Ooh! Can I go?” Cassie asks, earning yet more ‘aww’s from the other girls.

“Ehh, sorry, Cassie, it really has to be someone as old as Ashley, or older than her,” Laura says, making my sister pout.

“…How can I choose between you all?” I answer, earning groans from the girls- though their frustration quickly gives way to a group hug with me in the middle.

“Careful of the dress!” Laura says, breaking the hug before it gets too tight. “Though- and this is just a hypothetical question- if you HAD to go to prom with a boy… Who would you choose?”

“Umm,” I mumble as I pretended to think.

In truth, it’d be a no-brainer- the only boy I’d ever consider spending any time with would be the former best friend who’s making Megan so miserable. We wouldn’t go in a romantic way, of course- like the way Priya will be going to prom with her boyfriend- but as two friends who happen to be a boy and a girl. Even though I’d constantly irritate him with my fussing with my dress and make-up, and he’d constantly irritate me with his pretending not to care about my look (and knowing George, he wouldn’t have to pretend much). We’d probably dance together once, but not a slow dance, and we’d probably go home in a limo, but not by ourselves, with other ‘couples’.

It probably wouldn’t surprise you to learn that this is something I’ve thought about a lot. And as much fun as I’m having in my party today… There’s a part of me that really wishes that George was here too. Obviously, he’d be bored out of his skull, and embarrassed about some of the things we’re discussing (not least the prom date ‘quiz’), and he’d probably spend most of his time cuddled up next to Megan and wouldn’t speak to me as much as the girls… But he’d at least be here. And not sat alone in his bedroom playing videogames, which is what he’s inevitably doing right now.

“Wow,” mum breathes as she walks into the living room, snapping me out of my reverie. “Don’t you look grown-up!” I giggle as I stand up and do a twirl for my mother in my new dress and shoes. “Are those high heels?”

“They’re barely two inches,” I retort. “Hardly ‘high’…”

“Still, though…” Mum says with a look of concern on her face, before letting out a sigh. “Ugh, I suppose you ARE growing up. And it is a pretty dress.”

“And a pretty Ashley!” Cassie squeaks, making me giggle. “Mummy, we’re talking about who we’d take to a prom!” I instantly grimace- as do all the other teenagers in the room- as mum’s face changes from a look of concern to a look of anger.

“Okay,” mum says as she takes Cassie and Dorothy by the hand and leads them out of the living room. “Think you’ve spent enough time with the big girls today. You too, Bryony.”

“But mum…” Bryony pleads.

“No buts!” Mum says as my sisters all pout at being removed from the party, leaving us eight remaining girls in an awkward silence.

“…At least that wasn’t me being dragged away,” I say, earning giggles from all of my friends. “Seriously though- and I probably shouldn’t say this, but I’m going to anyway- Bryony IS kinda worried that she won’t fit in next year.”

“Aww,” Suriya sighs. “Well we’ll all make her feel welcome at school, won’t we, girls?”

“Of course!” Nicole giggles. “And the same goes for Sabrina, right?”

“Duh, of course!” Laura laughs. “The more girls, the better!”

“Kinda wish I wasn’t a year older now,” Priya sighs sadly. “Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to enjoy hanging out with all the older kids at college, staying out later, not having to worry about detentions or being grounded…”

“You’ve never ever had a detention and you’ve never been grounded before!” Suriya retorts, making her sister giggle.

“And I never will be,” Priya retorts. “More importantly, though… Ashley never did tell us which BOY she’d pick to go to prom with!” I roll my eyes as the focus suddenly shifts back to me.

“…I wouldn’t go,” I say defiantly. “If I couldn’t go with a girl, I just wouldn’t go!”

“You say it, sister!” Harriet laughs, before giving me a VERY tight squeeze.

“But no girl in particular, right?” Mia asks with a wink.

“…Laura hasn’t answered the question yet,” I say, giggling as Laura rolls her eyes before shooting a look of pure fury at me.

“Priya hasn’t either,” Laura says.

“Because everyone knows she’s taking her boyfriend,” Suriya retorts. “Ooh… Does this mean that you’ll be taking KAIN?”

“Kain isn’t my boyfriend,” Laura mumbles.

“Not yet, anyway!” Mia teases as Laura’s cheeks start to redden.

“This is a stupid game,” Laura mumbles. “And we haven’t given MISS Moore a makeover to match her new dress yet, have we?”

“…I’m going to pay for putting you on the spot like that, aren’t I?” I sigh.

“If by ‘pay’ you mean ‘spend the rest of the day looking like a supermodel’, then yes,” Laura says as she and Mia grab my hand and lead me to the kitchen where- along with the other girls- we spend the next few hours making each other over until we all look like Hollywood stars. Obviously, hundreds of photos get taken for our social media accounts, and as the birthday girl, I (and my new dress and shoes) am the focus of most of the pictures, some of which mum prints out for her scrapbook- and my bedroom wall- when she gets home.

Despite their pleading, my sisters aren’t allowed back into the ‘party’ for the rest of the day, meaning I don’t see them again until after my friends leave at 6pm. Cassie, of course, immediately gives me a hug and tells me how pretty I am and how glad she is to be my sister, but Bryony still seems unhappy at being excluded from the party- and her unhappiness only deepens when dad and Eddy return just after the last of my friends leave. However, no matter how much Bryony pouts, she can’t match the look of sheer horror on my father’s face when he sees my dress… And my make-up, and my nails, and my heels…

“Did- did you have fun?” Dad asks.

“It was SO cool,” I reply, trying not to grin as dad grimaces (and Bryony chuckles) at my girly exuberance. “I got this dress from Nikki, that girl who I met at the photoshoot a few weeks ago, remember?”

“Oh,” dad mumbles.

“Oh yes,” mum says in an attempt to avoid an awkward silence. “She was very friendly. Have you thanked her for the dress yet?”

“Umm… Not yet,” I say. “I’ll probably send her a Facebook message after dinner.”

“Make sure you do,” mum says. “And make sure you wash off all that make-up before you go to bed!”

“Yes, mum,” I say with a giggle.

Naturally, I decide that when mum says ‘wash off the make-up before you go to bed’, she means ‘make it the last thing you do before you go to bed’, so I keep the make-up securely in place, along with my dress and my heels, as I head up to my bedroom and switch on my tablet computer. Unsurprisingly, when I log into Facebook, Nikki is showing as ‘unavailable’, but I send her a message anyway thanking her for my present. Much to my surprise, though, a reply comes through to my message mere seconds later.

‘Hey Ash!’ The message reads, followed by a string of emojis including an image of a birthday cake. ‘How was your big day? The big one-four, right?’

‘Right!’ I reply with a grinning emoji. ‘Thanks so much for the dress, I’m wearing it right now!’ I smile as I take a photo of me in my mirror and send it to Nikki, who sends several thumbs ups in response.

‘Gorgeous and girly!’ Nikki types with a grinning emoji. ‘Can’t chat long, kinda wearing a special dress myself…’ I giggle as Nikki sends me a selfie of her wearing a very extravagant mauve strapless dress, fancy gold jewellery and an elaborate hairdo that looks like it took hours to secure in place.

‘So cool,’ I reply.

‘And it’s my turn in the big white dress in a few weeks!’ Nikki types, her excitement obvious in her words. ‘Before that though, I’m glad you messaged me. Make sure you buy the Sunday Globe newspaper tomorrow. There’s a feature in the magazine you might want to read.’ I barely pay attention to the winking emoji Nikki sends as my heart rate suddenly increases- there’s only one reason why I’d want to read that newspaper tomorrow…

‘Is it being published?’ I ask.

‘Yep!’ Nikki replies with a ‘cheering’ emoji. ‘Took them longer than they’d thought to edit together all the photos they took as they took a LOT. They sent me a DVD with a copy of every photo they took on there- I’ll make sure you and Laura get copies at ballet on Tuesday.’

‘OMG thank you so much!’ I type as I literally bounce up and down on my bed. ‘I am SO telling all my friends about this!’

‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ Nikki types with a ‘giggling’ emoji. ‘There’s a beautiful brown-haired girl staring me who I think wants a dance with a bridesmaid!’ I reply with a smiling emoji as Nikki goes back offline, before opening up a group chat with all of the girls.

‘Hey girlies!’ I type excitedly. ‘Guess who’s going to be in a newspaper tomorrow…’

‘OMG!’ Laura- who was obviously in the photoshoot as well- immediately replies. ‘It’s tomorrow?’

‘Nikki just told me!’ I type, still literally bouncing with excitement. ‘This is so awesome!’

‘OMG is this that photoshoot you two went to?’ Megan types.

‘Yep!’ Laura types, followed a string of emojis- a string I’m more than happy to contribute to myself!

‘OMG OMG we are so buying that!’ Nicole types. ‘OMG we’ve got to tell everyone else from school!’

‘I’ll tell everyone from drama!’ Suriya types.

‘I’ll message gym club!’ Nicole types. ‘Pri, can you let everyone in your year know?’

‘I’ll do what I can,’ Priya types with a grinning emoji.

‘Everyone apart from Scott bloody McIntosh!’ Laura types with a ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji at the mention of her ex-boyfriend. ‘Ash, can you let your year know?’

‘Sure,’ I type, but as I go to compose a new message, I suddenly realise that of all the people in my year, the only one I really know all that well is George… And I haven’t messaged him in weeks. Nonetheless, I open up a new chat window to him and begin typing.

‘Hey George,’ I type. ‘Just so you’re aware, I was at a photoshoot with a few other trans people a few weeks ago, it’s going to be published in the Sunday Globe magazine tomorrow. Just in case you want to read it.’ I hesitate before pressing the ‘send’ button- it’s been ages since I spoke to George, and the first thing I’m going to say to him is ‘hey, I’m going to be in a newspaper’. After what happened between him and Ryan Reid, the last thing he’ll want to hear is me boasting at him…

After a moment of indecision, I delete the message I’d typed, before closing the chat window entirely and collapsing back on my bed to try to process everything that happened today.

My last thirteen birthdays had all been massive disappointments. Every single time, I was complimented on being a ‘handsome young man’, or a ‘big strong boy’, when all I wanted to be called was a beautiful young woman, or a pretty girl… And today, after fourteen long years, that finally happened. My friends- my amazing friends- have given me the birthday celebration I’ve always dreamed of- the same type of celebration that they themselves have had for the past few years. My parents- even my father- have supplied me with the gifts- the clothes and the make-up- that I always wanted.

I am, unquestionably, a fourteen year old girl, just as I always wanted to be… But still, my life is far from perfect. My best friend won’t even speak to me anymore. My dad can barely look me in the eye, and several of my grandparents prefer to act like I don’t even exist. I knew it wouldn’t be as easy as pulling on a skirt and living happily ever after- but I am entitled to want more ‘wins’, aren’t I?

After chatting with the girls some more, I head to bed just after 10pm and try to focus on the positives in my life- and there are many of them- rather than the negatives. After all, there’s no guarantee they’ll be negatives forever…

I’m woken the following morning by a firm hand shaking my tired body awake, giggling excitedly as I groan.

“Wake up, superstar!” Mum says as I rub the tiredness from my eyes.

“Super- what?” I moan.

“Does this look familiar?” Mum asks as she shoves a magazine in my face, on the cover of which are nine people wearing a variety of clothing, all of which has a blue, pink and white theme. As I scan the cover with my bleary eyes, I immediately start to recognise faces- one of them is Stephanie Abbott, a singer from my favourite band, one of them is Nikki Thomas, the same girl I was chatting with on Facebook last night. One of the girls is Laura, looking almost unrecognisable in her tutu, pointe shoes and stage make-up… And one of them is me, giggling happily as I pose in a knee-length party dress.

“It- it’s out?” I ask, before remembering my conversation with Nikki last night. “Oh, um, cool!”

“Your grandparents are downstairs,” mum says. “With a dozen copies for you to sign, hehe! So get up and get dressed quick, megastar! Your adoring public awaits!”

I giggle excitedly as I get out of bed and quickly shower, before putting on a very light layer of make-up (just a little mascara and a bit of pink lipstick), pulling on a lacy vest and a pair of panties followed by a light pair of black tights, a girly grey t-shirt and a brand-new wraparound tartan skirt. As I look in the mirror at my reflection, I’m once again reminded that I am, unquestionably, the fourteen year old girl I always wanted to be… But as I head down to the living room, the look of discomfort on my father’s face as he sees me reminds me that I still have a long way to go, and the momentary look of discomfort on the face of Grandpa Chris- who’s always been one of my biggest supporters- tells me that I may never reach my goal.

Fortunately, the squeals of excitement from all three of my sisters- who tackle me onto the sofa with tight hugs the second they see me- are a good reminder that I have had plenty of ‘victories’, and will continue to do so.

“Ashley you are so AWESOME!” Bryony gushes.

“You are so pretty in that dress!” Cassie squeaks. “Did they let you keep it? Can I try it on?”

“Girls!” Mum laughs, instantly calming my sisters down. “Give your sister- your FAMOUS sister- some space!”

“You looked very grown-up in the photos,” Grandma Jo says with obvious pride in her voice. “And in your interview too.”

“Yes, very mature,” Grandpa Chris concurs. “Wasn’t she, Andrew?”

“Umm, umm, yes,” dad splutters as he cradles my baby brother in his arms. “Very- very, umm, mature, Ashley…”

“I, umm… It was a fun day,” I mumble as my cheeks turn a deep shade of red.

“I don’t doubt it!” Grandma Jo laughs, before handing me about ten copies of the magazine and a ballpoint pen. “Better get in practice now, superstar!” I blush even more as I sign the magazines for my grandparents, before groaning with embarrassment as they hand me a giftwrapped package that they’d hidden behind the sofa.

“I know your birthday was two days ago,” Grandpa Chris says as he hands me the present, “but as you’ll see, we couldn’t very well give you this then!” I giggle as I unwrap the present, before sighing happily as I see what’s inside- a framed copy of my photos and interview from the magazine’s article.

“It’s as much a present for your parents as it is for you,” Grandma Jo explains. “Something to remind them of the time when their eldest daughter was a megastar.”

“The FIRST time their eldest daughter was a megastar!” Grandpa Chris says.

“Oh my god, thank you both so much!” I sigh, blinking back tears as I give my grandparents a tight hug each.

“No, thank YOU,” Grandma Jo says. “We are very, very proud of you, Ashley. We all are, aren’t we Andrew?”

“Yes, yes of course,” dad says, obviously trying his hardest to sound enthusiastic. “Very, umm, very proud.” I force a smile on my face- if dad’s making the effort, then so can I, at least for today.

My grandparents stick around until the late afternoon, spending as much time fussing over my sisters as they do over me once the initial excitement of my ‘fame’ has died down. The attention I get means that the grin I’ve had on my face stays put even after my grandparents leave- and even after dad calls me into the kitchen for a private talk.

“You know, Ash,” dad mumbles as he fiddles with Eddy’s bottle, “I AM really proud of you. For, umm, for what you’ve done. I read your interview twice, all the way through… Umm, thanks for not, umm, you know, ‘dropping me in it’…”

“You’re welcome,” I shrug. “I wasn’t, you know, ‘generous’, though…”

“Yeah, you didn’t have any reason to be,” dad sighs. “I know I’ve not made it easy for you the last six months. But you know I don’t, umm, I don’t love you any less for, well, you know…”

“For becoming a girl?” I ask, biting my lip as dad frowns and averts his gaze.

“I, umm, I didn’t know just how hard it had been,” dad says. “Until I read the interview, I mean. I didn’t, you know, realise what you were feeling…”

“Even though you were the one who told me that life both at home and at school would be hell?” I ask.

“I’d hoped that I’d be wrong,” dad sighed. “But that scar on your forehead shows that I was right.”

“The girl who gave me it got expelled,” I retort. “Permanently. No one’s dared to touch me since.”

“Doesn’t mean that they won’t,” dad says. “But hopefully, this magazine thing will help a little. Help, umm, make you popular…”

“I get it,” I whisper. “Or it’ll just paint an even bigger target on myself…”

“I can’t say I WASN’T thinking that,” dad sighs. “But no matter what, Ash, I will support you.”

“Even if you can’t accept me as your daughter?” I ask in a cold voice.

“Just- just give me time, okay?” Dad sighs. “After six months, it is getting a little easier every day, and you’ve stuck with it fully. Even I have to acknowledge that it’s not, you know, just some silly little game…”

“And never was,” I say.

“No, obviously it wasn’t,” dad says, before letting out a long sigh. “Ash… You’re a lot happier than I’ve seen you for a very long time. That makes me happy. Would I be happier if you were still my son? Yes. I won’t deny that. But you have to do what you have to do.”

“…Good talk,” I say with a sarcastic snort of laughter.

“We’ve had worse,” dad sighs. “Go on, get ready for dinner. Don’t forget you’ll need to remove your nail polish before school tomorrow.”

“I know,” I say as I leave the kitchen to find mum just ending a phone call.

“Hi Ashley,” mum says. “I was, umm, I was just calling your grandparents- umm, Grandpa Alan and Grandma Wendy- to see if they saw the magazine.”

“Okay…?” I reply.

“They, umm, they did buy a couple of copies,” mum says, making us both smile. “That’s all they’d say, though.”

“Oh,” I whisper.

“Ashley…” Mum sighs, rushing over to give me a gentle hug. “This will be the turning point for you, I know it. Things WILL start to get better, you WILL have a happier time at school, you WILL get the love you deserve from your family.”

“Or things will just get infinitely worse,” I snort.

“Don’t think that!” Mum urges. “Be positive, Ashley. I’m sure Laura’s being positive about the article.”

“Yeah, well, she actually LOOKS like a girl,” I sigh.

“So. Do. You,” mum says. “Trust your mother, okay? Things WILL get better from now on. I can see you getting a LOT more friends at school after this article!” Yeah, I think to myself as I head upstairs to get ready for dinner. I bet George won’t be one of them, though…

Despite my parents’ optimism, I still have butterflies in my stomach the following morning as I walk up to the front gate, dressed in the same white blouse, grey tights, pleated grey skirt and tiny ballerina flats I’ve worn to school for the past six months. The last time I was this nervous was the first day I came to school dressed like this- fortunately, as I walk into the vast building, I’m greeted by the same seven people who made that first day slightly more tolerable. And just like that first day, all seven of them are buzzing with energy, and swamp me in a group hug the second they see me, before playfully hauling me and Laura onto their shoulders.

“Superstars! Superstars!” The six girls chant as Laura and I almost start hyperventilating from the attention.

“God, girlies!” Laura squeaks, her legs just as wobbly as my own as we’re gently lowered to the floor.

“What?” Mia asks. “It’s not every day that two of your best friends become SUPERSTARS!” Laura and I both bite our lips and blush as another chant of ‘superstars’ starts up.

“Heh, just hope everyone else in the school agrees,” I chuckle, straightening my skirt as I head toward form.

“Oh, I reckon you might be surprised,” Suriya says with a knowing grin as she and the other girls head toward their respective forms.

As I approach my form room- my legs still unsteady due to nerves- nothing seems particularly out of the ordinary, but as I set foot inside the classroom, it immediately falls deathly silent. The eyes of every girl in the room- but oddly, none of the boys- follow me as I hesitantly make my way to my seat, and the second I sit down, one of the girls on an adjacent table leans toward me with a wide grin on her face.

“Hey, Ashley!” The girl whispers. Oh god, I think to myself. Here we go… “…What’s Stephanie Abbott like? Is she as mental as everyone makes her out to be?”

“Umm,” I say, taken aback by my classmate’s question- and the fact that it appears to be genuine. “Yeah, she’s cool, I guess…”

“Eee!” The girl squeaks excitedly as I suddenly realise the opportunity that’s been presented to me.

The girl who’s interrogating me now is one of the girls who thought nothing of giggling at me when I first showed up to school wearing a skirt, or whispering behind my back… She’s obviously only interested in talking to me because of my ‘celebrity connection’- even I’m not deluded enough to think that she’s suddenly become interested in being friends with me because of my winning personality. But at the same time, even a fake friend is better than an enemy…

“I’ll tell you who’s REALLY cool, though, and that’s Jamie-Lee Burke,” I continue, delighting the girls who are hanging off my every word. “She’s really friendly, despite how famous she is, and she’s really interested in making a difference for- well, you know, girls like me…”

“SO cool,” one of the other girls sighs. “I saw some of the photos from her wedding at the weekend, it looked SO amazing…”

“Yeah,” I sigh dreamily, not even realising that I’ve adopted the exact same mannerisms as the other girls in the class. “I actually got a selfie from Nikki Thomas at the reception, think she was one of the bridesmaids.”

“YOU got a selfie from one of Jamie-Lee Burke’s bridesmaids?” Yet another girl squeaks, making me grin smugly as I remove my phone from my pocket and show the giggling girls the photograph I was sent on Saturday evening.

“Phones away,” Mr. Jackson, our form tutor, says as he enters the room, causing me to hastily mute and pocket my smartphone before the start of the class. I smile across at the other girls as Mr. Jackson runs through the announcements for the day- I’m certainly going to have a few ‘announcements’ of my own today, the main one being ‘I am now one of the popular girls, and I am going to milk my popularity for all it’s worth!’.

My smile immediately fades, however, when I cast a glance behind me, and am greeted by a look of utter horror on George’s face.

The look of horror persists all throughout the first lesson of the day, even as I try to ignore George and immerse myself in gossip with my ‘new friends’ (even getting a telling-off from the teacher at one point for talking too much!). Fortunately, the second lesson of the day is PE- the only lesson all week where everyone else in the class is female, and I’ll be guaranteed to be George-free for a whole hour. However, as I change into the regulation shorts and t-shirt- alone in my own ‘private changing room’, of course- I can’t help but feel sorry for the boy. For years, I was the only friend he had, and vice versa- and whilst me pulling on a skirt may not have changed that, George getting beaten to a pulp certainly had. I’ve still got Laura and the other girls, and now I have girls in my year almost literally queuing up to be my friend. George, however, has no one…

“Hey, fellow superstar!” Laura squeaks, giving me a tight hug as I- once again clad in my blouse, skirt and tights- arrive at our usual table at the start of break. “Oh, don’t look like that! We ARE superstars, and you know it! Right, girls?” I blush and am forced to grin as the six other girls launch into yet another chant of ‘Superstar’.

“Ooh, she’s smiling…” Harriet teases as me cheeks get even redder. “Would I be right to guess, MISS Moore, that you are now one of the more popular girls in your year?”

“…If not THE most popular,” I mumble, earning rugby tackle-like hugs from the girls on my side of the table.

“You are so cool!” Mia squeaks as she gives me a tight squeeze.

“Excuse me?” Laura retorts with a look of mock offence on her face.

“You are BOTH so cool!” Mia giggles as she drags Laura into our hug.

“SO cool!” Suriya sighs happily. “Wonder if we could persuade that magazine to do an article on supercool Indian girls?”

“You wish!” Priya laughs, giggling as her sister sticks her tongue out at her.

“Ahh, this is SO awesome!” Nicole squeaks as she bounces up and down on her seat. “It’s about time we were THE cool kids again!”

“Oh sure, just steal our fame, why don’t you?” Laura teases, making our friend both blush and giggle.

“I don’t mind,” I shrug as Laura and I are finally released from our scrum, giving me the chance to straighten my skirt and sit down. “It’s nice to FINALLY have people whispering about me for the RIGHT reasons, heh!”

“I bet,” Mia sighs, gently resting her head on my shoulder.

“Did- did you hear back from George?” Megan asks, instantly lowering the mood of the whole table.

“No,” I whisper. “He- he hasn’t spoken to me, only the girls in my class…”

“HIS loss,” Harriet says smugly. “Girls are better than boys, anyway.”

“Yeah, I know,” I sigh. “But-“ Before I can finish my sentence, our table is interrupted by the approach of a group of about eight girls, all of whom look like they’re in year seven.

“Excuse me?” The ‘leader’ of the girl asks. “Are- are you Laura White and Ashley Moore?”

“Hi, yep, yep we are!” Laura replies with a giggle, clearly exciting the younger girls.

“Oh my god!” The year 7 girl squeaks excitedly. “Can- can we get selfies with you, please?”

“Of course!” Laura replies, and before I can argue- not that I would have- I’m pulled into a pose alongside Laura and the younger girl, who takes out her phone and takes a photo of the three of us.

“Me next! Me next!” One of the other younger girls squeaks, and I feel my cheeks start to flush as our six friends break into year another ‘superstar’ chant- which attracts yet more younger girls to our table for selfies, followed by more, until we’re eventually so swamped that we have to turn away a large crowd by the time the bell rings to signify the start of the next lesson.

As I’m walking to my next lesson, I’m suddenly joined by Melissa Jeffries- probably the most popular girl in our entire year. It’s hardly the first time she’s paid any attention to me, though in the past, her ‘attention’ consisted mainly of giggling at me, pointing her finger at me and whispering behind my back… her attitude toward me now- like the attitude of the other girls in my form- is very different.

“Oh my god, Ashley!” Melissa gasps, her eyes as wide as dinner plates. “Were you- were you posing for selfies just now?”

“Maybe,” I reply with a smug grin. “What can I say? I’m a celebrity now, got to be there for my adoring public…”

“Oh my god, you are such a diva!” Melissa says with a snort of laughter. As always, I can’t be 100% sure whether she’s insulting me or complimenting me- but I’ve been on such a high for the last few hours, there’s no reason not to assume it’s a compliment.

“I know,” I say, pulling my thickest and girliest pout for Melissa and her friends, all of whom giggle at me- but in a much different, much friendlier way than they’ve giggled at me in the past.

“Oh, you are SUCH a girl!” Cameron- another member of Melissa’s gang- says with a giggle, which only intensifies when I pull a girlish pose for the gang.

I’m almost bent double in a fit of girlish giggles myself, both at my playing around and at the fact that after fourteen long, LONG years, I am finally being treated as the girl I always longed to be. I’m dressed as a girl. I’ve made-up my face and styled my hair to look like a girl. I speak like a girl, and I’m acting 100% like a girl, and I’ve never felt more comfortable in my own skin… Until I enter my next class and am confronted by another look of horror from my former friend. All of a sudden, I feel VERY self-conscious…

Fortunately, another selfie session at lunch (not to mention the presence and unconditional support of my seven REAL friends) puts me at ease for the rest of the day, and by the time I elegantly slide onto the passenger seat of dad’s car at the day’s end, I have a wide smile on my face- a smile that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Take it you’re a celebrity now, then?” Dad asks with a sigh.

“I may be one of the most popular girls in school, yes,” I reply, trying not to frown as dad bristles at my use of the word ‘girl’.

“Well, enjoy it while it lasts,” dad sighs. “Because believe me, it WON’T.”

“Ugh,” I spit. “Dad, WHY are you so down on teenaged girls? I mean, you HAVE a teenaged daughter. Ten years from now, you’ll have another three. I’ve got seven friends who are all teenaged girls, and I’m probably going to make more. Bryony, Cassie and Dorothy will all have their own friends too. Whether you like it or not, dad, the next ten years you are going to be DROWNING in teenaged girls.”

“Just- just shut up, okay?” Dad snaps. “And don’t say I didn’t warn you! Because when your fame runs out, Ash, you are going to fall HARD.”

“IF my fame runs out,” I pout as we head to my sisters’ primary school to pick them up, before returning home.

At home, feeling the need to remain as girly as I can, I change out of my uniform into a comfortable black and white striped top and one of my shortest skirts- a look that my sisters (especially Bryony) approve of, but which makes dad frown as I sit down on the sofa, baring most of my hairless thighs to the world. After dinner, I finish my homework, before switching on my tablet computer and logging onto Facebook, finding a group chat already underway.

‘SUPERSTAR!!!!!!!’ All of the girls- Laura included- type as I enter the chatroom, making me reply with a ‘blushing’ emoji.

‘Oh stop blushing,’ Priya types with a ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji. ‘You ARE a superstar and you know it!’

‘Did I see you walking to class with the most popular girls in your year?’ Nicole asks.

‘Maybe,’ I reply with a ‘winking’ emoji, followed by a ‘giggling’ one. ‘You must’ve been too Laura?’

‘Maybe,’ Laura types, followed by the same emojis as me.

‘Though we already ARE the most popular girls in our year!’ Suriya types. ‘We’re half the cheerleading squad, part of the gym team AND Krystie Fullerton’s star ballerinas!’

‘You said it, girlfriend!’ Nicole types with a ‘cheering’ emoji.

‘It was only girls who asked us for selfies though,’ I type as George once again worms his way into my mind.

‘Well duh,’ Harriet replies. ‘Boys won’t ask for selfies with you two, they’re too stupid, they’ll probably think they’ll ‘catch gay’ or something.’

‘That never stopped me from asking to hang out with you,’ I type.

‘That’s because you’re not a boy!!!!’ Harriet types, making me feel warm inside. ‘Let’s face it, Ash- you were NEVER a boy. And that’s what makes you cool. You AND Laura.’ I smile as I reply with ‘giggling’ and ‘hugging’ emojis, which Laura soon sends through as well.

‘I am gay, though,’ I type with a ‘winking’ emoji. ‘’Gay’ as in ‘lesbian’.’

‘Gay girls rule!’ Harriet types with a ‘kissing’ emoji that I reciprocate.

‘So do straight girls!’ Suriya hastily types.

‘ALL girls rule!’ Nicole types as a separate, private chat window opens- and as Megan is the only other person in the chat, my heart sinks as it’s obvious what- or rather, who- she wants to talk about.

‘Hey Ash,’ Megan types. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve heard anything from George yet?’

‘Nope,’ I reply, earning a ‘frowning’ emoji from Megan.

‘Ugh, that wimp,’ the tall, bespectacled girl types as I feel a pang of guilt in my chest.

‘I didn’t actually message him,’ I type after a long pause. ‘Figured he wouldn’t want to hear from me. I know, I’m a wimp too.’

‘You’re forgiven,’ Megan types with a ‘hugging’ emoji that I happily reciprocate.

‘George still doesn’t talk to me,’ I type with a ‘frowning’ emoji. ‘Guess he hasn’t talked to you since you split up?’

‘Nope,’ Megan types, and much to my surprise follows up with a ‘crying’ emoji.

‘God, Meg,’ I type, followed by a ‘hugging’ emoji that Megan immediately reciprocates. ‘Thought you dumped him?’

‘I did,’ Megan types. ‘But only because he’d become such a moron. He was my first boyfriend, my first proper one, anyway. I miss the OLD George, the one who supported you when you came out. The one who actually went to ballet for two months!’

‘Blame Ryan fucking Reid for that change,’ I type with an ‘angry’ emoji.

‘But Ryan’s gone for good now,’ Megan types. ‘George is safe to hang out with us again, he just chooses not to.’

‘Tell you what- I’ll message him now,’ I type. ‘I promise I’ll send it, I’ll take a screenshot for you.’

‘It’s okay, I believe you,’ Megan types with, at long last, a ‘smiling’ emoji, before leaving the chatroom. I take a deep breath to calm my nerves before opening up another chat window- this time, to George. It’s almost a relief when I see that he’s not currently online, but I’m no less anxious as I type my message.

‘Hey George,’ I type. ‘I really hate that we don’t talk anymore. Can we get together for a chat sometime, face to face?’ I pause before sending the message, wondering whether or not I should add that I’ve also spoken to Megan, but ultimately, I decide to send the message as I’ve typed it, before returning to the main chat window.

‘Six months today!’ Laura types, making me frown as I try to work out what Laura’s talking about, before realising that today is her half-birthday, and in exactly six months’ time, she’ll be sixteen years old- and it’s obvious that she realises the significance of that age.

‘Six months until I can get full oestrogen!’ Laura types with a ‘cheering’ emoji.

‘Six months until something else can get ‘filled’ too!’ Suriya types with a ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji.

‘Eww!’ Laura replies. ‘Though you’re not wrong!’ The ‘winking’ emoji Laura sends shows that she’s obviously thought about the ‘other thing’ Suriya’s talking about a lot. ‘Though I’m saving myself for someone who WON’T blab to the school like the lying arsehole he is!’

‘To be fair Scott’s been really quiet about that lately,’ Priya types. ‘I suppose it helps that no girl will go near him.’

‘Because he dated a trans girl?’ I ask.

‘Because no girl wants to date someone who boasts to the whole school!’ Priya replies. ‘No matter how fit he is!’

‘And you and me are cute enough that ANY boy would happily date a trans girl!’ Laura types with a ‘giggling’ emoji.

‘Yeah, well, no boy is dating THIS trans girl!’ I type with a smug grin.

‘You go girl!’ Harriet types with a ‘cheering’ emoji. ‘But you know, you ARE fourteen now, you’ll be in year 10 next year…’

‘Okay…?’ I type.

‘What Harriet’s trying to ask,’ Mia types, ‘is whether or not you’ve seen any cute girls you like the look of?’

‘Other than the seven I’m talking to?’ I reply with a ‘winking’ emoji that earns me a barrage of emojis in response- some ‘winking’, some ‘giggling’, some ‘hugging’, some ‘sticking out tongues’… Even a couple of ‘kissing’ emojis from Harriet and Mia.

‘Well whatever you do,’ Laura types, ‘DON’T ask one of us in the year above you to set you up with one of the girls in our year!’

I giggle as the eight of us while away the evening chatting about boys- and in mine and Harriet’s case, girls- before heading to bed. Before I climb into bed, though, I check Facebook one last time to see whether or not George has replied to my message- and much to my disappointment, he hasn’t even read it yet.

My alarm wakes me at the usual time on Tuesday morning, and after eating my breakfast, brushing my teeth and washing my face, I head through to my room where my school uniform is laid out, waiting for me- though before I pull it on, I bite my lip to keep from giggling as I reach into my underwear drawer for a pair of grey school tights and, as I’m feeling extra-girly today, a soft training bra. My giggles intensify, though, as I reach for my final piece of underwear, located inside a packet that has the label ‘ONLY on ballet days’ attached to it by my mother. I giggle as I step into the flimsy thong and pull it up, taking a deep breath as the extra-narrow rear nestles securely between my buttocks and 'holds' the rest of me in place. My training bra and tights soon follow, with my blouse, skirt, blazer and ballerina pumps completing my look.

With my uniform securely in place, I head down to dad’s car, and I’m soon being greeted by my seven friends at the school gate- though thankfully, today the greetings are just the usual hugs, rather than ‘superstar’ chants and being hoisted onto my friends’ shoulders. I am, however, still bombarded by questions from my (female) classmates all throughout form and the first few lessons of the day. Every time I look at George, though, the look of horror he had plastered on his face yesterday is gone- replaced by a look of sadness, and it isn’t hard to guess what’s making him upset.

Nonetheless, George keeps his distance all throughout the first two lessons of the day, and judging by the way Megan’s acting during break, he’s clearly keeping his distance from her as well. I stealthily check my phone before the start of the third lesson to see whether or not he’s replied to my Facebook message (in case he’s more comfortable talking online than face to face), and whilst I’m not surprised to see that he hasn’t replied, I am somewhat surprised to discover that he has actually read the message. I briefly consider sitting next to George to talk during the lesson, but when the teacher arrives, I think better of it, and sit at my usual desk with three other girls. I do, however, make sure to smile in George’s direction at least once during the lesson, to let him know that I genuinely do want to talk to him and repair our relationship.

Lunchtime, however, won’t be the time for us to do that, as today is Tuesday, meaning that it’s also drama club, which is where I spend my lunchtime along with Laura, Nicole, Suriya and Harriet. As we go to leave the large hall, however, I pause when I see an unexpected figure waiting at the door.

“How- how long have you been there?” I ask the tall, bespectacled boy.

“A couple of minutes,” George mumbles. “I, um, I got your message.”

“Okay,” I whisper as the other four girls give us some privacy. “I really do want to talk, George. I- I’ve really missed you. I HATE that we never hang out anymore.”

“You wouldn’t prefer to hang out with Melissa Jeffries, then?” George retorts, making me roll my eyes and sigh.

“She hasn’t been my friend for almost three years,” I say, grimacing as the bell rings to signal the end of lunch. “…We should get to class. But we NEED to talk more.”

“…Yeah,” George whispers, nodding in agreement. “Do- do you want to come to my house after school?”

“…Can’t, I’ve got ballet tonight,” I grimace. “You could come over to mine after ballet, if you’d like?”

“Umm, sure, I guess,” George mumbles as we arrive at class and head to our usual, separate desks. “Ash, umm, I’ve- I’ve kinda, you know, missed you too…” I smile as I sit down, though all of a sudden I feel VERY self-conscious about the thong wedged between my buttocks.

As much as I want to reconnect with George, I AM a very different person from the kid- from the boy that George has known for the past two years. And in truth, I do feel much, much more comfortable hanging out with girls- even superficial ones like Melissa Jeffries- than with boys… But at the same time, a very wise person once said ‘you can never have too many friends’. I don’t want to have to abandon George’s friendship just because I’m now living my life as a girl. I shouldn’t have to abandon his friendship, and as we leave the class and head to the car park for our respective lifts home, I make sure to flash another smile at him before sliding onto the passenger seat of dad’s car, making him grimace yet again as I straighten my skirt and my tights.

“Still ‘famous’, then?” Dad asks.

“Yep,” I reply. “Oh, is it okay if George comes over tonight? After ballet, I mean.”

“George!?” Dad snorts. “You haven’t spent any time hanging out with him in months.”

“I know,” I reply.

“…He is- he isn’t your- your boyfriend, is he?” Dad asks, clearly panicking at the prospect. I briefly consider saying ‘yes’ just to see how he’d react, but I ultimately think better of it.

“No,” I say. “We- I just want to talk to him, to catch up, that’s all.”

“At least you haven’t forgotten who your REAL friends are,” dad says with a chuckle as we pick up my sisters from primary school, before heading back home.

After dinner, I head up to my room, where I smile as I perform my twice-weekly ritual of getting ready for my ballet class. My school uniform comes off, followed by my grey tights, which I replace with a pair of soft, smooth baby pink tights. I reach into my dancewear drawer for a leotard, tonight opting for a short-sleeved one in the hope of 'disguising' it as a t-shirt for when I see George later. Our dance studio is flexible in that girls can wear any style of leotard to class, as long as it's black. As I’m feeling extra girly today (I’m still wearing my training bra), and my feminine ‘disguise’ is flawless, I don’t bother pulling on a dance skirt to cover up- though I do pick out a pair of grey shorts to wear later, when- or rather, if- George comes around. After applying a little mascara and eyeliner, and pinning my hair back with several sparkling hairpins, I grab my dance bag, slip my feet into a pair of girly pink trainers and head downstairs to where my mum is waiting with her car keys- and Cassie is waiting with a hug at the sight of me in my dancewear!

A short while later, I walk through the front door of the Krystie Fullerton School of Dance, where I am, as always, greeted with tight hugs from my seven identically-dressed friends.

“Hey, Ashleyrina!” Suriya squeaks. “Is that a new leotard? You don’t normally wear short sleeved leos to class…”

“I’ve had it a while,” I say as I pose and show off the leotard to my friends. “Just felt like a change today.”

“Huh,” Suriya says. “Well, it DOES suit you.”

“ANY girl’s black leotard suits you!” Laura- who has come to class in a skimpy spaghetti-strapped leotard- giggles. “So do pink tights, pointe shoes and buns- once your hair’s long enough, of course!”

“Reckon it’ll be this time next year,” I say with a grin. “I’ll be a bunhead, same as every other girl here, hehe!”

“Mes filles!” Mademoiselle Renou suddenly shouts, ending our conversation.

“Allons-y!” Priya whispers, making us all giggle as we head into the vast hall.

Ever since December, and the debut of Miss Fullerton and Mademoiselle Renou’s production ‘La Soixante-Troisieme Papillon’, lessons have been slightly different, with our class- already the most advanced one they teach for our age group- being split into two classes, ‘advanced’ and ‘elite’. As I only graduated to pointe shoes a couple of months ago, I’m in the ‘advanced’ class, whilst Laura and Suriya- as two of the soloists from December’s performance- are in the ‘elite’ class, along with Mia (who, it turns out, has been taking ballet for longer than any of us) and Nicole, who almost certainly would’ve been a soloist had she not missed several months of practice after breaking her ankle a few years ago.

After the class as a whole finishes our warm-ups and stretches, we change into our pointe shoes and split into our two separate groups, which particularly pleases me as I find myself stood next to Megan at the barre.

“I spoke to George,” I whisper to my tall friend as we begin our pointe exercises.

“Yeah, Laura told me she saw him after drama,” Megan replies. “Is- is everything okay?”

“I don’t know,” I sigh. “He’s coming over after ballet, we’re going to chat. Hopefully we’ll chat, anyway…”

“Do you know what you’re going to say?” Megan asks.

“Just that I miss him,” I sigh. “I, umm, miss hanging out with him, umm, I didn’t-“

“It’s okay, I’ll try not to get TOO jealous,” Megan teases, before a loud cough from Miss Fullerton ends our conversation.

Just under an hour later, I breathe a sigh of relief as I free my bruised, aching feet from their pointe shoes and slip them back into my soft pink trainers, before unpinning my hair and letting it shake loose- just as many of the other girls in the reception area are doing.

“Hey Ash,” Megan says as she sits down next to me and unties her bun.

“Hey Meg,” I reply.

“Sooo…” Megan says. “Have- have you, you know, heard anything from George yet?”

“Not yet,” I say, making the tall girl sigh. “Honestly, I promise I’ll tell you all the details tomorrow.”

“I know, I know,” Megan moans. “But- do- do you think it’d be best if I came home with you tonight? You know, to do homework…”

“N. O,” I reply, making Megan cringe. “Ugh, Meg, I- I’m sorry, it’s just- it’s kinda, you know, a- well, not a ‘guy thing’, but-“

“Yeah, I know,” Megan sighs. “You know, me and George used to talk a lot about you? About you and Laura?”

“Seriously?” I ask.

“Seriously,” Megan says. “Think about it- I was Laura’s best friend at primary school, George was your best friend in year 7 and year 8. We both had best friends who sudden- sorry, no, not suddenly, but we had-“

“I get it,” I whisper. “Best friends who ‘changed’. And you don’t just mean ‘changed clothes’.”

“Yeah,” Megan says. “Part of why I’ve missed him so much. Laura keeps telling me to go and get another boyfriend… Easier said than done.”

“Even for a six foot tall ballerina with an amazing body?” I ask, making Megan giggle.

“Glad you approve,” Megan says between giggles. “I’m not exactly the cutest girl out of our group, though… No prizes for guessing who all the boys REALLY want.” I follow Megan’s eyeline to where Laura and Suriya are stood untying their severe buns and pulling on the loose, short dresses they’d worn to the dance studio.

“You know,” I mumble. “…Ugh, I shouldn’t really say this- promise you won’t get too angry at George?”

“I’ll try,” Megan says, confused by my sudden hesitation.

“George and I…” I say with a grimace. “We- well, he- WE would sometimes, you know, talk about which of you- of us- which of the group we, you know, fancied the most… Suri usually came top.”

“Oh my god,” Megan gasps, before letting out a loud giggle. “I thought it was just girls who did that!”

“Umm, hello?” I retort, gesturing to my leotard-clad body. “Girl?”

“Oh sure, YOU are,” Megan giggles. “George isn’t a girl though… or is he? Sorry, or is SHE?”

“…I won’t mention you said that when I see him tonight,” I say, making Megan giggle even more as we head to our respective lifts home.

I try to put my friend’s teasing out of my mind as I arrive back home and head up to my bedroom to change, but before I’ve even kicked off my trainers, a knock at the front door makes my heart start to race. I hastily remove my footwear, before pulling on the clingy shorts I’d picked out earlier and skipping down the stairs to the front door, where my old best friend’s distinctive silhouette is clearly visible. I take a deep breath before forcing a wide smile on my face and opening the door.

“Hey George!” I say in a voice far higher in pitch and far (for want of a better word) sweeter than I’d intended to use- and the barely-disguised grimace on George’s face tells me that he’s not exactly happy with it either.

“Umm, hey Ash,” George says, obviously trying not to stare at my soft pink legs… Or the tight shorts covering my bum… Or the skin-tight leotard covering the rest of my body… Or my lightly made-up face.

“Why- umm, do- do you, you know, want to come up to my room?” I ask, biting my lip to try not to blush at the fact that I just invited a boy up to my bedroom.

“Okay,” George mumbles, following me up the stairs.

“Hi George!” Dad yells from the living room.

“Hi Mr. Moore!” George yells back, and I try not to frown at the fact that dad didn’t yell ‘hi’ to me when I returned home…

“Sit down anywhere you want,” I say as I close my bedroom door behind George, before sitting down cross-legged on my bed, again wincing as my thong suddenly rides up between my buttocks.

“…Your room’s changed,” George says as he sits down on the edge of my bed.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “I- I love it. My room, I mean… I always wanted a room like this.”

“Always?” George asks.

“Literally as long as I can remember,” I reply.

“It’s REALLY girly,” George mumbles.

“So am I,” I whisper, making George sigh. “God, George…”

“Don’t hug me,” George says hastily. “I- I don’t think I can handle that…”

“God, George!” I repeat, this time more angrily. “What- what happened to us? Twelve months ago you found out that deep down inside, I was a girl. Now I’m a girl on the outside as well. I really didn’t think that it’d be such a problem!”

“I really didn’t think that you’d be THIS girly,” George retorts.

“What, you thought I’d just be like I was, only wearing a skirt instead of trousers?” I snort. “This is who I’ve always wanted to be. The way I was before… I see now that it was just an act, trying to hide who I really was ‘cause- ‘cause I was scared of what would happen if people found out about, you know, the ‘real’ me. Now I don’t need to hide anymore.”

“Oh trust me, ‘hiding’ is the one thing you’re NOT doing!” George scoffs.

“What’s THAT supposed to mean?” I ask. “I’m not going to shrink away into a corner just because I’m transgendered and some people don’t like it!”

“No, you’ll go around splashing your face and your- other bits- in a national newspaper!” George snaps. “And just a reminder, but ‘some people’ include people who want to give you another one of those!” I flinch as George reaches toward my face, flicking my cowlick aside to expose my scar.

“Don’t-“ I retort, before letting out a long sigh. “Okay, maybe you have a point. And I AM sorry that you went through what you did with Ryan Reid, I really, really am. If there was ANY way I could make it up to you, you know I would. Anyway APART from giving up being a girl.”

“That’s just it,” George sighs.

“WHAT’S ‘just it’?” I ask. “George, I am TRYING here! I want us to be friends, just- actually, no. Obviously we can’t be friends just like we were before, ‘cause you think that we’re still two boys who are friends. Well, we’re NOT.”

“You’re doing a good job of making THAT obvious,” George snorts.

“GOOD!” I say. “I DO want us to be friends. But- but as a boy and a girl. Not, like, boyfriend and girlfriend-“

“Good, because THAT’s never happening,” George says, making me roll my eyes.

“Damn right it isn’t,” I spit. “Because I’m not- sorry, I mean, I AM gay.”

“…So you DO fancy boys?” George asks.

“There!” I say, throwing my arms up in frustration. “There’s the problem, George! Never mind everything I’m wearing, never mind my hair, the way I’m sitting, the way I’m speaking, never mind everything about me, you still think I’m a boy.”

“You still have a cock, don’t you?” George asks.

“So does Laura,” I retort. “Is she a boy or a girl?”

“…A girl, obviously,” George mumbles.

“And so am I,” I say defiantly.

“So- so when you say ‘gay’…” George says hesitantly.

“I mean ‘lesbian’,” I say with a confident grin.

“Like the ginger one, what was her name, Harriet?” George asks.

“Yeah, just like her,” I say.

“So- so when we discussed which girls we thought were fit,” George said cautiously, “I mean, if we did that now, talked about which girls we thought were fit-“

“Yeah, I got no problem doing that,” I shrug, making George smile.

“So- so do you, you know, think that Melissa Jeffries is fit?” George asks.

“She’s cute,” I say. “Maybe a bit short- especially for you, Mr. 5’ 11”! But she has to be to be in the gymnastics team, I guess. A bit like Suri, I know she’s REALLY annoyed that she’s only 5’ 1” and probably won’t grow anymore, but it just makes her SO much cuter. Especially in her gym leotard, or her cheer uniform, hehe!”

“Do- do you still fancy her?” George asks. “I’m only asking because when you- well, when ‘boy Ashley’ was going out with her, you seemed like you really liked her…”

“She IS cute,” I say. “And I guess I fancy her a little… I- I’m not really thinking about a girlfriend right now, though. Want to concentrate on actually becoming a girl before getting one, heh.”

“Yeah, I- I’m kinda not thinking about girls either,” George mumbles in a voice that instantly tells me that he’s lying.

“Tell the truth,” I order my friend, who rolls his eyes and sighs. “Do- do you miss Megan?”

“…A little,” George mumbles.

“…She kinda misses you too,” I whisper. “Do NOT tell her I said that, okay? I don’t need to get in any more trouble…”

“I won’t,” George says, his interest clearly piqued by my admission. “She- she really misses me?”

“You were her first proper boyfriend,” I shrug. “And you have a lot in common- your best male friends both became girls.”

“THAT’s true, yeah,” George chuckles.

“See?” I tease. “You’re smiling… Admit it, you HAVE missed hanging out, right? And I don’t just mean with ‘Boy Ashley’. There’s no shame in admitting that you’re lonely, George.”

“…Boys DON’T talk about feelings,” George says firmly.

“I wouldn’t know about THAT,” I say with a playful wink that makes George sigh and chuckle again.

“No, that’s obvious,” George snorts. “…It’s going to be weird, you know? If we’re friends again. Trying to be friends with a girl, but not fancying her…”

“I’ll try not to be TOO hurt by that,” I say. “Even though I DON’T fancy YOU, either!” George laughs as I playfully stick my tongue out at him- though he’s obviously still uncomfortable with my extremely feminine mannerisms.

“…Better a female friend than no friend,” George says.

“Well THAT makes me feel wanted,” I retort.

“Okay, okay,” George sighs, extending his hand toward me. “Friends again?”

“Friends,” I say, shaking George’s hand. “’Mates’ might be going a BIT far, though, hehe!”

“’Friends’ it is,” George says with a laugh. “So… Which girls DO you think are fit?”

“…I’ll get back to you on that,” I say with a giggle as I relax back on my bed and spend the next hour gossiping about school, about our other friends and every topic under the sun that DOESN’T include relationships.

By the time George leaves around an hour later, it’s as though we’d never not been friends. We chatted just as we had every day for the whole of our first two years at school, with no tension or awkwardness despite the fact that I was wearing skin-tight clothing, and I was acting just as girly at the end of our chat as I was at the start. Even if George again refused a hug as his mother arrived to pick him up!

The following morning, I again head into school wearing my ubiquitous blouse, skirt and tights. I am, as always, greeted by hugs from my seven female friends, but when I head into form, instead of sitting at the desk I’ve sat at for the past few months, I drop my school bag underneath the seat next to where my best male friend is sat. I smile and try not to giggle as I sit down on the chair, subconsciously smoothing my skirt underneath me as I do so- an action that briefly causes George to bristle, before he breaks into a grin too.

I sit with George for the first two lessons of the day, too, trying to ignore the reactions of the girls I had been sitting with, who are clearly put out that I would ‘abandon’ them for a boy they consider a ‘loser’. However, I don’t care in the slightest about their reaction- I’m just happy to have my friend back, and if it damages the ‘fame’ that I had, well, as much as it pains me to admit it, dad was right when he said it was never going to last forever anyway.

By the time first break rolls around, I’m almost giddy with excitement- and not just because of my repaired relationship with my friend.

“Sooo…” I tease as George and I head outside. “Coming to the table?”

“Ehh…” George grimaces. “I- I dunno…”

“Ugh, don’t be such a wimp,” I spit, before sighing. “Sorry, sorry… But- you know? Megan WILL want to see you… reckon you’ve got a lot to talk about with her, too.”

“…Okay,” George sighs, grimacing as I giggle girlishly before leading him to our table- though I have to fight my natural instinct to grab his hand, as that might have made us both die of embarrassment!

“Hey girlies!” I squeak excitedly as I approach our usual table. “Room for one more?”

“George!” Megan suddenly exclaims, before blushing a beautiful shade of red at her outburst. “Umm, uh, hi…”

“Hi,” George mumbles, his cheeks also a lot redder than they were seconds earlier.

“Ooh…” Suriya teases. “Think we might need to give the lovebirds some privacy…”

“Shut up,” Megan spits, before blushing even more as the other girls- myself included- break into a chant of ‘Megan’s got a boyfriend’.

“Come on, girlies,” Laura announces as she and the other girls- with the exception of Megan- stand up. “Let’s give them some space!”

“Good luck,” I whisper to George as I follow the other girls to another area of the school, where we spend the rest of break gossiping- and unsurprisingly, the only topic on people’s lips is George and Megan.

As I head toward my next lesson, my heart beats faster when I see George walk toward me- and the wide grin on his face tells me that it clearly went VERY well with Megan.

“Do I get to sing ‘George has a girlfriend’ at you?” I tease my bespectacled friend, who rolls his eyes in response.

“If you want to get pushed down the stairs,” George retorts, making me giggle. “But yes, Megan and I are boyfriend and girlfriend again.”

“Eee!” I squeak excitedly, making George grimace yet again. “This is SO cool! Things are finally getting back to normal… So you’ll be hanging out with us at break and lunch, then?”

“Sure,” George says with a smile. “But more for Megan than for you.”

“Break a girl’s heart,” I spit, before giggling again as we arrive at our next lesson, where George and I again sit together, despite the looks it earns me from the more popular girls in the class.

At the end of the lesson, both George and I have smiles on our faces as we head out of the class, though George’s smile soon changes to a look of confusion as he sees me head into the girls’ toilets, rather than to our usual table.

“…You need a piss before lunch?” George asks.

“Umm…” I grimace. “It’s kinda- kinda going to be just you and Megan at lunch, I reply. Well, you, Megan, Harriet, Mia and Priya, if she’s not on prefect duty.” As if on cue, Laura, Suriya and Nicole arrive at the entrance to the toilets, all wearing smiles on their faces and multi-coloured scrunchies tying their long hair back into tight ponytails.

“Hey gymnashley!” Laura squeaks. “Hey George! Sorry, but WE’RE borrowing Ashley this lunch!”

“And every Wednesday lunchtime, actually!” Nicole giggles. “You’ll just have to settle for your GIRLFRIEND instead, hehe!”

“…I joined the gymnastics club,” I shrug. “Miss Edwards was impressed with how well I did in class, so she invited me to join the club, even though I’m not allowed on the team… Sorry. I’ll see you in maths, okay?”

“Umm, sure,” George says as I’m all but literally dragged into the toilets by the three girls.

The toilets are the same place where I get changed for PE, and they obviously act as Laura’s changing room too when she does PE, but as an ‘act of solidarity’, Nicole and Suriya also change alongside us as we remove our school uniforms and stretch long-sleeved spangled maroon leotards over our bodies. Normally, this action brings a wide smile to my face, but today, I feel especially self-conscious as I make extra sure that the crotch of my leotard is as smooth and flat as those of my friends. The fact that the walkway from the changing room to the gymnasium goes past a window to outside doesn’t help matters. I try to hold my head high as Laura, Nicole, Suriya and I join the other girls outside the changing room, but I still feel the stares of everyone outside burning a hole in my body- and when I look over and see that one of those people is George, I suddenly feel VERY small.

Of course, forty-five minutes of tumbling and dancing helps to ease my anxieties, but as I pull my blouse, skirt and tights back on (over my leotard, like the other girls), I still feel somewhat awkward- not least because I’ll be seeing George in our next lesson.

“Hey,” I say cautiously as I exit our ‘private changing room’ and run into my best male friend- who almost looks like he was waiting for me.

“Hi,” George mumbles, before an awkward silence immediately descends over us- a silence that persists all throughout the final lesson of the day.

It’s only as we’re walking through the car park at the end of the day that my patience finally evaporates, and I turn to confront my friend.

“Why, exactly?” I ask, startling the tall boy.

“Umm… ‘Why’? Why what?” George asks.

“Why the silent treatment?” I sigh. “Things were going SO well, then all of a sudden, boom! Quiet again.”

“It- it’s nothing,” George mumbles.

“No, obviously it ISN’T nothing,” I say. “Is it because you saw me at lunch? WHY did you go there at lunch, anyway? The gymnasium’s nowhere near our table.”

“I- I kinda, umm, kinda needed to see for myself,” George says quietly.

“’See’ what, exactly?” I ask.

“…You,” George whispers. “In- in that, you know, one- one piece thing…”

“It’s called a leotard,” I say, rolling up my sleeve to show George to spangled fabric still clinging to my arm. “Go on, touch it if you’re that curious.”

“I- I dunno…” George whispers.

“It’s not going to magically turn you into a girl if you just touch it,” I say. “If it could, I’d never take it off…” After making sure that no one’s looking, George gingerly reaches out a hand, and with the very tips of his fingers, gently touches the sleeve of the leotard, snatching back his fingers as soon as he makes contact, almost as though the garment had bitten him.

“It- it’s soft,” George mumbles. “And- and smooth…”

“Yep,” I say. “Most of my clothes are.”

“Is- is it, you know… Comfortable?” George asks. “Because it looks kinda tight… You know, when I say ‘tight’, I mean-“

“It is a little ‘tight’,” I mumble.

“Then why wear it?” George asks, but before I can answer, I’m interrupted by the arrival of George’s new- and old- girlfriend.

“Hey you!” Megan giggles, gripping George’s hand in her before rolling her eyes at me. “Ugh, WHY do you girls keep your leos on after gym club? You must be, like, on fire underneath there!”

“…It is a bit warm,” I shrug. “But I’ve had, like, thirteen years of no leos… need to catch up somehow, heh.”

“Aww,” Megan sighs as I lower the sleeves of my blouse and my blazer.

“That’s why I wear it,” I say softly. “Because in a very, very small way… It DOES make me a girl.”

“’The magic leotard’, heh,” Megan giggles.

“I still don’t see how it can be comfortable, though,” George says, earning an eye roll from his girlfriend.

“I’ve got an old long-sleeved leo at home if you want to find out,” Megan says, making me giggle along with her as George reacts like someone just threatened him with a gun. “What? We’re almost the same size, it should fit you… It’d be a little, you know, ‘tight’, though…”

“Yeah, but, you know…” George mumbles, his cheeks quickly reddening.

“We know… What?” I ask, folding my arms. “It wouldn’t magically turn you into a girl, George, we just worked that out, didn’t we?”

“But- but you said-“ George stammers.

“I’m a girl trapped in a boy’s body,” I state. “That’s the only reason it, you know, ‘works’ for me.”

“For anyone else,” Megan says. “It’d just be, you know, a bit of fun. You’re not AFRAID, are you?”

“No,” George instantly replies, before grimacing as he realises exactly what his macho bravado has just agreed to.

“And have you or haven’t you said sometimes that you wished you knew what it was like for Ashley?” Megan asks, making my jaw drop as I grin at my red-faced friend.

“…I wish we hadn’t got back together,” George mumbles.

“No you don’t,” Megan giggles, giving George a kiss on his cheek before cuddling his arm close to her shapely chest in the way that Suriya, Laura and Mia did with my arm on many occasions.

A loud parp from my father’s car horn suddenly grabs my attention, and I grimace as I quickly say goodbye to my friends, before heading over to the car and sliding onto the passenger seat, wondering whether to wince or grin as sitting down causes my tight leotard bunches up into an uncomfortable wedgie.

“You and George are still getting along well, then?” Dad asks.

“Yeah,” I say with a shrug. “Sorry we got chatting a bit…”

“Apologise to your sisters, they’re the one who’ll be wondering where we are,” dad chuckles. “But I’m glad you two are getting along. Is your phone charged up? For when your counsellor rings you, I mean.”

“Yep,” I say. For the last few months, I’ve been having mostly telephone meetings with Dr Williamson, largely as our regular meetings are on Wednesdays, and Megan is right- it IS warm, wearing a leotard under my blouse and my blazer!

After arriving home, I waste no time in stripping off my sweaty uniform (and my leotard), before changing into a loose, comfortable knee-length blue skirt and a girly white t-shirt. I’ve only just finished changing when my phone rings, and a quick glance at the screen confirms that my counsellor is the one calling me.

“Hello,” I say, answering the call.

“Hello Ashley,” Dr Williamson says. “Are you ready to begin our session?”

“Yep, just about,” I say. “I’m alone in my room, got a pen and my exercise book ready.”

“Good,” Dr Williamson says. “Before we begin, did you have a good birthday?”

“I did, thanks,” I reply with a grin. “Everything was great- well, almost everything…”

“Go on,” Dr Williamson urges.

“Well, all my presents were great, they really were,” I say. “I spent Saturday with my friends- my female friends- and my sisters, I really had a lot of fun.”

“Go on,” Dr Williamson says, in a manner that I know really means ‘but?’.

“…Some of my grandparents are still a bit distant,” I sigh. “And dad, he- he’s still having a really hard time accepting me, even after all this time.”

“Well we’ll set your father aside for later in the session, as always,” Dr Williamson says. “Did your grandparents- the ones you describe as distant- make any contact with you for your birthday?”

“Just cards,” I sigh. “One of them even said ‘happy birthday grandson’.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Ashley,” Dr Williamson says. “But you do need to persist with them, to let them know that you are not their grandson, and it is not appropriate for them to behave like you are still male.”

“Easier said than done,” I sigh.

“I’m not denying that,” Dr Williamson says. “But you’re six months into your transition. It must be clear to them by now that this isn’t some kind of silly whim, that it IS real, it IS happening and they need to accept it. I’m always happy for you to arrange an appointment for them to see me, if you feel that would help.”

“…Maybe some other time,” I say. “Though they apparently liked the article that came out on Sunday.”

“That was going to be the next thing I asked about,” Dr Williamson says warmly. “I had my doubts over whether it would be in your best interests to take part in the article, but you did come across as very mature. I spoke to Nikki Thomas about the photoshoot too, she commented on how mature you were on the day. You should be proud of yourself, Ashley.”

“Thanks,” I whisper as my own cheeks start to redden.

“I hope it’s made you a few new friends at school!” Dr Williamson chuckles.

“…People are being, well, less hostile than they were before,” I say.

“Good,” Dr Williamson says.

“One of those people is actually George,” I say. “He’s the, umm, the boy I told you about, the one I was friends with back- back before, you know…”

“Ah, yes, I remember you saying,” Dr Williamson says. “You’ve said recently though that you’ve been drifting apart from him, haven’t you?”

“A bit,” I say. “The article’s made me realise that I find it SO much easier to be friends with girls than boys. I just- I just don’t have anything in common with boys, you know… Well, apart from, like, ‘liking’ girls…”

“But you’re still growing closer to George now, rather than further apart?” Dr Williamson asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “He came over last night, after ballet, we got chatting, you know, ‘cleared the air’… We talked a lot today at school too.”

“That’s good,” Dr Williamson says. “And he does recognise you as entirely female, I trust?”

“Yep,” I say. “Think he’s struggling a bit there too, though. He- this lunchtime, he saw me in my gymnastics leotard as I was going to gym club, I think it freaked him out a little. I mean, he sees me in my uniform literally every day, he’s seen me in my ballet uniform before… I reckon he thought that because I wanted to be friends again, it meant I wasn’t going to be a girl anymore, then I go and do something extra-girly like gymnastics.”

“It’s possible,” Dr Williamson muses.

“Then again,” I say, “apparently he’s said to his girlfriend- that’s Megan, one of my girl- one of my female friends- apparently he’s said to Megan before that he’s wondered what it’s like for me. Megan and him are the same height so I reckon she’s going to try to get him to try on some of her clothes to ‘see what it’s like’.”

“Okay,” Dr Williamson says, clearly intrigued by what I said.

“You never know,” I muse. “He might even enjoy it…”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up too much, Ashley,” Dr Williamson cautions.

“What do you mean by ‘hopes’?” I ask.

“A lot of people experiment with crossdressing in their youth,” Dr Williamson explains. “Either by being dared, or simple curiosity, or any number of other reasons. For some people, it’s just a bit of fun. Some people actively dislike it. And yes, for some, it can become a major- for want of a better word- hobby, or even lead to a genuine desire to transition. But you need to accept that that likely won’t be the case with George.”

“I know,” I say.

“I hope you do,” Dr Williamson says. “I am sometimes worried about the peer pressure you experience from the other girls in your group.”

“I’m not ‘pressured’ into doing anything,” I immediately retort.

“I know you don’t feel pressured,” Dr Williamson says, “and I am 100% convinced that your desire to transition is genuine, I’ll never doubt that, but the truth is that you are a teenaged girl, and your social group consists entirely of other teenaged girls. You’re bound to experience SOME peer pressure. You need to make sure that you don’t buckle under it, and even more importantly, don’t become a source of it either.”

“I won’t,” I say confidently as the conversation moves onto other topics, before wrapping up just over an hour later.

As I hang up the phone, though, I’m forced to confess to myself that there is a part of me that’s excited by the prospect of George experiencing the joys of femininity- and whilst I know I shouldn’t, I am thinking about the possibility of ‘Georgina’ and I walking into school in matching uniforms…

After eating a quick dinner, I return to my bedroom, where I switch on my tablet computer and log into Facebook, smiling as I see that the two people I want to speak to the most are online.

‘Hi Megan and George!’ I type into a new chat window. ‘Or should that be ‘Merge’? Lol, you two have the cutest couples name ever!’

‘Lol,’ Megan types with a ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji.

‘Want to continue that convo we were having before my dad rudely interrupted me?’ I type with a ‘winking’ emoji.

‘Not really,’ George replies, making me giggle.

‘BOY!’ Megan and I simultaneously type, making me giggle even harder.

‘Honestly, what ARE you afraid of?’ Megan types.

‘I’m not afraid, I just don’t want to do it,’ George replies.

‘I see you talked about this without me then?’ I type with another ‘winking’ emoji. ‘Which is cool, I guess, I mean, it is Merge and not MergeLEY, lol!’

‘You are not calling us Merge!’ Megan types. ‘You make us sound like one of the teams on the apprentice!’

‘Ashley, your team name’s a bladdy disgrace!’ George types, making me roll my eyes. ‘You’re fired!’

‘Don’t change the topic,’ I type with a ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji.

‘We did talk about it a little,’ Megan types. ‘Only the BOY’s too squeamish to even consider it!’

‘I just don’t see what good it’d do,’ George types. ‘And I wouldn’t want everyone at school to find out.’

‘Well if you can trust anyone with privacy, it’s us,’ Megan replies. ‘Especially about this.’

‘I can guarantee that,’ I type. ‘And you can’t see what good it’d do, well, I can’t see what harm it’d do.’ Immediately as I send the message, though, Dr Williamson’s earlier words of wisdom immediately spring to mind. I AM subjecting George to peer pressure, I’m that desperate for another friend to love that which I love, when I already have a friend in the exact same situation as me in Laura, and six other amazing female friends… Maybe having a friend who doesn’t idolise all things girly could be a good thing?

‘If you don’t want to,’ I type, ‘we don’t want to forc-‘ Before I have the chance to finish my message, however, George sends through a reply that almost makes me drop my tablet.

‘Okay, fine, if it’ll get you off my back,’ George types.

‘Seriously!?’ Megan types with a ‘wide grin’ emoji.

‘Ashley’s right, it won’t hurt me,’ George types. ‘But I’m only doing this as a bit of fun, like a game, okay?’

‘Sure,’ I type, having deleted my earlier message. ‘Are you sure about this?’

‘No,’ George bluntly replies, earning a ‘hugging’ emoji from his girlfriend.

‘You never know, you might like it,’ I type with a ‘winking’ emoji.

‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ George types, earning ‘sticking out tongue’ emojis from myself and Megan.

‘I won’t think any less of you if you do like it,’ Megan types. ‘If anything, I think you’re even cooler for agreeing to try it!’ Okay, this is DEFINITELY peer pressure now, I think to myself.

‘So when do you want to do it, then?’ George asks. ‘This weekend?’

‘Nah, we’re having a sleepover this weekend,’ Megan types. ‘And boys are NOT invited to that, BOY!’ Megan’s ‘winking’ emoji lets us both know that this time, ‘boy’ isn’t intended as an insult.

‘Are you doing anything tomorrow night?’ I type.

‘That’s a bit soon, isn’t it?’ George types, his panic clear in his words.

‘Gets it over and done with,’ I type. ‘And we can do it at my house, my sisters are all at ballet tomorrow, mum’ll be busy with Eddy, we’ll have all the privacy we want.’

‘I’ll bring over some clothes I reckon will fit you best,’ Megan types. ‘And yes, that WILL include a leotard!’ George’s ‘sad’ emoji is met with ‘sticking out tongue’s from both Megan and myself.

‘Why did I agree to this again?’ George types.

‘Because you’re a cool, sweet friend who wanted to know what it was like for his best friend,’ I reply.

‘And you want your girlfriend to think that you’re cool!’ Megan types, earning a ‘kissing’ emoji from George that she immediately reciprocates.

‘I’ll leave you two to ‘merge’,’ I type with a ‘winking’ emoji as I leave the chatroom.

As I head to bed, I find myself unusually excited about tomorrow evening. It takes me a while to remember that the last time I was this excited, it was before I myself dressed up for the first time- in a pair of tights that, ironically enough, I couldn’t wait to remove earlier this afternoon. I try to convince myself not to get too excited, that there’s every chance that George will hate the experience, but as hard as try, I can’t conceive of how anyone wouldn’t love to be able to dress up as a beautiful girl- especially when they’re being supported (and loved) by two other beautiful girls.

As I pull on my soft grey tights the following morning, I’m reminded of the first time I wore Suri’s tights, almost three years ago, and how much of a ‘tingle’ it had sent through my body. Much to my delight, that ‘tingle’ is back on force, especially as I straighten the stretchy garment and feel it cling to every square inch of my legs, from my backside right down to the tips of my toes. I hope Megan brings some pairs of tights tonight so that George can experience this…

As always, my seven female friends greet me with hugs at the school entrance, though Megan’s hug feels tighter than usual- and the twinkle in her eye tells me that she’s looking forward to tonight, possibly even more than I am!

The same can’t be said of George, though, as when I sit down next him at form, his face is a mixture of nervous anticipation and outright terror.

“Relax,” I urge my fearful friend. “We’re not going to make you do anything you really don’t want to. We won’t shave anything, we won’t do anything to your hair, we won’t even do any make-up. Unless, of course, you want-“

“No,” George says with a quivering voice. “And keep your voice down, we don’t want everyone hearing about- about tonight!”

“Ugh, seriously,” I spit. “Total privacy! You have my word! We won’t even tell Laura about this.”

“She’s the last person I want you to tell,” George scoffs. “Don’t want her doing to me what she did to you…”

“Okay, seriously,” I say, trying to hide the anger in my voice. “She didn’t do anything to me. This-“ I gesture towards my body, in particular the pleated skirt hanging from my waist. “This is who I was long before I’d even heard of Laura White.”

“Well it’s not who I am,” George spits, making me roll my eyes.

“And how are you going to be sure of that?” I tease.

“Yes, yes, okay, I’ve already agreed to it, haven’t I?” George retorts- and immediately, it’s like I can feel Dr Williamson behind me, barking the words ‘peer pressure’ over and over.

“Just- try to look forward to it, okay?” I say. “If you go into it with the feeling that you’ll like it, you won’t dread it so much.”

“You make it sound like a rollercoaster,” George snorts.

“Oh trust me,” I retort as I stare behind me at the girls who, three days ago, were queuing up to be my friend, but who today- possibly even due to my resume friendship with George- barely even acknowledge my existence. “That’s EXACTLY what it is.”

Unsurprisingly, George remains much quieter than usual for the rest of the day, especially during break and lunch, when he sits at our table getting his arm mercilessly cuddled by Megan. By the time the bell rings to signify the end of the school day, George is practically hyperventilating- which is made even worse when we head downstairs and are greeted by his girlfriend, whose school bag is bulging in an ominous way.

“Stop panicking!” Megan hisses as she once again grabs George’s arm and cuddles it close to her chest. “No one’s going to find out about this!”

“Easy for you to say,” George says, before grimacing as his eyes meet mine. “…Sorry, sorry… but it DID get out about you, before you, you know, ‘confirmed’ it…”

“That’s because there WAS something to ‘get out’ about Ashley,” Megan says. “If there’s nothing to ‘get out’ about you, you have nothing to worry about.”

“…And if there is?” George asks.

“Then you have eight amazing friends who will do literally ANYTHING for you,” I say as we head to George’s mother’s car (there obviously being not enough room in dad’s car with my sisters in there too).

“Thank you for the lift, Mrs. Dixon,” Megan says as she fastens her seatbelt.

“Thanks,” I concur as I sit down and straighten my skirt and my tights.

“Oh, you’re more than welcome Megan, Ashley!” George’s mother replies. “I’m so glad the two of you are George’s friends again, he always seemed so- so sensible when he hung out with you and the rest of your ‘gang’.”

“Mum!” George hisses, clearly embarrassed by his mother.

“What? You are,” Mrs. Dixon replies. “None of this acting like a macho idiot like your older brothers. Though I suppose that wouldn’t really go over well with you in particular, Ashley…”

“Not ALWAYS,” I reply with a smile. “But not, you know, not NEVER either…”

“Well either way, you’re both positive influences on George, and that’s what matters most,” Mrs. Dixon says with a proud smile. “Megan, are you going to be a prefect next year?”

“Hopefully,” the bespectacled girl answers. “I’ve put my name forward for it, reckon I’ll get it. Laura and Suriya have too. Nicole and Mia don’t want to be prefects and Harriet’s had some disciplinary issues, so it’ll probably be just the three of us.”

“And then George and Ashley the following year!” Mrs. Dixon says, which even makes me blush.

“Mum!” George snaps, which only makes the older woman laugh at her son’s embarrassment as we speed toward my house.

After letting myself in and finding the house deserted, I giggle excitedly, before leading Megan and George up to my room, where George grimaces as Megan opens her school bag to reveal the treasure hidden within.

“Say hello to your new wardrobe, MISS Dixon!” Megan giggles as George looks more and more embarrassed. “I’ve got one skirt, one tank top, one summer dress, a few pairs of tights and oh yes- one long-sleeved ballet leotard!”

“So…” I tease. “Where do you want to start?”

“With our homework,” George says, earning boos from Megan and myself.

“You’re just delaying the inevitable…” I coo in a sickeningly sweet voice that actually makes George shudder.

“Do I REALLY have to wear the tights too?” George sighs.

“YES!” Megan and I reply simultaneously.

“I am going to feel so, so stupid,” George sighs as he tentatively reaches toward Megan’s skirt, stroking the fabric almost as though he’s testing to see whether or not it will hurt him.

“You won’t know for sure until…” I coo. “Want us to give you some privacy?”

“Duh,” George says, making Megan and I giggle as we leave him alone in the bedroom.

“God this is so weird,” I say, giggling as Megan looks at me with a look of confusion on her face. “Being on THIS side of the door.”

“Hehe,” Megan giggles. “You know, Laura used to say the same thing when it was you in there?”

“Hehe,” I reply. “Can you believe that George actually thinks Laura is responsible for ‘corrupting’ me into a girl? Like, I’d still be a boy if not for her?”

“…Be fair, he might have a point,” Megan says with a sympathetic smile. “Would you have had the courage to come out to your parents if Laura hadn’t, you know, ‘paved the way’?”

“…Probably not,” I say, before bursting into a fit of giggles. “Do NOT tell George that he was right, though!”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t!” Megan giggles. “But there’s no way Laura put the idea of being a girl into your head- I can tell just by looking, Ash, that you are absolutely, positively, 100%, totally GIRL!”

“ALL girls rule!” I cheer, exchanging a playful high five with my tall friend as a knock comes from my bedroom door to let us know that we can reenter.

As the I open the door, I have to bite my lip to keep myself from giggling as I’m confronted by the sight of George with Megan’s tank top (which is obviously too small for him) stretched over his torso, and her short black skirt hanging from his hips.

“…I feel stupid,” George moans as Megan and I enter the room and quickly shut the door behind us.

“No, no, you look- you look good,” Megan says as she sits down next to George and adjusts his clothes.

“Kinda cute, actually,” I say, earning a foul stare from George- and surprisingly, from Megan as well. “Sorry…”

“How does it feel?” Megan asks. “APART from ‘stupid’!”

“…Soft,” George admits. “It- it’s not really, you know, comfortable, though…”

“Try on the tights,” Megan says. “That might make it better.”

“I doubt it,” George says as he’s handed a pair of the translucent legwear, staring at it with confusion.

“Oh, okay, fine,” Megan sighs, hiking up her skirt and removing her own black tights. “Here’s what you do. Roll up one leg, so it’s kinda like a donut…”

“Okay…” George says, copying Megan’s actions with his own tights.

“Then,” Megan continues, “point your toe and put it into the ‘donut’.”

“Right…” George says, shivering as his foot makes contact with the soft nylon.

“Next, stretch it up your leg until it’s just over your knee,” Megan says, giggling as George follows his instructions and shivers again. “Now repeat with the other leg.”

“This feels REALLY weird,” George complains.

“Probably because you have hairy legs,” I say, shrugging as Megan and George give me another foul look. “What?”

“Don’t listen to her, George,” Megan says, making me frown. “Some girls like hairy legs!” George smiles as he and Megan stand up and finish pulling on their tights- and George actually smiles as he emulates Megan in smoothing them over his legs.

“This actually feels kinda nice,” George muses. “Umm, do NOT tell anyone I said that, okay?”

“Our lips are sealed,” Megan says, putting an idea in my head. “Right, Ashley?”

“Our lips are absolutely STUCK together,” I giggle as I reach into my dresser drawer and produce a tube of my brightest, reddest lipstick. “We won’t tell anyone about this, either…”

“No, no thanks!” George says. “Besides, you’ve worn that before, it’d be kinda like we kissed if we share lipstick, isn’t it?” I smile as, once again, Dr Williamson’s cry of ‘peer pressure’ pops into my head.

“Meh, it’s okay,” I shrug. “You’ve already proved you’re, like, a MILLION times cooler than most boys by just wearing what you are!”

“Hell yeah!” Megan cheers as she gives the blushing George a tight hug, before stroking his nylon-covered thigh.

“Well if you’re not going to wear it, SOMEONE has to!” I giggle as I pop the cap off the lipstick and apply it to my mouth, making George and Megan laugh as I pout at them with my new scarlet lips.

“Am I really playing dress-up with two girls?” George asks with disbelief, making myself and Megan giggle as she helps herself to my lipstick.

“Admit it, you’re having fun, right?” I ask, before pouting again.

“…Actually…” George grimaces. “I’m kinda- kinda not. I- I’m sorry, I’m really sorry- like, to you, Ashley. I know how much you enjoy this, but-“

“It’s okay,” I say with a bright red smile as I try to hide my disappointment. “Really, it is.”

“You’re sure?” George asks. Not really, I think to myself. But if you’re okay with me being a girl… I guess I can be okay with you being a boy.

“Of course,” I half-lie. “It just means you’re lucky, that’s all.”

“…Lucky?” George chuckles.

“Yeah,” I say. “It just means that you actually WERE born into the correct gender!”

“Aww,” Megan sighs. “You two are SUCH good friends…”

“Yeah,” George says as I smile sadly.

“Do- do you reckon we’d have been friends if, you know, I was a girl from the start?” I ask. “Like, from birth, or even from the start of year 7, like Laura?”

“…To be honest, I doubt it,” George says, making me frown. “But I am glad we’re friends now. I wouldn’t have got Megan if we weren’t friends.”

“’Got’ me,” Megan snorts, punching George on the arm, before surprising him with a long, wet kiss on his cheek that leaves a very noticeable red smudge!

“…I’m glad we’re friends too,” I say, sitting down on the other side of George.

“Girl or not, if you kiss me, I WILL punch you,” George says, making me giggle uncontrollably. “Can I PLEASE change out of these clothes now?”

“Sure, sure,” I giggle. “Don’t- don’t worry about trying on the leotard. You’ve earned your ‘cool points’ for the year!”

“Thanks,” George mumbles as Megan and I prepare to leave the room.

“Just dump the clothes back in my bag once you’re done with them,” Megan says. “And don’t tear my tights taking them off!”

“Will do,” George says, before knocking on the door a few minutes later to let us know that he is, once again, dressed in his regular, boring, boy’s uniform.

“NOW we can do homework,” I giggle as I sit down, my knees pressed tightly together, and get my school books out of my bag.

About an hour later, dad returns home, accompanied by my three sisters, all of whom are dressed in their tiny ballet uniforms. Megan, George and I decide that this is our cue to finish our homework and head downstairs for dinner, though it’s only when dad’s eyes go wide when he sees the three of us that I remember I’m still wearing my lipstick… And George still has a tell-tale red smudge on his cheek.

“You three had ‘fun’, then?” Dad snorts.

“Umm- uh- yeah…” George mumbles, hastily rubbing the mark on his cheek.

“God, George, I don’t know how you put up with it,” dad sighs.

“I don’t mind,” George shrugs with a smile. “I- I like hanging out with girls. Girls are cool. Most of the time.”

“Girls rule!” Megan and I cheer- a cheer that my three sisters are only too happy to join in with!

“Well, better you than me,” dad sighs. “Come on, I’ve got us all takeout. Assuming that isn’t too fatty or whatever for supermodels, or actresses, or dancers?”

“It had better not be!” Cassie squeaks, making all of us- dad and George included- giggle as we head through to the living room for our dinner.

After dinner is over, George’s mother returns to pick up her son and his girlfriend, and I bid the two farewell- George first with a handshake, followed by Megan with a hug, though before the tall girl goes, she pauses briefly to talk to me.

“We’ll see you tomorrow night at the sleepover, right?” Megan asks.

“Duh,” I retort, making my friend giggle. “Still can’t believe it’s Priya’s last day tomorrow, just won’t be the same without her. It’ll be even worse next year when you and the girls in your year leave.”

“Aww,” Megan sighs, giving me another hug. “At least you- at least WE will still have George.”

“Yeah,” I say. “But as we found out tonight, I can’t swap fashion tips or make-up with George!”

“If you say so,” Megan shrugs with a knowing smile.

“Go on…” I say.

“Well I’m not saying ANYTHING,” Megan says. “But all I know is that I brought three pairs of tights with me tonight… And I’m only taking TWO home. I didn’t miscount them, and obviously you don’t have any need to steal tights, which means…”

“…Which means we keep quiet about it and not let on that we know, right?” I say, giggling as Megan replies with a simple wink.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, GIRL!” Megan giggles, hugging me again before leaving me with my thoughts.

Whether or not George did steal the tights, it doesn’t matter- all I know is that I’m glad he’s my friend again, male, masculine idiot or not. My ‘fame’ from earlier in the week being almost completely gone by Friday is a small price to pay to have my REAL friend back- one George is better than a hundred Melissa Jeffries who only want to be my friend because they think I can make them famous somehow. And, of course, it also makes dad happier- not that I care too much about THAT, of course.

Dad’s insistence that George is my only ‘real’ friend is wrong, of course, as is proven on Friday night after ballet, when I return to Priya’s home with the seven other girls for the sleepover. Even though it’s not my first sleepover, I still treasure every second of it- especially as with Priya going to college next year, she’ll make new friends, meaning our ‘excellent eight’ will inevitably drift apart, or gain new members, such as mine and Nicole’s sisters, who will start at our school in September.

But for now, I can sit back and enjoy what my life- my 100% girly life- has to offer. It doesn’t matter if it’s a fancy tutu, or a photoshoot, or a tight gymnastics leotard or a tube of red lipstick- or even if it’s just the company of my very best friends. I am Ashley Natalie Moore. I am a girl. I am unquestionably one of THE girls. My life has never been girlier… And I’ve never been happier.

I fidget in my seat, trying to get comfortable as the train rushes through the French countryside to our destination. It’s not my clothes that are making me restless, of course- my pleated white miniskirt and loose patterned tank top feel perfect against my smooth, hairless skin. It isn’t even the disapproving stare of my father at my long, slender legs that makes me uncomfortable. The source of my restlessness, for once, is my three younger sisters- or rather, the thing that’s also making them restless!

“Is that Disneyland!?” Cassie practically shrieks as we pass by a large building in a field.

“No, it’s MUCH bigger than that!” I say, giggling as my little sister’s jaw drops. “We’ll be there soon, don’t worry, it’s not like it won’t be there when we arrive!”

“I can’t wait!” Cassie squeaks, wriggling around in her seat so much that she has to be calmed down by our mother.

“Will we see Elsa and Anna?” Dorothy asks, clearly as restless as her sister.

“We’ll see ALL the princesses!” I reply, making the four year old girl gasp with excitement as I remember back to the last time I went to Disneyland, a full nine years ago.

Of course, things were a bit different back then. I was just five, Bryony was only two, and my other three siblings hadn’t even been born yet. Many of the attractions back then were different… And most importantly of all, I was every bit a little boy. Naturally, I was just as excited then as Cassie is now. I had my photo taken with Mickey, Mouse, Donald Duck, Goofy… But no photos with Minnie Mouse or any of the princesses. As I went around the park and saw all the princesses in their beautiful, flowing dresses, and all the little girls my age who were there dressed in costume, I wondered- sometimes aloud- why I wasn’t able to be dressed just as beautifully as them, only to be told ‘that’s only for girls’, which would inevitably make me cry.

This time, however, there won’t be any tears. If I want to wear a skirt to Disneyland, I will. If I want to wear a costume, I will. And if I want to be a princess, then I most definitely WILL. Nothing’s going to hold me back this time… Although I may end up having to ‘wait my turn’, judging by the enthusiasm of my sisters! Whilst Cassie and Dorothy are open about their excitement, Bryony is trying to be ‘cooler’- though the fact that her left leg keeps shaking is an obvious giveaway that she’s just as restless as the rest of us!

“Excited?” I ask the eleven year old girl, who responds by looking at me with a disinterested look on her face.

“No,” Bryony blatantly lies. “Maybe a little.”

“…I heard that Emma Watson might be there today,” I lie, giggling as Bryony- whose favourite movie is Beauty and the Beast (both versions)- suddenly looks at me with a look of utter joy on her face.

“Ashley!” Mum chastises. “Stop teasing your sisters!”

“Sorry,” I mumble, giggling again as Bryony pouts at me.

“I hope you won’t keep bullying her the next two years at secondary school,” mum says in a cautionary tone of voice.

“No, of course not,” I chuckle. “Though I wouldn’t be surprised if Bryony’s more excited about big school than Disney, heh!”

“No I’m not,” Bryony instantly retorts. “…Maybe a bit.”

“I knew it,” I say with a smug grin, earning an eye roll from my sister.

“God,” Bryony spits. “You’ve got so annoying since you became a girl…” The mood in the carriage instantly drops as bryony looks at the floor with shame in her eyes. “…Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” I sigh, giving my blushing sister a quick cuddle. “And remember- I didn’t BECOME a girl. I was a girl the whole time, right?”

“Right,” Bryony says, the smile returning to her face.

“That’s better,” mum says. “It’s especially wrong for the two of you to fight when this whole holiday is to celebrate your exam results!”

“Yes mum,” Bryony and I mumble as our younger sisters both have a giggle at our expense.

“…And as my exam results were better than Ashley’s, can I decide where we go first at Disneyland?” Bryony asks, smirking wickedly as I roll my eyes.

“My exams were harder than yours,” I remind my sister.

“They’re supposed to be, you’re older than me,” Bryony retorts.

“She’s got you there,” mum says as I roll my eyes yet again, before gazing to my right and sighing at the sight of my father fussing over my baby brother, both of them oblivious to our conversation- but for very different reasons.

Eddy, of course, is just sixteen months old, only knows how to say a few words and is far more interested in his stuffed Mickey Mouse toy than in what his sisters are doing. Dad, on the other hand…

When we first came to Disneyland in 2008, me and dad were inseparable. Or rather, dad lavished every bit of attention he had on me. He queued for every ride with me, watched every parade, bought seemingly every bit of merchandise the park had to offer… And scowled deeply at me every time I expressed interest in anything feminine. As far as he was concerned, I was his perfect boy, the ‘chip off the old block’, and he was going to do everything within his power to ensure I stayed that way. And then, fifteen months ago, when I told him that I couldn’t be the son he wanted, it was like he decided that if I didn’t want to be his son, then he didn’t want to be my father.

The frustrating thing is that dad’s more than happy to spend time with any of my sisters. He’ll help Bryony with her homework (on the off chance that she needs it, anyway), he’ll watch Cassie’s dancing with great interest and read bedtime stories about fairies and princesses to Dorothy every night, but when it comes to doing anything with me- not just anything girly, but ANYTHING- it’s like he’s physically incapable of showing affection toward me. As my testosterone blockers start to take effect, I sometimes end up crying myself to sleep over the situation- but I know that if I tell dad this, it’ll just drive him even further away.

My anxiety fades, however, when the train reaches the vast Gare de Lille Europe and the seven of us disembark, heading to the platform to catch our connecting train to Disneyland. I allow myself a little giggle as I reach toward Bryony to hold her hand- a gesture the eleven year old girl naturally recoils from like my hand was a cobra. Cassie, of course, is only too happy to hold my hand, while Dorothy holds onto mum’s hand and (obviously) dad carries Eddy in addition to pushing the trolley with all our luggage on it.

“You know,” I say to the six year old girl gripping my hand, Paris is also the city where the Ballerina movie is set…” I bite my lip and giggle as Cassie looks at me with a look of utter joy on her face, while my parents- and my oldest sister- all grimace as they know what’s coming next.

"Paris is the Ballerina city!?” Cassie squeaks as Bryony groans. “And it has Disneyland too!? It must be the best city EVER!”

“Just wait until she sees Orlando,” mum says with a chuckle. “And yes, you can watch the DVD when you get home. But aren’t you more excited to see all the Disney princesses?” Mum smiles as Cassie enthusiastically nods while practically bouncing up and down with excitement. “Well, we’re only one train ride away now…”

Naturally, that train ride passes in a frenzy of excitement- especially as my sisters aren’t the only excited young kids on the train- and before long, the seven of us are stood outside the entrance to Disneyland Paris, wide smiles on all of our faces- well, all but one of our faces.

“Come on,” dad grumbles, leading the family to the ticket windows where our passes are checked and we’re allowed into the vast park.

“We’ll drop our cases off at the hotel first then go and get something to eat,” mum says.

“Can we go and see the princesses?” Cassie squeaks excitedly.

“It’s late in the day,” mum says firmly. “By the time we’ve eaten it’ll almost be time for bed. We can see the princesses tomorrow.”

“But I want to see them now…” Cassie pouts, practically bouncing up and down with excitement.

“They’re not going anywhere,” I say to the distraught six year old girl. “And besides, don’t you want to see them tomorrow wearing your special dress, instead of what you’re wearing now?” Fortunately, this causes Cassie to perk up and she nods enthusiastically, giggling even despite the silent ‘thank you’ mum mouths at me.

“Can we see Elsa first?” Cassie asks, making Dorothy suddenly perk up.

“Can we please?” The four year old girl asks, causing mum to roll her eyes all over again.

“…Yes, of course we can,” our mother sighs as we head toward our hotel. “It’s gonna be a long three days…”

Even though I’m fourteen, I- like all my sisters- still let out a gasp of excitement as we enter the suite in Disney's Explorers Hotel where we’ll be staying for the next few days. With old-fashioned doors and beds, the 'Princess Suite' more than lives up to its name- and it's obvious the sisters definitely approve! I can’t help but shoot a smug grin in the direction of my father, however, as Bryony and I head into our room to unpack, whilst mum helps my younger siblings with their unpacking.

When we’d booked the suite, dad had been adamant that we get a four bedroom suite- mum and dad in one room with Eddy in a cot, me in one room, Bryony in another and Cassie and Dorothy sharing. Naturally, this immediately got a question from Cassie over why she and Dorothy had to share, but me and Bryony couldn’t. Dad attempted to justify his decision by saying that me and Bryony would have to get changed in front of each other. Naturally, that raised the question of WHY that would be a problem, as girls get changed in front of each other all time, at school or at a swimming pool- and at that point, dad decided to cut his losses and book myself and Bryony into the same room. The same room Bryony and I are now sat in, packing away the numerous dresses, skirts and tops we’ve brought to the park with us.

“Ah, this is so exciting!” I enthuse, earning an eye roll from my younger sister. “You probably don’t remember when we came here, when you were, like, 2…”

“No, but mum’s shown me the photos,” Bryony says, not batting an eyelid as I strip off my top and my skirt to reveal the soft cotton bra and panties underneath. “I AM looking forward to it, honest.”

“Just nervous about school?” I ask as I reach for a loose, fashionable summer dress to pull over my body and pull a pair of low-heeled sandals from my case. “Only a couple of weeks now…”

“Nervous about DAD,” Bryony spits. “If it was up to him we wouldn’t even be sharing a room.”

“And you’d be UPSET about that?” I tease.

“I actually would,” Bryony mumbles, frowning as I ‘reward’ her with a hug.

“Aww…” I coo, barely suppressing my giggles. “…I’d have been upset too.”

“Well, obviously,” Bryony says. “Dad still doesn’t think you’re a real girl.”

“And do you?” I ask, before averting my gaze as Bryony changes from her t-shirt and shorts into a summer dress of her own. “…That answers my question, I guess.”

“Can you put a little make-up on me, please?” My sister asks, making me giggle as I reach into my make-up bag for my spare mascara brush.

“Don’t let mum or dad see your eyes over dinner,” I caution as I enhance my little sister’s eyelashes with the brush. “You got in enough trouble when you were obsessed with make-up when you were younger…”

“I think dad will be more angry if he sees you wearing make-up,” Bryony says, making me pause.

“…Well then he’ll just need to accept the fact that girls wear make-up, won’t he?” I say with a smug grin.

“Or he’ll sulk all holiday,” Bryony spits.

“Well that’s no reason for either of us to,” I say, putting away my make-up brush and handing Bryony a compact mirror to check her look. “Like it?”

“Love it,” the eleven year old girl says with a smile.

"Want me to do your hair too?" I ask, not waiting for permission before tying my sister's hair into a tight braid. “Guess I’d better do my make-up too, heh!” After finishing Bryony's braid, I have to keep myself from giggling as I enhance my own mascara and eyeliner, before applying a liberal coat of deep red lipstick to my mouth, something that makes Bryony giggle excitedly.

“No, you CAN’T have any,” I say. “…Maybe when you’re fourteen, hehe!”

“I can’t wait to see dad’s reaction to your lipstick,” Bryony says with a smug smirk that makes me sigh sadly.

“Bryony…” I sigh. “You- I really don’t want you to hate dad, you know? Or, like, feel you have to hate him on my behalf or something.”

“Well then he’ll just have to-“ Bryony spits, before I’m able to successfully shush her.

“Not here,” I whisper. “I mean, it’s not like I don’t appreciate it, but- but let’s just try to enjoy the holiday, okay?”

“Okay,” Bryony mumbles as we head back out into the living room area of our suite, where- as predicted- mum instantly tuts at the limited make-up Bryony’s wearing, while dad almost shudders at the sight of me in my dress and my make-up.

“What a pretty dress!” Cassie exclaims, running up and gently stroking the flimsy fabric of my skirt. “I think mine’s prettier, though!” I can’t help but giggle as I do a playful twirl for Cassie, who does a twirl of her own to show off her Frozen-inspired light blue dress.

“I think it is too!” I giggle, bending down to give the six year old girl a cuddle. “So’s yours, Dorothy!”

“Thank you Ashley!” Dorothy squeaks as she does her own slightly less coordinated twirl, which naturally earns a cuddle from me. “I love your dress too Bryony!”

“And I love your hair too!” Cassie squeaks, tentatively reaching toward Bryony’s braid. “How did you make it be like that? It's like Elsa's hair!”

“Ashley tied it for me,” Bryony says, causing Cassie’s jaw to drop as she looks toward me.

“Can you tie my hair like that too, Ashley?” Cassie asks.

“…Maybe after dinner,” I say with a giggle. “I am STARVING, hehe!”

“Ah, think we need a picture of this first, though!” Mum giggles, reaching into her bag for her phone. “My four girls in their pretty dresses…” I giggle as I gather my three sisters around me and we all pose for our mother’s camera, though my smile fades when I see dad skulking off to one side, carrying our brother in one arm.

“Actually…” I say hesitantly. “Eddy should be in the photo as well!” I smile warmly over to where my father is stood, only to grimace when I see that if anything, my suggestion has made his mood even worse.

“Yeah!” Bryony says smugly. “I’ll hold him.” I bite my scarlet-coloured lip as Bryony playfully skips toward our father and takes our little brother into her arms, all the while seemingly (or rather, deliberately) oblivious of the middle-aged man’s worsening mood.

“…Perfect!” Mum hesitantly enthuses as the five of us pose for her camera. “Almost makes me want a sixth…”

“Let’s- let’s focus on the five we DO have!” Dad chuckles as he immediately takes Eddy back and leads us out of our suite and to one of the park’s many restaurants.

Naturally- after hours on a train with only snacks to sustain us- the seven of us eat our fill, and by the time we arrive back at our hotel, all of us- even Cassie- are tired and almost ready for bed. Our mood soon perks up, however, when mum switches on the suite’s widescreen TV, which is obviously tuned to the Disney Channel and showing The Little Mermaid. Naturally, we five kids are glued to the screen for the duration of the film- or rather, we would be if dad hadn’t taken Eddy away less than twenty minutes after the start of the film, stating that it’s past his bedtime even though thanks to us crossing a time zone, it’s technically BEFORE his usual bedtime. Naturally, this doesn’t go unnoticed by my sisters.

“Do I have to go to bed too?” Dorothy asks with a deep pout.

“No, no, you can stay up and watch the rest of the movie,” dad says with a smile as he bends down to kiss the tiny girl on her forehead. “You ARE on holiday after all!”

“But so is Eddy!” Cassie protests. “And they’re about to sing the under the sea song!”

“Yes, but Eddy’s still just a baby,” dad ‘explains’. “He needs more care and more sleep than you older girls.” Next to me, I see Bryony opening her mouth, ready to retort to our father, but she wisely thinks better of it and stays silent until both of our male relatives have left the room.

“He also needs to be kept away from girl things,” Bryony mumbles.

“But The Little Mermaid isn’t just for girls,” Cassie moans.

“I know that, you know that,” Bryony sighs.

“Let’s- let’s just enjoy the film,” I say. “I’ll put the subtitles on so we can all sing along, okay?” Fortunately, this does the trick as Cassie and Dorothy both nod enthusiastically, and before long, the four of us are all singing along to the tunes that we’ve all heard countless times. Even Bryony has a smile on her face by the end of the film, though as we’re getting ready for bed, the frown quickly returns to her face.

“I am right about dad and Eddy,” Bryony says.

“Bryony…” I sigh. “…I know you are. But sulking about it won’t help. If anything, I’M the one who should be sulking.”

“I hope when Eddy grows up, he becomes a girl too,” Bryony snorts.

“Trust me,” I say. “He’s better off if he doesn’t. And NOT for dad’s sake. For- for Eddy’s sake. You and the other girls are so lucky, you’re actually happy in the skin you’re in.” I frown as Bryony’s silence shows that I’ve obviously touched a nerve with her.

“…Sorry,” Bryony mumbles, before sighing and frowning as I give her a gentle hug.

“Apology accepted,” I say with a giggle. “Just try to enjoy the holiday! We’re in the coolest place in the whole of Europe, you know?”

“…Yeah,” Bryony says with a grin. “Okay. Good night, Ashley.”

“G’night, Bryony,” I say, exchanging another hug with my sister before climbing underneath my sheets and quickly falling into a deep sleep.

The following morning, Bryony and I are woken early by the sound of the suite’s TV playing cartoons- and more notably, the laughter of three very young children. When we emerge from our room, we’re not surprised to find Cassie, Dorothy and Eddy sat on the sofa- though we are slightly surprised to see Cassie already dressed in the sparkling light blue dress of her favourite princess, and Dorothy in the deep green dress of HER favourite princess.

“Hi Ashley! Hi Bryony!” Cassie squeaks, doing a twirl in her elaborate dress. “Can you guess who I am?”

“Yeah… Aren’t you Cassie?” I tease, trying not to giggle as the six year old girl angrily pouts at me.

“No, I’m Elsa!” Cassie says. “And Dorothy is Anna because she’s my little sister and Anna is Elsa’s little sister!”

“I am!” Dorothy giggles, jumping off the sofa and giving ‘Elsa’ a playful hug.

“So, does that make Eddy Olaf?” I ask, giggling as Cassie’s jaw drops at the idea.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Cassie squeaks, running up to our parents’ room and knocking on the door. “Can we get Eddy an Olaf costume? Pleeeeeeease?”

“That was your fault,” Bryony says, making me roll my eyes and giggle.

“I know,” I say. “Dibs on the shower!” I let out an evil laugh as I run toward the suite’s bathroom, locking the door and laughing even harder as Bryony waggles the door handle in vain.

After showering and applying my make-up –the same amount I put on last night- I head back to my bedroom (pulling my dressing gown on first, of course) where I get dressed for the day ahead. Rather than wear a hot, heavy costume like my sisters (who, unsurprisingly, have had cooler clothes put in a bag for them), I opt for a very plain ruffled black miniskirt and a plain white tank top. Before I pull them on, though, I sort out my underwear first. After pulling on my cool cotton panties, I remember a trick Laura taught me a while back and grin as I pull out the roll of tape I smuggled into the hotel. I pinch my chest together at the front, before wrapping a few layers of tape around and pulling on my bra, padding it out with a sock in each cup to give the illusion of 'shape'. Satisfied with my look, I slip my feet into a pair of dark blue flip-flops (I opt against heels as I’ll be on my feet for most of the day and, well, I am already 5’ 8"), grab my handbag and head out into the living area of the suite, where Bryony breathes a sigh of relief as she’s allowed into the room to get dressed… And dad takes one look at me before averting his gaze, almost like he’s allergic to the sight of me with cleavage. Though the sight of the QPR shirt on both my father and my brother elicits a similar reaction from me...

“Ashley…” Cassie says hesitantly.

“Cassie…?” I reply.

“Can- can you tie my hair to be like Elsa’s?” The tiny girl asks. “Like Bryony’s hair yesterday?”

“Of course I can!” I giggle, sitting Cassie down on the sofa next to me and gently braiding her long blonde hair. “Ahh… I wish I had hair as long as yours…”

“It’ll grow,” mum says, gently stroking my shoulder-length hair. “Maybe this time next year we’ll have FOUR Elsas…”

“No, there’s only one Elsa!” Cassie protests. “Ashley and Bryony can be other princesses.”

“That suits me, I’d rather be Cinderella anyway,” I giggle. “And I know Bryony would rather be Belle. Even if she does look more like Aurora.”

“And Eddy can be Olaf!” Cassie squeaks excitedly.

“…If he wants to be,” dad mumbles. “Come on Bryony, hurry up!”

“You- you can’t rush a girl when she’s getting ready!” I say, before biting my lip as dad shoots an angry glare at me. “Umm… So, umm, where we heading today?”

“Elsa and Anna! Elsa and Anna!” Cassie squeaks, with Dorothy eagerly nodding in agreement.

“…Think that’s that decided!” Mum laughs as Bryony emerges from our bedroom wearing a very cute long-legged floral print jumpsuit. “You sure you’ll be okay wearing that, Bryony? It’s very hot today, don’t want your legs boiling…”

“Yeah, free the knee!” I giggle, cycling my bare, hairless legs and making the eleven year old girl roll her eyes.

“I’m fine,” Bryony shrugs.

“Well I’m taking along spare clothes for your sisters, I’ll put a t-shirt and a pair of shorts in the bag for you as well in case you change your mind,” mum says, heading into our bedroom.

“You don’t want tanned legs ready for the start of school?” I ask.

“We have to wear tights at school anyway,” Bryony retorts.

“Not for PE, we don’t…” I tease, giggling as the eleven year old girl rolls her eyes. Fortunately for my sister, our mother quickly returns with a bag bulging with clothes, and before long, we’re leaving our hotel room behind and heading through the main gate, along Main Street U.S.A. and toward Fantasyland, my younger siblings getting more excited every step of the way.

Naturally, the morning passes REALLY fast as we check out many of the park’s attractions. Cassie and Dorothy obviously have their photos taken with the ‘real’ Elsa and Anna, with mum looking really grateful she paid for a fast pass as the short time they spent waiting was enough to make both girls very agitated! After spending the exploring everything Fantasyland has to offer, we head back to Main Street U.S.A. and to a fun looking restaurant called Casey's Corner. Naturally, Cassie and Dorothy take the opportunity to change out of their extra-hot costumes, leaving me, dad, Bryony and Eddy to order the family’s food.

“Ah, I am STARVING!” I giggle as I sit down with my meal and cross one tanned leg over the other.

“Me too!” Bryony says with a chuckle. “God, this place is so AWESOME!”

“Knew you’d be smiling again eventually,” I tease my sister, who responds by giggling as she nibbles her fries.

“Yeah, I’m having fun,” Bryony mumbles.

“Glad to hear it,” dad says as he and Eddy sit down on the opposite side of the table to us. “The holiday definitely cost enough!”

“Yeah, but it’s worth it, though,” I say with a grin as my mum and my freshly-changed sisters emerge from the ladies’ toilet.

“I’m glad you’re both having fun,” dad mumbles, still unable to look in my direction. “I know you are, aren’t you Eddy? Even despite all the princesses and fairies…” I force out a grin as the toddler laughs in response to our father’s question, but a quick glance to my side shows that Bryony’s face has fallen into a deep frown.

“Don’t,” I whisper to my sister, who just frowns even deeper and turns her attention back to her lunch.

“Show me the picture of me with Elsa again!” Cassie- whose hot costume did nothing to dampen her excitement- squeaks as she, Dorothy and mum sit down at our table.

“Okay…” I playfully sigh as I get out my phone for the delighted girl.

“Where shall we go next?” Dorothy squeaks.

“We’ve got the whole park to choose from,” mum laughs. “Bryony, why don’t you choose where we go next?” I smirk as the moody eleven year old girl’s eyes suddenly widen with excitement.

“Can- can we see the princess Pavilion next?” Bryony gasps.

“Of COURSE we can!” Mum giggles. “After we finish lunch.” My smirk become a fully-fledged laugh as Bryony’s appetite suddenly increases and she practically chokes in her eagerness to finish her meal.

“Ashley should choose where we go tomorrow!” Cassie suddenly announces. “I chose this morning, Bryony’s choosing this afternoon, so Ashley should choose tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow we’re spending all day at Adventureland, remember?” Mum reminds my sister. “Though we will have Thursday morning, if you want to pick then, Ashley?”

“Sure,” I shrug. “Wish we had more than three days here, think we were here for a week last time we came!”

“Last time we came there were only two of you,” dad reminds me. “And- and, umm, there was less to see…”

“Not THAT much less,” I retort, frowning as the table suddenly grows quiet. “Umm… Anyone want an ice cream after lunch?” Unsurprisingly, Cassie and Dorothy’s arms immediately shoot into the air.

“Great, just what they need, more sugar,” mum snorts with a roll of her eyes.

“Ehh, may as well enjoy the holiday,” dad shrugs. “I’ll take them while you, Bryony and A- Ash head to your, well, thing.”

“What, I’m not allowed to have an ice cream too?” I protest, briefly pouting before stopping when that simple action brings a DEEP frown to my father’s face.

“…Fine,” dad sighs, earning cheers from Cassie and Dorothy as they rush to finish their meals.

A short while later, I and the rest of my family (minus mum and Bryony) are stood in a short queue at a nearby ice cream stand, where I begin to see what mum was talking about as I’m charged with holding my sisters’ hands as we wait to be served.

“You’re not going to get your ice cream any faster if you keep running around in circles!” I chastise Dorothy as she dances around on the end of my arm.

“But it’s taking AGES,” Dorothy moans.

“Then it’ll just taste even better when you get it, won’t it?” I reply, which actually elicits a chuckle from our father.

“You tell ‘em, DAD,” my father says, before both of our jaws drop as dad realises exactly what he just said. “Uh- umm…”

“I- I, umm,” I mumble, before placing Dorothy’s hand in Cassie’s and handing both of my sisters over to our father. “I don’t fancy ice cream anymore, I- I’m going to catch up, umm, with mum and Bryony…”

“Okay,” dad whispers. “We- we’ll catch you up.” I nod once, before walking away while desperately trying to blink back tears.

It’s been fifteen whole months since I came out to my father, and a full nine months since I last identified as a boy in any way, shape or form, and yet my father still can’t get it through his thick skull that his son is now his daughter. We’ve even attended counselling sessions together, where Dr Williamson has tried technique after technique to make dad face the truth, but nothing’s worked. Maybe it’s because I still have the same face- I’ve seen a few photos of Laura back before she was a girl, and she looks almost completely different now from that she did then. Maybe it’s because I still have the same name- Dr Williamson has said that many transgendered people change their name to establish their new identity and break from their older gender. But my identity IS Ashley Moore. I don’t want to be anyone different, I want to be Miss Ashley Moore. I was given a gender-neutral name- ironically enough, by my father- I may as well take advantage of it. Maybe it’s because I’m interested in girls, rather than boys…

I’m so lost in thought as I walk back to the Princess Pavilion that I barely notice the tall young man blocking my path until I almost knock him over.

“Whoa, careful!” The boy- who looks barely older than me- says, giggling as he grabs me by the shoulders to steady me.

“Uhh… Sorry,” I moan, shaking my head.

“You look lost,” the boy says. “Or lost in thought. One of the two, heh!”

“…Just had an argument with my dad,” I shrug. “He- he and I, umm… Yeah.”

“Yeah,” the boy laughs. “Been there, heh! I’m- I’m Mark, by the way.”

“Ashley,” I reply.

“Cute name!” Mark laughs, making me blush slightly. “So, you’re a Londoner too? What part are you from?”

“Hammersmith,” I reply.

“Leytonstone,” Mark says. “You said you’re here with your dad?”

“Whole family,” I playfully sigh. “Mum, dad, three little sisters, one baby brother. You?”

“Mum, dad, one little sister who’s utterly obsessed with all things Frozen,” Mark laughs.

“Yeah, I know THAT feeling,” I giggle.

“If I hear ‘Let it Go’ one more time,” Mark laughs. “So, umm… You at school? Or- or college, you know?”

“School,” I sigh. “Starting my GCSEs next month.”

“You’re only fourteen?” Mark asks incredulously. “You look older, like, seventeen, maybe eighteen…”

“Thanks, I think!” I laugh, before biting my lip as an older couple and a young girl- obviously Mark’s parents and sister- approach us.

“There you are!” My new friend’s father says, making the boy grimace.

“Ahh…” The clearly embarrassed Mark sighs. “Ashley, meet mum, dad and Janey… Umm, mum, dad, Janey, say hi to Ashley!”

“Hello Ashley,” Mark’s mother says in a clipped voice.

“We- we were just talking,” Mark insists. “Ashley’s from London too!”

“I- umm, I should probably get back to my parents…” I mumble as things get increasingly awkward.

“Well- umm…” Mark says as I prepare to head away. “Can- can I get your email address? If, you know, you want to, umm, keep in touch after the holidays?”

“Umm… Okay, I guess!” I giggle as Mark hands me a pen and I write my email address on his hand. “Well, see you, I guess!”

“See you, Ash!” Mark says with a sly grin as he walks away, leaving me with a bemused smile on my face. Sure, I hadn’t come on holiday expecting to make a new friend, but I’m not going to say no- after all, you can never have too many friends, and Mark seems pleasant enough. Sure, he’ll probably not fit in too well with the rest of my ‘excellent eight’, but then again, neither does George. Mark might even end up going out with one of the ‘excellent eight’…

“Hi, sorry I’m late,” I say as I catch up with my family. “How was the meet and greet?”

“…If you’re running late, TEXT US next time!” Mum sighs. “You’re only fourteen, for god’s sake. I was worried sick…”

“Sorry,” I mumble. “I- I just got chatting to someone, kinda lost track…”

“Who were you talking to?” Mum asks suspiciously.

“Umm, just some guy called Mark,” I reply. “He’s from London too! Gave him my email address in case we want to keep in touch after the holidays…”

“I- I thought you were only interested in girls?” Dad asks as the colour seems to drain from his face.

“I do,” I shrug. “It’s not like we were flirting or anything…”

“Ashley, you gave him your email address,” Bryony- of all people- says. “I’m only eleven and even I know that means you were flirting!”

“And dressed like that, all you need to do to flirt is open your mouth,” dad mumbles, making my chest suddenly feel very exposed.

“…I don’t like boys,” I mumble, adjusting my top so that it sits a little higher on my chest.

“No, but boys are inevitably going to like you,” mum says. “Did- did you tell him about, umm, you know?”

“No,” I mumble.

“Better that you don’t,” dad says in a dark voice. “You don’t want a matching scar over your right eye.”

“Anyway, let’s forget all about this,” mum says, desperately trying to lighten the mood. “We’re on holiday, we should be having fun!”

“Right!” Dad says. “So let’s finish exploring Fantasyland, get some dinner, watch the fireworks and get an early night, okay? Gonna have a LONG day at Adventureland tomorrow!”

And, naturally, that’s what we end up doing for the rest of the day as I try to put my ‘encounter’ behind me and enjoy the many delights that Disneyland has to offer. As I climb into the bottom bunk of my bed, however, I can’t help but think about the young man. From an objective standpoint, he is attractive, but that’s not what’s on my mind- it’s the fact that from an objective standpoint, he obviously finds ME attractive. And if he can, there’s no reason that other boys- or, better yet, other girls- can’t either.

As Bryony is obviously too young to ask for her opinion, I turn to the only people I know will help me out- my friends in London. After ensuring that my phone is connected to the hotel’s Wi-Fi (the last thing I need is my parents bollocking me for running up a huge bill), I login to Facebook and smile when I see my other seven friends are all online and already engaged in a group chat- a group chat I’m immediately invited to join.

‘Hey Ashley!!!!’ Laura types. ‘How’s Disneyland?’

‘AMAZING,’ I reply with a string of ‘grinning’ emojis.

‘Met any princesses yet?’ Suriya asks. ‘Other than your sisters, of course!’

‘Other than Ashley herself!’ Mia types, earning ‘lol’s, ‘grinning# and ‘heart’ emojis from the other girls- myself included.

‘Check it out!’ I reply, sending the various photos I took today of me and my sisters with the Disney princesses.

‘Technically Elsa’s a queen, so she shouldn’t count!’ Nicole types.

‘You try telling Cassie that!’ I retort, earning ‘laughing’ emojis from the other girls. ‘Speaking of, how was ballet? Did I miss anything?’

‘No, just practising basic steps,’ Suriya replies. ‘Real practise for the next recital will start when we go back to school next month.’

‘Or college!’ Priya types with a ‘smug’ emoji.

‘Rub that in a bit more, Miss ‘eleven A stars’!’ Megan types, earning a string of ‘smug’ emojis from the sixteen year old girl.

‘Why are you Facebooking us anyway?’ Laura asks. ‘Thought you’d still be out seeing the park?’

‘Paris is an hour ahead of you,’ I explain. ‘And we have to get back to the hotel earlier for my brother and my sisters, so figured an early night means I can get an earlier start tomorrow.’

‘We’re DEFINITELY going to have to go ourselves at some point in the future,’ Harriet types. ‘Just the eight of us, like a road trip, maybe?’

‘As long as I don’t end up driving everywhere!’ Priya retorts.

‘Which one of us is the only one who’ll be seventeen within the next twelve months?’ Suriya asks her sister, who responds with a ‘rolling eyes’ emoji.

‘Might run into some- no, SEVERAL cute guys if it’s the eight of us together!’ Nicole types, making me bite my lip.

‘We’d have better luck at a beach,’ Laura types. ‘OMG! We should SO go next summer after we all finish school!’

‘Yeah, about that,’ I type.

‘OMG I’m so sorry!’ Laura types. ‘Keep forgetting you’re a year younger than us. We can wait two years, right?’

‘Hell yeah!’ Mia types. ‘Or we can persuade Ashley’s parents that we won’t corrupt 15 year old her!’

‘Good luck with that,’ I type with an eye rolling emoji. ‘But what Nicole said earlier is kinda what I want to talk about.’

‘What, cute boys?’ Nicole types. ‘Thought you weren’t interested in them?’

‘So did I,’ Harriet types with an ‘angry’ emoji that makes me wince.

‘Oh believe me, I’m not,’ I reply. ‘It’s just that earlier a guy kinda got interested in me.’ My cheeks turn bright red as my seven friends all reply with a barrage of ‘laughing’ ‘kissing’ and ‘heart’ emojis.

‘Ashley’s got a boyfriend!’ Nicole types, her message surrounded by ‘music’ and ‘heart’ emojis.

‘I do not!’ I protest. ‘We just chatted for a bit, that’s all.’

‘You may not have a boyfriend, but I bet he thinks he has a girlfriend!’ Suriya teases, making me roll my eyes.

‘Is this a new experience for you?’ Priya asks. ‘A guy hitting on you like this?’

‘Yes,’ I type, my cheeks turning an even deeper red.

‘Just proves that you ARE gorgeous and girly!’ Mia types with a ‘winking’ emoji.

‘Like there was ever any doubt,’ Laura types, making me grin. ‘I know cute guys aren’t your ‘thing’ Ash, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the attention!’

‘Definitely,’ Harriet types. ‘Boys are dumb, they only think about one thing and only think with one thing. No reason why the smart gender can’t take advantage of this!’

‘Not ALL boys suck, though,’ Megan types.

‘No, but nearly all of them do,’ Harriet replies. ‘Just count yourself lucky that you don’t have to deal with them, Ash!’

‘I do have a little brother,’ I reply. ‘And there’s my dad too.’

‘Your brother still wears nappies, we can let him off for now,’ Harriet retorts. ‘Though you’re right about your dad. He needs a REAL attitude adjustment.’

‘I guess he’s not been as hyped for Disneyland as you or your sisters?’ Laura asks.

‘You guess right,’ I type with a sigh. ‘It’s obvious he’d rather be anywhere else. Watching football or Star Wars, probably.’

‘No reason girls can’t like football or Star Wars,’ Priya types.

‘No reason Ashley’s dad can’t like Frozen or Beauty and the Beast,’ Mia retorts. ‘My brothers laughed at my dad when he took me to see Frozen in the cinema but he loved it as much as I did.’

‘Exactly,’ Harriet types. ‘Macho idiots, all of them.’

‘You don’t need to convince me,’ I reply with a ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji that earns grinning ones in reply from all the girls.

‘As long as you’re having fun, that’s the important thing,’ Priya types.

‘You and your super-cute sisters, anyway!’ Suriya interjects, swapping ‘sticking out tongue’ emojis with her sister.

‘Speaking of which, Sabrina says hi to Bryony!’ Nicole types, making me giggle.

“Bryony,” I say to the girl in the bunk above me. “I’m talking to Sabrina’s sister, she says h-“

“I know, I’m talking to Sabrina too,” Bryony says, making me giggle as I lean my head out of the bunk to see the familiar glow of her smartphone illuminating her face.

‘Bryony says hi too,’ I reply with a ‘winking’ emoji. ‘G2G now girlies, need my beauty sleep!’

‘Or not!’ Nicole says with a ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji that makes me blush and roll my eyes.

‘Night girlie!’ Laura types just before I log out of Facebook and toss my phone onto my bedside table.

Obviously, I don’t immediately fall asleep as I contemplate my friends’ advice. Looking back on it, it’s obvious that Mark WAS flirting, and even though I obviously wasn’t, he could easily have thought that I was merely because I talked to him. I let out a quiet groan as I check my email on my phone, and sure enough, at the top of my inbox is an email from ‘Mark Hyson’ that simply reads ‘Hey’.

“Ugh,” I spit, before tossing my phone back into my suitcase and trying to get some sleep.

Fortunately, when I wake up on Wednesday morning, the sound of Timon, Pumbaa and my three youngest siblings coming from the suite’s main room immediately puts a smile on my face. And of course, that smile widens when I open the door and am again greeted by the sight of Cassie, Dorothy and Eddy engrossed in the cartoon. The two girls are thankfully a little less hyper than they were yesterday, having already met the princesses they were obsessed with, which is definitely making mum look a little happier- though dad’s still looking as miserable as he did yesterday.

“Don’t forget we’ll be going to Adventureland today, Ashley,” mum says. “There are some water rides so-“

“Yeah, I know,” I say with a grin as I head into the en-suite to shower and apply my make-up for the day ahead.

Unlike yesterday, I only apply a very minimal amount of make-up, just some mascara and eyeliner, before heading back to my room and picking out my outfit for the day ahead. With mum’s ‘caution’ in mind, I reach into my suitcase for an item of clothing I only received a few weeks ago, but have been dying to try on.

The item in question is what looks on the outside like a simple one-piece swimsuit, but is considerably more special than that. For starters, the pattern is very significant- it has five vertical stripes running the length of the suit. The outer two are light blue, the next inner two are pink, and the central stripe is white, the same colour as the transgender pride flag. Nikki- the woman who sent me the suit (and who has been my unofficial 'mentor' for the last few months) also made a few alternations to it, including a 'pouch' at the front to keep the crotch looking perfectly flat, and a bit of padding on the chest to enhance my 'shape'. Not to ridiculous levels, of course, but once I've stretched the suit over my hairless body, I'm indistinguishable from any other fourteen year old girl wearing a one-piece swimsuit. As I look at my reflection in the mirror, though, I can’t help but feel slightly uncomfortable, as while I’m happy with my new ‘shape’, it’ll undoubtedly attract the attention of every teenaged boy in the park as well…

Unfortunately, it’s much too hot today to pull on a second layer on top of my swimsuit, even if it is just a loose summer dress (and a dress wouldn’t be a good idea on rollercoasters anyway), so I pull on a very snug pair of black shorts (skirts being as bad an idea on rollercoasters as dresses) before slipping my feet into my flip-flops and heading out into the suite’s main room, where my two youngest sisters are already changed and dressed similarly to me- though obviously, Cassie is obviously wearing an extravagant, tutu-like skirt instead of shorts!

“What a pretty swimsuit!” Cassie squeaks as I giggle and do a quick twirl in the skin-tight garment.

“What a pretty skirt!” I reply, laughing happily as Cassie does a pirouette that causes the skirt to rustle loudly. “I like your dungarees too, Dorothy!”

“Thank you Ashley!” Dorothy giggles as she does a playful twirl in her denim outfit.

“Ah, you’re all looking so pretty today!” Mum giggles, her smile widening as Bryony steps out of our room in her own swimsuit and shorts, her long blonde hair scraped back into a tight ponytail. “Think this calls for another family photo!”

“I’ll take Eddy again,” Bryony says, clearly smirking internally as dad reluctantly hands our baby brother to the eleven year old girl. Naturally, dad has made sure that Eddy HASN’T got into the spirit of things- his dark blue Star Wars t-shirt and short jeans are a stark contrast to me and my sisters’ colourful clothes.

Nonetheless, the photo is taken, and minutes later, the seven of us are back at Disneyland, heading to Adventureland and its many attractions. We spend the morning exploring Pirates' Beach, riding Indiana Jones and the Temple of Peril (which Bryony was thrilled to find she was just tall enough to ride- even if she was as white as a sheet after the ride!) before heading into neighbouring Frontierland and exploring the attractions including the Thunder Mesa Riverboat Landing and Big Thunder Mountain (which Bryony, oddly enough, wasn't very keen on!).

After an exhausting (and, at times, wet!) morning, the seven of us head to Cowboy Cookout Barbecue, where we enjoy a hearty (and much to my parents’ relief, sugar-free) lunch. As we get ready to head back to the fun, however, my heart sinks when I spot a familiar face heading toward the restaurant- a face I’d desperately hoped to avoid for the rest of my stay at Disneyland.

“Hi Ashley!” Mark says with a goofy grin that yesterday, I found funny, but today I just find creepy.

“Hi…” I say cautiously. “I’m- umm, I’m kinda with my family…”

“Oh, umm, okay,” Mark says, obviously taken aback by my suddenly cool attitude. “Well, umm, my family’s heading toward Discoveryland, can we-“

“That’s where we’re going now!” Cassie squeaks, making me silently curse. “Maybe you can come with us!”

“That’d be great!” Mark laughs as he- followed by his parents and his sister- accompanies my family- or rather, me- to Discoveryland on the opposite side of the park. “So, umm… Did- did you get my email last night?”

“Haven’t checked my email since I’ve been here,” I lie in response.

“Weren’t you on Facebook last night?” Bryony asks, making me silently curse yet again.

“Facebook… Chatting with friends?” Mark asks. “With- with a boyfriend? A cute boyfriend?”

“Just friends,” I say. “I’m- I’m, umm… Only, you know, ‘interested’ in- in girls.”

“Oh,” Mark says, before his eyes go wide. “Oh. Umm, okay. That’s a real- that’s a real pity, you know?”

“Not for me, it isn’t,” I say, and for the first time since Mark showed up again, I feel myself starting to relax.

“Well- umm, do- do you have a girlfriend?” Mark asks.

“Not right now,” I reply, a smug smile creeping across my face. Hopefully he’ll take the hint…

“I, umm… I like your swimsuit,” Mark says, causing me to exchange a look of disbelief with my oldest sister.

“Thanks,” I mumble.

“I’m sure I’ve seen that pattern before,” Mark continues. “Is- is it something special?” Ooh, now HERE’s where we see who you REALLY are, I think to myself.

“Yeah,” I reply. “It’s the colours of the transgender pride flag.” I bite my lip as Mark suddenly stops dead in his tracks and stares at me with a look of utter disbelief on his face.

"The- the trans-" Mark stammers.

"Yeah," I say, folding my arms over my chest.

"Are- are you-" Mark splutters.

"A girl?" I ask. "I'd have thought that was obvious!" I bite my lip out of frustration as Mark's face changes from one of disbelief into one of utter disgust.

"Ew- uh- eugh!" Mark sneers. "You- you sick tranny!"

"DON'T speak to my sister like that!" Cassie suddenly pipes up, startling myself and my entire family. "Ashley is a beautiful girl AND she's a ballerina too!"

"No," Mark sneers. "No- no IT isn't! IT is a freak, and a weirdo, and a-"

"Don't," dad says, shooting a death glare at the young man that stops his rant dead in its tracks. Before Mark can retort, however, his parents storm up to us with a look of pure fury on their faces- and their fury isn't directed toward me.

"Mark Philip Hyson, what the HELL are you doing!?" Mark mother yells, and for a moment, I could swear I saw the boy actually physically shrink in size.

"Buh- muh- but HE's a tranny!" Mark pleads.

"We did NOT raise you to treat other people like this!" Mark's father growls, before turning to my father. "I apologise on behalf of my son. To all of you. We thought he was raised better than this. Obviously we're going to need to teach him SEVERAL lessons when we get home!"

"Apology accepted," dad says, extending his hand. "Andy Moore."

"Dave Hyson," Mark's father says, shaking dad's hand. "You've got a very mature, sensible daughter in Ashley. You should be proud of her." That'll be the day, I think to myself as I roll my eyes.

"...Thanks," dad mumbles.

"As for you," Mr Hyson says to his son. "We are going to have some SERIOUS words when we get back!" My family and I watch as Mark's parents drag the whimpering boy away, leaving us stood in the middle of the park in a VERY awkward silence.

"...Who wants an ice cream?" Mum asks, forcing a smile onto her face that falls quickly when she sees the frowns on mine, dad's and, surprisingly, Bryony's faces.

"I want one please!" Cassie predictably replies.

"Heh, you deserve one!" I chuckle at the beaming girl.

"But don't ever stand up to a bigger boy like that again," dad cautions. "Boys like that, they- they're not afraid to hurt people smaller than them." I frown as dad's words clearly frighten Cassie- however, it's impossible to argue with them.

"But- but you wouldn't let anything bad happen, would you, daddy?" Cassie asks. "To me OR to Ashley?"

"Well- no, of course not..." Dad mumbles.

"I- I think we should go and get that ice cream," mum says. "Come along, Bryony."

"But- but I-" Bryony protests, before sighing and following my mum and our sisters, leaving me alone with dad.

"...Thanks," I mumble. "I know that wasn't easy for you."

"The last year and a half hasn't been easy for me," dad sighs. "Though it's obviously been harder for you, I won't deny that. That- that thing just now proves that. Though you know you got off lightly, right?"

"Yes," I say bluntly, moving my cowlick to one side to reveal the scar still above my left eye. "I'm not an idiot, dad. I know I probably shouldn't have led him on. I didn't even realise I WAS, I mean- ugh. Way to ruin a great holiday..."

"Only if you let it ruin the holiday," dad says.

"Like the way you've let me being a girl ruin your holiday?" I retort, grimacing as I expect an angry response- however, dad has no response to my words.

"...Come on," dad mumbles. "Want to get to Discoveryland before dinnertime..." I force a smile on my face and nod in agreement, but as we set off toward the final part of the park that we haven't explored yet, I feel a twinge of guilt.

Dad has had so, so many opportunities to have been 'proven right about me' over the last few months. From Sam's attack, to the repeated teasing I've endured at school, and now Mark, today... he could easily have stood back and allowed Mark to humiliate me. But he didn't. He could've sided with Sam over my attack, said 'I had it coming', but he didn't. He could've refused to allow me to transition... And in fairness, he almost did. The only thing that stopped him was when it was explained how much it'd damage me mentally to make me suppress who I really am. The only thing that made dad step in and stop Mark was a desire to not see his child- regardless of gender- publicly insulted and humiliated. He does care for me... But he still obviously has a long, long way to go. Still, at least he's willing to try, if nothing else. It's just a pity that the frown on his face is wider than ever...

As we head into Discoveryland, I try to force myself to enjoy the last day of our holiday, but the confrontation with Mark, and the conversation with dad, make it nearly impossible. Looking around at my sisters, it's almost like mine and dad's foul mood is infectious, as they seem to be down in the dumps as well. Maybe they're FINALLY tired out. Or maybe they're miserable because this part of Disneyland doesn't have any princesses...

"Hmm," I mumble to myself as a plan forms in my head. The last time we visited Disneyland, in 2008, it was before Disney bought other companies, including Marvel comics, and Lucasfilm, who make...

"Oh my god!" I squeak as I point to a nearby man in a shiny costume. "It's C-3PO!"

"Wh- what?" Dad asks, suddenly perking up. Thought that'd get your attention...

"Can you take a photo of me with him, dad?" I ask as I pose next to the performer. "Come on, Bryony, Cassie!"

"But you think Star Wars is stupid," Bryony protests.

"Uh- no, I never said that, did I?" I retort. "And besides, you liked the Force Awakens, didn't you?"

"...A bit," Bryony mumbles as she stands next to me and C-3PO. "I liked the girl in it, the one who became a Jedi at the end."

"Yeah, she WAS cool," I say as I try to force myself to be enthusiastic about the film series. In truth, I'm not the biggest Star Wars fan in the world- I think the movies are alright, definitely exciting, but not really my 'thing'. Dad, on the other hand, LOVES Star Wars, and as my sisters come to pose with me and the man in the metal suit, his frowns slowly but surely vanishes.

"You know," dad says, "I was reading online about this 'Jedi training academy' they have here for kids... Pity it's just for kids, heh!"

"If I may, sir?" 'C-3PO' says in a nearly flawless imitation of the character's voice, "the Jedi Training Academy is only for young padawans aged 7-12, so I fear that your eldest daughter may be a little too... 'Advanced' with the force to qualify."

"Aww," I sigh, before turning to Bryony with a smirk on my face. "Bryony here's only eleven, though..."

"Aww," Bryony moans in a VERY different tone from my earlier sigh.

"Well- perfect!" Dad chuckles. "Bryony, don't you want to be a Jedi, like Rey?" Bryony opens her mouth to protest, before I stop her with a smile and a nod towards dad, who for the first time this holiday, actually looks happy to be here...

Fifteen minutes later, my family and I watch with wide grins as Bryony, clad in the brown robes of a padawan, is stood with a group of other children her age swinging her 'lightsaber' around under the instruction of the 'Jedi Master'. As time goes on, her frown turns into a genuine smile, and by the time a man in a Darth Vader costume arrives, she is laughing with excitement as she and the other padawans work together to drive the dark lord back.

"Well?" Dad asks as Bryony comes to us after having successfully defeated the dark side of the force. "Did you enjoy it?"

"It was fun," Bryony shrugs in her typical manner, though both dad and I can tell from the twinkle in her eyes that she thought it was a lot more than just 'fun'.

"Well then," dad chuckles, "I know who I'll be taking with me to watch The Last Jedi in December!"

"Who ELSE you'll be taking," I say with a smile that my father instantly reciprocates as we head to one of the restaurants in Discoveryland for dinner. Before we get there, however, dad places a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Thanks, Ash," dad whispers.

"For what?" I shrug.

"For- well, this," dad says. "I know you don't like Star Wars really. But I appreciate the gesture."

"Who says I don't like it?" I ask. "Just because I'm a girl, it doesn't mean I can't like Star Wars, just like being a boy means you're not allowed to like Frozen, or Cinderella, or that sort of thing."

"Well- yeah, I know, but- ehh. Thanks anyway," dad says with a smile, giving me a fatherly pat on my shoulder as we get ready to eat what will be our final meal at Disneyland.

The following morning, all of us- even dad- have sad smiles on our faces as we pack our bags and prepare to head back to London.

"Can we come back next summer?" Cassie asks. "Please? Pretty please?"

"Maybe if we win the lottery," dad laughs.

"But I'll be seven next summer," Cassie continues, "and PC3O said that means I can be a Jedi like Bryony!" Unsurprisingly, this causes dad to pause and think for a moment.

"Maybe not NEXT summer," dad says with a grin. "...I'll think about it."

"Yay!" Cassie- who is, of course, too young to realise that 'I'll think about it' means 'no'- squeaks, giving dad a long, tight hug that Dorothy quickly joins in.

"As long as you've ALL had a good time on this holiday, okay?" Mum asks, to which we all enthusiastically nod. "Good. Now come on, the sooner we get home, the sooner we can get unpacked and relax!" I grin as I help my parents load our cases onto the trolley and cart them down to the waiting taxi, which whisks us to the nearest train station.

Before long, we're back in the familiar surroundings of western London, and back in our home, where I help unload the cases from the taxi before collapsing heavily onto the sofa, which earns a playful kick in the shin from my father.

"On your feet," dad chuckles. "Got a lot of unpacking to do, THEN you can lay about!"

"Yes, Obi-Wan," I say, earning a genuine laugh from dad as I take the suitcases upstairs and help my sisters unpack.

"Thank you, Ashley!" Cassie and Dorothy say in unison as I put their fancy dresses onto coat hangers and hang them up in their shared wardrobe.

"Ah, you're welcome!" I laugh. "You both loved Disneyland, then?"

"Stupid question!" Bryony giggles from the doorway as she comes in and sits down on the bed next to our two younger sisters.

"Did you enjoy Disneyland, Bryony?" Cassie asks.

"It was fun- no, it was GREAT!" Bryony giggles. "So great to be there with my three sisters."

"...Yeah," I say, exchanging a shy smile with the eleven year old girl. One thing's for sure- I certainly enjoyed it more as a 14 year old girl than I did when I was a 5 year old boy, and infinitely more than I would have done had I been a 14 year old boy. And for the first time ever, I think dad might actually be enjoying having a 14 year old daughter. There's a long way to go, sure, but we are at least moving in the right direction.

The second I'm finished putting my sisters' clothes away, a knock comes from the front door, and I squeak with excitement as I open it to find Mia, Harriet and Laura all standing there with wide grins on their faces.

"Hey girlie!" Laura giggles as she gives me a tight hug. "How was Disney?"

"AMAZING," I reply. "Knackering too, try going there with three little sisters, hehe!"

"Aww, I bet they were SO cute, though!" Mia giggles. "Get loads of photos? Selfies with all the princesses?"

"Of course," I giggle as I lead my friends to the living room, where all three of them sit down on the sofa cross-legged- and I can't help but notice the slender bronzed legs of my fellow T-girl poking out from underneath her skin-tight miniskirt. "...I'm not the only one who's been getting some sun, then?"

"Enjoy it while it lasts!" Laura giggles.

"Ugh, SO jealous," Harriet sighs. "HATE having pale skin..."

"Uh- excuse me?" Mia snorts, gesturing to her own untanned legs. "You think YOU have pale skin?"

"You haven't got as many freckles as me," Harriet retorts.

"Girlies," Laura sighs. "Let's agree that ALL of us are cute, tan or no tan, okay?"

"Easy for you to say when you've had a cute boy tell you how cute you are all summer!" Mia snorts. "Meanwhile I'm sat here, single and unloved..."

"Aww," Laura giggles, giving the raven-haired girl a playful cuddle. "Just say the word, I'll set you up with one of Kain's friends..."

"Ew- thanks but no thanks," Mia snorts.

"Then what type of boy DO you want?" I ask.

"One who's cute, sensitive, not obsessed with sport or videogames..." Mia replies.

"Don't take this the wrong way Mia," Harriet says with a sly grin, "but what you just described sounds like a GIRL to me!"

"...You wish," Mia snorts, making the ginger-haired girl laugh. "Besides, shouldn't we be talking about how Miss Moore here has been drawing boys to her like a magnet?"

"It was one boy, and no, no we shouldn't," I say, before sighing. "Besides... Dickhead bolted the second he found out I was trans."

"Ugh," Laura spits. "Sorry to hear that, Ash."

"Did- did he hurt you?" Harriet asks with concern in her voice.

"No," I sigh. "Was about to tear into me in public, but one look from dad scared him off."

"Huh, there's hope for him after all, then," Harriet muses.

"And you didn't see any girl you fancied at Disney, then?" Mia asks.

"No," I sigh. "Didn't really have time for a holiday romance anyway."

"Ah well," Harriet says. "Plenty of girls here in London for you to check out!" Much to my surprise, the ginger girl punctuates her sentence with a wink, which causes a tingle of excitement to spread throughout my body. Could- could Harriet actually fancy ME?

"Umm, where- where are the others?" I ask.

"Nicole and Megan are looking after their younger brothers," Laura explains. "Only barely got out of babysitting Lily myself. Think Priya and Suriya are visiting family in Birmingham. So, it's just the four of us today!"

"Well..." I say as I remember the way I press-ganged my little sister into helping me yesterday. "There IS one other member of our gang here today... Bryony! Get in here!"

"What?" My eleven year old sister moans, before seeing my friends sat on the sofa. "Oh, hi Harriet, Mia, Laura."

"We're having a girly gossip session," I explain. "And as you're going to be going to school with us next year- well, next month, heh!"

"Seems only fair that you join in!" Mia giggles, making room on the sofa for Bryony to squeeze between her and Harriet.

"You looking forward to it, Bryony?" Harriet asks.

"A bit," my sister shrugs. "It's going to be weird the first few days."

"Well don't worry," Laura says with a warm grin. "We'll look after you, won't we, Ashley?"

"...You did a good enough job of looking after me," I say with a smile. "Wouldn't be sat here right now looking like this if it wasn't for you girls."

"Aww," Mia sighs. "Well the important thing is, you're our sister now. And that makes you our sister too, Bryony!"

"...Great, just what I need, more older sisters," Bryony retorts, making my three friends all laugh.

"Shocked and appalled," I snort, actually earning a giggle from Bryony.

"Good," my sister retorts as the five of us immerse ourselves deep into our gossip session.

My three friends only stick around for an hour before leaving, but as they go, they make sure to exchange hugs with both myself and Bryony, ensuring my sister that she'll be as much a part of the group as I am a few weeks from now. Mia is the last to leave, and as she gives me my hug, she leans in to whisper in my ear.

"Told you you were cute," Mia says, subtly winking at me and sending yet more tingles down my spine as she heads off with the rest of my friends.

"What did she say?" Bryony asks.

"...I'll tell you when you're fourteen," I giggle, before heading up to my bedroom and crashing on my bed.

I should be offended that Mark was disgusted to find out that I was transgendered, but in truth, there's a very real part of me that's flattered that he was ever attracted to me at all. And now both Harriet and Mia seem to have a thing for me too... In the past, I was so obsessed to become a girl that at times I never thought about what it would be like once I'd finally achieved my dreams. And whilst there are a hell of a lot of downs, there are a hell of a lot of ups, too, and being seen as an attractive girl is DEFINITELY an up.

Who know- I may even end up meeting the girl of my dreams. Hell, there's a chance that I already have...

“Bet THIS wasn’t how you thought you’d spend the New Year!” Laura teases as we sip our hot, sweet drinks, surrounded by some of our friends, some of our families… And a few people I never thought I’d get the chance to hang out with!

“So then, you two,” the unmistakable voice of Jamie-Lee Milton- one of the most famous transgendered people in the country- asks as she sits down opposite me and Laura. “How long have you got before you’re back at school?”

“Ugh, we go back TOMORROW,” Laura moans.

“Is it, like, the beginning of the end for you two?” Jamie-Lee asks.

“For her, yes, for me, no,” I say. “Laura’s Year 11, I’m in Year 10.”

“Ah, but still doing GCSEs, right?” Jamie-Lee asks.

“Yep,” Laura replies. “It’s like I have absolutely NO free time anymore, especially with drama rehearsals, and starting work here in a few weeks…”

“I’ve got things a LITTLE easier,” I say with a smug grin that earns me a stuck-out tongue from my friend. “’Cause I’m only fourteen, no job, I’m not in any plays… Gonna suck next year though, all my friends leaving school and going to college…”

“Your school doesn’t have a sixth form?” Jamie-Lee asks.

“Nope,” Laura sighs. “Already got my college place sorted, though, I’ll be going to a performing arts college in September.”

“Cool!” Jamie-Lee says with a grin. “Obviously got a career in mind then, hehe! How about you, Ashley? Any idea what you want to be when you’re older?”

“I dunno,” I shrug. “Other than the obvious answer, heh!”

“Girl?” Jamie-Lee asks.

“Girl,” Laura says confidently.

“Girl!” I cheer with a playful giggle as I stare down at my hands and the long, dark pink nails sprouting from the ends of my fingers. Clinging to my torso is a warm, tight black long-sleeved bodysuit I got for Christmas, hanging from my waist is a playful red skater skirt and covering my legs and feet are a pair of opaque black tights and a pair of cute flats decorated with little bows. My shoulder-length blonde hair is styled into a wavy, feminine bob and my face is immaculately made-up. To an outsider, I needn’t dream of being a girl- because I already am one. And yet, no matter how much I dedicate myself to my feminine life, there will always be people who believe that I’m not entitled to it- and worse yet, many of them are students in my school.

“One good thing about going back to school,” Laura says, “is that we’re back at ballet school tomorrow as well, hehe!”

“Ah,” Jamie-Lee giggles. “I’m so telling Krys- sorry, MISS Fullerton and MADEMOISELLE Renou that you said that!”

“I’ll be left alone there, too,” I dramatically sigh. “You and Suri will be going into the pro-level class, all the other girls will either leave or go into the adult class…”

“Oh, stop being such a drama queen!” Laura moans equally dramatically. “That’s MY job, hehe! And besides, you don’t HAVE to leave just because you’ve left school, the age limit is 18, not 16.”

“And you have got friends in your year, don’t you?” Jamie-Lee asks with a look of concern on her face.

“A couple,” I shrug. “Most of the girls in my year, though, they… Kinda stay away from me. For, you know, ‘obvious’ reasons…”

“Those reasons aren’t obvious to me,” Jamie-Lee says firmly. “All I see sat in front of me is someone who is 100% female.”

“I wasn’t always, though,” I sigh. “Some people don’t seem able to forget that.”

“God,” Laura sighs. “Is it STILL that bad?”

“It’s not as bad as it was,” I sigh. “But I still get the occasional teasing, the whispers, the giggles every time I walk past…”

“…So do I,” Laura sighs. “I even get it at ballet sometimes, though that’s more from the parents than the other students.”

“That’s just disgusting,” Jamie-Lee sighs. “Though… I dunno if this’ll come as a comfort to you or not, but even I still get it from time to time.”

“Wha- you? Really!?” Laura asks.

“Last time was just before Christmas,” Jamie-Lee sighs. “I was out shopping with Olivia, getting in some last-minute presents, turned the corner in a shop and this old bat just stared me, made a kind-of growling noise with her mouth, glared and walked off.”

“Ugh,” I spit. “How- how do you cope with that?”

“Well, there’s only one sure-fire way to handle bullies,” Jamie-Lee replies.

“Ignoring them?” I ask.

“Uh- no, no way!” Jamie-Lee scoffs. “Never ignore bullies, as that just makes them think they can get away with it. At the same time, don’t confront them, as that way, they ‘win’. They’ve got a rise out of you, which is probably what they wanted all along.”

“So how do we ‘win’?” Laura asks.

“Simple,” Jamie-Lee says. “Whatever it was you were doing that angers them, do it a hundred times more. When that old bat scowled at me, I found the nearest mother in the shop and had the most over-the-top girly talk about our babies. And I made sure that the woman who’d glared at me heard every. Single. Word.”

“Awesome,” Laura breathes.

“I think her face actually turned purple by the end of it,” Jamie-Lee says with a smug smile. “So the next time anyone has a go at you for being girls, you know what to do, right?”

“We do now!” Laura giggles, smiling and nodding at me. Together, we stand up and pull our most extravagant cheerleading pose.

“G! I! R! L! Girl!” We both cheer, startling everyone else in the coffee shop and making Jamie-Lee giggle uncontrollably.

“Hell yeah!” Jamie-Lee giggles, before sighing as she glances behind her to where her husband is sat along with her daughter and a couple of other boys. “Think we need to get going now, Olivia needs her nap… But make sure that you two stay in touch, okay? Don’t want it to be another nine months before another meet-up of ‘The Fellowship’. Though if I see either of you with the tattoos before you turn eighteen, I’LL kick your arses, never mind your parents!”

“Understood,” I giggle.

“Though I reckon you might want another tattoo,” Laura says with a sly grin.

“Umm, I’d rather not,” Jamie-Lee replies with a giggle. “This first one was enough of a pain as it was, heh!”

“Even one that’s just seven letters?” Laura asks.

“It depends which letters they are,” Jamie-Lee replies.

“How about ‘YCNHTMF’?” I say, sharing a knowing smile with my friend.

“…If I was going to have any seven letters,” Jamie-Lee says with a wide grin, “it’s be them. Well, or ‘SRM & OCM’, hehe! Talk soon you too. Take care!”

“Will do!” Laura and I say simultaneously, waving as the famous 26 year old woman leaves with her young family.

“…Ugh,” Laura spits, slumping back in her chair.

“What’s the matter?” I ask. “We just got a private chat with Jamie-Lee Milton, how many teenagers can claim that? And you’ll probably see her loads, working at ‘the official Angel coffee shop’.”

“I know, I know,” Laura sighs. “Just- ugh, can’t believe how busy I’m gonna be the next few months, and going back to school tomorrow… I dunno. Just feels like I’m, like, crashing back down to reality, you know?”

“…Yeah, I know a few things about that,” I say, earning a sigh and a hug from Laura as she remembers that ‘crashing back down to reality’ accurately summed up my life every time I had to go back to school and put ‘girl Ashley’ back in the closet.

“Well,” Laura shrugs, “your dream DID come true, hehe! No reason why mine can’t either!”

“Damn right,” I giggle. “Even though I’ll be down six ‘fairy godmothers’ by the end of the year…”

“Aww,” Laura sighs, giving me another hug. “Well you’ll still have Bryony and Sabrina, and my sister’s starting at the school next year too, so they’ll need a cool big sis looking out for them, hehe!”

“I guess,” I shrug. “And Bryony and Sabrina are in the pre-pointe class at ballet, too, so I won’t be ‘alone’ there either…”

“That’s more like it!” Laura giggles. “And like I said, you don’t HAVE to leave ballet just because you’re 16, you know… Sure, me and Suri will probably be in the elite class, but Mia and Harriet…”

“...Sometimes I wish I'd never told you about that,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“What?” Laura shrugs. “They’re clearly both into you, Ash. You’re fourteen, not four, and you’ve had girlfriends before- me being one of them- where’s the problem?”

“You were ‘boy Ash’s girlfriend,” I remind Laura. “’Girl’ Ash-“

“-‘Proper’ Ash,” Laura interrupts.

“…The ‘real’ me is still kinda, you know, stuck on square one girl wise,” I say.

“Take it from someone with a tall, cute boyfriend,” Laura says, “you’re probably gonna be there a while if you don’t do something soon. Harriet and Mia won’t wait forever.”

“…Didn’t Kain, like, chase you for months?” I retort, making my friend frown.

“…And I’m glad I let him catch me,” Laura says. “But he’s a BOY. Girls are more- better yet, girls are less desperate.”

“Seriously?” I ask, remembering the events of the last school year that saw Laura beg Priya for an older boyfriend and that ended up with Laura grounded for a week and a rumour flying around the school that she’d had sex with the older boy.

“Yes yes, hilarious,” Laura scoffs, making me grimace and start to blush. “Look, I don’t- I don’t know, okay? All I know is that you’ve got two girls who are obviously into you, and you obviously like them, so just, like, pick one, okay?”

“How do I pick one without making the other one feel like a loser?” I ask.

“…Pretty sure you can’t,” Laura mumbles, before sighing as her brother arrives to give her a lift home. “See you tomorrow, okay Ash?”

“Sure,” I reply, before letting out a long sigh- Laura’s right in everything she says- particularly about me ‘liking’ both Harriet and Mia.

Mia is cute, funny and extremely sexy with her pale skin, jet-black hair and dancer’s body. She may have been the last of our ‘excellent eight’ to join, but she’s no less a part of the group than anyone else- even if she did only join after being confronted by Laura about her transphobic attitude, an attitude I can be 100% she’s got over as while I’m sure fancies ‘girl Ash’, she still obviously likes boys as well.

Harriet, on the other hand, is gay and very, VERY proud. She also joined the group after Laura confronted her over her transphobic attitude, but in Harriet’s defence, she was forced into that behaviour by her extremely bigoted father- and given how openly gay she is, there’s no question that’s genuinely abandoned those negative traits. Her almost overwhelming lesbian-ness is also a source of comfort for me- if someone as gay as her can fancy me, then I must be doing something right. Objectively, Harriet may not be as cute as Mia- she’s shorter, much curvier and has ginger hair and heavily freckled skin (not to mention being TERRIFYING when she’s angry)- but she’s still very cute and, more importantly, gets on really well with my sisters, especially Bryony.

Of course, ‘neither’ is an option, despite what Laura thinks, but one thing she says is true- I AM fourteen, why should I deny myself my first ‘proper’ girlfriend? One phrase that’s been spoken a lot during today’s get-together is ‘you only regret the things you don’t do’. Despite the difficulties, if I hadn’t started living as a girl full-time, I’d have regretted it for the rest of my life. I have every reason to believe the same applies with regards to Harriet or Mia.

My decision weighs heavily on my mind as I follow three of my older friends out to the car for my lift home, letting out a long sigh as I plop myself down on the back seat.

“Tired, Ash?” Nikki asks as she gets in the driver’s seat.

“Just don’t want to go back to school tomorrow,” I laugh.

“If it helps,” Sarah- Nikki’s wife- says, “me and Jacinta have been so tied up with coursework we haven’t really had a Christmas break.”

“Though designing cute clothes and taking photographs of cute clothes is a lot more fun than quadratic equations!” Jacinta giggles, making me roll my eyes.

“I’ve got no problem with the work,” I shrug. “Even maths, I’m averaging a B there.”

“Ooh, smartypants!” Jacinta teases, making me roll my eyes.

“Quick reminder that Sarah got an A,” Nikki says, making her wife blush. “Very nearly an A*.”

“Yeah, but we all know Sarah’s a smartypants,” Jacinta giggles.

“And in fairness, I am getting help with my maths homework from my LITTLE sister,” I say, blushing (but smiling) as my confession earns giggles from the older girls in the car.

“So why aren’t you looking forward to it, Ash?” Nikki asks. “You still having problems with some of the girls at school?”

“…Kind of,” I say. “Ugh, I- I’ve kinda got a crush on two of my friends…”

“Ouch,” Nikki replies.

“And the feeling’s mutual,” I explain. “In both cases.”

“Extra ouch!” Nikki grimaces. “Do they know?”

“I think everyone knows,” I snort. “Kinda, like, an ‘open secret’.”

“So you can’t date one without upsetting the other?” Jacinta asks. “That sucks.”

“Makes me even more glad that I only ever had one friend at school,” Nikki says, sharing a loving glance with her wife.

“Puke,” Jacinta teases.

“If any of you have any advice beyond ‘that sucks’, I’d be grateful,” I say.

“Wish I did,” Nikki sighs. “Just proceed with caution, unless you’re sure that one of the girls is your soulmate, you don’t want to abandon a friendship, especially one as close as you and the other girls.”

“The ‘perfect pink posse’!” Jacinta giggles.

“We prefer ‘excellent eight’,” I retort.

“Works just as well,” Jacinta shrugs, which triggers an awkward silence within the car.

“So then,” Sarah says to the girl sat behind her. “You and Lee?”

“Think we’d better wait until we’ve dropped Ashley off!” Jacinta replies, making the whole car giggle as we head back to my suburban home.

When I open the front door, I’m momentarily taken aback by how quiet the house is. Bryony is hanging out with Nicole’s sister at her house today (the two girls having quickly become best friends), Cassie is with a group of her (equally ballet-obsessed) friends, mum has taken Dorothy shopping and Eddy is napping in his crib, leaving only one member of my family active in the house, who grunts his usual half-hearted greeting at me as I head through the living room en route to my bedroom. Despite our relationship having ‘thawed’ since our trip to Disneyland in the summer, it’s still clear that dad hasn’t fully embraced me as his daughter. Sure, he’s made the lip service- all of my Christmas presents last week were ‘appropriate’ for a 14 year girl and there wasn’t a QPR logo in sight- but it’s painfully obvious that his heart is still closed to ‘girl Ash’.

I spend the rest of the evening in my bedroom, listening to music, finishing off my GCSE coursework ahead of tomorrow and, of course, chatting with all seven of my friends, six of whom I greet with hugs the following morning as I confidently stroll into school in my clean white blouse, opaque black tights, stiff, straight grey skirt and tiny black ballerina flats.

“Hey girlies!” I squeak happily. “It’s the beginning of the end for you six…”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Suriya moans. “Can’t believe how much work and pressure there is. Priya made it seem like nothing last year!”

“Priya’s, like, got a Mensa-level IQ,” Nicole says. “She would find it easier.”

“And in fairness, probably didn’t, she just hid it better,” Megan shrugs. “I just kinda feel bad that we’re going to leave you all alone next year, Ash.”

“Here we go again…” Laura sighs, earning quizzical stares from our friends. “Yesterday, at the coffee shop, we had another episode of ‘Angsty Ashley’.”

“What?” I protest. “So I’m gonna miss you all next year.”

“It’s not like you don’t have friends in your own year,” Suriya reminds me. “And you’re on the cheerleading squad. If this was America, that’d automatically make you one of the coolest girls in school!”

“Sadly, this is England,” Laura reminds our friend. “Where I can be the captain of the cheerleading squad and still not be the coolest girl in the school, thanks to mine and Ashley’s- well, ‘handicap’ is the wrong word.” I nod at Laura’s comments, but suddenly, something inside my brain clicks as I remember the advice I received yesterday.

“Hell yeah it’s the wrong word!” I say, earning almost confused looks from our friends. “You heard what Jamie-Lee said yesterday. We shouldn’t be ashamed of who we are, we should, you know, love who we are.”

“Hell yeah you should!” Harriet cheers.

“…Why are you suddenly the optimistic one and Laura’s the pessimist?” Suriya asks.

“What?” I shrug. “Call it a ‘New Year’s Resolution’. I’m a girl. I love being a girl, and I’m not going to let anyone else tell me to stop loving being a girl!”

“You go girl!” Mia squeaks, surprising me with a quick hug.

“And I’m NOT pessimistic,” Laura insists. “I’m just overworked, that’s all. Obviously I agree with everything Ashley says, it’s just- we can’t force people to like us.”

“But if they don’t, they suck, right?” I ask.

“Oh- they suck SO much,” Laura confirms with a giggle. “See you at break?”

“I’ll be there,” I say as I head to my form with a confident stride, elegantly sitting down in my usual seat next to my best- if not only- male friend.

“Alright… Mate?” George asks. “You look, I dunno, happy?”

“No reason why I shouldn’t be,” I reply. “You have a good Christmas? We didn’t really get to see each other, not when Megan or the other girls weren’t around, anyway.”

“Umm, yeah, kinda,” George replies. “You?”

“Pretty good, thanks!” I reply, and I can’t help but bite my lip as I notice that my new ‘confident’ attitude is making George seem increasingly uncomfortable- though this isn’t much of a surprise. As big a ‘supporter’ of mine as George is, the girlier I’ve got, the more distant he seems to be. Sometimes I reckon that he wouldn’t even sit next to me in form if our seats weren’t assigned at the start of the term.

“I, umm, I got the chance to talk to Kain, to Kain Dawson over the holiday,” George says. “Says he reckons I could get on the basketball team if I lose a little more weight.”

“You’ve already lost loads,” I say. “And you’re, like, 6’ 4” already!”

“…6’ 2”,” George corrects me. “And a bit. Megan’s parents keep joking that we’re, like, twins, ‘cause we’re the same height, same hair colour and we both wear glasses.”

“…You aren’t secretly cousins, are you?” I tease my friend, who rolls his eyes in response. “So you’ll be doing basketball for PE today?”

“Hopefully,” George says. “Umm, what- what will you be doing?”

“Hockey, I think,” I reply. “Depends on what Miss Edwards has lined up, I suppose, she just told us to bring in our regular kit. Going to weird NOT changing into a leotard for PE…”

“Umm, yeah,” George mumbles, his cheeks starting to redden as Mr Sheldon arrives to start the first form session of the new term.

After form, George and I head to our respective first lessons. Another symptom of the widening gap between me and George is the fact that we’re taking very different subjects for our GCSEs. I've focussed on foreign languages- my main strength- while George is looking more toward subjects like English literature, history and geography. This also means that I don’t have George as my ‘security blanket’ in most of my classes, though unlike last year, most of the girls in the class are at least willing to tolerate me- and we work so hard in the classes that there isn’t much time for the chatting or messing around that George and I got up to anyway.

This goes especially for our second lesson of the day which, as we ‘previewed’ during form, is PE. I flash a brief smile at George as he takes his kit into the boys’ changing room, but he either doesn’t see me or he ignores me as I enter the girls’ toilet that’s been assigned as my ‘private changing room’. Unlike Laura, who I know changes with Suriya and Nicole (even though they’re not supposed to), I change into my very androgynous-looking t-shirt and shorts alone, before stashing my school bag in the PE teacher’s office (leaving it unattended would just be asking for trouble), grabbing a hockey stick and heading out to join the rest of the girls on the cold hockey pitch. As I run through my warm-ups, though, I get the shock of my life when one of the other girls in the class comes over to talk to me to chat- and it’s the last girl I would ever have expected.

“Hi Ashley!” The always-confident voice of Melissa Jeffries asks as she slinks up next to me. Melissa is easily the most popular girl in our year- she has rich parents, always wears the most expensive clothing, hosts the most elite parties- she'd be the stereotypical alpha female, if it wasn't for the fact that she's only 5' 1" (though even that makes her ideally sized to be the star of the cheer team). Needless to say, even being noticed by Melissa instantly raises your ‘status’ at school, and while she’s always been polite to me in the past- we are both on the cheerleading squad, we both go to Miss Fullerton's ballet class and she spoke to me a bit after I appeared in the Sunday Globe magazine- but this is the first time she’s ever actively sought me out to talk to me. I would be flattered, if not excited, if I didn’t already have an awesome group of girls I hang around with.

“Oh, hi Melissa,” I reply, trying to combat my sudden bout of nerves. “What’s up?”

“Just wanted you to know,” Melissa says, “because you’re, like, one of the cheer team and an AWESOME dancer yourself, I’m starting up my own dance club every other Friday lunchtime, starting this Friday.”

“Oh, okay,” I reply. “So separate from Miss Ellison’s club then?”

“Yeah,” Melissa replies. “This’ll be just a bit of fun at the end of the week, like, for the younger kids, no, like, uniform or anything, you just dance in your school uniform.”

“Sounds fun,” I say. “I’ll let my sister know, she might be interested.”

“Cool!” Melissa says with a grin. “I was really more interested in you, though.”

“Umm… Okay,” I say. “Sure, I guess I can come along.”

“I’m thinking more ‘co-organiser’,” Melissa says. “I mean, we're in the same ballet class, aren't we?”

“...You've been dancing at advanced level longer," I remind the petite girl.

“But you've been going to that school longer,” Melissa replies. “So you’ll help out, then?”

“I’d like to,” I shrug. “I already do a lot of clubs, though- drama, gymnastics, cheer…”

“This’ll only be once every two weeks,” Melissa says. “And just so you know, I REALLY don’t like it when people say no to me.” I try not to flinch as the petite brown-haired girl says this to me. Her tone of voice is playful and friendly, but it’s painfully obvious what she REALLY means- and if anyone has the ability to make my life at school miserable, it’s Melissa…

“…I’ll be there,” I say, earning a wide, smug grin from my newest ‘friend’.

“Cool!” Melissa giggles. “I liked your photos yesterday by the way, the ones with you and Jamie-Lee Burke and Steph Abbott. AGAIN, hehe!”

“Thanks,” I chuckle.

“And if you see that cute blonde boy again, nudge him my way, would you?” Melissa asks.

“Who, Ian?” I ask. “I think he’s, umm, he’s transgendered too…”

“Meh, still cute,” Melissa shrugs, earning a genuine giggle from me as we finish our warm-ups and get ready to start our lesson.

Naturally, there isn’t much chance to talk during the lesson itself, but unlike last year’s hockey lessons, I’ve noticed that I’m getting a lot fewer hits on my shins from the other girls’ sticks- and as I’m heading back to my ‘private changing room’, Melissa flashes me a smile that gets a LOT of notice from the other girls in our year!

After I’m securely back in my comfortable (and, most importantly, warm) skirt, tights and blouse, I head out to my usual break table, where my friends have already gathered and are deep in conversation.

“Hey girlies!” I squeak, being greeted by the usual stream of hugs before I sit down. “What’s the gossip?”

“The usual,” Nicole replies.

“Cool,” I say. “Might have a little bit of my own, actually!”

“Ooh,” the other girls simultaneously coo, making me giggle and roll my eyes.

“Melissa from our year- you know her, she’s in cheer club, and she started ballet late last year,” I begin, waiting for my friends to confirm they know who I’m talking about before continuing. “Well, she’s starting a new, informal dance club every other Friday lunchtime, and guess which other ballerina from her year she asked to help run it with her?”

“Ooh, very cool!” Nicole giggles.

“Ah, wish I could go myself,” Laura sighs. “Friday lunchtime are prefect duty for me.”

“Me too,” Suriya sighs.

“And me,” Megan says. “Though it does sound cool, I really wish I’d gone to Miss Ellison’s club now with you girls.”

“Well I’m definitely going!” Mia says with a wide, beaming smile. “Sounds like SO much fun!”

“Me too!” Harriet giggles, shooting a very conspicuous wink at me.

“I usually study on Fridays,” Nicole says. “I’m usually too busy with drama, cheer and gymnastics that by Friday I’m usually tired for anything anyway.”

“Who else do you know who does all three of those?” I ask with a playful sigh as I raise my hand.

“I’ll send Sabrina along,” Nicole says. “I assume you’ll make Bryony go, right?”

“She and your sister are pretty much inseparable,” I giggle. “And I know for a fact that Bryony secretly loves ballet a LOT more than she’s letting on, hehe!”

“What type of dancing will you be doing?” Laura asks.

“I dunno yet,” I shrug. “Probably just, you know, making up our own routines to chart music. Melissa’s the brains behind it so she’ll let me know.”

“Sounds REALLY cool,” Mia gushes. “Starts this Friday, right?”

“Yep!” I say with a grin, buzzing with energy as talk of the dance club occupies the rest of the break period.

My third lesson of the day is German, and my brief ‘chat’ with Melissa must’ve made its way around my year, as when I sit down in my usual seat, the other girls at my table are a LOT friendlier than usual. The lesson actually goes smoothly, which makes a pleasant change, and by the time I head to drama club at the start of lunchtime, I actually have an even wider smile on my face than the one I had during break.

“Someone looks happy,” Harriet teases as she walks alongside me to the hall. “Whatever this ‘New Year’s Resolution’ was, it obviously worked, hehe!”

“Let’s just say that 2018 looks like it’s gonna be a great year for Miss Ashley Moore, hehe!” I giggle.

“Glad to hear it!” Harriet giggles. “It’s about time you smiled a bit more, you have such a cute smile…”

“Aww, thanks!” I giggle, my body starting to ‘tingle’ at Harriet’s obvious flirting, especially when she stops and straightens her tights, something that has always excited me (and Harriet definitely knows this), despite the fact that I’m wearing identical tights myself!

Harriet’s flirting continues throughout the whole of drama club as we rehearse scenes together- I don’t have a role in this year’s play (I only really come for fun anyway), but Harriet has a minor role as one of the trolls, so I act as her ‘buddy’ to help her learn her lines while Laura and Suriya (the play’s leads) rehearse up on stage. It’s almost a relief that Mrs Ingram is overseeing us throughout the session, preventing Harriet from being even more amorous- though she gives me another very noticeable wink as we leave the hall and head to our final lessons.

In my case, my final lesson is maths, which is one of the few lessons where George and I are in the same class. However, when I enter the room, I’m greeted by a pair of eyes staring at me that tells me that I’m not going to be sitting next to him today, as maths is also one of the few lessons where Melissa and I are in the same class. Nervously, I approach the seat that Melissa is clearly saving for me, remembering what happened the last time a girl unexpectedly invited me to sit next to her- which, coincidentally, was also the first day I wore a skirt to school. It didn’t end well for me then, but I have every reason to believe that today is different. Sure enough, Melissa grins smugly as I sit down next to her, unconsciously sweeping my skirt underneath me and crossing one nylon-covered leg over the other before getting my books out of my bag.

“H- hi,” I say nervously to the petite girl and the taller brown-haired girl sat on the opposite side of her. “Hi Cameron…”

“Hi Ashley,” the tall brown-haired girl replies with a smug- but somehow, still friendly- grin. “When you next hanging out with the Angels, then?”

“It was only one Angel,” I retort, which thankfully makes both girls giggle. “And I dunno. She is pretty busy, but she says I can ask her any time for advice about- well, you know…”

“So cool,” Cameron giggles.

“…Really?” I ask. “I assume you mean the ‘knows a celebrity’ thing, right?”

“Well- yes,” Cameron replies, making me fidget in my seat. “And, you know, you being a girl too, like, you’ve really, like, gone ‘all in’, like, ballet and cheerleading…”

“So have you,” I retort. “You’re on the cheer team too.”

“Well- yeah, but…” Cameron mumbles.

“I think we can all agree,” Melissa says with an authoritative voice, “that everyone sat at this table is 100% girl, right?”

“Hell yes we can!” I cheer, starting to relax as it becomes clear that my new friends are genuinely accepting me as ‘one of the girls’.

“SO cool,” Cameron says with a giggle, before the three of us calm ourselves down as Miss Riley arrives to start the lesson.

As guilty as I feel for saying it, I have a lot more fun during the lesson sat with Melissa and Cameron than I ever did sat next to George. We don’t actively disrupt the lesson- I do want to pass my GCSEs, after all- but we do struggle to control our excitement throughout the whole of the lesson, and at one point, I even stealthily get my smartphone out of my bag to show Melissa and Cameron some more photos I took yesterday during the meeting of ‘The Fellowship’.

By the time the lesson ends, the three of us are well on our way to becoming good friends, and even better, the sneers, the whispers and the giggles I usually have to endure are nowhere to be found as the three of us head to the car park for our lifts home.

“So…” Melissa asks. “See you at ballet tonight, Ash?”

“Yep!” I reply.

“So cool,” Cameron says. “I was on the waiting list there for, like, a year… Just stuck with the class I went to anyway in the end."

"Even despite my referral," Melissa dramatically sighs

“Well, I still have a referral for this year,” I say with a smile. “Just say the word… Reckon I can persuade some of the other girls to use their referrals as well, hehe!”

“…I’ll think about it,” Cameron says with an even wider smile than mine. “See you tomorrow, Ash!”

“See you tomorrow!” I reply, grinning widely as I head out into the car park, where I discover that my chat had a secret ‘observer’.

“Who were they?” Bryony asks as we head to our mother’s car. “They aren’t the girls you usually hang out with.”

“They’re girls from my year,” I reply. “Laura and the other girls are in the year above me, you know that.”

“Oh,” Bryony replies. “You’re not going to stop hanging out with Laura and the other girls though, are you?”

“Of course not,” I reply. “Melissa and Cameron are just, you know, someone I can hang out with in class.”

“Oh,” Bryony says. “So you don’t hang out with George anymore?” I pause as I consider my answer to my sister’s question.

“…He’d rather hang out with boys,” I reply.

“Fair enough,” Bryony shrugs as we get in mum’s car and fasten our seatbelts.

“What are you two talking about?” Mum asks, making both of us playfully roll our eyes.

“Ashley’s hanging out with new friends at school,” Bryony says. “Girls from her year.”

“Oh, okay,” mum says. “New friends are never a bad thing, I suppose. As long as you don’t suddenly drop Laura, Harriet and the other girls.”

“No, no danger of that!” I giggle. Especially not Harriet or Mia, I think to myself.

After a quick dinner (which is mostly spent talking about Dorothy’s first day at school and her upcoming fifth birthday), I head up to my bedroom, where I exchange my school uniform for a well-worn pair of soft pink tights and a clingy black tank leotard, before pinning my hair back with clips (it’s still not quite long enough yet to tie into a bun) and sighing at the sight that greets me- the sight of the scar above my left eye. It may have faded over the last year, and make-up almost completely hides it, but I still know it's there every time I look at that patch of skin. I shake my head to put any thoughts of self-pity out of mind- today HAS been much better than expected, after all- before grabbing my dance bag and a dance skirt and a cardigan to cover up (it’s January, it’s cold outside) and heading back down to mum’s car.

Twenty minutes later, the car pulls up outside the posh, modern building that houses the Krystie Fullerton School of Dance, and as I had been this morning at the entrance of my ‘proper’ school, I’m greeted with hugs from my six friends- my six BEST friends- who are dressed identically to me, just as they had been this morning too.

“Hey girlie!” Laura giggles. “So…?”

“So…. What?” I ask.

“I think Laura’s referring to the fact that you’ve got yourself a new gang,” Megan says in an almost-accusing voice.

“Oh- what?” I ask. “I told you at break, Melissa asked me to help her with her new dance club, if anything, she- Oh, right. Hilarious.” I roll my eyes as my six friends all giggle at me, before Mia comes over and gives me a gentle, comforting hug.

“We’re sorry, we’re sorry,” Mia giggles. “We just- we were talking, and we kinda, you know, figured…”

“We figured that as we ARE going to be leaving school in May and you’re not,” Suriya explains, “it’s only fair that you do, you know, make new friends.”

“Especially as George is too much of a BOY,” Megan says with a smug grin.

“Or I’m too much of a GIRL,” I reply.

“Nuh-uh,” Laura says. “THAT is simply impossible, hehe!”

“Too right!” I say, prompting a mass giggle, which quickly ends when the stern face of Mademoiselle Renou approaches our group.

“Mes filles,” the young Frenchwoman asks. “What is the joke?”

“Oh- nothing,” I mumble.

“Ashley’s going to start a dance club at school with some other girls!” Nicole says, making me sigh and roll my eyes.

“Ooh,” Mademoiselle Renou says. “And you said that you would not have time to help teach the younger dancers!”

“…I’ll have even less time now,” I retort, which thankfully makes our teacher giggle.

“Touché,” Mademoiselle Renou says.

"Well, I'll be happy to help out!" Melissa says as she arrives, fashionably late as always. I smile as she gives me the same kind of playful hug that my other friends gave me, even if it does said friends to fidget in their dance shoes.

"I may have to take you up on that offer, Mademoiselle Jeffries!" Mademoiselle Renou says with a sly grin. "Now come along! Class begins now!"

“Teaching Cassie would knacker me out in about five minutes anyway,” I say.

“I will not say to her that you said that,” Mademoiselle Renou says with a grin, before ushering the seven of us into the main body of the studio to begin our warm-ups.

An hour later, after making a point of saying goodbye to Melissa (who got a lift home with her mother), I breathe a sigh of relief as I free my bruised, aching toes from the confines of my stiff satin pointe shoes and removes the clips from my hair, letting it cascade freely over my bare shoulders.

“Wonder if I should tell Bryony how much of a pain pointe shoes are,” I say, flexing my toes before slipping them into the cute flats I wore to the dance studio.

“I told Sabrina,” Nicole shrugs. “She just wants them even more, hehe!”

“It’s so cute that they’ve become BFFs,” Harriet says. “Wish I had a little sister, even a step-sister…”

“It’s a lot of responsibility,” Laura says as she unties her severe ballerina’s bun and lets her (much longer than mine) blonde hair flow over her shoulders.

“Try having four younger siblings,” I retort, making my friends giggle.

“Lucky you’ve got seven older sisters, isn’t it?” Suriya asks.

“’Lucky’ doesn’t even begin to cover it,” I say, giggling as I trigger a group hug. I let out a quiet yelp as the hug disbands, though, as I feel a sudden, sharp pain in my left buttock. A quick glance down to my side reveals a pair of fingers pinching my bottom, fingers that are attached to a very pale arm, which belongs to Mia, who gives me a sly wink as she releases my backside from her grip.

“See you tomorrow, Ash!” Mia says with another wink as she, Nicole and Suriya head toward their lift home. I smile as I wave after them, only to frown as I see Harriet staring at me with a look of tranquil fury on her face.

“See you tomorrow, Ash,” Harriet says, giving me a tight hug before whispering in my ear. “You going to let her get away with that?” I frown and bite my lip as Harriet, Laura and Megan get into the latter’s mother’s car for their lift home, while I wait for my mother to arrive for my lift home.

Naturally, Mia’s actions and Harriet’s words prey on my mind for the rest of the evening- as does Laura’s advice yesterday. Both Mia and Harriet are becoming more ‘aggressive’ in their flirting, and it’s clear that they want me to make a decision soon- even if the decision is ‘neither’. ‘Neither’ is actually looking like an increasingly good choice, especially after tonight- the last thing I want is for two of my ‘big sisters’ to fall out, especially if I’m the reason…

Thankfully, any hostility has vanished as I arrive at school the following day to be greeted by hugs from my six best friends (and better yet, Mia’s fingers stay far away from my bum). After an uneventful form session and an even less eventful first lesson- my association with my new friends still keeping the usual teasing away- I head to my second lesson of the day, which is maths again, which means that I once again sit down at the same desk as Melissa and Cameron.

“Hi Ash!” Melissa says with a smile. “Great class last night!"

"Yep!" I say with a grin. "Feet are still aching though..."

“But you had fun though, right?” Cameron asks.

“Oh- loads,” I say. “It’s REALLY hard work, dancing en pointe, but it’s really fun too, I get to feel EXTRA girly, and I get to hang out with, umm, my friends…” My voice trails off as I suddenly realise something I haven’t considered before, something that might damage my new-found friendship…

“Problem?” Melissa asks.

“Umm, kinda,” I say. “Were- do- do you want to, you know, hang out at- at break?”

“Sure, if you want,” Melissa shrugs. “Don’t you usually hang out with Laura White and her friends, though?”

“Well- yeah,” I say. “That’s why I’m, you know, asking…”

“Aww, that’s so cute!” Melissa teases, making me blush.

“We don’t mind you hanging out with them,” Cameron says, her tone of voice making it clear that what she says should be obvious to me.

“If I was friends with Laura, I’d probably hang out with her all the time too, hehe!” Melissa says, which definitely confuses me- Laura doesn’t come from a rich family, not to mention her other ‘handicap’.

“…Really?” I ask.

“Sure,” Melissa shrugs. “I mean, she hangs out with Angels too, right? Her brother’s even dating one! She’s got, like, over ten thousand followers on Instagram, over a thousand on YouTube, she’s the captain of the cheer team, the lead in the school play, she’s dating the captain of the basketball team- not quite the football team, but good enough, right?”

“And the fact that she was born a boy?” I ask.

“What-ever!” Melissa snorts. “Am I right?”

“SO right!” I say, my nerves calming as the three of us share a loud giggle, which earns us a stern stare from Miss Riley as she arrives to start the lesson!

Today’s maths lesson ends up being just as much fun as yesterday’s, even though I don’t have any selfies/celebrity anecdotes to share, and once again I’m giggling almost uncontrollably as I leave the classroom with my two new friends.

“Sure you don’t want to sit with us?” I offer, not for the first time this morning. “There’s always space for more, and, well, we don’t just say ‘you can never have too many friends’ as it’s a cool catchphrase, we actually, like, believe it!”

“It… Might be a little awkward,” Melissa says with a knowing smile.

“Ugh, don’t worry, it would be anyway!” I snort, earning quizzical stares from my friends. “Umm, you- you know I’m, like, gay, right?”

“So… It’s not just a ‘dressing up as a girl’ thing?” Cameron asks. “You, like, like boys as well?”

“Umm, no,” I say. “I am- well, at least, I see myself as a girl, but I also ‘like’ girls too- so ‘gay’. Lesbian, whatever.”

“Oh, okay…” Melissa says, nodding at my explanation.

“Well,” I continue, “I- ugh, I probably shouldn’t even be telling you this… Two- two of our group kinda- kinda have a crush on me…”

“Aww!” Melissa and Cameron simultaneously coo, making me blush yet again.

“Do- do you, you know, fancy them back?” Melissa asks.

“…Maybe,” I mumble, earning another coo from the girls. “But, like, if it was only one of them, then it wouldn’t be a problem…”

“Ugh, I totally get that,” Melissa sighs.

“How many guys were you juggling before you settled on Tom?” Cameron teases the petite girl, who rolls her eyes in response.

“Don’t say it like THAT,” Melissa snorts. “Make me sound like a slut…”

“Okay then,” Cameron says with a smug grin. “How many guys were chasing after you before you settled on Tom?”

“Better,” Melissa says with an equally smug grin. “Speaking of which, I don’t want to keep him waiting, hehe! See you later, Ashley!”

“See you!” I squeak, waving after my new friends as they head to their usual ‘spot’. I head to my usual table with a smile on my face, and as with yesterday, this doesn’t go unnoticed by my friends.

“Hey girlie!” Suriya says as I slide into my usual seat between her and Laura. The first time I sat down on this bench, I was eleven years old, about a foot shorter than I am now, and more importantly, wearing trousers and still known to the rest of the world- including the six other girls at the table- as a boy. Things are much better now than they were back then.

“Hey!” I say with a happy grin. “Guess who’s apparently got the most popular girl in year 10 as her fan?”

“And six of the coolest girls in year 11 too!” Nicole teases, making me giggle and roll my eyes.

“Thanks,” I say with a smug grin. “No, it’s actually the super gorgeous, super-girly girlie on my right!”

“What, really?” Laura asks.

“Yep!” I say with a smile. “Apparently the fact that you- sorry, we- hang out with Angels, are on the cheer team, in the play etc. etc. Apparently it makes us popular. Wish I’d known earlier that it was this easy, heh!”

“Uh- hello?” Laura asks, making me yelp with surprise as she grabs my right leg and places my foot on the table, removing my shoe to reveal the bruises on my toes from last night’s ballet lesson, which can just about be seen through my black tights.

“Hey!” I protest, pulling my foot back and yanking my skirt down in an attempt to preserve my dignity. “Why?”

“Do those feet feel ‘easy’ to you?” Laura asks. “Does spending hours each week bruising them even more, then hours rehearsing for plays, in between looking after younger siblings, being on the cheer team and- oh yes- busting our arses doing GCSEs feel ‘easy’?”

“Well- not really,” I mumble.

“I have worked BLOODY hard to get what I have,” Laura says. “And so have you, Ashley. It’s about time we got some of the popularity we deserve.”

“Hell yeah it is!” Suriya says, giving me a playful squeeze that makes me giggle and blush.

“So… It’ll be ‘hard work’ at lunch?” I ask.

“Yes,” Laura replies.

“So you consider pulling on cute leotards and performing in a VERY girly way to be ‘hard work’?” I ask.

“…And there you go again making me REALLY regret never joining the gymnastics team,” Harriet playfully sighs, earning giggles from the rest of us.

“Just because it’s hard work, it doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy it!” Laura says, prompting a mass giggle at the table that lightens the mood for the rest of the break period.

As I predicted, Wednesday’s lunchtime is spent with a tight, long-sleeved leotard wrapped around my body while I tumble, leap and dance across the gymnasium floor. I also take the time during the class to help Miss Edwards with the younger members of the gymnastics club, which includes Nicole’s younger sister and, much to my surprise, my own younger sister, who I’m fairly sure only signed up due to pressure from Sabrina. Poor Bryony looked TERRIFIED the first time she stepped into the gymnasium wearing her leotard, but she’s quickly got the hang of the sport- even if, by her own admission, she won’t be winning any medals any time soon.

Another ‘effect’ of Bryony being in the club is that she, like Sabrina, gets changed at the end of the session in our ‘private changing room- a gesture that still makes me tear up- though she and Sabrina head off immediately after pulling their skirts back on, rather than sticking around to talk, as does Nicole. Once Laura and Suriya are dressed, though, they hang around, clearly wanting to talk to me before we head to our last class of the day.

“What’s up, girlies?” I ask as I fasten my blouse over my leotard and pull my tie back on. “You’re not still pissed off about the ‘easy’ comment, are you?”

“No, it’s not that,” Laura says.

“Okay…” I say. “So… Melissa, then?”

“Harriet and Mia,” Suriya says. “Or Harriet OR Mia.”

“Ugh- seriously?” I sigh.

“Seriously,” Suriya says.

“In our last class,” Laura explains, “Harriet spent all of her time badmouthing Mia, because of the way she pinched your bum last night. She was offended because she saw it as ‘unfeminist’-“

“-You know what Harriet’s like,” Suriya interjects.

“And I think she was jealous as well,” Laura continues.

“We don’t want this splitting the group apart,” Suriya explains. “You need to choose someone, preferably as soon as possible.”

“It’s not really THAT easy, is it?” I snort. “And how am I meant to pick one without hurting the other?”

“Your problem, not ours,” Laura says, making me snort with anger.

“Oh- real friendly, thanks!” I sarcastically growl.

“Ugh,” Laura sighs. “If it’s THAT big a deal, pick neither of them. Say you don’t want a girlfriend right now, they’ll understand.”

“That’s the problem,” I sigh. “I DO want a girlfriend. I just don’t know which one…”

Needless to say, this answer didn’t exactly please the girls, who leave the ‘private changing room’ with scowls on their faces- as opposed to Melissa, Cameron and the two members of their gang I haven’t ‘formally’ met yet, Lucy and Petra, all of whom smile and wave at me as I leave school at the end of the day. And, as with yesterday, this doesn’t go unnoticed by my sister.

“Are those girls going to be coming over to our house at weekends too?” Bryony asks. “’Cause it’s gonna get cramped with twelve girls in one room.”

“It’d be really fun with twelve girls in one room though, wouldn’t it?” I retort.

“Fun for you, maybe,” Bryony says.

“You’ll see when you get your own ‘posse’ together,” I reply with a smug smile as we get into mum’s car.

“I would say I’m happy to see my girls making new friends,” mum quips, “but I don’t really want our house to have an ‘open door policy’, especially with Cassie and Dorothy making friends at school too…”

“Ashley’s now got twelve girls in her group,” Bryony says, making me roll my eyes. “Including herself.”

“They’re not all the same group,” I explain. “Melissa and her gang are in my year, so we obviously hang out more in class. I’m glad to have some friends in my year, now that me and George don’t hang out as much.”

“That is a shame about you and George,” mum says. “But inevitable, I suppose, given how, well…”

“How much more girly I am?” I ask.

“If that’s how you want to word it,” mum shrugs. “So what do you know about these girls?”

“They’re really popular,” I explain. “Melissa in particular, she’s, like, THE girl in our year, rich parents, big house, I think she’s got an iPhone 8 Plus too.”

“Oh, okay…” Mum says in a cautious voice.

“…Problem?” I ask.

“Funny how this girl’s been in your year all this time but only now is she getting to know you,” Mum says. “Is this the same Melissa who started at your ballet class last year?”

“Well- last November, yeah,” I reply. “I don’t get why there’s a problem.”

“Hopefully there isn’t,” mum says. “But I’m concerned that you hang out with your celebrity friends on one day and less than 24 hours later you’ve made a new friend.”

“Oh- if she was really only interested in that, she’d have befriended me in April, after the original photoshoot,” I retort.

“Well, like I said, I hope you’re right,” mum says. “And I am glad you’re making more friends in your year, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned about how you’d get on next year without Laura and her group.”

“…I was kinda concerned too,” I say. Especially as it’s another reason to choose neither Harriet nor Mia, I think to myself.

‘The decision’ weighs heavily on my mind for the rest of the evening, especially after a chat session on Facebook where Harriet and Mia barely interacted with each other. I do like both girls. I do fancy both girls… But I like them as friends much more. It’s more obvious than ever now that if I pick Harriet, it’ll upset Mia and possibly cost her friendship, and the same applies the other way round. And worse yet, it’ll cost the girls’ friendship with each other. This is something I simply don’t want to be responsible for. The only decision I can make, as frustrating as it is, is ‘neither’. I resolve to tell both girls separately about my decision the following day at school, and for the first time in a while, I fall asleep almost the second my head hits the pillow.

Between my decision being made and my growing friendship with Melissa, I go into school on Thursday with a wider smile than I’ve had on my face in a long time- though it does falter slightly when Harriet and Mia give me their greeting hugs. It’s going to be hard to get to speak to both girls privately, given how we seem to go everywhere like an inseparable flock of bird, but I’m determined to find a time and a place. I can probably speak privately to Mia after cheer club today, but Harriet might be a little trickier.

Fortunately, after form and my first two (Melissa-free) lessons, I find myself in the same situation as I had on Tuesday lunchtime- walking toward my usual table when I’m suddenly joined by my ginger-haired friend.

“Hey girlie!” Harriet says with a flirtatious giggle.

“Oh, hey Harriet!” I reply with a nervous giggle. “I, umm, I’m glad I- can we- can we talk, please? Like, somewhere private?”

“Umm, sure!” Harriet says, suddenly looking nervous herself. “Weill ‘your’ toilet be okay?”

“That’ll be great,” I say as we walk into the one girls’ toilet in the whole school that I am allowed to use- and probably for that reason, we find it deserted.

“So…?” Harriet asks, a grin creeping across her face as she realises that she and I are alone, in a private place, and unlikely to be interrupted.

“Harriet, I-“ I say with a nervous stammer. “I’ve, um, kinda noticed- kinda noticed, you know, ‘you’…”

“Yeah, I kinda ‘noticed’ you too,” Harriet giggles. “You are a SERIOUSLY cute girl, Ash!”

“Yeah,” I mumble, trying my hardest not to blush. “I, um, I’ve kinda noticed- noticed Mia, too…”

“Oh,” Harriet says, her smile instantly vanishing and being replaced by a look of fury that makes my knees tremble. “Let me guess- because she’s taller, because she’s better looking, because she’s got the dancer’s body, right?”

“Well, no-“ I feebly argue.

“You know, you owe me a LOT, Ashley,” Harriet hisses. “I got suspended for you last year! Does the name ‘Sam Reid’ ring a bell?”

“Yeah, it kinda does,” I say, lifting my cowlick to show Harriet my scar. “I’m not ‘choosing’ Mia, Harriet.”

“Then why even bring her up?” Harriet asks.

“I’m not choosing either of you,” I say firmly, silencing the angry girl. “I don’t- I don’t want anyone fighting over me, okay?”

“Oh,” Harriet says, her formidable temper subsiding. “Okay, I- I guess. Don’t- don’t you like me?”

“I do,” I say. “But I like being your friend more. Same with Mia.”

“…I like being your friend too,” Harriet sighs. “And I like being Mia’s friend as well. Have- have you talked to her yet?”

“I’m gonna after cheer club,” I say. “So… friends?” Harriet giggles as I open my arms for a hug.

“Friends,” the ginger girl says, giving me a hug as we head out to our table, where our friends have thankfully not noticed that we’re slightly later than we should be (or they’re pretending not to notice- either way, I’m happy).

The lesson immediately after break is technology, which for me means ‘textiles’, but also means ‘Melissa’- and this time, it’s not just her and Cameron, but all of her ‘posse’ in the class.

“Ash! Ash!” Melissa says, inviting me to her table the second I set foot in the classroom.

“Hey girls!” I happily squeak as I drop my bag underneath their desk and sit down without fear of rejection. “Sorry… Looks like you’re stuck with me now, hehe!”

“Looks that way,” Lucy- the other blonde girl at the table- says in a cold voice that immediately makes me uncomfortable.

“Play nice, you two,” Melissa says in a commanding tone of voice. “Sorry about Lucy, Ash, she’s a bit- a bit ‘old fashioned’, hehe!” I nod at Melissa’s explanation- it’s obvious what she means by ‘old-fashioned’- but I’m not sure who looks more embarrassed, me or Lucy. Still, at least it explains why Melissa’s gang aren’t likely to integrate with mine any time soon…

“I am more modern, don’t worry,” Petra- the last girl at the table- says in her light Polish accent as she gets her phone out of her bag, the sight of which almost causes my eyes to bulge out of their sockets.

“Oh my god,” I gasp. “Is that- is that an iPhone X?”

“Yep!” Petra says with a smug grin. “A Christmas present from my father.”

“Who’s your father, Lord Sugar?” I ask, making the other girls snigger with laughter.

“He might as well be,” Cameron says.

“…My parents won half a million pounds on the lottery last year,” Petra says, her cheeks starting to flush. “Not enough to make them ‘rich’ rich but enough to, you know…”

“Afford to buy their daughter an iPhone X?” I ask.

“…Enough to buy all four of their children iPhone X’s for Christmas,” Petra mumbles, before giggling and carefully putting away her expensive phone.

“Isn’t your sister, like, ten?” Cameron asks the Polish girl, whose cheeks redden even more.

“Maybe,” Petra mumbles, before giggling and sweeping back her long, jet-black hair.

“So,” I ask, trying to spare my new friend’s blushes, “are any of you going to be at Melissa’s dance club tomorrow?”

“At OUR dance club, hehe!” Melissa giggles. “And yes, we’ll ALL be there!”

“Cool!” I squeak. “I’ll twist my sister’s arm, get her to come along too.”

“Cool!” Melissa squeaks in reply. “Lucy’s promised the same, haven’t you, Lucy?”

“Yep!” Lucy says with a forced grin that effortlessly conveys the fact that the blonde girl hasn’t told her sister and definitely doesn’t want to either.

Fortunately, our teacher arrives to begin our lesson before the discussion gets any more awkward, and I’m able to concentrate on my work instead. Our assignment for this term is to design and make a new skirt for ourselves, and thanks to following the blog of Nikki’s wife- a fashion designer- I have a ‘head start’ over the other girls, a ‘head start’ I happily share with my new friends, who are all grateful for the help- all apart from Lucy, that is, who almost recoils in horror every time I go near her.

I try to put the blonde girl’s attitude out of my mind as I work with the other girls, all of whom definitely appreciate my assistance more. Melissa is, of course, her usual superior self, but Cameron definitely seems to be warming to me, especially after I show her a few shortcuts in the design software that we’re using. Petra, however, seems very friendly and very happy to have me in her group, even though as rich as she is, she could easily act as snotty as Lucy is doing. If it wasn’t for the fact that I know she has a boyfriend, I’d swear that she had a crush on me too…

After the lesson, the five of us walk together to the girls’ changing rooms, where we all change into our short, tight cheerleading uniforms. Obviously, as we were all in the same class last term, we all walked the same way then as well, but we didn’t walk ‘together’- if anything, Melissa and her gang took steps to distance themselves from me over the course of the last term, but that’s obviously changed now, even if not everyone in the group is happy about that.

And yes, you did read the first sentence correctly, all of the cheerleading team- myself included- are changing in the actual girls’ changing rooms. Laura (with a little help from yours truly) got Miss Ellison to write a letter to the parents of the rest of the team asking for permission for us to change with the rest of the team, pointing out (quite correctly) that it was silly for half of the team to change in the toilets and half to change in the changing rooms. Both Laura and I were ecstatic when all the permission slips came back confirming that we could change in there- though given what I now know about Lucy, I’m wondering why she didn’t convince her mother so deny us access to the changing room.

I try to put my worries behind me as I pull on the long-sleeved leotard, short pleated skirt and tank top that make up my uniform. Permission HAS been granted for me to be in here- they can’t take it back now. And I’m sure that once Lucy gets to know me, she won’t be as hostile toward me. Melissa won’t let her, for starters… Then again, it’s not like Melissa is above that behaviour herself, as I quickly find out when we walk out onto the cold playing field, pom-poms in hand.

“Ugh,” Melissa spits as she gazes over at Allie, the only other member of the cheerleading team to be from our year. “Why does she keep coming? It’s not like anyone likes her, or she’s any good at cheerleading…” I bite my lip to keep myself from retorting- Allie may not be as talented as the likes of Laura, Suri, or even Melissa herself, but she’s far from bad- and a lot better than me.

“Maybe she’s just desperate for a boyfriend,” Cameron suggests. “Reckons that pulling on a short skirt and flashing her crotch at the whole school will get her laid.” She only fourteen… I think to myself as my new friends continue their sniping at the petite ginger-haired girl.

“I heard that she shagged Kai Benson at his house over Christmas,” Lucy says with a smug, superior grin as I find myself feeling more and more uncomfortable- especially as I find myself obliged to laugh along with the other girls. If they’re talking this way about Allie, who’s an ordinary, unassuming girl, god only knows how they talked about me last term- or the three years beforehand…

My discomfort lasts throughout the whole practice session, and as I’m changing back into my uniform, I’m actually thankful that my final lesson of the day will be Melissa-free and I’ll be able to de-stress before I go home. My relaxation only lasts a few seconds, though, as once I’m back in my uniform, the first face I see waiting for me outside the changing room is that of Mia McFarlane.

“Hey Ash!” Mia says with a wide grin. “GREAT session today, hehe!”

“Totally!” Laura- who is, of course, the captain of the cheerleading squad- agrees. “Reckon we’re almost ready for the inter-school tournament!”

“God, like I need more to be nervous about!” I say, earning sympathetic hugs from my friend’s- one of which ‘lingers’ a lot longer than the others.

“You’ll be FINE,” Laura says. “Though… There are a couple of people I’m not 100% sure about.”

“Al- Allie?” I hesitantly ask.

“What?” Laura asks, snorting and shaking her head. “No, Allie’s great! Almost as good as Suri as our ‘flyer’. It’s Melissa and Lucy I’m not 100% convinced by. Admittedly, in Melissa’s case it’s, like, ‘95% convinced’ but Lucy really doesn’t seem to be pulling her weight at all.”

“Obviously, don’t tell the girls in your year that Laura said that!” Suriya says, giggling as I mime zipping my mouth shut.

“We’d better get to class now,” Laura says. “We’ve got English now and I REALLY need to get my head down if I want that A. You?”

“Umm, PSHE next,” I say.

“Ah, so a lazy afternoon, then?” Mia asks with a wink.

“Something like that,” I chuckle. “Hey, umm, Mia? Have you- have you, like, got a sec? To talk in, umm, private, I mean…” I grimace as my question elicits quiet ‘ooh’s from Laura, Nicole and Suriya- all of whom no doubt have their own idea about what we’re going to be talking about.

“Sure,” Mia says, leading me into the toilet that I usually use as my ‘private changing room’.

“Mia,” I say once we’re in private. “I know th-“ I yelp in surprise as Mia suddenly grabs my head in her hands and gives me a long, deep kiss, forcefully proving the inside of my mouth with her tongue.

“You don’t need to say any more,” Mia says with a determined grin as one of her hands drops to my nylon-covered thigh and she leans in for another kiss. For a brief moment, I consider letting go and just letting whatever happens happen- Mia is a REALLY good looking girl, after all, and she clearly fancies me…

“No- no,” I say, removing Mia’s hand from my thigh and stepping back. “I- I’m sorry, Mia.”

“Why?” Mia pleads, her face falling. “Don’t- don’t you like me?”

“…I like you more as a friend,” I say, making the black-haired girl roll her eyes.

“But you like Harriet more, right?” Mia scoffs.

“No,” I say firmly, visibly confusing my friend. “I- I don’t want to see either of you if it’d hurt the other.” Much to my surprise, rather than get angry, this brings a wide smile to Mia’s face.

“Aww,” the pale-skinned girl sighs. “Make me fancy you even more, heh!”

“Sorry,” I mumble.

“S’okay,” Mia shrugs. “Plenty more guys AND girls out there, hehe!”

“Thanks,” I say quietly, before exchanging a brief, friendly hug with Mia, grabbing my bag and heading to my final lesson of the day.

PSHE is one of the few lessons where we’re not sorted according to ability, but rather we stay in our form groups, meaning that as I did at the start of the day, I elegantly lower myself into the seat next to George, who greets me with a polite smile.

“Alright, mate?” I say, which makes George smirk.

“That still sounds weird coming from your ‘girl voice’,” my bespectacled friend says.

“You mean my ‘real’ voice?” I retort.

“Yes, yes,” George says with a chuckle. “Actually, I- I kinda want to thank you, you know?”

“Umm, okay…” I say. “Why, exactly?”

“Everyone knows you’re now part of Melissa Jeffries’s gang,” George explains. “You’ve got to have noticed people treating you better, right?”

“I’ve noticed people treating me ‘less worse’,” I reply. “Not sure it’s worth the, you know, ‘price’, though.”

“What ‘price’?” George asks. “You mean you aren’t excited to be part of the coolest gang in our year?”

“It- it just makes me feel a bit uncomfortable, you know?” I reply. “Some of the things they were saying at lunchtime, and one of them REALLY doesn’t like me.”

“But girls bitch all the time, don’t they?” George asks.

“Well- no, not like that,” I say. “And no, it’s not ‘all the time’. Jeez, you’ve been going out with Megan for over a year, have you really not learned anything about girls? Do me and Megan need to give you another ‘refresher lesson’?”

“I know all the important things,” George mumbles. “And I know that you really don’t want to cross Melissa. Not just because I’m finally getting popular myself for the first time EVER.”

“…Okay,” I say quietly.

“And no, I don’t need another ‘refresher lesson’, George says. “I’m probably too tall now anyway…”

“That sounds like disappointment I hear in your voice…” I tease my friend as I make a show of straightening my black tights.

“Just- shut up, okay?” George says as our teacher arrives to begin our lesson.

I try my best to maintain my relaxed attitude throughout the remainder of the school day, but George’s words about not crossing Melissa resonate with me- especially when I pass both her and Allie on my way to my mother’s car. Melissa may be acting friendly toward me now, but it is a VERY sudden change, and there’s nothing stopping her from changing her mind about me again- especially if her liking me is just an act. Maybe mum is right about her only being interested in me because of my association with Jamie-Lee and her friends, and that thought makes me feel unclean as I slide onto the passenger seat of my mother’s car and fasten my seatbelt.

“You’re looking a bit less chipper today,” mum comments.

“…Just tired,” I half-lie. “After, you know, cheer practice…”

“I always wondered why most cheerleaders were teenagers,” mum muses. “Given that to be a cheerleader, you need to be high energy all the time, and most teenagers are very, very low energy all the time!”

“You could say the same thing about school as a whole,” I retort.

“I probably could, heh,” mum laughs. “How about you, Bryony? Reckon you’ll grab a pair of pom-poms when you’re fourteen?”

“Absolutely not,” Bryony replies.

“Aww, don’t be like that!” I tease me little sister. “You look cute in your gymnastics leotard, and for ballet, so I reckon you’d make a great cheerleader! Pity I have to give my uniform back at the end of each year, I could’ve handed it down to you…”

“NO,” Bryony says forcefully.

“Ashley, stop teasing your sister,” mum says, making my little sister smile smugly.

“It’s okay,” I shrug. “Cassie’ll probably do enough cheerleading for all of us!”

“Ugh, THAT’s something to look forward to,” mum says with a snort of laughter as we head home.

After a quick dinner, I head upstairs to work on my GCSE coursework, but before too long I’ve switched on my tablet computer and am unsurprised to find notifications from an ongoing chat between my seven best friends- however, I am surprised to find that I have another message waiting for me from my new friend Petra- who, in hindsight, didn’t join in the sniping of Allie this lunchtime.

‘Hi Ashley,’ Petra’s message reads.

‘Hi Petra!’ I type. ‘What’s up?’

‘Just wanted to say hi,’ Petra types. ‘Nice to finally properly meet you lol!’

‘Nice to meet you too,’ I reply. ‘Are you typing on your new iPhone X?’ I attach a winking emoji to my message that hopefully makes my message sound less catty.

‘On my new Galaxy Tab S3 actually,’ Petra replies with a ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji that makes me giggle.

‘Nice,’ I type. ‘Still on my old iPad V4 lol.’

‘That’s still cool,’ Petra types. ‘And so are you, Ash.’

‘Aww, thanks!’ I type with a ‘hugging’ emoji that earns a ‘blushing’ one in response. ‘I think you’re pretty cool too.’ I hesitate before typing the rest of my message as I remember what was said about poor Allie earlier- that was most definitely NOT cool. Sure, Petra didn't say anything, but she didn't defend Allie earlier- but then again, neither did I. And despite what George may think, this sort of behaviour is NOT part and parcel of being a girl and most definitely NOT the type of girl I want to be. Then again, I don't want to offend my new friends, not when they were the ones who befriended me, rather than the other way around- and I WILL need friends next year, after Laura and the others leave...

'The rest of the girls are cool too,' I type, inwardly cursing myself for my 'weakness'. The reply I get, however, almost makes me drop my tablet in shock.

'Really?' Petra asks. 'Even after they acted like a bitch toward Allie?'

'That wasn't very nice,' I type after a pause of almost a minute. 'Of them, I mean.'

'It sucked,' Petra types. 'Allie's really nice.'

'Then why didn't you say anything?' I ask.

'Because it would've made my life suck just as much,' Petra replies. 'Same if you'd spoken out, but I guess you already know that.'

'I kinda guessed,' I type. 'My friend George has said a few things about not crossing Melissa. But what's the worst she can do? I've been the butt of jokes at school for almost a year now just for being who I want to be.'

'Trust me, she can make your life hell,' Petra types. 'Remember Georgia Lynn from our year?'

'Think so,' I reply. 'Whatever happened to her?'

'Moved school after bullying became too much to bear,' Petra replies.

'She was in a lot of my classes,' I retort. 'I didn't notice any bullying.'

'She wasn't the one who was bullied,' Petra types. 'It was her little sister.' Almost immediately, I feel my fingers start to turn numb and my body start to tremble with fear. Bryony's not had the easiest time settling in, and if someone was to target her- such as Lucy's sister, who I know for a fact is in the same form as Bryony...

'Message understood,' I type. 'G2G now, talk tomorrow!'

'Bye!' Petra types, and I instantly log out and toss my tablet onto my bed, before laying back and trying to compose myself.

After all, it's not like Melissa isn't genuine in wanting to be friends with me, even if she may have ulterior motives, such as wanting to take advantage of my connection to the Angels. And she is raising my 'standing' in the school, and that of my friends too, as George reminded me, and she won't even tolerate people from her own group bullying me.

And yet, as she showed in her actions toward Allie, she's not the type of person I'd want to associate with. Laura and her girls aren't perfect, but they aren't bullies either, far from it in fact. They'll always be my 'real' friends, my best friends, even though next year, none of them will be at school with me, and I spent this last week possibly alienating two of them for good.

Of course, I'll still spend this weekend with those best friends- we'll be at Harriet's house on Saturday, ironically enough- but my fears are strengthened the following day when mine and Melissa's dance club launches, and Harriet and Mia are nowhere to be seen- and unsurprisingly, neither is Allie. Bryony and Sabrina show up, of course, and by all accounts, they definitely have fun, and when I'm focussed on the dancing, so do I. As we get ready to leave, however, my discomfort returns, and when Melissa says goodbye to me after ballet later in the evening, her farewell of 'see you next week' feels more ominous than anything.

Though not as ominous as the Facebook message she sends me shortly afterward, attached to which is a photo of me and Mia kissing in the toilets. Maybe there are occasions when you CAN have too many 'friends'...

I can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief as the bell rings to signify not just the end of the lesson, but the end of the school day, and the entire school term as well- and it’s been a hectic one to say the least. Obviously, I’ve been busy with schoolwork, and ballet, and cheer club too, but ever since the New Year, my life’s got even busier juggling my two sets of friends.

The dance club Melissa and I set up has been a great success- we regularly get more than 20 girls coming along, even some from our year, and it’s helped me to integrate more with Melissa’s gang- though it’s not like I’ve had much of a choice. Melissa is someone who few people dare say no to- especially when she’s in possession of a photo of you snogging one of your best friend’s girlfriends. I’ve told Mia about this, and she’s just as furious as I am, but insists that we don’t tell Harriet- Mia’s in a relationship with her, but is also somewhat scared of the ginger girl, especially her temper- and so am I. After all, what Harriet doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

And it’s not like being Melissa’s friend doesn’t have its ‘perks’. The teasing and harassment I’ve had to endure ever since I first showed up to school wearing a skirt has all but vanished since I became her friend, and some of the people who previously tormented me have actually sought my friendship, including some girls who actually seem interested in me! I’m being friendly to these girls in return, of course, but I am keeping my distance from them- the last thing I need are fake friends, though I can’t help but feel hypocritical considering the nature of my ‘friendship’ with Melissa. Fortunately, we rarely interact outside of school- Melissa’s happy for me to keep hanging out with Laura and co as she wants to keep Laura sweet- but on those occasions I do find myself hanging out at Melissa’s house, I’m usually bombarded with questions about my chats with the likes of Jamie-Lee Milton and Stephanie Abbott, making it clear to me why she’s suddenly interested in being my friend. Still, it could be worse- blackmail aside, Melissa is more or less a nice girl, and it is SO nice not to have to put up with the small-minded idiots anymore- I just wish I didn’t have to sell my soul to do this…

Fortunately, today is the start of the Easter holidays, and Melissa and her family will be on holiday in France and Italy for the whole time (something she’s constantly reminded us of over the last couple of weeks) meaning that I’ll have the whole time free to spend with my real friends- all of whom I say goodbye to with tight hugs as we leave the school (after giving Melissa’s gang her hugs, of course)- and with my family too, though when I go to hug the other member of my family who goes to my school, she isn’t quite as enthusiastic as Laura and the other girls!

“Don’t,” Bryony growls, making me laugh as I reach down to give her a hug. “I mean it.”

“Okay, okay,” I say, holding my hands up in mock surrender. “No need to bite my arms off.”

“Sorry,” Bryony mumbled. “Are you going to be hanging out with your real friends or your fake friends over Easter?”

“…My real friends,” I reply. “And it’s not nice calling them ‘fake friends’.”

“No, but it is true, though,” Bryony retorts.

“…Maybe,” I sigh as we head out into the car park and toward dad’s waiting car.

That’s another change that’s happened recently (within the last month, in fact), and one far more confusing than Melissa suddenly wanting to be my friend. All of a sudden, dad’s attitude toward me (and my sisters too, for that matter) changed from ‘barely concealed contempt’ to ‘grudging acceptance’. He started picking us up from school instead of mum, he started asking us about our days and he’s even started referring to me as ‘girl’. Or at least, he’s tried. It’s almost like a switch has been flipped in his brain, going from ‘reject Ashley’ to ‘accept Ashley’, but it’s taking the rest of his body some time to catch up- as proved when I slide onto the passenger seat and he immediately looks away so he doesn’t have to watch me straighten my skirt and my tights before fastening my seatbelt.

“Hi g- girls,” dad stammers as we pull away. “Good day at school?”

“It was okay,” I shrug. “Last cheer club for a few weeks, gonna need to make sure I stay in practice over the holiday.”

“Yeah,” dad mumbles.

“Especially with no ballet tomorrow thanks to Good Friday,” I say, trying not to grin smugly as dad grows more and more uncomfortable. “Though I’m going to Nicole’s tomorrow, we’ll probably do a few dance routines then. Might even take along my leotard…”

“Yeah…” Dad says with a nervous laugh before taking a deep breath with is very obviously meant to calm him down. Okay, I think to myself, that’s enough pushing it for now…

“You coming to Nicole’s- sorry, Sabrina’s tomorrow too, Bryony?” I ask my little sister.

“Ugh, no!” Bryony replies. “Sabrina’s coming to our house, she wants to get away from it just as much as I do!” I frown as Bryony’s sudden outburst prompts a snort of laughter from our father, before rolling my eyes and giggling as well.

“Charming!” I say with mock offence. “After all I do for you too…”

“…Sorry,” Bryony mumbles.

“He- umm, she’s just teasing you, Bryony,” dad says, bristling at the use of the word ‘she’ to describe me.

“Yeah, I know,” Bryony blatantly lies as we drive the short distance to our old primary school to pick up my two other sisters. Needless to say, Bryony’s already sour mood only worsens when Cassie and Dorothy climb onto the back seat next to her, both of them buzzing with energy- and for one very good reason.

“It’s ballet night tonight!” Cassie squeaks before even sitting down.

“Yep!” I squeak, making the energetic seven year old girl giggle even more. “Lucky you, me and Bryony have to miss it tomorrow ‘cause it’s Good Friday.”

“Aww, that’s so sad!” Cassie says.

“Bryony will miss her Monday lesson too,” I continue. “But Miss Fullerton said she’ll do an extra lesson on Tuesday morning for-“

“No!” Dad cringes as Cassie’s eyes instantly widen.

“Do you think she’ll do an extra lesson for me too!?” Cassie squeaks, making me squirm as dad gives me an angry glare- and for once, I’m forced to admit that the glare is very much deserved.

“She’s only doing one for Bryony because she can’t go tomorrow or Monday,” dad says. “So you’d have to miss a lesson to get an extra one. And you don’t want to do that, do you?” Dad lets out a proud giggle as he sees Cassie enthusiastically shake her head in the rear view mirror.

“Are you looking forward to ballet tonight too, Dorothy?” I ask my youngest sister, who joined Cassie’s class after she turned five a couple of months ago.

“I am!” Dorothy squeaks. “Cassie is such a beautiful dancer!”

“Aww, thank you Dorothy!” Cassie squeaks, giving the younger girl a gentle hug. “You’re very beautiful too!”

“D’aww,” I say with a girlish giggle. “So cute…”

“And Ashley and Bryony are both beautiful ballerinas too!” Cassie says with an excited giggle.

“Thanks,” Bryony says with an obviously forced smile.

“One day,” Cassie says, “I hope that all four of us get to dance together on stage as beautiful ballerinas!”

“Well, if we all work hard enough at it, I’m sure we will!” I say with a grin, making my younger two sisters cheer and making dad roll his eyes again as we head toward home.

Unsurprisingly, once we’re home, Cassie and Dorothy head straight up to their bedroom to change into their ballet uniforms, while I head up to my bedroom and let out a long sigh as I ease my clingy tights off my legs and exchange my uniform for a fashionable black and white striped top and a light grey ankle-length tube skirt that I got from a charity shop last weekend and have been in love with ever since. After brushing out my increasingly-long hair and slipping a couple of my favourite bracelets onto my wrist, I leave my bedroom and get ready to head downstairs, but before I do, I’m distracted by the muffled sound of moaning coming from the bedroom next to me.

“Bryony?” I ask, gently knocking on the door.

“Go away,” the eleven year old girl replies.

“Oh- come on,” I gently plead. “If something’s wrong, you know you can tell me…”

“Just leave me alone,” Bryony moans in a voice that clearly tells me that she’s been crying since she got home- a voice that breaks my heart.

I love all my sisters, but I’m probably closer to Bryony than I am to any of the others. We’re closest in age, obviously, but Bryony has a maturity and an intelligence about her that I often feel drawn to whenever I’m feeling down- though that’s been happening less and less in recent days. The more days I spend as a girl, the happier I feel, but in the early days, Bryony’s unconditional love and acceptance meant a lot to me, and if she’s hurting, I need to find a way to help her, especially as I know she's struggled with depression in the past. I just wish there was a ‘fix’ for her that was as easy as me pulling on a skirt…

“If you need to talk, you know where I am,” I say softly. “Are you coming down to dinner?”

“…Yeah, I’m coming,” Bryony sighs, opening her door to reveal her tear-streaked face- and the fact that she’s still wearing her uniform.

“Oh- oh god, Bry-“ I gasp.

“I said I don’t want to talk!” Bryony hisses, before taking a deep breath to compose herself. “…Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I say softly. “God knows I’ve not exactly been ‘Little Miss Happy’ the last few years, heh.”

“Thanks,” Bryony whispers as we head downstairs.

Fortunately for her, the fact that she hasn’t changed is overshadowed by the fact that Cassie and Dorothy have changed, and the dinner goes smoothly enough before mum leaves to take our youngest two sisters to their dance class, while dad watches Eddy playing in the living room, leaving me and Bryony free to head back to our bedrooms. Once I’m in my room, I grab my tablet computer and start to log in to Facebook (as I’m off school for two weeks, homework isn’t really a priority), but before I do, I remember the distraught girl in the bedroom next to mine- just because she put on a brave face at dinner, it doesn’t mean that she’s any happier than she was when she got home. With a soft sigh, I put my tablet computer away and head along the landing to Bryony’s room, gently knocking on the door and waiting for the younger girl to answer.

“Go away, Ashley,” Bryony moans.

“Are you sure you want me to go away?” I ask. “Trust me, talking CAN help, and I want to help you. I don’t like seeing you like-“

“I’m sure,” Bryony says.

“Well- okay then,” I sigh. “You know where I am if you need me…”

Needless to say, Bryony doesn’t take me up on my offer, and eventually, evening turns into night with my siblings gradually going to bed one by one, Eddy first, followed by Dorothy, Cassie (despite her energy levels still being high after her dance class) and finally Bryony, who does at least force a smile at me as we pass in the hallway, her en route to her bedroom and me en route downstairs to talk to my parents, who I hope have noticed the same things I have about their second child.

However, when I arrive downstairs, my desire to talk suddenly disappears when I see that mum is busy on her laptop… Meaning that the only person I can talk to about Bryony’s feelings are dad. Despite his own recent ‘attitude adjustment’, I’m not convinced that anything positive would come out of trying to discuss anything with him that isn’t related to football or cars, so I try to sneak back upstairs- but I don’t get very far before being spotted.

“Oh, hi Ashley!” Dad says, making me cringe. “What’s up?”

“Oh- umm, nothing, nothing,” I reply, glancing over at mum, who’s still engrossed in her laptop. “Just, umm, getting a drink…”

“Okay,” dad shrugs. “You- are you sure there’s nothing you want to talk about?” I bite my lip as I contemplate opening up to my father, but the uncomfortable look he gives me as I straighten my skirt persuades me otherwise.

“I’m sure,” I say, grabbing my drink before heading back upstairs and getting ready for bed myself. Even though it’s the start of the holidays, I opt for an early night as I’ve got an early morning tomorrow- and what promises to be a very fun day!

As I try to get to sleep, however, I find my thoughts dominated by my younger sister- and what (if anything) I can do to help her. While my tired brain isn’t able to think of anything immediately, I’m comforted by the knowledge that tomorrow, I’ll be among a group of girls who will all sympathise with the problem (especially as all of them are very fond of Bryony)- and should be able to give me some much-needed advice, many of them being big sisters themselves.

I have an excited smile on my face on the morning of Good Friday as I get dressed in a short denim skirt and a close-fitting light pink t-shirt, before slipping my feet into my favourite pair of casual flats, but my smile falters slightly when I head downstairs to see Bryony curled up at the end of a sofa, fiddling with her tablet computer and still wearing her pyjamas. She obviously looks unwell, and not just in a depressed sense of the word. While this is a slight relief- a headache can be cured by a pill while depression can’t- it still breaks my heart to see my beloved sister under the weather like this.

“Hey,” I say softly as I sit down next to the unwell girl. “You feeling poorly?”

“A bit,” Bryony moans, before letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry I was cross with you last night.”

“It’s okay,” I shrug. “I get a bit moody when I’m ill too. You got a cold, flu?”

“I don’t know,” Bryony shrugs. “Just feel terrible, mum’s taken my temperature and says it’s higher than it should be, she’s going to get me some medicine once she’s taken you to Sabrina’s house.”

“Sabrina still coming round today?” I ask, sighing as Bryony shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Bryony shrugs. “I doubt I’ll be sick all holiday.”

“That’s the spirit!” I chuckle softly. “I’ll say hi to Sabrina for you when I see her.”

“Thanks,” Bryony whispers, before turning her attention back to her tablet, giving me my cue to grab breakfast.

Naturally, before I head to Nicole’s house, I check again with Bryony to see if she’s okay, but she’s just as introverted as she was this morning, causing me to let out a long sigh as I sit down on the passenger seat of mum’s car.

“Tired?” Mum asks. “I noticed you got an early night last night, hope you’re not coming down with what Bryony’s got…”

“Nah, I’m alright,” I shrug. “I- I’m just a bit worried about her, though, she’s been a bit off for a while…”

“She’s always been moody, you know that,” mum replies with a shrug of her own.

“Yeah, I know,” I reply.

“Maybe she’s just becoming a teenager,” mum teases, chuckling as I roll my eyes. “Hey, you were an ‘early bloomer’, no reason your sister wouldn’t be either.”

“I guess,” I shrug. “Still wish I knew what I could do to help her feel better.”

“Be there for her as her big sister,” mum replies. “You’re doing an okay job, especially as you have so many people to be a big sister for, heh.”

“And because I’ve not got much experience as a sister?” I ask.

“I wouldn’t call 14, almost 15 years ‘not much experience’,” mum says with a smile. “Because as far as I can tell, you’ve ALWAYS been their sister.” I have to sniff back a tear as I smile at mum’s compliment, before frowning in confusion.

“14, almost 15 years?” I ask, smirking as mum nods. “So… Did I have a twin or something that I don’t know about?” I let out a playful giggle as mum gives me a playful whack on my arm, before we both giggle all the way to Nicole’s.

“Hey girlie!” Nicole squeaks as she opens her front door and gives me a tight hug. “I LOVE that t-shirt, hehe!”

“Thanks!” I squeak, doing a twirl to show off the soft garment for my friend. “I’ll give you the website later!”

“Cool!” Nicole says, before leading me through to her vast living room, where some of our friends are waiting- including a face I haven’t seen much of over the last few months but who I couldn’t be happier to see today.

“Hey girlie!” Priya says in her refined Indian accent. “LONG time no see, hehe!”

“Likewise!” I reply, giving the petite girl a gentle hug. “Same goes for everyone else, of course, even though we did only see each other yesterday!”

“Ugh, rub it in, will you?” Priya snorts. “I am REALLY missing you guys at college.”

“She still hasn’t made ANY new friends,” Suriya says with an overdramatic sigh that makes her sister roll her eyes.

“I have,” Priya retorts. “Just none as good as all of you, hehe!”

“So you, as a fancy college girl, are okay hanging out with 14 year old KIDS like us, then?” I ask, giggling as Priya rolls her eyes again.

“…I was until THAT,” the 17 year old girl replies, before letting out an excited giggle. “Okay, seriously, nowhere I’d rather be!”

“And no one we’d rather be with!” Nicole says with a grin as we sit down and begin what promises to be a marathon gossip session. "So... Ready to be made even more beautiful?" Everyone in the room giggles as we're reminded of today's trip to a nearby beauty salon- a treat from all of our parents for good grades in the last term.

"As if that's possible?" I ask, earning playful 'oohs' from my friends. "And yeah, I am... Kinda."

"What's up?" Priya- ever the 'big sister' to us all- asks.

"Something you could probably help with, actually," I say. "You too, Nicole. Not so much you, Suri, but you're welcome to contribute if you, you know, want..."

"Oh- charming!" Suriya says with a snort and a roll of her eyes. "Nah, I'm kidding, I'm guessing, thanks to the three of you, that it's a 'big sister' thing, then?"

"Yep," I sigh. "Bryony's been a bit off all week, now she's come down with some kind of flu, too..."

"Sabrina said," Nicole says quietly. "That's why she's not going round there today, I mean, not like she doesn't have any other friends, but I think she just likes Bryony best?"

"Aww, BFFs already," Suriya sighs, before playfully cuddling her sister. "Just like us, hehe!"

"Get off!" Priya moans. "So what's wrong with her?"

"Hell if I know," I sigh. "Wish there was some way I could get through to her, you know?"

"Aww, you're such a good big sister," Suriya sighs. "Even if you don't know how, just the fact that you're concerned means a lot, right?"

"Definitely," Nicole agrees, before smirking as another knock comes from the front door, heralding the arrival of two more of our friends- both of whom also belong in the category of 'big sisters'.

"Hey girlies!" Laura squeaks, exchanging hugs with all of us before sitting down on the sofa and crossing one long, slender leg over the other.

"Hey everyone!" Megan says as she follows Laura around the room giving everyone hugs, in particular a big bear hug to the thirteen inches-shorter Suriya! The sight of the two very differently-sized girls giggling together is almost enough to distract me from my worries, but my newly-arrived friends soon pick up on my mood.

"Everything okay, Ash?" Laura asks with a concerned look.

"...Not really," I confess.

"Bryony's unwell," Nicole explains before I have the chance to speak.

"Oh- really?" Laura asks. "That sucks, we love Bryony, don't we?" My heart is warmed by all of my friends nodding their heads in agreement- if only Bryony could be here now to share the love.

"I'll be sure to let her know you're all thinking of her," I say. "That should help her to feel better."

"Hopefully," Nicole says. "We're not just an 'excellent eight', with Bryony and my sister we're a 'terrific ten' and when one of us is ill, we all help out, right?"

"Right!" The other girls all cheer as I'm reminded how blessed I am to have such amazing friends- and how unlikely it would be for Melissa Jeffries and her gang to say and think these things.

Eventually, Harriet and Mia arrive, and after much teasing about why they were late, we head to a local coffee shop (not the one where Laura and Suri work on weekends, but a different one) for a quick snack before our salon appointment- which, naturally, turns into a very energetic gossip session!

The usual topics are covered- school, fashion, celebrities- particularly Out of Heaven, thanks to their recent mini-tour and the fact it’s the birthday of one of the singers’ birthday- boys, during which Mia, Harriet and I make a point of showing how disinterested we are, upcoming birthdays and Priya’s recent driving lessons. However, I struggle to get engrossed in the gossip as every time the topic changes, my mind is drawn back to the unwell eleven year old girl curled up on our sofa at home.

Before long, the time for our appointment arrives and we leave the coffee shop, walking the short distance to our chosen salon. It quickly becomes obvious that I'm not the only one who wishes that today didn't have to end.

"I really have missed this, you know," Priya says. "Hanging out with you girls like this."

"Umm, we hang out most weekends," Laura reminds the petite Indian girl.

"Yeah, but not most weekdays," Priya sighs.

"I'm just someone she stuffs into a closet when she gets home," Suriya says, giggling as her older sister rolls her eyes.

"You know what I mean," Priya scoffs. “Gonna be a hundred times worse when I go to uni, though. Tough going into a new place and not seeing friendly faces waiting for you there.”

“Gonna be just as tough going into a familiar place and not seeing friendly faces,” I sigh, smiling as this quickly earns me a group hug and the attention of my friends.

“I will tell George you said that, you know?” Megan teases.

“…Okay, apart from him,” I say. “Can’t exactly talk about dresses, make-up and ballet with him though, can I?”

“You can try,” Suriya shrugs.

“I already have- I wouldn’t bother if I was Ashley!” Megan giggles.

“You can talk about all that stuff with Melissa, though,” Suriya says with an innocent shrug, prompting grimaces from myself and Mia. “…What? She’s in your year, you’re friends, right?”

“Yeah, but you’re my REAL friends,” I say, earning yet another group hug.

“Well we won’t be going ANYWHERE next year,” Nicole reassures me. “Even if by ‘anywhere’ we also mean ‘school’, hehe! But we’ll all be here for you, right?”

“Hell yeah!” the other girls cheer, making me squeak excitedly.

"And Priya too!" Harriet says with a giggle.

"Thanks," Priya and I say simultaneously, resulting in yet more giggles!

“And yes, that includes taking you shopping for your prom dress…” Laura teases, causing my cheeks to redden.

“Heh,” I chuckle. “God knows it’s not like anyone in my actual family will do that, though.”

“Ugh, still having problems with your dad?” Harriet- whose own relationship with her father is admittedly far worse than mine ever was- spits.

“That’s just it,” I reply. “Dunno whether or not I am, ever since he went to that thing with Laura’s parents he’s been, I dunno, weird. Not ‘bad weird’, just- ‘weird weird’.”

“Do you think he’s finally got a clue?” Laura asks.

“Hopefully?” I reply. “Especially with Bryony under the weather as well. Eh... Sorry, heh, know this isn’t what you all want to hear on your fun day out, heh.”

“Could be worse,” Megan shrugs. “At least you waited until after Sunday and didn’t bring down my birthday party, hehe!”

“…Sorry,” I mumble again, before smirking. “And thanks. Now maybe can we talk about something, you know, exciting?”

“Do prom dresses count?” Laura asks with an excited giggle.

“Uh- yeah they do!” I reply with an even more excited giggle. “Even if I will have to wait an extra year…”

“Just because you’ll have to wait a year to wear one ‘for real’,” Nicole says, “doesn’t mean you’ll to wait that long to try one on, right? And we ARE almost the same size, and I do already have mine at home…” My eyes light up and a wide grin spreads across my face at my friend’s teasing- especially when my other friends’ faces all light up as well.

"And because you'll have to wait a year to have your prom make-up done 'for real'," Suriya says, "it doesn't mean you can't make the most of today, hehe!" I giggle as the eight of us enter the salon and head to the reception desk, where we're greeted by our beauticians for the day.

After being led to our chairs, we have our make-up expertly applied, our nails manicures and our hair washed and restyled. Fifteen months of continuous growth has seen my hair go from 'long and boyish' to 'gorgeous and feminine'- it's actually longer than both Harriet and Priya's hair is right now. And while a couple of inches are trimmed off the length by the hair stylist, the resulting style, with a long bang covering half of my face (and, thankfully, my scar), is as gorgeous and girly as I have ever seen my hair. Naturally, I pose for several photographs once we leave the salon, as do the rest of my friends!

...And when we get back to Nicole’s, I pose for yet more photographs as I'm laced into Nicole's long, slinky prom dress, and even though my time in the dress lasts just twenty minutes, it's enough to leave me craving more.

By the time 6pm rolls around, I have a wide, tired smile on my face from the day's events, but it quickly fades when the eight of us leave Nicole’s bedroom and run into her younger sister exiting her bedroom. In my desire to have fun, I somehow forgot all about Bryony- even despite my friends’ promises to help- and a wave of guilt washes over me.

“Hey, Sabrina,” I say, making the 12 year old girl freeze and bringing a look of panic to her face. “You got a sec?”

“Wh- what, me?” Sabrina replies.

“Yeah,” I say. “You talked to Bryony today? On Facebook, I mean?”

“Umm, a bit,” Sabrina replies as her older sister lets out a devilish giggle.

“…Okay then,” I say. “Chat with her more, please, she needs to get better.”

“Umm, okay,” Sabrina says, before practically sprinting into her bedroom. I let out a small giggle along with Laura and Megan- the other two members of our group who have siblings as young as or younger than Sabrina and who recognise the look of panic in a younger sibling’s face when an older girl suddenly confronts them.

“I’ll ask Lily to check in on her as well,” Laura says as we head downstairs and exchange our customary hugs before the two of us, along with Megan, get into my mum’s car.

“Thanks for the lift home, Mrs Moore,” Megan says as she fastens her seatbelt.

“You’re welcome, girls,” mum replies with a smile. “Did you have fun today?”

“Yeah,” Laura replies. “We may or may not have helped Ashley pick out a prom dress…” I roll my eyes as mum glances at me with a concerned look on her face.

“Try ‘may not’,” I say.

“Good,” mum says. “My credit card definitely doesn’t need THAT just yet!”

“How’s Bryony?” I ask, hoping to divert the topic of conversation.

“Still a little under the weather,” mum replies, making all three of us sigh sadly.

“We’ve already asked Ashley to pass on our love,” Megan explains. “We like our ‘excellent eight’ but we love it more when it’s a ‘terrific ten’, heh.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate that,” mum says with a smile. “And I’m sorry I’m taking Ashley away from you girls tomorrow, but we’ve had this family day planned for a while now.”

“It’s okay,” Laura shrugs. “Me and Suriya are at work anyway, think Priya is too.”

“That’ll be you in a couple of years, Ashley!” Mum teases, making me roll my eyes again.

“Keep waiting,” I retort, making everyone in the car giggle as we head back home.

Once I’m back home, I head straight into the living room to check on my little sister, my guilt at having left her having gnawed at me all the way home. I feel a mixture of relief and disappointment when I see that she hasn’t moved from her spot on the sofa and is still clad in her pyjamas. My feeling quickly change to frustration, however, when I glance across the room at dad, who is sat in his usual chair, watching TV and obviously trying to avoid looking at his daughter.

“Hi Bryony,” I say, sitting down next to the blonde girl, who barely even acknowledges me. “Still feeling poorly?” I smile sympathetically as Bryony responds with a tired nod. “Would it help if I told you about the prom dress I got to wear today?” Unsurprisingly, Bryony responds with a shake of her head, though it’s the exasperated huff that comes from dad that makes me smile- and brings a small smile to my sister’s face as well. “You get better soon, Bryony.” I let out a sigh as I give the unwell girl a gentle cuddle, before heading through to the kitchen for dinner with my other siblings- all of whom are considerably more energetic today!

Rather than hole myself up in my room for the rest of the evening, I grab my tablet computer and curl up on the sofa next to Bryony, keeping an eye on the poorly girl until she heads to bed just after 8pm, at which point I head up to my room as well. As mum hinted at in the car, the family is going on a small trip out tomorrow, meaning another early start, which means another early night for me- though before I head to bed, I listen carefully at Bryony’s door for any sign that the younger girl is still emotionally distressed, and it’s only when I hear her gentle snoring that I’m able to head to bed and actually get any rest.

When I head downstairs the following morning after a restful night’s sleep, I actually breathe a sigh of relief when I walk into the living room and see Bryony sat on the sofa wearing one of her favourite long-sleeved t-shirts and a loose maxi skirt.

“Hey Bryony!” I say with a wide grin as I sit down next to the younger girl. “Feeling better, then?”

“A little,” Bryony shrugs. “Sorry if I was rude yesterday…”

“It’s okay, honestly,” I say, giving the blonde girl a gentle hug. “You’re entitled to be a little rude if you’re unwell.”

“I guess,” Bryony shrugs. “Any idea how long we’ll be at grandma and grandpa’s today?”

“I’m gonna find out when you do,” I reply. “You sure you’re feeling up for this?”

“I’ll be okay,” Bryony replies, before smiling tiredly as our next oldest sister bounces up to us.

“Hi Ashley! Hi Bryony!” Cassie excitedly squeaks. “Do you like my dress?” Bryony and I both grin as Cassie does a balletic twirl in her new fuchsia coloured dress, showing off its long sleeves and flared skirt.

“Very pretty!” I say, Bryony nodding in agreement.

“Thank you!” Cassie giggles. “I love your outfits too! Bryony, please my I have your skirt when you don’t want it anymore?”

“Of course you can!” Bryony says, making our younger sister giggle excitedly. “But only if you promise to give it to Dorothy when you don’t want it anymore!”

“I promise!” Cassie says as our parents make their way into the room with Dorothy and Eddy in tow.

“Are we all ready to go?” Dad asks with a nervous smile.

“I can’t wait to see grandma and grandpa!” Cassie squeaks, her eyes lighting up- and mine too, to a lesser extent. Grandpa Chris and Grandma Jo are my father’s parents, and it’s always been ironic that they’ve been far more supportive of my transition than my father has. On the other side, of course, my mum’s parents- Grandpa Alan and Grandma Wendy- aren’t nearly as supportive as my mother is. Sometimes I wonder whether or not I will actually end up tearing my family apart…

“Why is today’s visit such a big deal?” I ask. “We go and see grandma and grandpa all the time…”

“You’ll see when we get there,” mum says cryptically. “Now come on, don’t want to keep them waiting!” Naturally, my younger siblings all skip out to the car excitedly, while Bryony and I are a bit slower heading outside- Bryony due to her poorliness and me due to wondering why my parents are being so evasive.

When we arrive at my grandparents’ house, I’m surprised by the presence of another car already on the driveway- that of my other grandparents, which instantly makes my tension levels rise. My pairs of grandparents don’t usually interact with each other, making me wonder exactly what’s so important that it needs our entire family present.

When I enter my grandparents’ house, I discover that all five of my living great-grandparents are present as well, and while my mother’s grandparents look at me with the same mixture of disapproval and anger as always, my oldest great-grandparent, Grandma Hazel, instantly grins when she sees me and my siblings enter the room. Needless to say, I also smile as I approach the 85 year old woman for a very welcome hug!

“Don’t you look pretty?” Grandma Hazel says in her warm, loving voice. “Is that a new hairstyle? It looks very modern.”

“Yeah,” I reply with a girlish giggle. “Me and a few friends went to a beauty salon yesterday, I had this done…”

“Did any of your sisters go with you?” Grandma Hazel asks.

“Not this time,” mum answers. “Cassie and Dorothy are too young, and Bryony was under the weather yesterday.”

“Aww,” Grandma Hazel sighs, pulling the eleven year old girl in for a hug that Bryony is only too happy to receive. “And on the first day of your holiday too, when you’ve worked so hard at school! What was wrong with you?”

“I don’t know,” Bryony shrugs. “I was just feeling a bit bleurgh, that’s all.”

“Maybe you’re working TOO hard at school!” Grandma Hazel teases, making Bryony blush and smile. “You’re certainly growing fast, too- reckon you might end up being even taller than your big sister!”

“Only ‘cause her ‘big sister’s deliberately stunted her growth,” Grandpa Harry mutters under his breath.

“Did you say something, Harry Portman?” Grandma Hazel asks.

“Not a thing,” Grandpa Harry snorts as my cheeks start to redden and the mood inside the room suddenly darkens.

“Anyway,” Grandma Jo says. “It’s good that you could all come today, though I’m sure you’re all wondering why we’ve all gathered here.”

“Just like we’re wondering,” Grandpa Chris says, looking expectantly at dad.

“Is this about that newspaper interview you did a few weeks ago, Andrew?” Grandma Hazel asks.

“Umm, no…” Dad replies nervously. “Not heard back when that’ll be published yet, Clare- Clare and I have an announcement to make.”

“Oh?” Grandpa Alan asks, suddenly perking up. “Is this what I think it might be?”

“That depends,” mum says with a smug grin. “If you think it means that in December, we’ll be welcoming either Finlay or Felicity Moore to the world, then you’re correct!” In all the commotion that follows, it actually takes me a moment to realise exactly what my mother means.

“You- you’re pregnant again?” I ask.

“I wanted everyone in the family to be present when I made the announcement,” mum says softly. “EVERYONE in the family.”

“This is wonderful news!” Grandpa Chris says with a happy grin. “Even if it is gonna be a bit cramped in that house of yours!”

“The more, the merrier!” Dad shrugs, sporting an uncharacteristically wide grin of his own- though I suppose it does explain his unusual behaviour over the last few weeks. There’s no doubt in my mind that dad would much rather welcome ‘Finlay’ to the family than ‘Felicity’, that he’d much rather indoctrinate Eddy and ‘Finlay’ into the world of football, Star Wars and videogames, while forgetting all about his four older children simply because of our gender, both genetic or ‘otherwise’- especially ‘otherwise’. A quick glance at Bryony- and the frown on her face- reveals that I’m not alone in thinking this either.

The car ride home is one of mixed emotions- me and Bryony are quiet, while our other two sisters definitely aren’t.

“I hope I’ll have another little sister!” Cassie squeaks, literally bouncing up and down in her seat. “We can be ballerinas together and all five of us can dance on stage in pretty tutus!”

“Can we have a sister?” Dorothy pleads in her tiny voice. “Pleeeeease?”

“The baby will be whatever the baby will be,” mum says firmly. “I don’t have any more say in the matter than you do.”

“What about you, Bryony?” Cassie asks with a wide, excited grin. “Do you want another sister?” I frown and bite my lip as Bryony responds with a disinterested shrug- this morning’s recovery was obviously just temporary, and news of yet another sibling has sent her straight back into her mood again.

“Well I don’t mind whether I get another sister or another brother,” I say, hoping to cheer Bryony up and calm Cassie down, but all I do is prompt an awkward silence in the car.

“…Well said, Ashley,” dad says, turning around to flash an insincere-looking smile at me. “It- it doesn’t matter whether the baby is a boy or a girl, we’ll still love them just as much, won’t we?” Yeah, right, I sarcastically think to myself.

When we get home, before we’re allowed to relax and have fun, me and my siblings are ushered into the living room by our parents- something they only do when they want to have a serious talk with us, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what they want to talk about.

“Okay,” dad says with a heavy sigh as he sits down opposite us. “This is obviously going to be a big change, not just for me and your mother, but for all of us too, so we need to talk to you for a bit.”

“There will need to be some changes around here,” mum explains. “Any new child always means there need to be changes, even if you’re going from five children to six.”

“Obviously, we’ll expect you all to help out more around the home,” dad says. “We’re not going to ask you to play mum and dad- erm, ask you to play mum for the baby, that’s our job. But we will need extra help cleaning, keeping things safe and tidy, especially as your mum gets bigger and has more difficulty moving around.”

“And we’ll need to talk about rooms as well,” mum says hesitantly. “Right now you five are split between four bedrooms. Two of you are going to have to share.”

“Why can’t the baby share with Eddy?” Bryony asks, clearly unhappy by what’s being said.

“Well, umm, if the baby’s a girl it wouldn’t be, umm, appropriate,” dad mumbles.

“You- you two might have to share,” mum says, pointing at myself and Bryony- and it’s very clear that my younger sister does not approve of this.

“What?” Bryony asks flatly.

“We’re lucky to have as many rooms as we have,” mum says. “If your father and I didn’t work so hard we’d probably have to put three of you into a single room.”

“Don’t you want to share with Ashley, Bryony?” Cassie asks in her sweet, innocent voice.

“No!” Bryony snaps, startling our sister. “I don’t want to share with anyone! Ugh, I’m going to my room. While I still have a room to go to!”

I watch in stunned silence as Bryony abruptly jumps off the sofa and runs upstairs, crying all the way. All of a sudden, I’m reminded of all those times I felt like doing the exact same thing- of all those times I sat on this very sofa wearing a pair of trousers rather than a skirt, and all I wanted to do was run screaming up to my room and indulge in any amount of femininity. I was able- barely- to keep a lid on my anxieties. If Bryony is freaking out like this over something as simple as sharing a bedroom, then there must be something VERY wrong with her. A quick glance across at my parents shows that they’re thinking the same thing- well, mum’s thinking the same thing, anyway…

“I- I’ll go after her…” Dad says hesitantly, slowly rising from his chair as mum watches silently. Dad’s body language couldn’t make it any clearer, even to me, that he really doesn’t want to follow Bryony upstairs, and mum’s body language makes it equally clear that she does want dad to follow her, even though the likelihood is that his ‘advice’ will do much more harm than good.

“I’ll go with you,” I mumble, slowly standing up and following my father up the stairs as mum tries to calm my distressed younger siblings.

“I can handle this, you know,” dad scoffs. “I’ve only been her dad for nearly twelve years, I think I know how to calm down my own daughter.”

“Really?” I reply. “You’ve never had that much luck with your oldest daughter.”

“Bryony IS my oldest daugh-“ dad says, before deeply frowning at his mistake.

“Exactly,” I sigh. “What was it you said: you’d rather have five boys than four girls and one boy?”

“…I don’t have to justify myself to you,” dad snorts.

“Like I haven’t had to justify myself to you for the last eighteen months?” I ask, my temper quickly fraying.

“DON’T SPEAK TO ME LIKE-“ dad snaps, before taking a deep breath to calm himself. “Don’t speak to me like that. Ever. But yes… You are right.” Needless to say, this sudden change in attitude catches me complete off-guard.

“I- what?” I ask.

“Over the last eighteen months, I- I haven’t treated you as well as I should,” dad says, his cheeks starting to flush with shame. “And I- I apologise, Ashley.”

“O- okay,” I say hesitantly. “Umm, apology accepted?”

“Thanks,” dad whispers, before sighing again. “I- I’ve had a few learning experiences lately. Mostly when I went to the Sunday Globe a few weeks ago, for that interview. I spoke to a lot of other people in my position, you know, parents of kids in your position… It made me think a lot about how I’ve treated you the last few months, and if there was anything more I could’ve done. And yes, there was a lot, LOT more I could and should have done.”

“I could’ve told you that,” I mumble.

“Yeah,” dad says with a heavy sigh. “And in future, I promise I will listen to you more. Because if I was allowed to pick, I would prefer five sons… But I wouldn’t trade the four daughters I have for anything. Especially not you, Ashley.” I feel my bottom lip start to tremble as dad flashes me a genuine, loving smile for the first time in as long as I can remember.

“Thanks,” I whisper, sniffing back a tear before letting out a long, heavy sigh.

“What now?” Dad asks.

“It-“ I begin, before letting out another, even longer sigh. “How do I know you’re not just going to change your mind in a few weeks?”

“Because I promise,” dad says softly. “I promise that from now on, I will acknowledge that you are my daughter, and I will love you as my daughter, and not my son.”

“Thanks,” I sniffle, tears now freely flowing down my cheeks as I lean in and share a long, tender hug with my father for possibly the first time ever, even as a part of me wonders whether or not I’m just imagining this. Dad has been so distant, so hostile, even, for so long that for him to suddenly turn around like this? He must’ve had a hell of a day at that newspaper.

“From now on,” dad says. “I swear I’m going to be the best dad I can be. For all six of you. Now come on. We’ve got another girl to help!” I smile as I follow dad along the landing to Bryony’s bedroom door, standing back as he gently knocks on it. When no response comes from inside, dad knocks again, more firmly.

“Bryony?” I ask softly.

“Bryony?” Dad asks. “It’s your dad, can we talk? You’re not in trouble, I promise, I- I just want to know what’s wrong. Bryony? BRYONY?”

“I’m in the bathroom,” the eleven year old girl replies, making me and dad both breathe a loud sigh of relief. “Don’t come in!”

“Duh!” I say, making dad chuckle and roll his eyes.

“We just want to talk,” dad says. “You’re not in any trouble, I promise.”

“Umm, uh- just a minute,” Bryony says, sounding almost in a state of panic.

“Bryony?” Dad asks. “Are you okay?”

“I- umm-“ Bryony says, before seemingly breaking down in tears. “Can you get mum, please?”

“Oh- Bryony?” Dad asks, looking genuinely upset himself. “Whatever it is, I’m sure I can help. I want to help, please let me in.”

“Not this, not this!” Bryony says, before letting out a pained moan.

“Do- do you want me to get mum?” I ask dad, who opens his mouth to reply before shaking his head.

“No,” dad says. “Whatever it is, I’m her dad, I need to deal with this myself. Bryony, could you open the door please?” I bite my lip as the door slowly cracks open and Bryony’s tear-streaked face pokes out, looking more scared than I have ever seen her before. Slowly, she opens the door further, and the source of her stress is soon revealed- a pair of underpants, undoubtedly hers, left in the middle of the floor, with a tell-tale red stain on them.

"Dad, I- I-" Bryony says, before slowly weeping as our father kneels down beside her and gives her a long, gentle hug.

"It's okay, it's okay," dad whispers softly. "It's a perfectly normal thing, it's nothing to be ashamed of. It's nothing you should ever, ever be ashamed of, okay? It just means that you're a normal girl, and you're growing up."

"I- I know," Bryony sniffles, before letting out a long moan. "We- we've talked about this at school, but I- I-" My heart breaks as Bryony moans again, a long, pained moan that seems to last for hours.

"Ashley, could you run a bath, please?" Dad asks, and without even thinking about it, I jump to it, making sure that the bath contains plenty of Bryony's favourite lavender bubble bath.

"But- but I'll make a mess of the tub-" Bryony sobs.

"Let me worry about that," dad says. "What's important is that you're alright."

"Should be ready in a few minutes," I say, before kneeling down next to my sister and taking over the hug from dad. "It's gonna be okay, Bryony. You're gonna be okay. And if you ever need any help, I'm sure all my friends will jump at the chance to help. They said so themselves a few days ago, in fact."

"Can- can you, you know, give me any help?" Bryony asks, making me sigh heavily.

"I wish I could," I say. "But this- this isn't something that's ever happened to me, or ever will."

"But- but don't those pills you take...?" Bryony asks, and once again I sigh as I remember that as incredibly clever as she is, she is still an eleven year old girl.

"There are some things that simply can't be changed," I say. "This is one of them. I can wear the clothes, the make-up, take the pills, even- well, other stuff. But what's happening to you will never happen to me."

"Lucky you," Bryony snorts.

"Maybe," I shrug. "Maybe not. 'Cause it means I'll never be a 'real' girl no matter how hard I try. And I am definitely NOT lucky there."

"I'm sorry," Bryony mumbles, making me sigh yet again.

"No- no, don't be sorry," I say. "It's not your fault that I am who I am. It's no one's fault. It's just what it is, same as it is for you. I, umm, think your bath's almost done..." I smile as I turn off the taps, before dad and I get ready to leave the room to allow Bryony to strip.

"Thanks," the young girl says softly. "Ash- Ashley?"

"...Yes?" I ask.

"I'm glad you're my big sister," Bryony says, making me bite my lip to prevent myself from crying.

"Thanks," I sniffle.

"And I'm glad you're my dad, too," Bryony says, and for a brief moment, I actually hear a sniffle from our father as well. "And I don't mind sharing a bedroom with you, Ashley."

"Thanks," I whisper, before leaving the bathroom and sharing a quick smile with my dad as we head downstairs.

"Well?" Mum asks as we re-enter the living room.

"It's all taken care of," dad says. "Let's just say that Bryony, she- she isn't a little girl anymore."

"Oh," mum says, before her eyes widen as she realises the significance of what dad says. "Oh. Is- is she-"

"She's fine," dad says reassuringly. "Ashley ran her a bath, she's soaking now, hopefully it'll help her unwind, get rid of some tension."

"I- I should go to the shops, Bryony's going to need- umm, things..." Mum says, watching what she’s saying for the sake of the three younger children still sat on the sofa.

"I can nip out," I say. "If you'd prefer."

"Are- are you sure?" Mum asks. "Do you even know what you're looking for?"

"We can give Ashley a list," dad shrugs. "And besides, it's not like it's unusual for a teenaged girl to buy those things, is it?"

"...I guess not," mum says with a warm smile. "Go on, I'll look in on Bryony in a bit."

"Okay," I say, before turning to my father. "Dad... Are- are QPR playing on Monday?"

"Yeah, Norwich at home," dad replies. "Why?"

"Can- can we go to the game?" I ask, smiling as a tear actually forms in the corner or my father's eye.

"Of course we can," dad says, his voice trembling with emotion.

"As long as I can wear my new denim skirt, that is," I say as I hear my mum start to tear up as well.

"Hardly unusual for a teenaged girl to wear something like that," dad shrugs. "Now go on, get to Sainsbury's, your sister needs you."

"Will do," I say, smiling as I grab my coat and my purse and head out of the house.

It's funny how things can suddenly change, even if that change has been brewing for weeks, like in dad's case, or years, like for Bryony. I thought I'd never have a good relationship with my father again. I thought I'd never be close with Bryony again. And yet, after a quick talk, things are now better than ever- and I couldn't be happier. For the first time in a long time, I actually wish that the holiday didn't have to end and that I didn't have to go back to school to have to deal with Melissa and her gang...

Both Bryony and I ended up going to watch the football match with dad on the Monday. Cassie and Dorothy would've come too, but both of them were feeling the effects of too many Easter Eggs the previous day! This, of course, didn't stop both of them from going to watch Bryony in her one-off ballet class the following day, and it definitely didn't stop dad, who had a big, proud smile on his face as he watched Bryony throughout the lesson, and an even bigger, even prouder smile after class when he took a photograph of the four of us in our ballet uniforms.

"Beautiful," dad says as he puts his camera away. "Aren't your sisters beautiful, Eddy?" The four of us all giggle as the nearly two year old boy shyly nods. "You know what would make this even more perfect? A fifth daughter, to go with the four amazing ones I already have."

“Oh my god, I promised myself I wouldn’t get so emotional…” Laura sobs as she fans her thickly made-up face with her hands, or rather, the dark red fingernails on the ends of her hands. Even though we’re at school today, Laura, Suriya, Harriet, Nicole, Mia and even Megan, have opted to come to school today looking as feminine as possible, because they know that today is the one day they won’t be punished for it. This is because, apart from their exams, today is the last day that any of them will ever set foot in this school. They couldn’t be any more excited, and I am happy for them- even though it means that from now on, I’m going to be alone.

“Aww, me next! Me next!” Nicole squeaks, turning around so that Mia can sign the back of her blouse. All six girls’ blouses have been covered in similar ‘graffiti’, not just from each other, but from most of the other girls (and a lot of the boys) in their year, and while I’ve signed them as well, I can’t help but feel a little left out of the celebrations.

“Ash!” Megan squeaks, handing me her phone. “Can you get a picture of the six of us?”

“Sure!” I reply as I wonder whether or not acting as ‘official photographer’ makes me feel more or less left out- though I obviously hide my feelings, as the last thing I want is to bring my friends down on today of all days.

I spend the rest of the lunch break taking photos of the six girls in various poses, as well as photos of some of my other departing friends like Morgan, Sabrina and Emily from cheer club and some of the girls’ boyfriends too. A particularly awkward photo I take is one of Megan cuddling George- some days, especially today, he almost feels like more a part of the group than I am…

Eventually, the lunch period ends, and those of us in Years 10 and below head to our final class while the Year 11 students head to a special final assembly. My six friends do each give me a tight hug en route to their assembly, but that doesn’t help to cheer me up, and the look of concern on George’s face as I sit down next to him for our final lesson tells me that I’m not doing as good a job of hiding my misery as I’d hoped.

“Mate,” George says softly as we get out our books. “You- you okay?”

“Hmm?” I reply. “Umm, yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it…” George retorts.

“Honestly, I’m okay,” I insist. “It- it’s just gonna be a bit different, that’s all.”

“I guess,” George shrugs. “Not like you’re never going to see them again. Hell, you’re going to be seeing them again, like, less than 24 hours from now!” I smirk as I remember that while the girls might be celebrating today, tomorrow will be my turn, as tomorrow marks exactly fifteen years to the day since I was born. And yet, I find I can’t even get excited about that.

“True, I guess,” I reply.

“…And won’t you be seeing them, like, tonight?” George asks. “At ballet class?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” I say.

“And just because they won’t be at school anymore, it doesn’t mean that you have to stop being a girl, right?” George asks.

“Damn right,” I say, the smile returning to my face. “And yes, you’ve made your point.”

“Good,” George says. “One more thing- you still have plenty of friends here at school. Kinda hoped I was one of them.”

“Are you angling for a hug?” I ask, smirking as my friend suddenly flinches. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.” Luckily for George, at that moment, our teacher arrives to start our lesson, though I struggle to concentrate on the work for many obvious reasons. The main distraction isn’t that it’s Friday afternoon, or that it’s my birthday tomorrow, or even that my friends are leaving- it’s that I know George is right. Just because Laura and her friends are leaving and I’m staying, it doesn’t mean that everyone in school will suddenly turn into Sam Reid. I DO still have friends who genuinely like me, like George.

However, as I leave the school, I’m reminded that I have other friends who aren’t quite as ‘genuine’.

“Hey Ash!” Melissa squeaks, her trademark smug grin covering her face. “So looking forward to tomorrow, hehe!”

“Yep!” I reply with a forced smile of my own. Another reason why I’m not looking forward to my birthday as much as previous years is that this year, it’s not just going to be me, my sisters and the rest of the ‘excellent eight’ celebrating it.

In the last few months, I’ve grown a lot closer to Melissa and her ‘clique’, and while it has its advantages- the teasing and bullying I’ve had to endure has all but completely stopped- the fact still remains that it wasn’t my choice to become friends with her and her gang, and it’s definitely not my choice to remain friends with them. Melissa hasn’t so much as hinted about the photo she sent me, the one of me and Mia kissing, and it’s not like she needs to either. Mia told Harriet about the kiss of her own accord and explained everything, so Melissa doesn’t have anything on me that way, but that wasn’t the point of the photo- the point was to let me know exactly who it is who’s pulling the strings.

I’m savvy enough to know too that Melissa hasn’t befriended me out of the goodness of her heart, of course. While we’ve spoken online a few times, I haven’t seen Jamie-Lee Burke, Steph Abbott or any of the Angels or any member of Out of Heaven face to face since we met up on New Year’s Day, but Melissa obviously considers this to be close enough for her. I should consider myself lucky that she’s patient enough to wait for a ‘natural’ introduction rather than trying to force the issue, though she’ll no doubt be disappointed when she doesn’t meet any Angels at my party tomorrow.

The other girls in the gang are friendly enough, but I get the real impression that they’re only tolerating me for the sake of staying in Melissa’s good books. Lucy in particular seems to have a real problem with hanging out with me, and there’s no prizes for guessing why. Ironically, Lucy’s sister Joanna is in Bryony’s form, and the two of them have quickly become good friends to the point that she’s probably Bryony’s second-best friend after Nicole’s sister. Naturally, a part of me wonders whether or not this is just so she can torment Bryony later on if I don’t ‘behave’. Cameron- Melissa’s best friend- barely seems to acknowledge my existence most of the time, which suits me fine, but the last girl in the gang, Petra, is a bit harder to suss out. Like me, she’s an ‘outsider’, though due to her nationality rather than being transgendered, and like me, she has something Melissa desires- her parents’ wealth, rather than my ‘connections’. She’s very quiet, though- possibly because English isn’t her first language- so it’s hard to figure out exactly what she’s thinking, whether she’s tolerating me like Lucy is, or whether she sees me as a genuine friend, like a ‘kindred spirit’. Sometimes I even wonder whether or not she fancies me…

“Hi Ashley!” Mum says with a grin as I elegantly slide onto the passenger seat of her car. “Good day at school?”

“It was okay,” I shrug. “Think I told you it was the other girls’ last day before study leave, right?”

“Yeah,” mum says softly. “Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah,” I shrug.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” mum says. “I know how close you were to Laura and the other girls, for years they were your only real friends.”

“Not much has changed,” I say, before snorting with laughter. “Okay, apart from me, heh. But even then, like, you know…”

“I know,” mum whispers, before smiling as the back door of the car opens and three young, uniformed girls squish together on the back seat. “Hi girls!”

“Hi mum!” Bryony replies with a smile.

“Hi Mrs Moore!” Sabrina says. “Thanks for the lift home.”

“Yep, thanks!” Jo says with a wide grin.

“You’re welcome, girls!” Mum replies. “Looking forward to tonight?”

“Oh- definitely!” Sabrina giggles as I smirk at the girls’ enthusiasm- especially as Bryony’s just as excited as the two other girls. Two weeks ago, the three of them (and a handful of other girls) were fitted for pointe shoes and ‘promoted’ into my class, where they quickly fit in with the other, older girls, including myself, Laura, Mia and Suri- but none of my other friends, who have all either left the class or moved to the adult class. Assuming you don’t count Melissa, that is…

“It’s really tough on your feet, though,” Jo says. “Madame Renou-Briggs says that you have to be really dedicated to ballet to get pointe shoes before you’re twelve.” I smirk as I know without looking that my sister- the only one of the three to have not yet turned twelve- is blushing.

“And none of us have broken our ankles yet,” Sabrina says smugly.

“Never going to let your sister forget that, are you?” I ask.

“Nope!” Sabrina replies. “SO glad she isn’t in the class anymore, though, that would NOT have been fun.” Maybe not for you, Sabrina…

“Tell me about it,” Bryony says with a snort of laughter.

“Hey!” I protest as the girls and my mother giggle. “You’ll miss me when I’m not in your class anymore, or at school with you.”

“We share a bedroom,” Bryony reminds me. “I won’t get the chance to miss you!”

“Eh, it’ll still be different, though,” I feebly muse.

“Yeah, it’ll be better,” Sabrina retorts. “And thanks for letting us use your regular table, by the way.”

“When did we agree to that?” I ask.

“Are you going to hog it all to yourself, then?” Bryony asks, making me sigh. That table has been the effective centre of my school life for four years, and a part of me was planning on doing just that- though logically, I know that doing so would be ridiculous, and if anyone else has to sit at our table, I’m glad it’s Bryony and her friends.

“…Take the table,” I sigh, allowing myself a sad smirk as the three girls all cheer.

A short while later, we arrive home, and after a quick dinner, I head into the bathroom to change into my ballet uniform while Bryony, Sabrina and Jo all change in our bedroom. None of the three girls- not even Jo, despite her sister’s attitude- have a problem with me changing in front of them, but I change in the bathroom anyway as I feel awkward about changing in front of them. This is less to do with me being transgendered and more about the fact that I really don’t need to see my little sister in a state of undress!

After changing, I wrap a flimsy dance skirt over my leotard, grab my dance bag and head downstairs, where dad and the three younger girls are all waiting for me, along with another even younger girl who’s pouting so hard it must be making her face hurt.

“But I want to come too…” Cassie whines, making me involuntarily smirk.

“You’ll get to go when you’re older,” dad reminds the seven year old girl. “And you already have two dance classes each week!”

“Can I come and watch?” Cassie asks. “Ashley will be doing her special dance in her special tutu as it’s her birthday tomorrow and I want to see that!”

“…I’ll record it for you and show you when we get home, okay?” Dad asks, and much to the relief of everyone, this seems to placate Cassie for now- though she does insist on getting a hug from me, Bryony and dad before we leave! I have a smile on my face as I head out to dad’s car- a few months ago, the mere mention of me wearing a tutu would’ve caused his face to go a mixture of red and green, but today, the only look on his face is one of pride. Sometimes I need to remind myself that not all changes have to be bad ones.

When the car arrives at the dance studio, Bryony, Sabrina and Jo all immediately jump out of the car and head inside, but before I open the door, I’m stopped by a gentle cough from my father.

“Ash,” dad says softly. “Wait a sec. Are- are you alright?”

“Sure,” I shrug.

“Right, that means ‘no’ then,” dad sighs. “Your mum told me what happened today, the last day for your friends. It was bound to happen sooner or later, Ash.”

“Yeah, I know,” I sigh. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.”

“It’s not like you’ll never see-“ dad says, prompting a loud groan from me.

“Dad, I’ve had this conversation already today,” I interrupt, making my father sigh.

“I’ll skip to my next point, then,” dad says. “You’ll still have your sister with you at school, and she’s still going to need you to look out for her.”

“Yeah, I think Bryony’s okay looking out for herself,” I retort.

“You and I both know, from experience, that that isn’t true,” dad reminds me. “Ash, change is just part of growing up. And I’d have thought you of all people would be used to change.”

“Only changes I like,” I reply, before sighing myself. “…Okay, I get what you’re saying.”

“Good,” dad says softly. “And you know you can always talk to me if you need to. Always.”

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“Now try to cheer up!” Dad chuckles. “You’d almost think it was your birthday tomorrow or something!”

“Yeah, thanks,” I chuckle as I slide out of the car and head into the studio, where I immediately spot my sister and her friends comparing their pointe shoes while my friends sit at adjacent corners of the reception area. And yes, I said ‘corners’ and not ‘corner’- Mia, Laura and Suriya are sat in one corner while Melissa is sat in the other corner, playing with her phone. It doesn’t take me long to head over to the corner where three of my friends are sat- though, as always, I feel tense as I know that Melissa will have seen me do this, and the last thing I want to do is alienate her. Not because of any ‘retaliation’, but because it means I’ll have no one else to sit with at school from next week onward…

“Hey girlies!” I squeak as I sit down next to the three girls and straighten my tights. “Recovered after today yet?”

“HELL no!” Suriya giggles. “I know, I know, we’ve still got exams to get through and we’re probably going to be spending ALL summer studying, but you know? It’s SO great to finally be out of there!”

“Yeah,” I sadly chuckle, before grinning as I feel three pairs of arms wrap me in a tight group hug.

“That doesn’t mean we’re not going to miss you too!” Laura insists, making me smile.

“LOADS,” Mia says. “We can’t be the excellent eight without all eight of us, can we?”

“Even if we have been down to seven this last year,” Suriya sighs. “Gonna be even worse being down to six, and I know from what Priya says it’d just SUCK to be just one.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle. “Even though I keep getting reminded I’ve got other friends too.”

“Yeah, but better friends than the excellent eight?” Laura asks. “We actually invited Melissa over to sit with us but, well, take a look.”

“Yeah…” I grimace. “She’s not exactly the shy type, either… I dunno. Hope this doesn’t happen tomorrow.”

“Ooh yes,” Mia says with a twinkle in her eye. “Looks like all of us are celebrating this weekend, Miss soon-to-be-fifteen!”

“So enjoy it!” Laura orders. “We’re not going anywhere.”

“It’s just that ‘anywhere’ now includes ‘school’, hehe!” Suriya giggles as the four of us head into the studio and take our places at the barre.

After 45 minutes of hard work that leaves my feet aching, I’m ushered into a side room where I change into a voluminous pink tutu, the same tutu I wore this time last year. Even though I’ve had 12 months of nothing but pure femininity since my fourteenth birthday, it feels no less amazing to be able to pull on such a beautiful costume and be able to dance en pointe in front of the entire class, especially as this year, I not only have my father’s full approval, but he’s even recording the dance for posterity. After my dance ends, I share a loving (if awkward hug) with my father, before I’m mobbed with yet another group hug from my friends- including the one friend who didn’t hug me before the start of the lesson.

“You are SO good!” Melissa giggles. “It’s, like, you were born to be a ballerina!”

“She was!” Laura says smugly. “Hey, Bryony, wasn’t your sister good?”

“She was cool,” Bryony replies as she unties her bun, before sighing as I hold my arms open for a hug.

“Come on,” I tease, smirking as Bryony gives in and gives me a gentle hug.

“Another thing I don’t miss!” Sabrina says with a snort of laughter as she, Bryony and Jo head back to the changing room.

“…She does really,” Suriya giggles. “And you, MISS Moore, were really good tonight!”

“Thanks!” I squeak. “God, I don’t ever want there to be a time when I don’t dance, hehe!”

“Good to hear!” Madame Renou-Briggs says as she arrives to usher me back to the store room to change back into my leotard. “I shall sign you for adult classes this time next year, yes?”

“Definitely thinking about it!” I reply as I’m left to change in private. The advice I’ve been given today has been proved to be correct- just because they’re not going to school anymore, it doesn’t mean that Laura and co are any less my friends. We ARE the excellent eight. We just not be spending as much time with each other as we have done previously.

After returning home (and showing Cassie my dance video about five times), I make a start on my homework, before opting for an early night and heading to bed at the same time as my new ‘room-mate’. As I lay awake in bed, I can’t help but wonder whether the ‘excellent eight’ will still be as close as we are a year from now, or five years from now, or even ten years from now. In 2028 I’ll be 25 years old, I’ll probably have a job, will have hopefully long since had my SRS operation, might even be married or have a long-term girlfriend, and I may not even live in London anymore. But wherever, whatever and whoever I am in 2028, I truly hope that the rest of the excellent eight will be in my life.

Despite it being a Saturday, I wake up early the following morning- or rather, I’m woken up by my four younger siblings jumping on my bed and smothering me with hugs before I get the chance to protest!

“Habby birthay Ashley!” Eddy squeaks, wriggling his way to the front and giggling as I give him a kiss on his forehead, a gesture I repeat for my three sisters as well.

“Okay, okay, give your big sister some space!” Mum chuckles, ushering the four kids off the bed to give me her hug. “Happy birthday, Ashley! And thanks for making me feel old by having a fifteen year old child, heh!”

“You’re welcome,” I reply with a smug grin as my mother gives me a playful shove. “So, then…?”

“Your presents are downstairs,” mum says. “Get up, get dressed and get down there quick, young lady!”

“Can do!” I giggle as I swing my smooth, hairless legs out of bed and head toward the bathroom. After a quick shower, I pull on a comfortable pink t-shirt and a short denim skirt, before heading downstairs and sighing happily at the sight that greets me.

The living room’s main sofa is piled high with gift of all shapes and sizes. Some of them are obviously clothes, while others are in boxes or even gift bags. The one thing they have in common, though, is that all of them are covered in shiny pink wrapping paper. There’s no doubt who- or rather, what gender- these gifts are intended for.

“Oh my god!” I squeak as I approach the pile. “Thank you so much!”

“Just because number six is on the way, doesn’t mean we’re going to ignore number one!” Dad says with pride as he gives me a long hug. “Or numbers two to five, of course!” I giggle as I unwrap my presents, making sure to thank my parents (and my siblings, when I open their presents) with hugs for each one. My gifts include make-up sets, clothes, new pairs of shoes with increasingly high heels, dancewear, an armful of DVDs and plenty of Angels and Out of Heaven themed memorabilia. It’s not all that different than what I got last year, or what I got for Christmas, but somehow, it feels more special- maybe because this is my first birthday where everyone in my family is accepting me for who I truly am.

After unwrapping all my presents and eating a quick breakfast, I head back up to my bedroom to get ready for what’s going to be a busy, noisy day! A lot of my new make-up goes straight onto my face- pink eyeshadow, pink lipstick and a very heavy pair of false eyelashes, as well as a coat of dark pink polish on my fingernails. Next is the biggest decision of the day- what dress I’m doing to wear to my party later today.

Most of the dresses I own aren’t exactly ‘grown-up’- they’re almost all knee-length or longer and a looser fit than my friends would usually wear, but some are more suitable for a day like today. This is especially true for the one I eventually select, which has a slender fit, a low cut neckline and an asymmetrical skirt that starts just below my hip on one side and dips to just above my knee on the other. The whole dress has an intricate red and white pattern sewn throughout and not only looks gorgeous, but makes me feel just as beautiful as any girl once I’ve got it on. It’s actually a strain to put it back on the hanger and pull on a slouchy denim skirt and t-shirt instead, but I don’t want to crease the dress ahead of tonight’s party- I have to look perfect tonight, after all.

After using my curling iron- another new present today- to add a cute wave to my shoulder-length blonde hair, pick out a pair of strappy sandals with a 3 inch heel to go with my dress for tonight and spend a long time examining myself in my mirror. I’d dreamed of being a girl for so long that it almost feels unreal to see such a cute girl in the mirror and know that it’s me, and that this isn’t a costume, or a disguise- it’s who I really am. I spend so much time examining my reflection that I eventually get lost in thought, and am startled back to reality when my bedroom door opens and the room’s other occupant enters.

“Oh- jeez, Bryony!” I chastise my younger sister. “Ever heard of knocking?”

“What, to come into my own room?” Bryony replies.

“What if I’d been naked?” I retort.

“Like you are when we change for gym club?” Bryony asks, making me sigh and concede the point as she pulls a slender, short-sleeved grey minidress from her wardrobe and pulls it over her head. “Hope you’re not wearing that to the party tonight.”

“Hope you’re not wearing THAT!” I retort, making my sister smirk.

“Not decided yet,” Bryony says, before letting out a happy giggle as she reaches into her dresser for a small bottle of pale pink nail polish. “Thanks for letting me come along tonight, by the way.”

“You’re my sister, why wouldn’t I want you to come along?” I ask.

“I wouldn’t want Cassie at my birthday party,” Bryony replies.

“Yeah, well, you’re more grown-up than she is,” I say. “I mean, like, when you compare you and me and you and her-“

“Yeah, I get what you mean,” Bryony says with a smirk. “And thanks. Again.”

“Hell, you’re more grown-up than most of my friends,” I chuckle.

“Yeah, I know which ones too,” Bryony snorts, making me frown. Bryony and my other siblings have always been fond of Laura and her gang, but not so much of Melissa and hers, though admittedly they have had much more contact with Laura and co so haven’t really had the time to get to know Melissa all that well. Then again, the same could technically be said of me…

After a morning, lunch and early afternoon spent enjoying all my presents in the company of my sisters, I head back upstairs to touch up my make-up and change into the special dress and shoes I picked out for tonight. When I return to the living room, I’m greeted by proud smiles from my parents, as well as flashes from theirs and Bryony’s cameraphones.

“Very beautiful!” Mum beams as I giggle and do a couple of twirls. “Even if you are growing up FAR too fast.”

“Meh, you’ll just have to baby my four-soon-to-be-five younger siblings, won’t you?” I reply with a cheeky smile.

“Way ahead of you,” dad chuckles. “Just thankful there won’t be any boys there tonight.”

“Umm, one, there are,” I retort. “And two, I’m not interested even if there are, as you well know.”

“Either way, you are NOT being left alone tonight,” dad says. “Paid good money to hire that hall, I don’t want it looking like a bomb site when you’re done with it.”

“Dad!” I moan. “Just ‘cause there’s boys there it doesn’t mean we’re going to play ‘smash your head through a table’.”

“Damn right you’re not,” dad says quietly. “Guess I should just be grateful you’ve got so many friends that we need to hire somewhere for the party as this place isn’t big enough, heh.”

“Damn right you should be!” I reply, grinning as dad rolls his eyes. “I know that I am.” Even if I’d rather have quality over quantity, I think to myself. My fourteenth birthday party was celebrated with just my siblings and the rest of the ‘excellent eight’, and it was easily the best birthday party I’d ever had- though this was almost certainly due to the fact that all of my previous ones were when I was a boy. Tonight Melissa’s friends will be there as well, as will most of the school’s cheer club and a lot of their boyfriends as well. It’s almost overwhelming to think that I could actually be this popular, but I’m certainly not going to complain about it, not after the first few school years that I had to endure.

I have a wide grin on my face a short while later as I step out of dad’s car and stride into the fancy hotel function room my parents booked for the party, where I’m immediately greeted by loud cheers and tight hugs from all of my friends- ALL of them, Melissa and her gang (but thankfully, none of the boys) included.

“Happy birthday girlie!” Laura squeaks as she gives me an extra-tight hug.

“Thanks girlie!” I reply. “Thank you all so much for coming!”

“Ah, like we wouldn’t!” A voice I haven’t heard in a while says, making me gasp and wrap the owner of said voice in an even tighter hug than the one I have Laura.

“Hi Priya!” I squeak to the petite Indian girl. “God, it seems like ages since I last saw you!”

“It was two weeks!” Priya retorts.

“Still too long,” I giggle as the group hug is broken up and I’m led to a table where a large pile of presents are waiting for me, along with a huge, intricately-decorated pink cake.

Naturally, I cringe as I ensure a very loud rendition of ‘Happy Birthday to You’, before opening the presents (and thanking each present-giver with a hug), cutting the cake and giggling excitedly as the room is filled with loud, upbeat music and me and my friends head to the makeshift dancefloor. I’ve got to give my parents credit- this is definitely the most ‘grown up’ birthday party I’ve ever had, and everyone’s having a lot of fun, myself included- though a part of me still wishes the party was a smaller one, at home, with just my closest friends.

“Hey Ash!” I hear a voice calling from the bar in the corner of the room. I quickly skip over to the bar to discover that Laura, Suriya, Melissa and Cameron are all sat at the bar sipping elaborate colourful (and, as my parents have drilled into me, alcohol-free) drinks. I elegantly climb onto the barstool that’s been left for me in the middle of the group, expertly arranging my dress to avoid flashing my underwear to the entire room (something I’ve had plenty of practice doing during science classes).

“Hey girlies!” I giggle as I’m handed a ‘mocktail’ of my own. “Having fun, I hope?”

“Ugh, totally!” Melissa replies. “I am SO getting my parents to book this room for my sweet sixteen, hehe!”

“Maybe I should get it for my ‘sweet seventeen’, hehe!” Laura says with an excited squeak. “Thank you SO much for letting the boys come along too, heh.”

“The more the merrier!” I say with a half-hearted chuckle.

“It’s kinda like a rehearsal prom!” Suriya says. “Only today, we all know who the prom queen would be, hehe!”

“I dub thee ‘Queen Ashley’!” Melissa cheers, making me blush. “Ugh, SO wish we had a prom this year.”

“Yeah, year tens should get them as well!” Cameron says as Melissa and I nod in agreement.

“If we had to wait, you can too,” Laura retorts with a grin that makes me wince- this party will get a lot less fun very quickly if two of the girls get into a fight, which I can easily see happening now…

“Whatever,” Melissa shrugs, making me internally breathe a sigh of relief. “We’ll just have to make sure OUR prom is the biggest and best ever!”

“Hell yeah!” I giggle, wincing again at a look of confusion in Laura and Suriya’s faces.

“…Whatever,” Suriya shrugs, before giggling. “I’ll just have to make sure my ‘sweet seventeen’ is better than EVERY prom put together, hehe!”

“Is this going to be us from now on?” Laura asks our petite Indian friend. “Spending all our lives either going to parties or thinking about parties?”

“I hope so!” Suriya replies, earning loud giggles from all of us. “I’m still hoping we get an invite to an Angel party this summer, I mean, they’ve let under 18s in before.”

“Under 18 but over 16, anyway,” Laura says with a smug grin that makes me, Melissa and Cameron roll our eyes.

“I can wait,” Melissa shrugs. “Kinda surprised there aren’t any Angels here tonight, though. I mean, you do have a spot picked out for that special tattoo Jamie-Lee Burke has, don’t you?” …And there we go, I think to myself as I fidget in my seat.

“I’ve got four younger siblings and another one on the way,” I reply. “My parents will go MENTAL if I get a tattoo even after I turn eighteen.”

“Yeah, but still, though,” Melissa says as I feel increasingly tense.

“Hey girlies!” Priya squeaks as she approaches the bar, mercifully easing my tension as she climbs onto a barstool next to her sister. “Umm… Why are you getting drinks yourselves and not having the boys do it for you? That is why we brought them, isn’t it?”

“They’re all busy playing pool,” Suriya snorts. “Found the table and just jumped on it like, I dunno, squirrels or something.”

“BOYS,” Laura and I say simultaneously, triggering a giggling fit from the rest of the girls.

“Maybe I won’t pick THIS room for my sweet sixteen after all,” Melissa says with a smug grin.

“…Anyway,” Priya says. “What are we talking about?”

“Prom, parties, Angels,” Laura replies. “The usual stuff, hehe!”

“And how we’re going to celebrate once our GCSEs are over!” Suriya says.

“Jealous of THAT, too!” Melissa says as Cameron snorts with laughter.

“Can’t wait to be done with school,” Cameron says. “Not have to wear a stupid uniform every day…”

“Aww, but you’ll miss me though, won’t you?” Melissa asks, making me smirk as I wonder whether or not Cameron has a choice.

“Yeah, ‘course I will!” Cameron giggles. “Want to go and try to drag the BOYS away from the pool table?”

“It’s about time they started paying some attention to us!” Melissa says with a confident smirk as she and Cameron step down from the bar stools and head toward the increasingly masculine corner of the room.

“Thank god,” Laura breathes after the two girls are out of earshot.

“What- really?” I ask.

“No offence, Ash,” Laura says, “I know they’re your friends, but they are a bit full on.”

“More than ‘a bit’,” Suriya says. “And have been all year at cheer club.”

“Before you sat down they’d spent about five minutes trashing poor Allie,” Laura sighs. “Kinda why I called you over- no offence, again.”

“Umm, none taken, I guess,” I say- though it doesn’t look like my friends are convinced, not least because of the awkward silence falls over the four of us.

“Hey,” the bartender says in an effort to break the silence. “Do you girls want to have a go at mixing some drinks yourselves? Nothing alcoholic, obviously, but, you know?”

“Sure!” Priya says, leading the rest of us behind the bar. “Unless any of you would rather play pool now the table is free, Suri?”

“Oh sure,” Suriya replies with a sarcastic roll of her eyes. “I’ll just bend over the table and flash the entire room in this dress!” Laura, Priya and I giggle as the petite girl tugs down the hem of her extra-short dress, before standing and watching as the bartender demonstrates his craft for us and invites us to have a go.

Fortunately, the activity does help to ease the tension, especially when Nicole, Megan, Harriet and Mia come to sample our drinks- though I can’t help but notice that Melissa’s gang stay on the dancefloor with their boyfriends instead. Nonetheless, the eight of us being together like this definitely puts a smile on my face, even if it does feel like this truly is the end of an era.

As the evening wears on, the gulf between my two sets of friends gets more pronounced, especially after the early departure of Bryony and her friends. I find myself flitting between the ‘Excellent Eight’ and Melissa’s group, but tend toward the former group, especially when the hotel managers produce a karaoke machine and the seven girls serenade me with a rendition of ‘Happy Birthday to You’ by Stevie Wonder. The other four girls, on the other hand, stick to more ‘trendy’ songs by Little Mix or Out of Heaven.

By 8:30pm, the party is beginning to wind down, and I’m left feeling ambivalent. I have had a lot of fun tonight, and everyone else clearly has too, but the division between my two sets of friends has left me feeling troubled. They needn’t worry about it, of course, as they’re not likely to see each other ever again, but I’d hoped that tonight would’ve been an opportunity for all my friends to unite. I now see that hope was in vain, and judging by some of the looks Melissa has been giving me throughout the evening, my membership of her gang might not be guaranteed.

Just before 9pm, however, something happens that completely erases my tension and easily marks today as my best birthday ever. As I’m heading back from the bar with a round of drinks for my friends, the door to the function room opens… And in walks Stephanie Abbott, accompanied by my friends Jacinta and Nikki. All three women have wide grins on their faces, which widen when they see me and make a beeline for where I’m sat.

“Hey birthday girlie!” Nikki squeaks, giving me a gentle hug when she sees me.

“Oh my god, hi!” I squeak in return, uncontrollably bouncing up and down with excitement. “What are you doing here?”

“Celebrating the birthday of our fellow fellowship member, of course!” Jacinta giggles as she gives me her hug, before I shake with excitement as I exchange a brief hug with my all-time favourite singer.

“Oh my god,” I say, trying (and failing) to blink back tears as the famous transwoman giggles excitedly. “I can’t believe you’re really here!”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Stephanie says. “Never had a ‘little sister’ before, hehe! Well… ‘Little sisters’, anyway!” I giggle tiredly as I suddenly realise that I- or rather, Stephanie and I- have attracted the attention of everyone in the room, most of whom have their phones in hand and are either snapping or filming us.

“Oh look, Steph!” Nikki teases. “They’ve even set up a microphone for you!”

“One word, Nikki,” Stephanie retorts. “’Venus.”

“I’ll behave,” Nikki says between giggles as the crowd of my friends slowly approaches us. “Though you’re going to want to say something before we get a riot here…” I giggle as Stephanie rolls her eyes at her friend’s teasing before clearing her throat.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Stephanie announces. “When I heard that the youngest member of our ‘fellowship’ was celebrating her fifteenth birthday today, I decided that I couldn’t not drop in to help her celebrate, even if it just for a few minutes! Though seeing how many friends Ashley has, she doesn’t need that much help, hehe!”

“Thanks,” I mumble as my cheeks start to redden.

“I know I’d have given anything for my fifteenth birthday to have been like this,” Stephanie muses. “And to have had so many amazing friends. Because…?”

“You can never have too many friends!” The crowd- male and female- all cheer.

“So happy birthday, Ashley!” Stephanie giggles. “We can’t stay long as we kinda have our own Saturday night party to go to now, but we also wanted to give you this.”

“It’s a piece of paper with some writing on it,” Nikki teases as she hands me an envelope.

“A cheque’s a piece of paper with some writing on it,” I retort, earning giggles from my friends as I open the envelope, before gasping at what the piece of paper says.

“I think you’ll find that’s a bit better than just a cheque!” Jacinta giggles, and I most definitely agree. Written on the paper is the phrase ‘this voucher entitles the bearer to one full-length photoshoot at the Heavenly Talent main office in Soho, London’.

“Oh. My. God!” I squeak.

“We thought we’d get you something you REALLY wanted,” Nikki says. My smile starts to fade, though, as I feel several pairs of eyes start to drill into the back of my head.

“Can- can my friends come along?” I nervously ask.

“Told you,” Nikki whispers to Jacinta, unaware I could tell what she was saying.

“We can’t take photos of EVERYONE,” Jacinta says hesitantly. “It probably won’t even be me doing it as I’ll be, well, ‘unavailable’… Don’t see there’s any harm in people coming along to watch, though.”

“Oh my god!” Melissa predictably squeaks from the gaggle behind me.

“Thank you SO much for this!” I gush, giggling as I earn another round of hugs from my older friends.

“Just remember us when you’re the millionaire superstar, okay?” Jacinta asks, giggling as I nod.

“Now I’m afraid we really do have to get going,” Stephanie grimaces. “…Though I suppose we could stay long enough to take a few selfies, heh!” Naturally, this invitation is quickly accepted, and by the time the three women leave, the party is once again buzzing with energy, and remains that way when the hotel managers all but kick us out just after 10:30pm.

Naturally, I have a lot on my mind during the car ride home. What Stephanie said is definitely true- that I should consider myself lucky to be able to celebrate my fifteenth birthday the way I did. She didn’t, nor did Jacinta or Nikki. Laura, however, did. Her fifteenth birthday was just the eight of us (and Laura's stepsister) getting makeovers at a local salon, and as fun as tonight was, a large part of me wishes tonight had been like that. Still, though, I show the proper gratitude to my parents when we get home, before heading to the bathroom to scrub away my make-up and climb into bed, taking care not to disturb the already-sleeping Bryony.

I must have been more tired than I thought as the next thing I’m aware of after laying my head on my pillow is Bryony opening our bedroom curtains and daylight streaming through the windows.

“Ugh,” I moan as I scrape a lock of dishevelled hair out of my mouth. “What- what time is it?”

“Just after 8:30,” my sister replies. “Mum sent me to get you up, we’re heading to grandma and grandpa’s in a bit.”

“…Yeah, yeah, I know,” I sigh as I swing my legs out of bed and try to stretch away my tiredness before heading to the bathroom to get ready. It’s something of a tradition in the family that we visit our grandparents (or they visit us) after my or my siblings’ birthdays and this year is no different, but fortunately, it’s grandpa Chris and grandma Jo, my father’s parents, that we’re visiting today. They, along with great-grandma Hazel (grandma Jo’s mother) have always been supportive of me and my transition, even when my father himself wasn’t. Now that that entire side of the family supports me, today should be a chance to relax, both after last night and especially before tomorrow. I also take the opportunity to wear some of the new clothes I got yesterday, namely a cute black skater skirt and a pair of knee-high flat soled boots I got from my parents, and a striped short-sleeved bodysuit I got from Nicole yesterday that has the phrase ‘Miss Awesome’ written on the front in shiny rhinestones.

Naturally, the outfit gets a lot of compliments from my sisters and my parents (and my followers on Instagram, all of whom agree with the statement on the front of the bodysuit). Even though the front of the bodysuit is a little lower than most of my tops, my grandparents also compliment me on my appearance and spend the entire visit grilling me about life, school and especially last night’s party. Despite this, I still feel rejuvenated when we head home later in the afternoon, and after finishing off the last of my homework, I settle down for an evening of chatting online with my friends.

Within a few minutes of joining the chat, though, it suddenly dawns on me that I won’t be seeing any of the girls I’m talking to tomorrow, and will only see a few of them the day after at ballet. This triggers a very weird feeling in my stomach that stays with me as I head to bed, and only gets weirder as I get up the following morning, pull on the tights, blouse and skirt that make up my uniform and head down to dad’s car.

It’s a surreal feeling when I arrive at the school gate to find no one waiting there for me. I’m usually one of the last to arrive (as we have to drop my sisters off at primary school first) so there’s always a friendly face waiting for me. Today, however, I’m walking to form alone, and for the first time in a while, I feel my self-consciousness return as I feel several pairs of eyes staring at me walking through the school corridors.

“Alright mate?” George asks me as I sit down next to him with a loud sigh. “Guessing that’s a ‘no’, then?”

“I guess,” I shrug.

“It- it was a great party on Saturday,” George says. “Sorry I didn’t get to talk to you much but, you know, you were talking to the other girls most of the time…”

“It’s okay,” I say quietly.

“Yeah… You don’t look well, mate, are you sure you’re okay?” George asks.

“I’m fine!” I snap, before sighing. “I- it’s just a bit different today, you know? No Laura or any of the other girls…”

“Ah mate, tell me about it,” George sighs. “Not gonna get to see Meg until, like, Wednesday, and she’ll be too busy studying then too.”

“Yeah,” I sigh.

“Guess you’ll just have to hang out with the most popular girls in the year instead!” George says with a snort of laughter as I roll my eyes. “Seriously, mate, if you’ve got Melissa Jeffries as your ‘backup friend’, you’re not doing too bad!”

“I guess,” I shrug. “It still won’t be the same though.”

“Maybe it’ll be better?” George suggests. “Don’t tell Megan I said that, obviously.”

“I won’t,” I giggle as Mr Jackson arrives to start the lesson and I wonder whether or not George might have a point- then again, Laura’s never had to blackmail me into being her friend…

The first two lessons of the day go as normal- none of Laura’s gang were in those, after all- but when the bell sounds for break, the weird feelings return when I head out to our usual table to discover Bryony, Sabrina, Jo and a couple of their friends sat around it like it’s always been their regular hangout. With a sigh, I slink off and head toward a different part of the school grounds, where four girls my age are sat gossiping on a U-shaped bench- though they instantly shut up as they see me approach.

“Ooh, look who’s come crawling to us now her better friends have all left!” Cameron sneers, making my cheeks redden.

“And now she wants to sit with us!” Melissa says with a smug grin.

“I- I can go if you want…” I mumble.

“I dunno girls, should we let her sit down?” Melissa asks, her smug grin making way for a genuine giggle. “Show of hands?” I breathe a sigh of relief as all four girls- even Lucy, however reluctantly- raise their hands and Cameron and Petra clear a space between them for me to sit down. Naturally, I waste no time in accepting the invitation!

“Thanks!” I giggle nervously as I smooth my skirt over my thighs. “I did, you know, worry…”

“Like we’d ever turn away someone who got us selfies with Stephanie Abbott!” Melissa says. “I got, like, almost a thousand likes on Instagram for that photo!” 400 is ‘almost a thousand’? I think to myself.

“That was so cool!” Petra giggles in her soft Eastern European accent. “Did you know she would come?”

“It was a surprise to me too!” I say. “I mean, I figured Nikki would come ‘cause we talk online a lot, and she’s good friends with Jacinta, but Steph was a real surprise, hehe!”

“YOU were surprised?” Cameron says. “How d’you think we felt? I mean, yeah, we knew about the whole ‘fellowship’ thing, but still, wish I had a national celebrity show up to my birthday party!”

“Maybe we’ll all become friends with Steph?” Melissa shrugs. “You never know…”

“I doubt it,” Lucy snorts, making Melissa roll her eyes, much to my surprise.

“Jamie-Lee Burke says you can never have too many friends,” Petra says. “She wasn’t at the party too, though.”

“Maybe she’ll be at Ash’s sweet sixteen?” Melissa shrugs.

“Maybe,” I say with a grin that makes my friends giggle excitedly, letting me know I’ve been fully accepted as part of their group.

This acceptance lasts all the way through break and lunch as well, where I sit down in my new spot like I’ve never sat anywhere else and spend the whole of the 45 minutes gossiping with my friends. The stuff we talk about is trivial at best- TV, music and celebrities for the most part- but the fact that I’m talking about it with other girls is all that matters to me. Then again, the same could be said of every other lunch period I’ve had since making friends with Laura…

Eventually, the bell rings to signify the end of the school day, and I will admit that I’m more relaxed than I was at the start of the day. Melissa’s desire to be my friend seems to be genuine, even if it’s motivated by reasons other than pure friendship, and George is still the good friend he’s always been. My good mood most be obvious as a grin immediately appears on my mother’s face as I slide onto the front seat of her car.

“Good day, then?” My mother asks as we wait for my younger sister.

“Meh, not as bad as I thought it would be,” I shrug. “I’ve- I just, you know, hang out with Melissa and her friends at break and lunch.”

“The other girls who were at your party?” Mum asks, smiling as I nod. “I’m glad. I’ll be honest, I like Laura and her friends more, but they all seem like decent girls.”

“I like them,” I say.

“But you like Laura and her friends more?” Mum asks, making me sigh. “I’ll take that sigh as a ‘yes’. Ashley, you’ll get used to the new situation. By this time next week you’ll probably have forgotten that Laura was ever at the same school as you.”

“I hope not,” I say as Bryony, Sabrina and Jo all slide onto the back seat of the car.

Despite mum inadvertently bringing me down, I remain mostly upbeat for the rest of the afternoon, and after eating dinner with my family I head upstairs to change into a comfortable pink t-shirt and a pair of tight grey cut-off trousers, before settling down to do my homework. After an hour of solid work, I decide that I’ve earned a break, so I put my homework down and switch on my tablet computer. I chuckle as I log into Facebook and am immediately invited into a group chat with my friends- the ones I wasn’t sitting with at lunch today.

‘Hey birthday girlie!’ Laura types as I enter the chatroom. ‘We SO missed you today.’

‘Totally,’ Nicole concurs.

‘Trust me, I missed you girlies more!’ I reply, giggling as the other seven girls reply with ‘hugging’ emojis.

‘Aww,’ Suriya types. ‘If it helps I didn’t see any of the other girls today either.’

‘Not even your sister!?’ Megan asks.

‘She didn’t get up until 11am and then went straight round her boyfriend’s,’ Priya types, earning a ‘bashful giggle’ emoji from her sister that makes me giggle. ‘Some of us still actually have to get up in the morning, don’t we Ashley?’

‘Yep!’ I type.

‘Trust us, we ARE working hard,’ Harriet types, accompanied by a ‘tired’ emoji. ‘Done English AND maths today, yawn!’

‘Same,’ Mia types. ‘Figured we’ve earned a break and can’t think of any better way to relax!’

‘Too right!’ I type. ‘Who or what are we gossiping about today? Anyone who recently had a birthday, maybe?’ I giggle as my ‘winking’ emoji earns several ‘sticking out tongue’ emojis in response.

‘It was an awesome party,’ Harriet types. ‘Can’t believe Steph Abbott came! Did either of you know about this?’

‘‘Either of you’ means me or Ashley, right?’ Laura types. ‘And nope, I didn’t. Sure, they dropped round and Jamie did as well so I figured Nikki and Jacinta would drop round but Steph was a surprise.’

‘She is so nice though,’ Nicole types. ‘Made Sabrina well jealous when I got a selfie with her!’ This is a familiar conversation, I think to myself. Maybe my two sets of friends aren’t all that different after all…

‘I’ve told my parents I’m expecting huge things for my sweet sixteen next month!’ Mia types.

‘I can guarantee that you won’t be disappointed!’ Harriet types with a ‘winking’ emoji, before the two girls exchange a barrage of ‘kissing’ emojis. Maybe there are a few differences in the two groups after all…

‘Enough kissing!!!’ Nicole types. ‘We were talking about something else, weren’t we?’

‘What were we talking about?’ I ask, frowning as the chat suddenly pauses. ‘Girlies? Still there?’

‘It’s nothing,’ Suriya types.

‘Obviously it’s more than ‘nothing’,’ I type. ‘What were you talking about? Was it Melissa and her friends? Cause anything you say you know I’ll keep private.’

‘We weren’t talking about her,’ Laura replies. ‘Though she is a bit of a try-hard.’

‘A ‘bit’ of a try-hard!?’ Harriet types with a ‘laughing’ emoji. ‘She was a total PITA on Saturday. No offence Ash, I know she’s your friend but yuck!’

‘None taken!’ I reply, even as I let out a long sigh. My two sets of friends don’t need to get along as they obviously won’t interact anymore- well, not apart from my next birthday, anyway- but I’d hoped they could at least be nice to each other, even in private. And I can’t help but note that Laura’s gang are being meaner about Melissa and her friends than they were about them…

‘The Polish girl was nice though,’ Priya types, relieving some of my anxiety. ‘Did I hear she was rich?’

‘Her family won half a million on the lottery,’ I type. ‘She’s pretty cool.’

‘Cute, too,’ Harriet types.

‘Because she looks a bit like me?’ Mia types with a ‘fluttering eyelashes’ emoji.

‘No! No more kissing!’ Laura types, and I giggle as Harriet and Mia reply with ‘sad’ emojis.

‘We’re going to need a crowbar to separate you two when we go down to the beach!’ Nicole types, triggering another awkward pause in the conversation.

‘Beach?’ I type.

‘Ash,’ Laura types after a long pause, ‘we’ve been thinking about going to the beach this summer to celebrate finishing our GCSEs.’ I let out a long sigh s the implication of this is clear- namely that I’m not invited as I won’t have finished my GCSEs this summer.

‘Okay,’ I type. ‘My parents probably wouldn’t let me go anyway cause of being 15.’

‘That’s what we figured,’ Suriya types.

‘We were going to tell you,’ Megan types. ‘But we’re not even sure where we’re going yet, and we figured you’d probably go next year with Melissa and co anyway.’

‘Okay,’ I reply as my heart sinks even further.

‘Last year I went on the same trip with friends from my year,’ Priya types, obviously trying to be helpful.

‘You had friends in your year?’ Suriya asks, earning an ‘angry’ emoji from her sister.

‘Should we be jealous?’ Nicole asks as I feel more and more uncomfortable with the conversation.

‘It was a big trip, about 40 of us from our year,’ Priya explains.

‘It’s okay you don’t need to explain,’ Laura types. ‘Same if Ashley does the trip next year with Melissa and co.’

‘Thanks,’ I type, before letting out a long sigh. ‘Need to get back to homework now, ttyl!’

‘See you soon!’ Suriya types, followed by other farewell messages as I log out and toss my tablet computer back on my bed.

“God…” I moan to myself as I try to process the conversation in my mind. I can hardly blame the girls for wanting their beach trip- they’ve said they won’t blame me for going next year, after all- but it’s obvious they didn’t want me to know about it. Maybe they wanted to spare my feelings, maybe they just genuinely didn’t want me to go along, I don’t know. All I know is what I saw, and that’s my friends plotting a beach trip without me just 2 days after they last saw me at my own birthday party.

The conversation stays on my mind throughout the evening and even after I climb into bed, causing me to toss and turn all night and feel lousy when I get up the following morning. As we’re heading to school, I find myself feeling worse than I’ve done in a long time, but as I approach the gate, an unexpected sight puts the smile straight back onto my face.

“Hello girlie!” Petra says with a wide grin. “I did say that right, yeah?”

“You said it great!” I giggle as I exchange a gentle hug with the raven-haired girl. “What are you doing here? You don’t usually wait for anyone, do you?”

“I’m in form with Lucy, so I wait for her usually,” Petra replies. “But she’s sick today, and I know you’re used to meeting friends at the gate, so I thought ‘why not’?”

“Well I appreciate it, I really do,” I say with a happy giggle. “No Melissa or Cameron, then?”

“I think they do their own thing in the morning,” Petra shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe there’s still shame in being friends with an immigrant girl.”

“Umm, hello?” I reply. “You want to talk about shame?” Petra sighs and smiles supportively as I gesture to my own body.

“You open your mouth and people hear an English girl,” Petra retorts. “Can’t hide my accent like you can your past.”

“There are what, fifteen Polish kids in the school and about a hundred more who aren’t British?” I ask. “How many other transgendered kids are there in the school?”

“There’s Lau- oh,” Petra says, biting her lip. “Okay, you win this.”

“Yeah, ‘win’,” I sigh as the realisation dawns on me that I really am the only transgendered student in the school. Suddenly, I feel more alone than ever… But that feeling just as suddenly vanishes when Petra gives my hand a gentle squeeze.

“If we were losers, would we be the most popular girls in school?” The Polish girl asks, making me giggle.

“Yeah, but we’re not popular ‘cause you’re Polish and I’m trans,” I remind my new friend.

“Maybe we can make what was uncool cool,” Petra suggests. “There are two transgendered Angels in Britain and ones in Germany, Italy, Australia and now Ireland. Think you could call your friend Jamie-Lee and ask her to make Polish Angels?”

“I’m not sure I’m THAT important,” I reply, making the raven-haired girl giggle.

“Meh, you’re still cool,” Petra says as we head to our separate forms. “And not just because of who you are friends with!” Despite my lack of sleep and my earlier misery, I have a smile on my face and a spring in my step as I head into form.

“Alright, mate?” George asks as I sit down next to him. “That’s a ‘yes’ today, innit?”

“…Yes and no,” I shrug. “Still getting used to, you know, things.”

“Okay,” George says. “But that was a big smile when you came in.”

“I was talking to Petra,” I say. “Getting to know her a little better. She’s pretty cool, you know?”

“Her family’s loaded,” George reminds me.

“And I’m friends with several celebrities even though I’m only fifteen,” I retort.

“…Point?” George asks.

“I think I’d still be cool if I wasn’t,” I say. “And Petra would still be cool if her family wasn’t rich.”

“Do you fancy her?” George asks, making me roll my eyes.

“She’s a friend,” I shrug.

“Mate, she’s had a boyfriend in the past, she doesn’t go in for girls,” George advises. “Plenty of other, you know…”

“Lesbians?” I ask, rolling my eyes as my friend starts to blush. “I know. And I don’t REALLY fancy her, she’s just, you know, cool.” Before George has the chance to reply, Mr Jackson arrives to begin the form period, and I find myself contemplating my friend’s words.

Petra’s definitely good-looking, friendly and sweet- and, as she pointed out this morning, we’re both ‘outsiders’ in our own individual way. Maybe I do fancy her in some subconscious way, and with Harriet and Mia no longer options, I could do a lot worse than Petra. However, this assumes that she’s interested at all, and there’s nothing to say that she is, and even if she was, god knows how awkward it’d make things with Melissa, not to mention Lucy. Still, even if she isn’t interested in that way, there’s no reason why she couldn’t become my best friend. The one thing I never had in the ‘Excellent Eight’ was a real, lasting best friend, like a BFF. At various times, Laura, Suriya or Megan filled that role, but no one consistent, especially as Laura and Megan were always BFFs for each other and Suriya’s BFF was her sister. Hell, even Bryony has a BFF in Sabrina. Sure, George has always been a best friend to me, but even he’s been more distant lately, almost like he’s more ‘Megan’s boyfriend’ than ‘Ashley’s friend’. And it’s not like I can talk to him about clothes, make-up or dancing (even if we never did establish what happened to that pair of tights that went missing from Megan’s bag). Petra, on the other hand, could be the best friend I always wanted. I bet she’d never run off to the beach without even telling me…

Once the bell rings for break, I head straight outside and to my new ‘spot’ where my friends are waiting for me. Even though the quickest route there takes me past my old table, I don’t even pause to look at it, instead focussed on my destination and the three friends waiting for me there.

“Hey!” I giggle as I sit down between Cameron and Petra. “Saved me a seat today, then?”

“Saved you two, in fact!” Cameron replies with a smug grin.

“You’d better not be saying I have a big bum!” I retort, earning a genuine chuckle from the brown-haired girl. “It’s okay. I heard about Lucy, she okay?”

“Think it’s just flu,” Petra replies.

“Hope she’s not sick from having been around five transgendered people this Saturday just gone,” I say with a smug smirk of my own.

“She’d better not be,” Melissa says, her tone of voice implying that she has no time for Lucy’s transphobia- and which is oddly relieving to me. “And I’d better not get her flu either, not when there are solo parts up for grabs in the Daft Punk ballet show!”

“Oh you are an absolute shoe-in for one of those,” I say, and as much as it may sound like I’m kissing up to Melissa, she is genuinely good enough to be one of the soloists. Which makes me wonder why Laura and Suri always criticised her effort in cheer club…

“Even if no one’ll be able to tell it’s you because you’ll be wearing one of those robot helmets all the time,” Cameron teases.

“Soloists don’t wear the helmets, only the backing dancers do,” Melissa replies smugly.

“Which means no one will be able to tell who I am in the helmet and the silver unitard thing we’ll be wearing,” I say with an overdramatic sigh.

“Aww,” Petra playfully sighs. “What is this ‘unitard’ thing you’re talking about? Is it like a leotard?”

“You’d know if you came to the dance class!” I reply, sighing as the Polish girl blushes. “Ahh… Sorry, sorry.”

“You know why I don’t dance,” Petra says quietly. “I would be like a spider with eight broken legs!”

“No. You. Wouldn’t,” Melissa insists. “I’ve told you a hundred times, nine tenths of being a great dancer is being girly and gorgeous. Tell me, girls, is Petra girly and gorgeous!”

“Hell yeah!” I cheer as I feel myself starting to relax.

“Both!” Cameron chuckles.

“And you’re great at cheer club,” I remind my friend.

“A hell of a lot better than Allie is, anyway,” Melissa sneers, abruptly ending my relaxed feeling and reminding me why I usually hung out with Laura and co.

“Ugh, totally,” Cameron spits. A quick glance over at Petra, however, tells me that she’s just as uncomfortable with this as I am, though she’s obviously playing along for the same reasons as me. I make a mental note to talk privately to my new friend later as I feign interest in Melissa and Cameron’s sniping at Allie and several of the other girls in the year, which dominates the conversation until the bell rings to signal the end of our break time.

After my next lesson, I waste no time in heading back to my new ‘spot’, though with considerably more trepidation than this morning. Fortunately, Melissa and Cameron are in a much less catty mood than they were this morning but still get in a few swipes at some of their least favourite classmates (particularly poor Allie) that leave both me and Petra feeling uneasy. By the end of the lunch period, though, all four of us have wide grins on our faces, and I must admit, mine is as wide as it ever was when hanging out with Laura and her friends. And, as luck would have it, my next lesson is along the same route as Petra’s next lesson.

“Going my way, then?” I tease the black haired girl, who giggles in response.

“Looks like it!” Petra replies. “What have you got next?”

“French,” I reply, internally breathing a sigh of relief- this time last term, it would've been maths, which would've meant another hour of Melissa and Cameron. “You?”

“The same,” Petra shrugs. “But I’m set 3.”

“Ah,” I say. “Yeah, it’s kinda a favourite subject of mine, heh. Got a knack for learning languages for some reason.”

“Maybe I could teach you Polish?” Petra says with a giggle.

“Yeah, I’d like that!” I reply with a girlish giggle of my own.

“Ariadna- my little sister- is really good at other languages,” Petra explains. “They think she is specially clever, or something.”

“Yeah, I know all about having a little sister who’s too smart for her own good!” I say. “I’d- I’d better get going now, talk later?”

“Sure!” Petra chuckles. “I can give you a first lesson, hehe! Are you busy tonight?”

“It’s ballet night,” I reply. “And no, I’m not saying that in yet another attempt to get you into a pair of tights and a leotard. This time.”

“Hehe!” Petra squeaks excitedly. “You have fun, okay? Talk tomorrow!”

“See you tomorrow!” I wave after Petra before heading to my final class of the day.

Later in the evening, I walk into the familiar surrounds of the Krystie Fullerton School of Dance clad in my regulation tights, leotard and flimsy dance skirt. As with when I arrived last Friday, I’m faced with the choice of sitting with Melissa in her corner, or with Laura, Suriya and Mia in their corner. Today, however, the choice is even tougher.

I know that Melissa isn't a nice person, but she's not just friendly toward me, she's defensive of me as well. Lucy wouldn't dare do or say anything to me as she knows it'd piss Melissa off a lot, and that's something nobody would dare do. And she sought out my friendship too. She wouldn't plan a trip to the beach and leave me in the dark about it, like Laura and Suriya did.

...Then again, Laura and Suriya wouldn't effectively blackmail me into being their friend. That's something I'll never be able to forget and something Melissa doesn't seem to have any problem with doing. With Melissa, I'll always be a 'sidekick' at best, but in the 'Excellent Eight', I was an equal. But that's the point- I WAS an equal. They've all moved on. Maybe I should follow their example.

"Hey Melissa!" I say as I sit down next to the petite girl- and much to my surprise, she actually looks genuinely happy to have me sat next to her.

"Oh- hey Ash!" Melissa says with a grin. "What's up?"

"What, I can't sit with my friend before the lesson?" I ask, earning a genuine grin from Melissa.

"Don't see any reason why not!" The brown haired girl replies as she goes back to studying her phone.

A few minutes later, we head into the class where we rehearse out steps for the upcoming performance, while Laura, Suriya and Mia assist with Bryony and the other younger students. At the end of the lesson, I get ready to head back to the changing room with Melissa, when I'm suddenly confronted by my three other friends. I brace myself for an argument, but much to my surprise, they don't have looks of anger on their faces, but looks of regret.

"Hey Ash," Laura says softly. "Look, we- we've been thinking about what we were talking about last night, and we- we've made a decision about our beach trip."

"We've decided when we're going to go," Suriya explains. "Last weekend in July."

"Okay," I say stoically.

"July... 2019," Suriya clarifies. "When all of us can go. All eight of us."

"Like it should be," Mia says softly. "I mean, I didn't even know you guys before year 10, now I can't imagine not being part of this awesome group!"

"And we can't imagine this awesome group without you!" Laura sighs. "Or you, Ash. So... BFFs?"

"I thought Megan was your BFF?" I ask. "Can you have more than one?"

"I hope so!" Laura giggles as she opens her arms for a hug, which I'm only too happy to provide.

"Hey, Ash!" Melissa calls as she heads for the door, making me grimace.

This decision has suddenly got a lot harder, even though I'll be seeing Melissa much more than Laura over the next few months, even though I have no problem calling her my friend, the truth is that Laura, along with the rest of the 'Excellent Eight', is a TRUE friend. And the fact remains that without her, I'd probably still be a boy, a miserable, angst and anger-filled boy instead of the girl I am. Still, maybe it'll all work out in the end, maybe my two sets of friends will be able to get on with each other after all?

Yeah, I'm not convinced either.

“Come on,” mum insists as she arranges me and my sisters against the outside wall. “Can’t not get a photo of this, my four beautiful girls!” I smile as I hold hands with Bryony, who holds Cassie’s hand, who eagerly grips onto Dorothy’s hand. Today is a big day for all of us- the first day of school after a long summer holiday, and it’s a big day for me in particular, as it’ll be my last ever ‘first day of school’.

Obviously, when I say ‘school’ I’m not including things like sixth form or further education college, and definitely not university either. Today is the last day I pulled on my school uniform for the first time, and as I did so this morning, I was filled with a lot of conflicting emotions.

Not as conflicted as I was four years ago, though, when I pulled on my secondary school uniform for the first time. Or even as conflicted as ten years ago when I first wore my primary school uniform. Both of those uniforms were pretty straightforward- both included a white shirt and black socks, the primary school uniform had a red jumper over the shirt and the secondary school one had a grey blazer and a striped tie. And both uniforms had a mandatory pair of grey trousers. Many of the other girls in school were also wearing trousers, of course- but unlike me at the time, they had a choice, and I most definitely didn't. And that left me stressed every day I went into school. Today, however, that choice is mine, and just as I have done every morning since I first went into school as the girl I really am, I rolled a pair of tights up my legs, followed by a straight grey skirt. I also applied a little eyeliner and mascara- something else I didn't have the choice of doing four years ago- and brushed out my blonde hair, which is much longer and straighter than it was four years ago. With every passing day, I look more and more like the girl I want to be, which helps me feel more and more like the girl I want to be. However, that doesn't mean I'm not encountering stress from other sources, though.

Ironically, the photograph that takes pride of place on my nightstand is a reminder of the stress I'm going to feel today. Ironic, as it's meant to be a reminder of just how far I've come on my journey. At the end of July, I cashed in the gift Nikki gave me for my birthday in May and spent a whole day at Heavenly Talent being pampered, getting to dress up in countless beautiful dresses (a couple of which I was even allowed to keep) and having hundreds of photographs taken, including the one on my nightstand of me in a flowing sapphire blue gown, in which I am indistinguishable from any other girl- in particular, any of the eleven girls that came with me to the photoshoot.

Yep, as I'd promised, Laura and the rest of her gang accompanied me to the Heavenly Talent offices, as did Melissa and the rest of hers. Thankfully, no one made a scene- not even Melissa when Jamie-Lee Burke herself came down to watch the end of the photoshoot (and, of course, pose for selfies). It didn't stop me from being uncomfortable, though, especially as the two groups barely interacted throughout the day, which is the main reason the group photo of the twelve of us isn't the one taking pride of place on my nightstand.

I spent most of the rest of the summer hanging out with Laura and the other girls, which brings me to why I'm so stressed out today- because today is the first 'first day of school' when I'll be there, and they won't. I had a 'practice' for this at the end of last year when the girls were on study leave for their exams, but it's only just hitting home now that they're gone for good- and my choices for friends basically boil down to Melissa and her gang, or no one...

“Just one more,” mum says, making the four of us giggle- even Bryony, who I can’t help but gaze at with pride. Over the past few months, she’s changed a lot, both emotionally and physically. She’s in the middle of a serious growth spurt, is now standing 5’ 2” tall and is very much a beautiful young woman. Part of my pride, however, comes from the fact that her growth spurt has meant that many of my old clothes are now hers- particularly the pleated grey skirt hanging from her waist. Laura mentioned over the summer how it gave her a ‘buzz’ to see her stepsister wearing her old clothes, as though it somehow made her a more ‘legitimate’ girl. At the time, I didn’t know what she meant, but now I definitely understand.

And, of course, Bryony and I have both had to grow up quicker than expected as our responsibilities around the home have increased at the same rate as our mother’s mid-section. Last week we found out that the new baby will be a girl, and true to his word, dad swore that he would love Felicity (as our sister will inevitably be named) just as much as he would have loved ‘Finlay’. He also spent two weeks of the summer laid up himself following a vasectomy, which turned into an awkward two weeks when he tried to joke with me about our ‘similar operations’. While he means well (which is a big improvement over twelve months ago), he still has a long way to go. Fortunately, he’s avoided any stereotypical ‘Dadzilla’ tendencies despite having four (soon to be five) daughters, thanks in part to me still being single and Bryony not showing any interest in boys yet.

“Okay, think that’s enough for now,” mum chuckles. “Any more and we’ll be here until the summer holidays, heh!”

“Come on, girls,” dad says, ushering the four of us toward his car where my sisters pile onto the back seat while I elegantly lower myself into the passenger seat, straightening my short grey skirt as I get comfortable. “Looking forward to your first day of Year 1, Dorothy?”

“Yep!” My (currently) youngest sister replies with a giggle. “I’m going to have the same teacher Cassie had!”

“Mrs Collins?” I ask. “I had her when I was in Year 1!”

“She’s such a cool teacher,” Cassie squeaks excitedly. “She let me wear my ballet leotard when we did indoor PE!”

“Who’ve you got this year, Cassie?” I ask my seven year old sister. “Does Mr Coates still teach at that school?”

“Yes, but I’ve got Miss Everett instead,” Cassie says with a sigh that I definitely sympathise with- Miss Everett was my teacher while in Year 3 and was definitely one of the strictest teachers in the school.

“Ah, you’ll be okay,” I reassure the young girl. “She’s alright as long as you’re not too mental in her class.”

“Good luck, Cassie,” Bryony snorts sarcastically, giggling as our younger sister pouts at her.

“You’ll all be fine,” dad reassures us. “You’re all well-behaved, for the most part.” I try to smile as dad compliments us, though it does remind me that unlike Laura and Suri last year, I won’t be wearing a prefect’s badge for my final year of school, all thanks to the one day suspension I had three years ago- which was itself all thanks to Laura starting a chain of gossip that resulted in me being ‘outed’ far earlier than I’d wanted.

“Do you know where you’re going to college yet, Ashley?” Bryony asks, sensing my discomfort.

“Give your br- sister a chance, she hasn’t even started Year 11 yet!” Dad says, chuckling to try to distract from his near faux pas.

“Wherever I go, I’ll probably be studying German,” I say, trying not to fidget in my seat.

“Still dreaming of being a flight attendant, Ash?” Dad asks with an obviously forced smile.

“That’s the plan,” I reply with a less forced smile of my own.

“I know what I want to be when I’m older!” Cassie says, making everyone in the car- even Dorothy- chuckle tiredly.

“Everyone knows what you want to be,” I tease my little sister, causing her to pout again. “But you know what Madame Renou-Briggs says, work hard enough and you can be anything you want to be- especially a ballerina, hehe!” I should know that better than anyone, I think to myself.

A few short minutes later, my two youngest sisters exit the car and head toward their primary school, and a short while after that, Bryony and I are climbing out of dad’s car and heading toward the front gate of our secondary school. It’s only when I step through the gate that it hits me that this year is going to be VERY different from the previous four.

In the past, when I arrived at school (even if I was wearing trousers instead of a skirt), I’d usually be greeted at the gate by several of my friends- the ‘excellent eight’ as we called ourselves- and we wouldn’t head into school until all eight of us were there. Today, however, while Bryony is greeted warmly by her ‘gang’, which includes Nicole’s sister Sabrina (Bryony’s best friend) and Laura’s stepsister Lily, who Bryony and Sabrina have promised to look after in her first few weeks here. I, on the other hand, have no one at the gate to greet me. When I get into the school building itself, though, I am greeted by a friend- albeit it someone very different from the excellent eight.

“Alright mate?” George asks with a snort of laughter. “Kinda getting harder and harder to call you ‘mate’ with how, well, girly you’ve got…”

“That is kinda the plan,” I say, stopping briefly to straighten my tights, an action that clearly makes my friend uncomfortable. “Gonna get even girlier in May when I can FINALLY get proper HRT…”

“Yeah…” George grimaces. “Meg- umm, Megan says hi, by the way, wanted me to, you know, keep an eye on you this year, make sure you’re okay.”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be different this year without them here,” I sigh sadly.

“Still though,” George says hesitantly, “it’s not- it’s not like you don’t have other friends, right?” I bite my lip as I glance to our left, where Cameron and Lucy are stood outside their form room, waiting to go in.

While I spent most of my free time over the summer hanging out with the ‘excellent eight’, a large chunk of it was spent hanging out with my other friends- namely, Melissa Jeffries and her gang, of which I am seemingly a part whether I like it or not.

There wasn’t much difference between the two groups when it came to what we got up to over the summer- hanging out at coffee shops, sunbathing in each other's gardens, heading to the local swimming pool for a dip, and Melissa and co made me feel just as much an ordinary teenaged girl as Laura and co did, but I never felt as comfortable with Melissa and her friends as I did with Laura and hers- or rather, our friends. If I had the choice, I’d simply drift away from Melissa and co and leave them in peace- but the point is, I don’t have that choice.

It’s not just because Melissa is the most popular girl in our year (and, by default, the entire school), though that certainly plays a part- and her barely-concealed threat to make life harder for Bryony is certainly still stuck in my mind. My main concern, though, is that other than George, I have no other friends in the school, and without Melissa’s ‘influence’, things could get very ugly for me very quickly.

I’ve been living full-time as a girl for 22 months now, but even that isn’t good enough for some people- like many of the other students in the school. I still have the scar above my eye from where Sam Reid attacked me two years ago, and while things haven’t even come close to being that bad, I can tell by the looks on people’s faces that even if they keep it to themselves, they do not approve of me wearing the skirt I worked hard to earn the right to wear. Without Melissa’s influence, there’d be nothing stopping them from being outright hostile toward me- though thankfully, that's unlikely to happen anytime soon. As long as I remain friends with Jamie-Lee Burke and the Angels, anyway...

However, George is the only friend I have any contact with in the morning as we remain in our forms until our first morning break, when we go our separate ways- George to the school’s basketball court and me initially to the table where I sat for the first four years of my school life, but which is now ‘under new management’.

“Oh, hey Ash,” Bryony says, barely looking up from her conversation with Sabrina, Lucy’s sister Jo, Laura’s sister Lily and a handful of her friends. Even though it’s a reminder of how much things have changed, I can’t help but smile at the sight of my formerly shy and introverted sister surrounded by so many friends. The table is more cramped today than it ever was when the whole of the excellent eight sat around it.

“Hey,” I say. “Umm… You see Melissa go past?”

“She’s probably with my sister,” a Polish-accented black haired girl, very obviously Petra’s younger sister, says. “You know where their usual place is, don’t you?”

“Uhh- yeah?” I reply with a defensive snort. “Just checking that you girls were all okay, that’s all.”

“Aww,” Bryony and Sabrina playfully coo, making me roll my eyes.

“You’re not getting the table back,” Lily teases, earning another longer, louder eye roll.

“Keep it,” I shrug as I move to walk away, only to be intercepted before I take five steps.

“Ah, hi!” Petra says with a smile as she glances at the younger girls at the table. “You are looking after sisters as well?”

“Yep,” I reply with a smug smile that makes my sister roll her eyes. “Laura asked me to keep an eye on her little sister as well.”

“Thanks for the ‘little’,” Lily snorts, making me giggle while Petra and her sister exchange a few words in Polish.

“Come on,” Petra says, sticking her tongue out at her sister as the younger girl rolls her eyes. “The girls are waiting for us by the sports hall.”

“Cool,” I say as I follow my friend to our new ‘spot’, though I can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness as I leave the table (which is already filled with noise) behind. “Didn’t know your sister was starting Year 7 today?”

“Oh, yeah,” Petra replies. “Ariadna has been looking forward all summer to it! Especially as she has a new uniform too. No handed down clothes like I had from my sister!”

“Yeah, pretty much everything Bryony’s wearing used to be mine,” I reply, before chuckling as I realise what I just said. “Wouldn’t have thought THAT would happen three years ago, heh!”

“Ah- of course!” Petra chuckles. “Sometimes I forget, you know?”

“Thank you,” I say with a smug grin that falters as we approach our other three friends, who are sat around a table not unlike my old one, but which has a noticeably different ‘vibe’ to it.

“Hey Ash!” Melissa says as I elegantly sit down next to Cameron, all the while trying to ignore Lucy’s disapproving stare at not just me, but seemingly at Petra too. “Hey Petra! Looking after your little sisters today, then?”

“Yeah, not just today!” I reply with a snort of laughter. “Probably still be babysitting my sisters when I’m fifty, heh.”

“You like being around little girls, then?” Lucy asks, making me grimace and earning an angry glare from Melissa.

“Any-way…” Melissa continues, “I see none of us have got pisshead badges on, then?”

“Ugh, HELL no!” Cameron sneers. “Way to draw attention to what a giant douche you are.” I bite my lip to keep myself from replying- last year, three of my friends were prefects, including the girl Melissa spent a lot of the summer sucking up to.

“You know who I saw wearing one of those badges?” Melissa asks with a snort of disgust. “Allie.” Even though I have no personal problem with Allie, I find myself sneering along with the rest of the girls without even realising that I’m doing it.

“Reckon she’ll be head girl?” I ask, trying not to flinch as our ‘leader’ roll her eyes at the question.

“Who cares?” Melissa snorts.

“It’s not even, like, a real vote,” Cameron sneers. “’Cause only the prefects get to vote, don’t they?”

"That's what George says," I shrug. "He's got one of the badges, umm, too..."

"Meh, he would," Melissa shrugs.

"You didn't feel like applying then, Ash?" Cameron asks me, making me bite my lip as I suddenly feel REALLY uncomfortable.

"...Wouldn't have been able to even if I wanted to," I reply. "'Cause I got suspended for a day when I was in year 8."

"Really?" Melissa asks, suddenly intrigued. "What for?"

"Funnily enough," I reply, "punching a boy who spread a rumour that I was transgendered."

"I think I remember that," Cameron says.

"Not something I'm proud of," I shrug, trying not to fidget as four pairs of judgemental eyes focus on me. "Not going to apologise to the guy though, he was a TOTAL dick."

"You don't like rumours, then?" Melissa asks.

"...Not ones about me," I reply, internally breathing a sigh of relief as Melissa giggles at my response. If this is what all of my breaks are going to be like, it's going to be a long year...

Fortunately, break comes to a swift end, and within minutes I’m sat in my next lesson, immersing myself in the work to distract myself from my stress. When the lesson ends, though, I’m straight back to my new ‘spot’ next to the sports hall, not even stopping off at my old ‘spot’ en route.

“Hey Ash!” Melissa says as I sit down in my designated seat. “What you just had?”

“Science,” I shrug. “Bor-ing, heh!”

“I dunno,” Cameron shrugs. “Can be fun when you’re blowing stuff up, heh.”

“Yeah, well, today we were drawing pictures of covalent bonds,” I retort.

“…Okay, that IS boring!” Cameron concedes with a giggle.

“We were just at English,” Melissa explains. “Going to be reading Pride and Prejudice this year, yawn!”

“Think we can all agree it sucks to be back at school,” I say, smirking as my friends all nod in agreement. “Still, only eight months to go…”

“Hell yeah there is!” Melissa chuckles. “Ugh, can’t wait until I can finally wear some proper clothes instead of this stupid uniform all day!”

“Meh, the uniform could be worse,” I say, before biting my lip as I’m confronted by four quizzical stares. Lucy will NOT like what I have to say next- I just hope Melissa does… “Because, you know, you could spend, like, two and a half years being forced to wear trousers and not being allowed to wear a skirt?” Predictably, Lucy rolls her eyes at this, while Melissa and Cameron’s smug smiles remain unchanged. Petra, however, has a definite sympathetic look on her face.

“I definitely agree that wearing trousers would suck,” Melissa says. “But don’t you own, like, hundreds of other skirts? Some of which are actually fashionable?”

“…Yes,” I reply with a sigh. “And yes, I’d rather wear them instead. And will do when I go to sixth form next year.” I chuckle as Melissa sits back with a smug look on her face, her point proved.

“For certain that dress you wore at Heavenly Talent!” Petra teases, reminding me of THAT day during the summer holidays.

“Yes, yes, okay!” I giggle.

“Looking forward to not having to wear these stupid itchy tights either,” Cameron complains, shooting a grin in my direction that lets me know she knows about my opinion of tights.

“Ugh, totally,” Melissa spits. “Can’t show off my summer tan when I’m wearing tights.”

“Though the boys will check out our legs anyway!” Petra giggles, making me squirm as several pairs of eyes turn my way.

“…What?” I protest. “I’m not a BOY, am I?”

“No,” Melissa teases, “but you DO like looking at girls’ legs, right? With or without tights?” I bite my lip as my friends’ stares intensify- though in fairness, this teasing isn’t all that different from the way the excellent eight would tease each other…

“…The only girl’s legs who I like seeing in tights right now is my own,” I retort, earning ‘ooh’s from my friends.

“I bet there are loads of boys who enjoy seeing Ashley’s legs too!” Cameron says, making me roll my eyes as I try not to blush.

“They can look all they damn well want, they’re never going to get to touch,” I state confidently.

“Not even George?” Lucy asks with a barely-concealed sneer.

“Ew,” I reply, feeling a little bad about speaking about my friend in such a way even though I know he wouldn’t be flattered if I did fancy him.

“Meh, your loss,” Melissa says with a dismissive shrug. “Okay, two years ago, I’d have agreed, but since he lost that weight he has become HOT, hehe!”

“I’ll… Keep that to myself, hehe!” I say with a smug grin of my own.

“So then,” Cameron says, “you didn’t flirt with any cute guys when you were at Disneyland, then?” naturally, this wipes the grin straight off my face.

“Ugh, SO wish I never told you about that,” I sigh, thinking back to last year’s holiday and my encounter with Mark.

“Why be so down about it?” Petra asks. “Having boys drool over you is cool, isn’t it?”

“Why even become a girl if you don’t like boys?” Cameron asks, making me squirm as I try to think of an appropriate answer.

“…Because I like girls,” I reply with a smug smile. “Everything about them- sorry, everything about US!”

“Okay then,” Melissa says with a grin far smugger than mine, “which one of us would you most want to sleep with?" Oh, you bitch, I think to myself as I force a grin on my face.

"...Pointless choosing," I reply. "None of you are gay, right?"

"Oh don't chicken out," Melissa chastises. "It's a simple enough question, right?" Ugh, I think to myself. She's not letting this go...

"Do you REALLY want to know?" I ask, biting my lip as I receive four nods in reply.

"Laura and her friends must have asked the same question, correct?" Petra asks, and instantly a lightbulb switches on in my mind.

"...No," I reply. "'Cause I snogged half of them anyway."

"Which means...?" Melissa asks.

"I'll have to snog all of you to make my decision," I say, trying not to grin as I'm met with four loud 'ew's.

"Forget I asked," Melissa says as the topic of conversation thankfully moves on.

After my final lesson of the day comes to an end, I let out a long sigh as I climb into the passenger seat of mum’s car, which she and my sister both immediately notice.

“Cheer up,” mum urges. “A few years from now you’d probably give anything to be back in school, heh!”

“Doubt it,” I sigh as I take my phone out of my bag and switch it on, checking for any messages from the rest of the excellent eight.

“Ah, straight to her phone,” mum says with a playful sigh. “Almost forgot I was talking to a teenaged girl for a second. Suppose I’d better get used to it, it’s only going to happen another four times…”

“Another three,” I correct my mother. “Look at the back seat.” I try to suppress a giggle as Bryony briefly looks up from her phone only to meet the gaze of our mother in the rear view mirror.

“Thanks Ash,” my sister snorts, turning her attention back to her own phone. “She’s just stressed out ‘cause all her REAL friends have left.”

“Oh- thanks, Bry!” I scoff, my cheeks flushing as our mother looks at me.

“…Well you knew that was going to happen,” mum ‘advises’. “And you had all summer to prepare for it. And you still have other friends-“

“Yeah, I know,” I sigh. “I still prefer the other girls though, you know?”

“I know,” mum says. “But friends do come and go, I hardly speak to anyone I knew from school anymore. Even my best friend from school I haven’t spoken to in months.”

“Yeah, kinda not helping,” I say, earning a frustrated sigh from my mother.

“You could always walk home if you’d prefer?” Mum asks, making me sigh, shut my mouth and put my phone away- not that there were any messages to read on it anyway.

When we get home I head straight up to my bedroom and, thinking back to what Melissa said earlier today, change out of my uniform and into a comfortable (but still fashionable) grey miniskirt and my favourite Out of Heaven t-shirt before heading downstairs and flopping onto the sofa next to my (still uniformed) sisters.

“Hi Ash!” Cassie (who, along with Dorothy, was picked up by dad today) says with a wide grin that shows off the increasing number of gaps in her teeth.

“Hi Cassie!” I reply, my mood immediately improving at the sight and sound of my bubbly little sister. “Did you have a fun first day of Year 3?”

“Yep!” Cassie giggles. “Miss Everett was actually really nice. She even said she’d let me do a dance for the class sometime this year!”

“Let me guess,” I say, “she asked the whole class to introduce yourselves to her, and you couldn’t stop yourself from saying that you take ballet, right?” I can’t help but giggle as the seven year old girl blushes and nods.

“Ashley, don’t tease your sister,” dad says with a tired chuckle.

“Ah, but you love it really though, don’t you Cassie?” I ask, before chuckling and rolling my eyes as my sister responds with a very loud raspberry and a giggle!

“That told you,” dad chuckles, before turning to me and Bryony. “You two had fun at big school, then?”

“Yeah,” Bryony shrugged. “Laura’s sister’s started now so me and Sabrina are kinda looking after her and the rest of their friends, heh.”

“Which makes me everyone’s big sister,” I say with a smug grin that makes Bryony roll her eyes.

“Whatever,” the twelve year old girl snorts. “When you’re not too busy with your ‘new’ friends anyway.” Thanks, Bry, I think to myself as I roll my eyes.

“Enough,” dad orders with a tired chuckle, before muttering something under his breath about the number of children he has. “Go and change, all of you, dinner will be ready soon.”

“I only just put this on,” I retort, earning a stern grimace from my father.

“And enough of your mouth!” Dad sighs. “I would ask where this attitude came from, but I think it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“What?” I protest as my sisters head upstairs to their rooms, before the thought strikes me. "You've never had a problem with Melissa before..."

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” dad says, gesturing to the hairless legs poking out from underneath my skirt.

“Oh- oh, you meant that,” I say, before frowning. “…Really? You meant THAT?”

“You have to admit,” dad says, “when you wore trousers to school, you were a lot more- well-“

“Timid?” I reply. “Shy? Quiet? Acting like I had something to hide?”

“Yes, yes, okay, point taken,” dad sighs. “And mouth aside, yes, believe it or not, I am happy that you feel more, well, ‘confident’. Just don’t forget that you need to set an example for your siblings too.”

“I know,” I say sincerely. “Fun of being the oldest, heh. And I promise I will be, you know, ‘okay’ when Felicity comes along.”

“Good,” dad says firmly.

“You do have these talks with the other soon-to-be-big siblings too, right?” I ask, biting my lip as I wonder whether or not this is pushing my luck.

“…Bryony yes, the others no,” dad replies. “That’s all I’ll say on that.”

“We grow up so fast, don’t we?” I say with a grin as dad rolls his eyes again.

“Too fast sometimes,” dad snorts as my sisters return to the living room and we help get ready for dinner.

After dinner, and after Cassie, Dorothy and Eddy have gone to bed (the former two girls taking a while to get to sleep after going to their ballet class after dinner), Bryony and I return to the living room to complete our homework (which we still somehow got despite it only being our first day at school). However, as hard as I try to concentrate on my work, I can’t help but be distracted by my phone, and while this is hardly anything new, today it’s the lack of notifications from it that’s causing the distraction.

“…Mr. Clarke says I might do my English GCSE next year, two years early,” Bryony says, breaking the silence that had descended over the room. “Miss Riley says the same thing about maths, too.”

“Interesting,” I sarcastically reply as I try to make sense of the French text in front of me.

“I’m also going to drop gymnastics club,” Bryony continues. “I never really liked it, only went ‘cause Sabrina did.”

“Okay,” I say, barely listening to what my sister’s saying.

“I’m also going to steal your favourite Out of Heaven t-shirt and use it as a pillow case,” Bryony says.

“Sure,” I shrug, before frowning in confusion. “Wait, what?”

“Oh, so you are listening then?” Bryony asks, snorting with laughter as I roll my eyes.

“I’m trying to do my homework,” I retort.

“Yeah, sure,” Bryony says. "That's why you keep checking your phone, right? To help with your homework?"

"None of your business," I snort.

"If you say so," Bryony shrugs. "If you're going to be moody all year let me know now so I can sleep on the sofa, okay?"

"If you're going to be smartarsed all year let me know so I can do the same," I reply, before sighing and grimacing. "S- sorry, Bry, I didn't mean it like that..."

"S'okay," Bryony says with a nonchalant shrug, though I can tell my words cut her more than I intended.

"No it isn't," I say. "I'm just a bit stressed about school, you know?"

"Don't you like Melissa or something?" Bryony asks, suddenly derailing my train of thought. Maybe I was too kind when I said 'smartarsed'...

"Wh- why would you ask that?" I reply.

"I dunno," Bryony says. "Just last year, you were happy, and I figure that was 'cause, you know, you were actually going as a girl, but you're even more of a girl now and you're miserable again. Only thing I can think of is that Laura and her friends aren't there any more so you have to hang out with Melissa and her friends, and you don't like that as much."

"...Just do your homework, okay?" I say, turning my back on my sister as I return to my French text.

"If you say so," Bryony replies as she returns to her homework.

We don't exchange any further words for the rest of the evening, even as we climb into adjacent beds in our bedroom, though I'm forced to admit to myself that Bryony is almost certainly correct. Annoyingly, she probably realises this too...

After climbing into bed, I plug my phone into my charger, but before I put it back on my table, I open up Instagram, looking for any photos posted today by any of my friends- and there, right at the top of the app is a photo taken earlier by Suriya or her and the rest of the excellent eight- well, excellent seven, anyway- hanging out in her back garden in their bikinis. Naturally, this is enough to make me put my phone back down and lay back in bed, quickly falling asleep after a tiring day.

The following morning, I’m awoken my the alarm on my phone, but when I switch it off, I can see several other notifications have come through too- all from Facebook messenger, and all from the seven friends I didn’t spend yesterday hanging out with.

‘Hey Ash!’ The first message, which is from Laura, reads. ‘Hope you a good first day of Y11 today- we’ll all be thinking of you!’

‘Wish we were still there with you!’ Suri’s message- which is, obviously, punctuated by several emojis- reads.

‘Would rather have you at college with us though, lol!’ Nicole’s message says. 'First day today and am SO nervous!'

'Won't take that personally,' Megan's (who I know is going to the same college as Nicole) message reads.

'End of an era lol,' Harriet's message reads.

'But start of a new one,' Mia's message says. 'Take care of yourself Ash!'

I sigh as I put my phone down- the girls all knew I was going back to school yesterday rather than today, I'd only told them this Saturday just gone, so why they're pretending like this is beyond me. It could be that they're trying to spare my feelings after forgetting to message me yesterday, but if anything, that just pisses me off more that they forgot to message me yesterday. A quick glance at my friends list reveals that Laura, Megan and Mia are all online- and have all seen that I've seen their messages.

'Thanks girls!' I type with a disingenuous smiling emoji. 'Though was actually back yesterday instead of today.'

'Aw, really?' Mia types, making me roll my eyes. Yes, really, you stupid... I think to myself.

'Yeah, dunno why,' I type, hesitating before typing my next bit of the message- as bad as the situation currently is, the last thing I need is to make it worse... 'I could've sworn I told you on Saturday.' I let out a sigh as I press 'send'- I've done it now...

'Are you sure?' Laura asks, making me groan loudly and startle Bryony in the next bed to me.

'Didn't you notice I wasn’t there yesterday?' I type, hitting send before I can think twice about how provocational the message is.

'What's that meant to mean?' Laura types, and again, I groan- this chat is obviously going to get a lot worse before it gets better. IF it gets better...

'It means 'where did you think I was yesterday after we hung out together all summer?',' I type, my anger starting to rise. I can see Laura typing out a response, but before she gets the chance to send it, another message pops up.

'Okay, confession time,' Megan types. 'We were going to message you yesterday morning but we all slept in late. Like, REALLY late, 11am ish. We thought messaging you in the middle of school was a bad idea so we were going to message you at 3pm, but then we lost track of time and by the time any of us remembered it was like 5pm so we thought we'd message you today instead, pretend we thought you were back today and try to spare your feelings. Obviously we goofed up, so we are sorry about that.'

'Apology accepted,' I type with another insincere smiling emoji.

'We genuinely didn't forget,' Megan continues. 'Kinda hard to when my boyfriend's in your form lol.'

'Don't worry about it,' I reply. 'Have fun at college today!'

'Thanks Ash!' Mia types as I log out of the messaging app and let out another loud groan.

"No, I don't want to know," Bryony grumbles as she heads down to the kitchen for breakfast with me following closely behind.

"That's good, because I don't want to tell you," I retort to a snort and rolled eyes from my sister.

"Problem?" Mum asks, staring sternly at me and Bryony as we take our seats at the table.

"No," me and my sister mumble simultaneously.

"Keep it that way," mum orders as she places our breakfast in front of us. Wish it was that easy, I think to myself...

As with yesterday, when we arrive at school, Bryony’s friends (including Laura’s sister and her classmates) are there to greet her, while I’m left to head in alone, eventually being greeted by George just outside our form room.

“Alright mate?” George asks in his usual nonchalant way.

“Did you talk to Megan last night?” I ask.

“…I’m okay, thanks for asking,” George snorts. “And yes, I did, didn’t any of the girls chat with you last night?”

“Er… No,” I reply with a shrug as we take our usual seats. “You got PE first thing as well?”

“Umm, yeah,” George replies, biting his lip as I straighten my skirt. “Rugby though, hooray.”

“Ah, SO glad I don’t do that anymore,” I chuckle.

“So, you’re doing gymnastics instead then?” George asks.

“Yeah,” I reply, “though I won’t be wearing the team leotard as I’m not on the team this year, figured as Bryony’s quit the team as well and I am kinda tall for a gymnast, heh.”

“Hmm,” George says, trying his hardest to feign interest. “Why’d you ask if I talked to Meg yesterday if you were just gonna change the subject when I answered anyway?”

“I dunno,” I shrug. “Just wondering.”

“Yeah, mate, I’m not a girl, but even I can tell something’s up,” George says, trying not to fidget- I can easily tell how uncomfortable this conversation is making him.

“Nothing’s up,” I lie. “It’s just- I dunno.” Thankfully, at that moment, Mr. Jackson arrives to begin the school day, ending the conversation before it has the chance to get any more awkward. However, thanks to the insulting messages from Laura and co this morning, George being distant and even Bryony getting moody with me, I can’t help but feel lonely, a feeling that only gets emphasised at the start of the next lesson when I change by myself in the teacher’s office. However, while I may feel lonely, it doesn’t stop me from feeling confident as I walk up to the gymnasium along with the other girls. I may be wearing an androgynous t-shirt and pair of shorts rather than the gymnastics club team’s leotard, but so are 90% of the other girls in the class, and my light make-up, short blonde ponytail and slim body make me indistinguishable from any of them. And thanks to Melissa’s influence, I’m not likely to be reminded of any ‘differences’ any time soon…

The lesson goes as well as always, and before too long I’m changing back into my usual uniform for my next lesson, and once that’s completed, I head straight for my usual spot- my new usual spot, that is- where my friends eagerly greet me.

“Hey Ash!” Melissa giggles as I sit down next to Petra.

“Hey girls,” I say with a giggle of my own. “Have I missed much?”

“Literally nothing,” Cameron replies. "Only got here ourselves a few seconds ago."

"Good," I reply. "Something I'm NOT left out of, heh."

"Is something a problem?" Petra asks, frowning at what must have seemed to her like a random outburst.

"...Nah," I reply. "Nothing you need to worry about, heh!"

"Good," Lucy snorts. "I just had maths, I don't need to be brought down any further!" And THAT's the first time you've spoken to me in months without implying I'm some sort of sick pervert, I think to myself- though a quick glance over at Melissa reveals that she was staring pretty intensely at Lucy while she spoke...

"Ugh, I've got maths next," Cameron moans.

"I thought you were on for an 8 in maths?" I ask, which earns an eye roll from my friend.

"Doesn't mean I like it," Cameron snorts. "Especially not as I've got McCarthy this year."

"Ugh, I can believe that," I spit- Mr McCarthy is notorious throughout the school as being both one of the strictest and most boring teachers in the whole place.

"I had him last year," Petra says. "All I learnt in his class was what the word 'wanker' means."

"Sounds about right," Melissa scoffs. "But never mind that, hehe! Everyone looking forward to the big launch show on Saturday?"

"You mean Strictly?" Lucy asks. "Hell yeah I am!"

"Especially as we know someone who's a friend of one of the contestants?" Melissa asks, and inevitably all eyes stare at me, causing me to blush and giggle bashfully.

"...I'm probably not going to be able to get tickets," I chuckle.

"That's okay," Melissa says in a voice that says that it's NOT okay, but she'll let it slide- for now. "But any, you know, goss you can get us?"

"Like whether or not the rumours are true that Kayla and Steph are secretly a couple?" Cameron asks, making me snort derisively.

"You actually believe those websites?" I scoff.

"...Not ALL of them," Cameron mumbles. "But, you know, it has been said in a few places..."

"ANYWAY," Melissa says, "who knows, we might be able to get a special dancing guest at our dance club this year?" Okay, THIS I won't be able to back out of as easily...

"Can't hurt to ask, I suppose?" I shrug, earning smiles all round.

“And speaking of," Melissa says, looking at me expectantly. "Looking forward to tonight, Ash?"

“As much as I looked forward to last Friday’s lesson,” I reply, sussing that Melissa is referring to our twice-weekly ballet class, which continued throughout the summer holiday despite the heat.

“Yeah, but the new kids are starting in the advanced class today, the 11 and 12 year olds,” Melissa reminds me.

“None of our sisters are, though?” I ask, confused by my friend’s train of thought.

“No, but we’ll be TEACHING them?” Melissa retorts, making me nod as I catch on to what she means.

“Really?” Cameron asks. “You’re excited by the idea of being a TEACHER?”

“Well, for dance, yeah,” Melissa replies in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “What d’you think me and Ash were doing all last year at our dance club?”

“I dunno,” Cameron mumbles with a shrug. “Just messing around, I suppose…”

“What d’you think we spend most of our time doing at ballet class?” I tease, grinning as Melissa giggles at my joke.

“Which you three would know if you ever came along,” Melissa says, earning three unconvinced looks in response.

“It’s really no different from cheerleading, for the most part,” I chime in. “You just wear a different uniform, that’s all.”

“That is why I’m worried!” Petra chuckles.

“You shouldn’t be, you know,” I say, earning a loud ‘ooh’ from the other three girls that makes Petra blush and me roll my eyes. “I mean when compared to me, for god’s sake. First time I went to class as a girl I felt SO out of place and I didn’t even have Laura or the other girls in the class, but Miss Fullerton made sure I wasn’t uncomfortable, and the other girls were all really friendly too. And if they can be friendly to ME, right?”

“Petra probably doesn’t spend most of her time fantasising about wearing a leotard, though,” Lucy says, and just as it seems every time she opens her mouth, an awkward silence falls over our table.

“Any-way…” Melissa says, “Since we can’t persuade you, me and Ash will have to hang out with our rich, famous dance teacher by ourselves. Not that Ash doesn’t have other rich, famous celebrities to hang out with, hehe!”

“When I’m not babysitting,” I giggle, feeling my body relax as the atmosphere at the table lightens up again.

Compared to yesterday, the next lesson seems to drag on before the bell rings to signify the start of lunch, and lunch seems to fly by in a flash as I spend the whole time gossiping and giggling with my four friends. It isn’t long before the bell rings to signify the end of the day and I’m elegantly sliding onto the passenger seat of mum’s car with a wide grin on my face.

“You look happier than you did yesterday,” mum notes. “Had a better day?”

“Mm,” I reply nonchalantly as I check my phone for any messages, finding none beyond the usual Facebook notifications, and certainly no follow-ups to this morning’s conversation with Laura and the other girls.

“Yes mum, thank you for asking mum,” my mother sarcastically sighs as I stealthily roll my eyes.

“Yes, it was better than yesterday,” I reply. “Kinda getting used to the ‘new normal’.”

“I figured as much,” mum says, before gesturing to the back seat where my sister and her two best friends are sat, both engrossed in their phones. “So are they, heh.”

“Hey you three,” I say, putting my phone back in my bag.

“Hey,” Bryony, Sabrina and Jo all mumble in reply.

“You coming to ballet with us, you two?” I ask, earning affirmative grunts in reply. “Okay, I can get changed in the bathroom then, that’s no problem.”

“…Why?” Sabrina asks. “My parents are fine with Nicole changing with you, they won’t have any problem with me doing it?”

"Same here," Jo shrugs.

“Yeah, it’s more me I’m thinking of than you,” I say, smirking as all three girls snort with sarcastic laughter. “Is Lily starting advance class tonight?”

“Umm, think she hasn’t gone en pointe yet,” Sabrina replies. “So she’ll probably start in January.”

“So she won’t have to put up with having her sister in the same class,” Bryony snorts. “Lucky her.”

“Hey!” I say in a mock whine.

“Lucky her indeed,” mum says, making me roll my eyes again as the car heads back home.

Once we arrive, the three younger girls head straight up to our bedroom to change into their ballet uniforms, while I flop down on the sofa next to Cassie and Dorothy, both of whom are already deeply engrossed in the TV (which is, of course, showing the Disney Channel).

“Hey you two!” I giggle. “Had a good day at school?”

“Yeah,” Cassie replies, not taking her attention away from the TV. I wonder if this is how mum feels when I look at my phone?

“Did you do PE today?” I ask.

“I did,” Dorothy replies. “We were doing north, south, east and west.”

“Ah, cool,” I chuckle. “Of course, me and Bryony will be doing extra sort-of PE later tonight…” Naturally, this mention of ballet, or rather someone other than Cassie doing ballet, earns me a raspberry from the seven year old girl.

“Oh good,” mum says, entering the living room before I have a chance to retort to my sister. “More of my children staring at a screen.”

“All four of us have spent or will spend at least an hour away from screens doing physical activity either today or tomorrow,” I retort, which naturally earns a stern glare from our mother.

“And then come home and spend the rest of the evening living in your phone,” mum says, to which I have no reply. “But I suppose you have a point, it is good that you interact with your friends face to face instead of Facebook to Facebook.”

“Miss Fullerton says me and Daisy might be ready for pointe shoes by the time we start year 6!” Cassie excitedly squeaks. “She says because our birthdays are both in October we’ll be old enough by then!”

“Ms Fullerton,” I correct my excited sister. “Women who are married but who’ve kept their maiden name are properly called Ms, not Miss.”

“And those shoes are not toys,” mum says. “You remember what happened to Bryony’s friend’s sister? And the bruises Ashley got on her feet?”

“I know,” Cassie whines. “But I want to be able to dance like Ashley and Bryony…”

“And you will,” I say, giving my sister a cuddle that she happily returns.

“I don’t get why any girl wouldn’t want to be a ballerina,” Cassie sighs happily.

“For some girls, it’s just not their ‘thing’,” I say.

“All of your friends do ballet,” Cassie says.

“Not all of them,” I reply. “Petra doesn’t, nor do Cameron or Lucy.”

“Who are they?” Cassie asks, confusing me before I realise that Cassie isn’t nearly as close to (or as fond as) my new friends as she was Laura and her gang.

“…My friends,” I reply. “You know, friends of Melissa?”

“I don’t like Melissa as much as I like Laura,” Cassie says bluntly.

“Oh, give her a chance,” I say. “…Melissa’s a ballerina too, you know?”

“Well… Okay,” Cassie says, giggling as I cuddle her again while Bryony, Sabrina and Jo enter the living room, all three dressed for an evening of dance.

After a quick, light dinner, I too change into the familiar, well-worn pink tights and black leotard before jumping into dad’s car and driving the short distance to the home of the Krystie Fullerton School of Dance. A weird feeling sweeps over me, though, as I enter the reception area and realise that I’m one of the oldest people in the room- and also by far the tallest. And without Laura here, I have an extra, inescapable reason to suddenly feel out of place…

“Hey Ash!” Melissa says as I sit down next to her and start tying my soft ballet slippers to my feet.

“Hey, long time no see!” I reply, earning a giggle from my friend. “Does- does it feel weird to you, being one of the oldest in the class?”

“No, not really,” Melissa replies. “Kinda helps being petite, hehe! If anything, I prefer it this way, same as at school. Don’t you?”

“Not really,” I say. “I get enough of being the oldest at home, heh.”

That excuse is, of course, only half-true- for four years, I was used to being the youngest in my particular ‘group’, being treated as the little brother, then the little sister of the ‘excellent eight’- and that’s something I’m going to miss for a long time. I sometimes forget just how much I enjoyed those early days, even when my real self was a secret shared only with Laura and Suri, when we’d play dress-up games in private, or have make-up exchanges, or make up our own dance routines... All I hated about those days was having to put the 'real me' back into a drawer and go back to pretending to be a boy. But the fact is that I'm now not just a girl, but a girl who needs to stand up for herself and stand on her own- even when the rest of the 'excellent eight' are nowhere to be seen, it doesn't make me any less the girl I so longed to be when I was younger.

“She doesn’t get enough of it at home, she COULDN’T get enough of it at home,” Bryony snorts as she sits down next to me and ties her ballet slippers.

“Oh- from my own sister?” I ask with mock offence as Melissa chuckles to herself. "Sometimes I wonder if 'little sister' is some code word for 'little nuisance'." Bryony doesn't respond to this- she doesn't need to, as I'm suddenly aware of an angry face staring down at me.

“Ashley!” Mme Renou-Briggs says in her stern French accent as she approaches where we’re sat. “A little sister is something to be treasured, not teased!” I feel my cheeks flush as the dark-haired teacher stares at me, while Bryony lets out a quiet, smug chuckle.

“…Sorry,” I mumble as my sister and my friends giggle, prompting an uncharacteristic smirk from our dance teacher.

“Come on,” Mme Renou-Briggs says, ushering the four of us to our feet. “It is time to dance!” Not needing to be told twice, the four of us (along with the other twenty-odd identically-dressed girls) head into the vast classroom, where we take our places at the barre.

“I thought it was funny,” Melissa says as the music starts and we begin our warm-up exercises.

Despite my initial stresses about feeling out of place, once the lesson starts it provides me with a much-needed distraction from the changes that have been happening in my life. We still do the same warm-ups, the same basic steps and the same routines, the only difference is in the friends with whom I’m dancing. I’m so distracted, in fact, that I only notice at the end of the lesson that two other friends had been watching the lesson from the side of the room.

“Oh my god!” I squeak as I skip over to Petra and greet her with a gentle hug- a gesture that clearly makes her mother uncomfortable, though she doesn’t seem to mind when Bryony and Sabrina greet Ariadna the same way. “What are you doing here?”

“You twisted my arm so much!” Petra replies as she greets Melissa with a hug. “I thought I could not say no anymore, hehe!”

“Glad to hear it!” Melissa says with a trademark smug smile.

“They will only be coming for a few trying out lessons,” Petra’s mother says in her thick Polish accent. “To be sure that they like it.”

“But I’m sure we will,” Ariadna giggles. “Even if we won’t be in your class at the start.”

“Ah, you’ll get here soon enough, hehe!” I giggle.

“Excuse-moi,” Mme Renou-Briggs says as she glides over to us. “Did I hear that there are two more potential ballerinas who wish to dance with us?”

“Yes,” Mrs Kaczynska says, offering the Frenchwoman a polite handshake. “My daughters Petra and Ariadna would like to start your class. Do you offer a trial period?”

“Yes,” Mme Renou-Briggs replies. “One month of lessons with no commitment to stay, but you should know we have a long waiting list right now. Though I suspect there are four girls who will use their referrals to push them further up the queue, yes?”

“Oh- definitely, hehe!” I giggle, though my smile quickly fades when Petra’s mother shots me a stern glare.

“Will there be any transgendered children in my daughters’ class?” Mrs Kaczynska asks, causing everyone’s jaw to drop- even Mme Renou-Briggs’s.

“Did- did she just-“ Bryony whispers to me.

“…Non,” Mme Renou-Briggs says in a quiet, stoic voice. “Ashley is currently the only transgendered student under 16 years of age.”

“Good,” Mrs Kaczynska says, making my insides churn.

“Follow me to the office, please, I shall get you two application forms,” Mme Renou-Briggs says, sending an apologetic look my way as she leads the middle-aged woman toward the school’s small office area. As they depart, an awkward silence falls over the six of us, before Petra breaks it by letting out a long, pained groan.

“Ugh, I am SO sorry, Ashley,” the Polish girl moans, looking utterly mortified by her mother’s behaviour.

“No, no it’s okay,” I moan. “I mean, if I’m not used to it by now, right?”

“No- no,” Melissa says firmly. “It is NOT okay for her to say that, especially in front of you!” Needless to say, this sudden outburst comes as something of a surprise to me. Sure, Melissa’s never been transphobic- at least, not outwardly- but hearing her react like this is so different to what I expect from her, so… Unselfish, that I’m momentarily taken aback.

“Umm… Okay,” I say. “I mean, you’re right, there’s just nothing I can do about it, you know?”

“Yeah, but I don’t like hearing it either,” Bryony moans as she unties her bun.

“Again, I am so, SO sorry,” Petra sighs.

“Oh- you have no reason to apologise,” I say. “Though I kinda get now why we never hang out at your house. I’m surprised your parents let me change with you for cheer club, though?”

“Oh, that-“ Petra says, furtively glancing at Melissa before carrying on. “I- umm, I kinda told mum that if she didn’t allow it, I wouldn’t be on the cheer team. May have begged a bit, heh.”

“Well I definitely appreciate that, heh!” I chuckle. “Also explains why we never hang out at your place, I guess.”

“Yep,” Petra sighs. “But, you know, I prefer hanging out at Melissa’s, heh.” A quick glance at Melissa confirms that she unsurprisingly approves of this comment.

“Yeah,” I chuckle, before sighing as I see my father poke his head around the door of the dance studio. “…Looks like we’re heading off now. See you tomorrow?”

“Sure!” Petra says, giving me a gentle hug as we depart. “We should talk more, you and me!”

“Definitely,” I chuckle, before giving Melissa her goodbye hug and leading Sabrina, Bryony and Jo out to dad’s waiting car.

After dropping off Bryony’s friends, we head back home, where I waste no time in heading up to my bedroom, switching on my tablet computer and logging into Facebook, where a group chat is already in full flow. I type my usual ‘hey girlies’ into the chatbox, but before I press ‘send’, I pause, only now realising that this will be the first time today that I’ve had any contact with any of the seven girls in the chatroom- or at least, the first contact since their insulting attempts at damage limitation first thing this morning.

‘Hi Ash!’ Nicole types, having obviously noticed me entering the room.

‘Hey girlie!’ Laura types, punctuating her message with a load of ‘smiling’ emojis- probably a far cry from what she would've typed this morning had I not left the chatroom early. Obviously I haven't caused any lasting damage, then, which is a genuine relief.

‘Hey girlies!’ I reply, sending the message I’d hesitated before sending. ‘Just back from ballet, still got a ton of homework to do lol.’

‘Aww, I totally miss ballet class,’ Harriet types.

‘Only cos you miss looking at me in a leotard!’ Mia types, followed by several ‘kissing’ emojis that Harriet naturally instantly reciprocates.

‘Enough kissing!!!!!’ Nicole types. 'You were at college together literally four hours ago!'

'Four hours too long,' Harriet types with more 'kissing' emojis. 'Another reason I miss ballet!'

'Don't miss the foot cramps though,' Megan types. 'Or being almost seven feet tall en pointe!'

'Lol,' I type.

'Course me and Laura now get extra lessons for free at drama college,' Suri types with a 'sticking out tongue' emoji.

'Show off,' Mia types with a 'sticking out tongue' emoji of her own. 'Would've loved to go to your college, should've taken drama at GCSE.'

'Not too late to change your mind,' Laura types. 'Can always change the courses you're on, right?'

'Can ask I suppose,' Mia replies as I feel my mind start to wander.

'Am I not enough friend for you, Laura?' Suri types with an 'angry' emoji.

'YCNHTMF!' Laura replies, earning grinning emojis from everyone- though mine doesn't really reflect my current state of mind- especially as none of my friends have asked about the class or given me any opening to talk about what happened with Petra's mother.

As the chat settles into the topic of my friends’ college life, I can’t help but feel more and more marginalised, like I don’t belong in this chat anymore- or even this group. I knew this would happen, of course, and mum and dad have warned me often enough that friends don’t last forever, but it’s still tough to actually watch it happen before my eyes, from a group of girls I was as close to as I am my sisters, is still a tough pill to swallow.

The smile returns to my face, though, when I get notified of another private message coming through- this time, from Petra, whose first message consists solely of three emojis- angry, sad and embarrassed, in that order.

‘Aww,’ I reply, followed by a ‘hugging’ emoji. ‘Seriously, you don’t need to be sorry, I’m already over it.’

‘Thanks,’ Petra types with a smiling emoji. ‘Mum is so embarrassing! It’s 2018 not 1918, why are people so shit about things like this?’

‘Wish I knew,’ I reply. ‘But honestly, compared to some of the things I’ve put up with it’s nothing.’

‘I remember Sam Reid,’ Petra types, bringing several bad memories to the surface and making the scar above my eye start to ache. ‘Even mum and dad thought that was wrong.’

‘Sometimes wonder where she is now,’ I type. ‘And when I say where I mean which prison.’ Despite myself, I can’t help but giggle at the ‘laughing’ emoji Petra replies with.

‘Living in a cardboard box somewhere hopefully,’ Petra types.

'Cardboard box is too good for her,' I type.

'Hope you don't think that about my mum?' Petra asks.

'She didn't swing a shoe at my face, that's a start,' I type, giggling as my message earns a 'laughing' emoji from my friend.

'I will talk to her,' Petra types. 'Make her know you are my friend whether she likes it or not. Ariadna thinks the same. You can never have too many friends!'

'No you can't!' I type with a 'grinning' emoji as an idea springs to mind. 'Brb.'

'OK,' Petra types as I return to the other chat window, where talk seems to have died down a little- a perfect opportunity for me to speak up.

'Hey girlies, got a question,' I type.

'Sure Ash, what's up?' Nicole replies as I take a deep breath. If this plan works, it could save me a LOT of stress in the coming few weeks.

'Would any of you mind if I added Petra into this chat?' I ask. 'Petra from my year, who was in cheer club last year? The Polish girl?' I bite my lip as this question is met with initial silence- hopefully the girls are giving this serious thought...

'I dunno, Ash,' Laura types, making my heart sink. 'I know you like her, but she is a bit like Melissa, isn't she?'

'Isn't she also the one who's really rich?' Mia asks. 'I always thought she was a bit stuck-up, thought she was too good to hang out with the rest of us.' Which 'Petra' have you met!? I think to myself.

'Yeah, I don't think so, Ash,' Nicole types. 'I mean, sure we don't mind you asking but we hardly know her?' Okay, not exactly going to plan, I think to myself. I take my time before deciding on my next move- I could go into detail about what happened with her mum and how Petra reacted to that, but that could easily come across as trying to play a sympathy card when I want the girls to like Petra for who she is. Though there is an easy way to accomplish that...

'What if she comes round on Saturday?' I ask. Problem with this plan though is that it's not my turn to 'host' on Saturday, it's Laura's...

'I dunno,' Laura says. 'When it's your house you can have her round obviously but I'd rather just keep it to the eight of us if that's okay?' Well, I think to myself. So much for 'you can never have too many friends'.

'OK no worries,' I type, before silently minimising the chat window and going back to chatting with Petra.

'Back,' I type, giggling as Petra sends me a smiling emoji in response.

'Hey, Cameron just came online,' Petra types, making me chuckle and roll my eyes- I immediately know what she's going to ask. 'Mind if I add her to chat?'

'You can never have too many friends!' I reply with a 'grinning' emoji as Cameron enters the room. 'Hey Cameron!'

'Oh, hey girls!' Cameron types. 'Wassup?'

'Just got back from ballet class,' I type, before adding a 'winking' emoji. 'We both did, actually!'

'Oh god,' Cameron replies with a 'laughing' emoji. 'Has she conned you into a leotard Petra?'

'She loves it,' I type, earning a 'sticking out tongue' emoji from my Polish friend. 'You're next, Cameron!'

'I stopped when I was ten and I am NOT going back,' Cameron replies with a 'sticking out tongue' emoji of her own. 'Dunno why you still go, Ash, I mean, you're girly enough, right?'

'No such thing as 'girly enough',' I reply with a 'smug' emoji.

'Lol!' Cameron types with a 'laughing' emoji. 'But I mean all your friends have stopped going haven't they? Laura and the others?'

'Melissa still goes, she's my friend,' I reply. 'So's Petra even though she won't be in the same class at the start. And you could always come back...'

'Lol,' Cameron replies again. 'I get what you mean. You can never have too many friends, right?'

'That's what I've heard,' I type as I ponder how sincere Laura was when she typed the phrase (or at least, its acronym) earlier. Cameron and Petra, on the other hand...

'Well either way I am NOT wearing another ballet uniform ever again!' Cameron types. 'Though it's pretty cool that you want to, Petra. Always thought you were better at cheer club than you reckon you are.' I pause, waiting for a mention of Melissa's favourite punching bag Allie- though surprisingly, the mention never comes. In fact, especially when you consider Melissa's attitude earlier this evening, the only people who've been snotty about anyone else were Laura and co just now about Petra...

'Hey, almost forgot,' Cameron types. 'Got a new make-up subscription box in the post today! Loads of stuff in it this time that looks shit on me, but I reckon would look good on you two?'

'That had better be because we have different skin tone to you?' I reply with a 'sticking out tongue' emoji.

'And hair and eye colour,' Cameron replies with the same emoji that makes me giggle.

'Well I won't say no to a make-up swap!' Petra chuckles.

'Same here,' I type.

'Cool!' Cameron types. 'My place on Saturday? I'll message Mel and Lucy and ask them too.'

'Sure!' I type, before remembering that I already have plans for Saturday- and for the first time, I'm genuinely torn between which friends I'd rather hang out with.

Okay, Laura and her friends were being crap about Petra tonight, but they are still my oldest and closest friends. Just because we don't go to school together anymore doesn't mean I just forget they exist- sure, they forgot me yesterday, but looking back on this morning's messages it's clear they're all genuinely sorry about that. And the phrase 'you can never have too many friends' doesn't just mean 'make new friends'- it can just as easily mean 'hold on tight to the friends you do have'.

But on the other hand, ever since returning to school Melissa and co have become much more 'real' in terms of their friendship too. Melissa didn't have to stick up for me today, but she did. Petra didn't have to apologise for her mother's behaviour, but she did, and Cameron didn't have to invite me to her make-up swap, but she did. And hell, even Lucy managed to get through a whole day without being passive-aggressive toward me, which I'm sure she considers a big step.

Ultimately, though, when Saturday rolls around I find myself spending it at Laura's house. Cameron was disappointed, as was Melissa, but they do understand- after all, I hadn't actually seen, as in physically seen Laura or the other girls in a whole week, whereas I got 'face time' with Melissa and co all week at school. And would do again the following week, and the week after that, and after that etc.

However, as I hung out with Laura, Nicole, Harriet, Mia, Megan, Suriya and Priya, I began to feel just as out of place as I did during the group chat on Tuesday, After all, they're not schoolgirls anymore, and I still am. Life would've been so much easier if Laura had just said 'yes' to Petra hanging out with us as well- I wish they knew just how torn I feel between my two groups of friends...

I let out a long, loud sigh of relief as the bell rings to signify the end of yet another school day. Two years ago, I'd have given anything to be able to sit in a classroom dressed the way I am right now, but today I am almost desperate to get home and strip off the stiff grey skirt and black tights that are covering my lower body. And for three very, very good reasons- first, when I get home, I’m going to be pulling on a much more comfortable and stylish skirt; second, the longer I’m in this uniform, the longer I find myself feeling anxious about the sheer amount of coursework I have to do for my GCSEs; and third, most of all, the more I’m in this uniform, the more I’m reminded of the stress in my personal life.

As has become the norm over the last two months, breaktime and lunchtime today was spent hanging out with Melissa, Cameron, Lucy and Petra, gossiping about music, dance, celebrities, the usual stuff. The main topic of conversation, however, was this coming Saturday. More specifically, the party that’s going to be thrown for Melissa’s sixteenth birthday.

To say she’s excited about the party would be a huge understatement, and I have to admit, I’m more than a little excited about it too. It won’t be the first ‘sweet sixteen’ I’ll have attended- Lucy’s party was at the start of October and that was really exciting too, even if it was just a more ‘basic’ party and the birthday girl can still only barely hide her contempt for me. Fortunately, I was able to spend most of my time hanging out with Petra, which made the party considerably more fun than it otherwise would have been! I’m hoping the same will be true of Melissa’s party, though it also has a lot of over things in its favour- not least the theme of a ‘masquerade ball’. This means that instead of being at her house, it’ll be at a fancy hotel, with paid for catering, live music and, best of all, the costume! We'll all be wearing long, close-fitting dresses with extra-long black gloves, elaborate masks and shoes with higher heels than I've ever worn! The costumes will make us all look far older than we actually are- which is probably why Melissa chose them- and are almost identical to ones that were worn at one of the Angels' birthday parties in the past. Which is probably another reason why Melissa chose them, but believe me when I say I don't mind one bit!

Almost every part of me is looking forward to Saturday’s party, but there’s a large part of me that feels anxious about it. Not because I’m afraid Lucy or someone will try anything- Melissa simply won’t allow that, especially not at her own party- but because Saturday is also the birthday party for one of my very best friends, and the reason why I have the courage to go to school wearing a skirt.

If it wasn’t for Laura, I would never have thought it was even remotely possible for me to lead the life I’m living now. She showed me that the way a person is born shouldn’t have any effect on the way a person lives their life, and any boy can become a beautiful woman if they want, or indeed need to. Tomorrow, she’ll turn seventeen years old, but as tomorrow’s Thursday, she’s going to have her party at the weekend… On the exact same day as Melissa’s party. Which is Melissa’s actual birthday as well. Which leaves me with a hell of a dilemma. On the one hand, Laura is one of my oldest and closest friends. But on the other hand, Melissa’s the one I hang out with every day at school…

“Afternoon, girls!” Dad says as Bryony and I climb into his car, me in the passenger seat with Bryony assuming her usual spot in the back. Despite my dilemma, I’m still forced to smile at my father’s greeting- it took long enough for him to acknowledge me as a girl, let alone his daughter, that it feels like a win every time he says so.

“Hi dad,” Bryony says as we simultaneously get our phones out of our blazers and switch them back on.

“…Okay,” dad sighs. “Ash I get, but do you think you could wait until you’re actually thirteen before becoming a teenager, Bryony?”

“Never heard that one before,” my sister retorts with a sarcastic snort of laughter.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then,” dad says with a tired sigh. “Oh well, two down, four to go, I suppose.” Despite myself, I let out a smile as I’m reminded than in less than two months’ time, I’ll be having not just another younger sibling, but a younger sister. “You two have a good say at school?”

“Meh, same as always,” I shrug, before mentally adding ‘for better or worse’.

“Same here,” Bryony adds. “Think Sabrina’s still a bit annoyed I dropped gymnastics club.”

“Well, you shouldn’t force yourself to do something you don’t enjoy just because it’d make your friends upset if they don’t,” dad advises. “If Sabrina really was your best friend, she’d understand, right?”

“I guess,” Bryony shrugs as I wonder how much of dad’s advice was directed at me. It’s easy advice for him to give, of course, seeing as he’s a taxi driver, works by himself and rarely deals with customers for more than twenty minutes at a time and hardly ever the same one twice. Me and Bryony, on the other hand, have to deal with the same people day in, day out for five years, and those five years would seem a lot longer if it wasn't for our friends.

After picking up Cassie and Dorothy from their school, the five of us head straight back home, where I waste no time in changing out of my uniform into a slouchy (albeit much more comfortable) pink hoodie, a pair of warm black leggings and a short denim skirt. Once I’m changed, I immediately vacate my bedroom to allow Bryony (whose bedroom it also is) to change out of her uniform. Even though we spent the whole of last year changing together for gymnastics club, we have a sort-of unspoken rule that when it comes to changing at home, we each give the other some personal space. Bryony’s taken pains to reassure me that this has nothing to do with my ‘status’ and everything to do with her wanting her own space, and I’ve taken great pains too to reassure her that I believe her. After all, we did use to have our own bedrooms, and it’s still sometimes tough to adjust to having to share, even though Bryony has been as much a support to me as any of my other friends.

“There, all yours if you want it,” Bryony says as she emerges from our bedroom wearing a dark long-sleeved t-shirt and her favourite pair of pink jeans.

“Thanks,” I reply, before turning and following my sister downstairs to the living room. “Is Sabrina really upset at you for dropping gym club?”

“Meh, a little,” Bryony shrugs. “Laura’s sister isn’t interested in it, none of the other girls at our table are too so she kinda feels alone at the club, you know?”

“Yeah,” I say with a soft sigh. “Yeah, I do know…”

After dinner, Bryony and I head back to our bedroom, where we get stuck into our homework. Naturally, Bryony has less than I do and finishes it faster than I would’ve anyway, resulting in yet another embarrassing moment where I have to ask my twelve-year-old sister (and her genius level IQ) for help with my maths. Eventually, though, my homework is done, and I have a smile on my face as I grab my phone and log into Facebook where, as expected, a group chat is already in full swing- albeit a group I haven’t interacted with at all today.

‘Hey Ash!’ Nicole types, which is quickly echoed by the other six girls in the chat.

‘Hey girlies!’ I reply. ‘Sorry for being late, got caught up with homework.’

‘Ugh, I do NOT miss that!’ Suriya types, making me giggle and roll my eyes.

‘Really?’ Priya asks with a ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji. ‘What do you call learning lines and writing essays on all those plays you’re doing?’

‘Fun, duh,’ Suriya replies with the same emoji as her sister.

‘Lol!’ Nicole types. ‘SO wish I went to drama college with you two.’

‘So do we,’ Laura types, followed by several ‘hugging’ emojis. ‘Wish we were all still at the same college.’ Not as much as I do, I self-pityingly think to myself, biting my lip as I decide whether to type a message expressing my feelings. It doesn’t take me long to decide that if any group of people is going to be sympathetic toward me, it’s this one.

‘Tell me about it,’ I type, smiling happily as I get several ‘hugging’ emojis of my own.

‘Aww,’ Megan types. ‘George says a lot how much you miss us at school.’

‘No no no!’ Harriet types followed by an ‘evil’ emoji that confuses me. ‘You know the rules about talking about BOYS in this chat!’

‘Oh come on,’ Megan pleads. ‘I was just mentioning him to cheer up Ash.’

‘Who is as much into boys as I am,’ Harriet types in reply as the other girls in the chat all send ‘laughing’ or ‘evil’ emojis. ‘You know the rules!’

‘Fine,’ Megan types with a sighing emoji before sending a photograph to the group- one of her with a pair of tights stretched over her head. I let out a giggle at the photo as it comes through, though it’s soon followed by a sigh as my chance to steer the topic of conversation has been and gone.

‘Hope you’re not dressed like that on Saturday!’ Laura types, earning ‘lol’s from most of the group.

‘Hell no!’ Megan replies. ‘Already got my dress picked out for that, and for Priya’s too!’ I smile as I’m reminded that Laura’s birthday isn’t the only one coming up in the next couple of weeks, as the oldest of our ‘excellent eight’ will be eighteen at the start of December, and that celebration won’t clash with anything.

‘Unpick that dress,’ Priya types with a ‘grinning’ emoji. ‘We will all be wearing saris that day! My dad’s bought eight saris, one for each of us.’

‘Awesome!’ Nicole types with a ‘cheering’ emoji. ‘I remember that first time we all wore saris at your house, they were so gorgeous!’ I sigh sadly as I also remember the first time I wore a sari, and the fact that said sari ended up in a landfill somewhere following my first disastrous attempt at coming out to my dad. I can’t help but also remember that following that incident, I barely spoke to my friends for weeks…

‘I’ve never worn a sari before!’ Mia types. ‘Do they make one that suits really pale skin?’

‘No one’s going to care about your skin colour at THIS party, believe me!’ Suri types, making me giggle. Priya and Suriya’s parents are obsessive about being inclusive and accepting and have always been colour-blind toward their daughter’s Caucasian friends, as well as deliberately being gender-blind toward myself and Laura.

‘Besides, everything looks good on you,’ Harriet types, followed by a ‘kissing’ emoji that makes me roll my eyes as I know what’s coming next.

‘Thanks babe,’ Mia replies with a kissing emoji of her own, to which Harriet replies with another ‘kissing’ emoji, and before long the entire screen is filled with the emoji over and over again.

‘Too much kissing!!!!’ Nicole types, thankfully bringing the stream of emojis to an end. ‘Maybe we need a forfeit for kissing in chat like we have for mentioning the b-word?’

‘Seconded!’ Megan types. ‘Especially when we’ve got Saturday to talk about!’

‘Is it going to be at your house?’ I ask, momentarily forgetting my dilemma and only realising after I send the message that I’m not 100% sure whether I’ll be going to the party.

‘Yeah,’ Laura replies. ‘Ricky’s promised me a surprise treat out somewhere tomorrow for my actual birthday.’

‘Will Alice be there?’ Nicole asks, again making me giggle excitedly- it’s still a surprise to me that Laura’s almost stereotypically male brother is dating an actual Angel.

‘Probably,’ Laura replies. ‘Not on Saturday though, she’s going to America for the big Angel tour. Though that does mean Ricky won’t be there on Saturday either, so that’s a win.’ Laura’s ‘stuck out tongue’ emoji makes me giggle again, though that’s followed by a sigh as I wonder whether she’d also consider my absence to be a win.

‘Excuse me?’ Megan asks. ‘Talking about your brother? What was the rule about talking about BOYS again?’

‘Ugh, fine,’ Laura replies with an ‘eye rolling’ emoji, before following up with a photo of a pair of ballet tights stretched over her head, which like Megan’s photo earns ‘lol’s from everyone in the chat. ‘Figured I ought to wear these at some point, seeing as I won’t be wearing a tutu on Friday.’

‘Haven’t you signed up for an adult class yet?’ Harriet asks. ‘Seems a shame to just drop it ‘cause you didn’t get into the elite class, you and Suri were both so good at dancing.’

‘We still go to the lunchtime club at college,’ Suri types. ‘No birthday tutu there, though.’

‘And it just isn’t the same without all of us there,’ Laura replies, making me roll my eyes as she doesn’t know just how right she is. ‘Though I know a couple of girls at uni who I’m trying to convince to sign up to Miss Fullerton’s adult class, one’s a T-girl too.’

‘That would be cool,’ Harriet types. ‘We should try to persuade Madame Renou-Briggs to let us have a private lesson, like the Angels used to have on Wednesdays.’

‘Like we could afford to rent the studio, though,’ Priya says. ‘And we’d need someone to teach us as well.’

‘We helped teach the younger kids last year,’ Nicole types. ‘Me, Laura and Suri, I could always ask Miss Fullerton if she’d still like some help.’

‘I could ask on Friday too,’ I type, my frustration building up as it becomes apparent that my friends have completely forgotten that I still attend the same class they’re talking about.

‘Sorry Ash!’ Nicole types. ‘Kinda forgot you still go to the class! That would be cool if you could ask.’

‘Sure,’ I type as I wonder if this is how my little sisters feel whenever me and Bryony are talking over them.

‘It’d be cool to go to dance class again,’ Harriet types. ‘feel like I’ve lost all my flexibility since I stopped going.’

‘Trust me, you haven’t,’ Mia types with a kissing emoji that makes me roll my eyes as I know what’s coming next…

The chat lasts for another hour and a half and stays on the topic of ballet and Laura and Priya’s birthdays before naturally trailing off as we all start heading to bed (or in the case of Megan, Harriet and Priya, to watch the Apprentice, which all three girls in explicably love), myself included. Though my dilemma causes me to get a lot less sleep than usual.

The following morning, I follow my usual routine of dressing washed and dressed, applying what little make-up we’re allowed at school and heading with my sisters down to dad’s car, where we’re dropped off at our schools. And, as usual, I sigh sadly when I see Bryony greet her ever-expanding group of friends while I’m accompanied to form by George in near silence.

After a morning spent sweating in the school's gymnasium and learning Maths, I head down to my new usual spot at break, where as always, my new friends are sat waiting for me.

“Hey girl!” Cameron says as I sit down and subconsciously straighten my short skirt. Of all the girls, Cameron's probably the one who's done the most to make me feel 'included' in my new group. Well, apart from Petra, obviously, but that's only because she also feels like an outsider at times- or at least, that's what she's told me...

“Hey everyone!” I reply. “Sooo… How was last night, Petra?” I giggle as four pairs of eyes, including mine, turn toward the raven-haired Polish girl, whose cheeks quickly start to redden.

“It was okay…” Petra replies, before loudly giggling. “I still can’t believe you persuaded me into going!”

“You’ll be a beautiful ballerina before long,” I say, giggling even louder as Petra tries to hide her face behind her hair.

“And,” Melissa interjects, “on your birthday you’ll get to dance in a GORGEOUS tutu, like someone else around here will be doing tomorrow…” I smirk and try not to roll my eyes as Melissa once again manipulates the conversation to put herself at the centre of it. Under the circumstances, though, I suppose I can forgive her for it…

“Ah, SO wish I could watch that,” Lucy sighs happily.

“I could always video it on my phone and upload it to Facebook later,” I suggest, trying not to smirk as I know instinctively that Melissa will be very happy with this suggestion, while Lucy resents even having me on Facebook at all.

“Sounds like a plan!” Melissa giggles. “Now as for Saturday…” My smile starts to falter and I feel my body tense up as I’m reminded of the dilemma I’m currently facing.

“Eee, I’m already so excited!” Cameron squeaks.

“I know, right?” Melissa asks with an excited squeak of her own as the excitement level at the table reaches fever pitch.

Needless to say, the party is the sole topic of discussion for the rest of the break period, and by the time the bell rings to signify the end of the break period my head is spinning- so much so that I momentarily forget that my next lesson, geography, is also one that one of my ‘gang’ takes.

“Boo!” Petra says, making me jump as we head to our class.

“Ugh- don’t do that!” I say with a pout that makes my friend giggle- and quickly causes me to giggle as well. “Ugh, I dunno, this whole party thing just has me kinda stressed out…”

“Umm… Why?” Petra asks. “I would have thought that Lucy’s party would be the bigger stress for you, seeing as she’s still being such a pain.”

“Yep,” I reply. “But Lucy’s birthday doesn’t clash with one of my best friend’s, and that’s the problem.”

“Whose birthday is it?” Petra asks, her confusion momentarily confusing me until I realise that she and the rest of the excellent eight have almost never interacted with each other.

“Oh, umm, Laura’s,” I reply.

“Huh, okay,” Petra shrugs. “Melissa will be annoyed if you miss her party, though.”

“So will Laura,” I retort.

“Yeah, but you don’t go to school with her anymore,” Petra says, and I remain silent as I’m forced to admit that Petra has a point. “Anyway,” Petra says, again startling me while I was lost in thought, “is it true that they make you dance in a tutu when it’s your birthday?”

“…Not so much ‘make you’ as ‘allow you’,” I reply with an excited giggle. “I’ve still got a video on my phone from my birthday in May, I think I posted it on Facebook too?”

“You did,” Petra giggles. “You looked SO pretty in the costume! Hard to believe that- umm, well, you know…” I smile sympathetically as my friend’s voice trails off.

“Yeah, I know,” I say softly. “And I know you know I know, hehe! And I do kinda agree with you, a bit.”

“Is- is it worth it?” Petra asked, making me pause to contemplate my answer. Even after all the hassle I’ve had from my family (particularly my father), all the teasing and abuse I’ve faced at school and all the scars, both emotional ones and physical ones (like the one above my eye that I still disguise with my hair), there can be only one answer to Petra’s question.

“Definitely,” I say, gesturing to my uniform’s skirt.

“Oh- oh, not that, I mean,” Petra says, giggling with embarrassment. “I mean, I think, dancing on the tips of your toes? That must be painful, I mean, the boys on the football team need an ambulance if they stub their toe, never mind balancing their whole weight on the end of their toe!”

“Yeah, well, that’s BOYS for you!” I giggle as we take our seats and wait for the lesson to begin.

After an hour of learning about the wider world, Petra and I head back to our spot next to the sports hall, where surprisingly, we’re the first to arrive.

“Huh, that’s weird,” I say as we sit down in our usual spots. “Lesson must be overrunning, I dunno.”

“Yeah, I dunno,” Petra says. “I always get nervous when they’re not here, you know?”

“What, like you thought today was Friday and you’re missing cheer club?” I ask. “Because trust me, it IS Thursday.”

“I know, I know,” Petra replies with a giggle. “I get to dress up tonight, not this lunchtime.”

“So why so worried?” I ask.

“It’s just- ugh,” Petra spits. “You know Allie, Allie Gresham?”

“Yeah, she used to do cheer club with us last year, didn’t she?” I ask.

“Used to, yeah,” Petra says. “Melissa was never very kind to her, if you remember?”

“Ah- yeah…” I grimace as I start to recall the previous year at school, the repeated sneering and teasing- and worse- that Melissa shamelessly directed toward Allie. I feel a sense of guilt wash over me as the memories come back to me- what does it say about me that I barely even remember bullying when it's not directed at me personally?

“Allie used to hang out with us,” Petra explains. “Up to year 9, I mean.”

“Huh,” I say. “What happened to change that?”

“A boy, of course,” Petra snorted. “Melissa fancied him, but he asked Allie out. Whilst Melissa was there.”

“Ouch,” I grimace. “Thank god THAT’s never gonna be a problem for me…”

“Don’t be so sure,” Petra advises. “Allie turned him down but that was still enough to make Melissa want to kill her.”

“Doubt any boys are going to ask ME out, though,” I snort. “Not that I’m sad about that, heh!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Petra says in a teasing voice. “There are some boys in my form who fancied Laura.”

“Exactly,” I retort. “Laura. Hell, even I fancied her. Probably ‘cause she’s always been a girl, you know, at school? Nobody who knew ‘boy Ashley’ is gonna fancy ‘girl Ashley’. Where the hell are Melissa and the others, anyway?”

“Don’t be so sure about not being fancied,” Petra says with a grin that makes me roll my eyes. “I’m serious, I mean, you’re thin, tall, a dancer…”

“…Used to be a boy,” I retort.

“Exactly,” Petra says. “’Used to be’. And you’re friends with the most popular girl in school. If you wanted a boyfriend, I bet you could easily get one.”

“Pity that I don’t want one then, isn’t it?” I reply with a smug grin that makes my friend giggle loudly.

Petra and I remain by ourselves for the rest of the lunch period, which makes for a refreshing change, even if Petra's recollection of what happened to Allie puts me on edge. The last lesson of the day passes quickly, and before long I’m once again lowering myself onto the front passenger seat of dad’s car.

“Hi Ash,” dad says with a smile that I can’t help but notice falters slightly as I adjust my short skirt. “Good day today?”

“It was okay,” I reply with a shrug as I get my phone out of my bag. “Where’s Bryony?”

“She’ll be out in a bit,” dad says nonchalantly. “You really don’t like being alone in a car with me THAT much?”

“No, it’s not THAT,” I reply. “It’s just- eh, I dunno. My usual gang at lunch time weren’t around, now Bryony… Eh, it’s nothing.”

“If you say so,” dad replies with an unconvinced voice. “And anyway, here she comes now.”

“Hi dad,” Bryony says as she slides onto the back seat of the car and gets her phone out of her bag. “Hi Ash.”

“Hi to you,” I say with a frown. “Why exactly did you leave us waiting so long? I had no idea where you were just now.”

“Jeez, SORRY,” Bryony snorts. “Now you know what it feels like, normally we have to wait for you.”

“She’s got you there,” dad says with a chuckle that makes me roll my eyes.

“If you must know, I was talking with Ari,” Bryony says. “It’s her ballet class tonight, me and Sabrina were giving her a few bits of advice.”

“Ah, so you and Sabrina are talking again?” I ask.

“We were never not talking,” Bryony replies. “She was just a bit disappointed she doesn’t have anyone to change with for gym club, that’s all. We’re not going to stop being best friends just because we don’t see each other for one extra hour each week.” Naturally, this causes my thoughts to return to speculating where Melissa and the others were at lunch, though I also can’t help but wonder if what bryony says also applies to the rest of the excellent eight- even though we don’t see each other for thirty hours a week, rather than just one…

We arrive home shortly afterward, and after a quick dinner spent in a highly energised atmosphere (thanks to Cassie and Dorothy’s ballet lesson being this evening), I park myself on the sofa with my phone and my homework, paying more attention to the former than the latter while dad gets ready to watch the England vs USA football match on television. Naturally, when I log in to Facebook, I immediately get drawn into a group chat with only one topic of conversation.

‘I can’t believe he thought you’d want to go to that!’ Harriet types with an angry emoji. ‘Stupid BOY.’

‘I’d have gone if he’d got tickets for me and Kain as well,’ Laura types. ‘Oh, hey Ash!’

‘Hey birthday girlie!’ I type followed by several emojis including a cake, a party hat, several hearts and several fireworks.

‘Thanks girlie!’ Laura replies with a ‘wide grin’ emoji.

‘Did you get anything nice?’ I ask.

‘The usual,’ Laura replies. ‘Clothes, make-up, a new necklace from mum and Sean. And a couple of worse gifts, like tickets to the football match from my brother.’

‘The BOY,’ Harriet interjects, earning ‘lol’s from everyone.

‘That could’ve been cool, I guess?’ I type.

‘If it wasn’t just me and him, maybe,’ Laura retorts with a ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji. ‘And if they weren’t free tickets from Heavenly Talent too!’

‘From his girlfriend?’ I ask, referring to the fact that Laura’s ex-squaddie brother is inexplicably dating one of the Angels.

‘Yeah,’ Laura types. ‘Something to do with their America tour, a publicity thing.’

‘Though that does also mean Ricky won’t be at the party on Saturday!’ Nicole types, earning more ‘lol’s.

‘Party! Party!’ Mia types, followed by the same ‘celebration’ emojis I’d used earlier.

‘I am SO looking forward to Saturday!’ Suri types as my stomach starts to churn from my dilemma.

‘YOU’RE looking forward to it?’ Laura asks with a ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji.

‘We’re ALL looking forward to it!’ Nicole types. ‘Can’t believe it’s five months since the last time one of us had a birthday, now we’re getting two in three weeks!’ The calendar’s more crowded than you think, I self-pityingly think to myself, before smiling as I see another name pop onto the ‘online’ list- that of Cameron Calloway. While the group continues its excited discussion of Laura’s party, I open a separate chat window to talk to my other friend.

‘Hey Cameron!’ I type. ‘Missed you at lunch today.’

‘Hey Ash!’ Cameron immediately replies. ‘Missed you guys at lunch too, arsehole Mr Nixon gave the whole class detention.’

‘Hate him,’ I reply with an ‘angry’ emoji. ‘Bet there was only one or two guys actually causing trouble?’

‘Probably not even that, the fascist,’ Cameron types. ‘But whatever. Was it just you Petra and Lucy at lunch?’

‘Just me and Petra,’ I reply. ‘Thought Lucy was in your class?’

‘No, just me and Mel,’ Cameron replies. ‘Is Lucy still being a pain?’ The angry emoji Cameron adds to the end of her message makes me smirk- if it's sincere, it's a clear sign that Cameron values my friendship more than she does Lucy's...

‘Don’t she’ll ever not be a pain,’ I reply.

‘Well, her loss,’ Cameron types. ‘You know she won’t dare try anything at Mel’s party.’

‘True,’ I type, before tensing up again as I’m reminded of my ‘double booking’. ‘What time does she want us to get there?’

‘Think she said 1pm,’ Cameron replies. ‘You can ask tomorrow.’

‘Yeah,’ I type, before hesitating as I wonder how to word my next message. Cameron is Melissa’s best friend, after all, and if she finds out that I’m not guaranteed to go to her party- especially her sixteenth- she could be VERY unhappy. Especially if what Petra told me about Allie is true…

‘It’s actually Laura White’s party on Saturday as well,’ I type, hoping that Cameron doesn’t infer that I’m going to snub Melissa. ‘her birthday’s today.’

‘Yeah, I think I remember you saying last year,’ Cameron types. ‘Think Mel said she was okay with you going to Laura’s party instead of her as it was Laura’s 16th last year.’

‘Yeah,’ I type as I get the sinking sensation that my decision might just have been made for me.

‘And 18 is more important than 17, so you can go to Laura’s party next year instead,’ Cameron types, making me snort and roll my eyes. Thanks for the permission, I sarcastically think to myself.

‘Yeah,’ I type as my attention starts to wander back to the other conversation.

‘Have you sent off for your provisional yet?’ Suri asks, obviously referring to the fact that as she’s now 17, Laura is legally allowed to start to learn how to drive a car.

‘Not yet,’ Laura replies. ‘Ricky’s been on at me all day to do that. I’ll probably do it sometime after Christmas.’

‘Good,’ Priya types. ‘I am NOT driving all eight of us to Brighton next year!’ I smirk as I remember the promise the rest of the X8 made me this summer just gone, after they’d finished their GCSEs, that they wouldn’t celebrate the end of school without me. My smile turns into a frown, though, as I wonder whether they’d have made the promise if they’d known I wouldn’t go to Laura’s birthday party…

‘I am SO looking forward to that too!’ Mia types.

'Me too!' I type, earning several 'hugging' emojis from the rest of the girls, who obviously haven't forgotten the promise either- even though their response makes my stomach churn.

The chat lasts for well over another hour, during which time I repeatedly try to think of a way to bring up my dilemma, only to chicken out and delete my message every single time- in both chat windows. Eventually, the excellent eight and Melissa's gang all log off one by one, leaving me alone online, groaning in frustration. Why couldn't either Laura or Melissa have been born a week later? Or better yet, why couldn't I have been born twelve months earlier...

I wake up the following morning at the same time as the previous four days, and eat breakfast and get washed, dressed and apply my make-up at the same time as the last four days as well. Normally at this time of the week, I’d be looking forward to the weekend, but on this particular Friday, I am utterly dreading the upcoming weekend.

When I arrive at school, I am greeted as always by George, and only George. Form and the first two lessons of the day pass by in a blur, and eventually, the bell rings to signal the start of the first break period of the day.

After the bell stops ringing, I head to my usual spot by the sports hall, and if I was feeling anxious before break, I nearly have a full-blown panic attack when I arrive to find four pairs of eyes shooting accusing, almost angry stares at me.

“Umm, hey, everyone?” I say hesitantly with a forced smile on my face.

“Hey Ash,” Melissa replies in a voice barely above a sneer. “Looking forward to tomorrow, then?”

“Umm, sure!” I say as I sit down in my usual place.

“And whose party are you looking forward to?” Melissa asks me. “Mine, or Laura’s?” Oh, you bitch, I think as I shoot a brief, angry glare at Cameron.

“Well, yours, of course!” I reply in a matter-of-fact voice.

“Oh really?” Melissa asks, her face contorting into a sneer I’ve seen many times before, usually whenever Melissa’s talking about Allie… “Is it just a coincidence then that Laura’s party is also tomorrow?”

“Well, um, yes,” I reply, trying my best not to sound condescending. “I mean, it’s not her fault- or yours, even, that, umm, that you were born 2 days apart… But, like, it’s her 17th tomorrow but it’s your 16th, and that’s what most important, right?” Much to my relief, Melissa’s demeanour immediately changes and she beams a wide, smug smile that irks me just as much as it relieves me.

"Yep!" Melissa replies. "And you are going to LOVE the dress I picked out for you, hehe!"

"Cool!" I squeak, taking comfort from the fact that Lucy's face has changed from a smug sneer back to her usual condescending sneer. I've obviously passed this 'test'- the harder test is still yet to come...

The rest of break (and, obviously, lunch too) is spent discussing tomorrow's party, and as hard as I try to look excited about it, inside all I can think about is how I'm going to let Laura and the rest of my friends down- literally, how I'm going to go about letting them down in such a way that they won't hate me forever. And I won't hate myself forever either...

"That's another week done, girls!" Dad says as Bryony and I take our usual seats in his car, and I can't help but stifle a laugh at how dad's forced enthusiasm for calling me a girl is pretty much identical to my forced enthusiasm for Melissa's party.

"Well, it will be after tonight, anyway," Bryony says, reminding me that I haven't quite seen the last of Melissa just yet- there's one more 'lesson' to go before the week is over.

"Oh come on, don't see it like that," dad says. "You enjoy dance class, don't you? God knows those special shoes you need aren't cheap..."

"It's fun, I suppose," Bryony replies. "Maybe when I get cast in a performance, I dunno."

"Maybe if you ever audition for one?" I taunt my little sister. "You've had your pointe shoes for six months, what's stopping you?"

"Ash, leave your sister alone," dad chastises me. "Maybe she doesn't find it as easy as you do, or doesn't enjoy it as much as Cassie does?"

"No one enjoys it as much as Cassie does!" I say with a snort that makes both dad and Bryony laugh.

"Well- that's true," dad concedes. "Bryony, aren't you enjoying dance class as much as you used to?"

"No- well, yeah, I am," Bryony replies. "I just- ugh, I dunno. It's yet another thing where Sabrina's a million times better than I am, that's all. Sometimes I feel like the least talented girl in the class..."

"Oh- come on," I plead with my sister. "Won't you be doing your maths GCSE two years early, when you're what, 14?"

"...I'll be doing it in May in 2020," Bryony says. "So I'll still be 13 at the time. Point?"

"Point is, as the cleverest girl in your year, I think you can let Sabrina be better than you at SOMETHING, right?" I ask.

"Though as we've discussed more than once, this week in fact," dad says, "you shouldn't feel pressured into doing something just because all your friends do it as well. I mean, you're still twelve, for god's sake. You've got ages to make new friends, right? Same goes for you too, Ash." Yeah, thanks for reading my mind there, dad, I think to myself.

"...I guess," Bryony and I say simultaneously, before we both break into a fit of giggles.

"I dunno," Bryony sighs. "It IS fun doing it with Sabrina and Jo, though. And Laura's sister's probably going to be in the class next year too, which will be more fun. If anyone's gonna drop ballet, I'd have thought it'd be you, Ash."

"Uh- what?" I reply.

"You know," Bryony says. "'Cause Laura and her friends don't do it anymore?"

"Well- well, Melissa's still in our class," I remind my sister.

"Well- yeah," Bryony shrugs. "But are you as good friends with her as you are with Laura and Sabrina's sister and the rest of their gang?" I bite my lip as I turn my attention back to my phone, unable to answer my sister's question for now.

We arrive back home a short while later (after picking up my two younger sisters, of course), and after a quick dinner Bryony and I head up to our bedroom where we change into our regulation pink tights and black leotards before tying our hair into tight, severe buns and heading back downstairs. Despite my dilemma, I still allow myself a smile at the familiar, but still exciting sensation of the soft pink tights on my hairless legs (a far cry from the thick black tights I was wearing earlier today), the clinginess of my leotard and the weight of the bun on my head. It took me months, years even to grow my hair long enough to tie it into a bun, and I am immensely proud of my hair.

Of course, as I'm reminded when we arrive at the Krystie Fullerton School of Dance, my hair is still shorter than most of the girls in our class, especially Melissa, whose long golden blonde hair has been tied into the most intricate, elaborate bun I've ever seen- to match the elaborate costume she'll be wearing in just under an hour's time.

"Hey Ash!" Melissa excitedly squeaks as she comes over to greet me with a hug, while Bryony goes to sit with her friends. Ever since Laura left the class, Melissa and I have become the effective 'alpha females', a role Melissa has obviously taken to naturally and that even I find easy to adapt to, even if it does mean having to play a very distant second fiddle to Melissa. Especially on today, of all days...

"Hey Melissa!" I reply. "Looking forward to your dance, then?"

"Uh- yeah!" Melissa replies with a giggle.

"You're going to look SO amazing out there," one of the other girls, a 13-year-old whose name I can't remember, says, and it's all I can do to avoid rolling my eyes.

"I know," Melissa says with a smug smile before turning back to me. "Going to be nice to actually have the tutu all to myself this year and NOT have to share it with Laura, heh. Speaking of which, have you told her yet?"

"Umm... Told her...?" I reply.

"About tomorrow?" Melissa asks. "That you'll be at MY party and not hers?"

"Well- well I haven't had the time..." I feebly stammer in response, cringing as Melissa lets out a long sigh.

"Is that because you don't want to tell her?" My 'friend' asks with an angry look in her eyes.

"I- I just- I dunno..." I mumble.

"I mean, it's not like I've looked forward to celebrating my birthday with my friends or anything..." Melissa sighs. 'Friends' that you decide are worthy of being your friend, I think to myself, before pausing- doesn't that describe the way literally everyone decides who their friends are?

"I- I'll send her a quick message now," I say, sitting down at the side of the room and getting my phone out of my dance bag.

'Hey Laura,' my hastily typed text reads. 'Really sorry but won't be able to come round tomorrow, hope you have a great day, love Ash.' I deliberately leave off the text message the reason why I'm not going round- Laura really isn't find of Melissa and this will only rub it in.

"Okay?" I ask, showing Melissa the message.

"Well- sure," Melissa replies with a shrug. "I knew you'd send a message EVENTUALLY, I mean- you are pretty cool, you know?"

"Th- thanks," I reply with a smile as we head into our class.

The hour passes by as per usual, with the obvious exception of the last five minutes of the class being given over to Melissa and her solo dance, which receives a (well-deserved) standing ovation at the end. Once the class is over, Melissa bids me farewell with a brief hug while Bryony and I climb into dad's waiting car.

"Hi girls!" Dad said. "Did you have fun tonight?"

"It was okay," I reply with a shrug as I switch my phone back on and brace myself for the inevitable replies to my text. "Bryony? Want to continue our conversation from this afternoon?"

"It was fun," Bryony shrugs. "Feet are a little sore, though."

"It'll get better as your feet get more used to pointe," I try to reassure my sister.

"Yay," Bryony sarcastically replies, while I sigh as I read Laura's reply to my text message.

'Aw, that sucks,' Laura's message reads, followed by several 'crying' emojis. 'Was really looking forward to the eight of us hanging out. Are you sick or something?' I bite my lip as I wonder whether lying to Laura would be the best idea here, considering that Melissa's inevitably going to put hundreds of photos of the party onto Facebook.

"What's up, Ash?" Dad asks.

"Ugh, this whole 'clashing parties' thing," I reply with a sigh.

"I don't get why you don't just go to Laura's party," Bryony shrugs. "That's where you'd rather go, isn't it?"

"Well- yes and no," I sigh.

"You like her better than Melissa, don't you?" Bryony asks.

"Well, yes-" I reply, before sighing as I realise I didn't even need to think about that response. I genuinely do like all the excellent eight better than Melissa or any member of her gang. However, it's not that simple a choice...

"So what's the problem?" Bryony asks.

"It- ugh," I reply. "Imagine if all your friends were in a different year to you. Then imagine that you start year 11, and you have literally no friends to sit with at break, or lunch, or anyone. Add to that the fact that everyone at school hates you simply because of who you are. Then, suddenly, the coolest girl in the school says 'hey, want to hang out?'. Are you really saying you'd say 'no' to that?"

"You could always sit at our table," Bryony says.

"She's got you there," dad chimes in.

"What, and be the only year eleven at a table of year sevens and eights?" I snort.

"Your loss," Bryony says with a loud, angry sigh. "Sabrina and Jo would both like you, I reckon." Wouldn't be too sure about the second girl, I think to myself as I remember Melissa and Lucy's implied threat from months ago, and how my remaining friends with them is as much for Bryony's benefit as it is my own.

"I'll pass," I say, twirling my phone around in my fingers until we return home and I can reconnect to our house's wi-fi.

The moment we get back home (and in wi-fi range), I head straight up to my bedroom, not bothering to change first, and log onto Facebook, where I'm immediately (and unsurprisingly) drawn into a group chat.

'Hi Ash,' Laura types without any of the usual exclamation marks or emojis that her usual 'welcome' messages contain. 'Are you feeling alright? I was shocked when I got your text.'

'Yeah, I'm okay,' I reply, before grimacing and wiping a tear away from my eye as I compose my next message. 'I can't come tomorrow because it's Melissa Jeffries's birthday as well, and she's invited me to that party.' I press send and lay back down on my bed with a loud groan. I wonder how many of the other seven girls in the chat will still be my friends in five minutes' time?

'Okay then,' Laura's reply to my message reads. 'I suppose it would be her 16th, right?'

'Yeah,' I reply, biting my lip as I wonder why none of the other girls are replying or even typing at the moment. 'And I skipped it last year for your 16th.'

'Okay,' Laura types.

'I guess it's just bad luck that your birthdays are almost on the same day,' I type.

'Guess so,' Laura types. 'Well, hope you have fun tomorrow!'

'Thanks,' I reply, pausing before sending the message as I wonder whether to add a 'smiling' emoji to my message, before thinking better of it. I actually start to fidget on my bed as the chat stays quiet for another minute, before breathing a sigh of relief as Nicole types a message on a different subject that gets the chat moving again.

The following day, I get up early (for a Saturday) and get ready for the day ahead. As Melissa promised, the party is a lot of fun and the costume is AMAZING, completely unlike (as in, much sexier than) any dress I've ever worn before. We stay out until late, having fun dancing, playing games and flirting with the boys at the party. Even I flirt with a couple of the boys, even if they all know me so don't need to be told the 'look but don't touch' rule as they're not going to 'touch' even if I wanted them to. Which I don't, so it's still fun.

Fifteen days later, I head to Priya's eighteenth birthday party, where the sari I wear is in its way just as beautiful as the dress I wore to Melissa's party, and yet I can't help but feel out of place. The other seven girls and I have barely spoken after Laura's party (which looked just as fun as Melissa's, from the photos I saw on Facebook), and it's clear that a lot of them are still upset about my decision, not that they'd say it openly for fear of ruining Priya's party- even if Priya herself is probably the one who's most angry with me.

And the following day, a Monday, I head back to school where Melissa and her gang welcome me with open arms and are actually enthusiastic about me sharing details of Priya's party with them. I really wish it was easier to know who my true friends really are...

I let out a long, tired sigh and elegantly lower myself onto the front passenger seat of dad’s car, straightening my short grey skirt and thick black tights before fastening my seatbelt.

“Oh, cheer up,” dad urges with a teasing grin. “Could be worse, it could be Monday!”

“It IS Monday,” Bryony reminds us from her seat directly behind me.

“Oh yeah,” dad chuckles. “Well- just cheer up, then. Especially you, Ash- just a few more months then you’ll finally be free!”

“Yeah,” I say, and I allow myself a small smirk as I concede that dad’s correct- this time six months from now, I’ll be sixteen years old, I’ll have worn this uniform for the very last time and I’ll be free to spend my summer however I want, and with whoever I want. And, most importantly, AS whoever I want- once I’ve passed my sixteenth birthday, I’ll be legally entitled to take a full, adult dose of oestrogen, a definite improvement from my current zero dose.

To say I'm eager for that day to come would be an understatement. It's not like I have a butch body- I have a slender waist, long, slim legs and I am, thank god, nowhere near as tall as my 6' 2" father. Matters could be worse- but they could also be much better. My chest is flat, I still have to occasionally shave off facial hair, and the less said about what's between my legs, the better. It's frustrating that I'm stuck like this for the time being, especially when I think about my transgendered close friend. Laura may be slightly taller than me, but she has a tiny waist, longer, skinnier legs and very noticeable breasts.

I should see Laura as something to aspire to, a look I'll be able to emulate in just a few months’ time, but if anything, thinking about her only increases my tension levels, especially when I’m thinking about the coming summer. As I said before, during the summer I’ll be free to spend my time with whoever I want. The problem is, I don’t know who that is- not yet, anyway…

“Have fun at school, girls!” dad says as he drops Cassie and Dorothy off at their primary school, both girls immediately running off to play with their respective best friends. Meanwhile, Bryony and I both get our phones out of our bags, instantly frustrating our father.

“…Well, at least you’re not passing on that bad habit to your sisters,” dad grumbles as we drive away. “Not yet, anyway…”

“You know we’re not allowed to check them at school,” Bryony retorts. “And we can’t leave them at home in case of an emergency.”

“Sometimes I think you’re TOO clever,” dad says with a sigh as my sister smirks. “And why would you need them at school, anyway? All you do on your phones is talk to your friends, who are all at school, where you can talk to them face-to-face.”

“Not ALL my friends,” I whisper to myself with a sigh as I put my phone away, none of my friends- from either group- showing as online right now.

We arrive at school a short while later, and as with our younger sisters, Bryony and I are greeted by our friends as we head into the school- Bryony by her best friend Sabrina, while I’m greeted by the best friend- or rather, my best male friend.

“Alright, mate?” George asks as we head to form together.

“Not bad, thanks,” I reply. “You?”

“Meh,” George shrugs. “Already looking forward to the weekend, heh. You get up to much this weekend just gone?”

“Ehh, not really,” I reply. “Just, you know, hanging out with friends…” Though not the group of friends that includes your girlfriend, I think to myself. Which has increasingly been the case over the last two months… “You?”

“Just spending time with, you know, Meg, Laura and her boyfriend,” George shrugs.

“Cool,” I say as we enter the form room and take our seats, my mind quickly drifting back to the weekend, when Melissa, Cameron, Lucy and Petra and I hung out at my house- and how I barely spoke to Laura, Megan or any of the other girls.

That's not to say I didn't see them at all over the holidays, though- we spent several days hanging out together, and had a Secret Santa as well. Though even that made me feel like an outsider, with me being the only one under 16 and without a part-time job to pay for my present. Nonetheless, the rest of the excellent eight treated me just as they always had, as one of the girls, though I couldn’t help but continue to feel marginalised. This could, of course, be due to the fact that as they all go to different colleges, they need to catch up with each other as well as with me, but it still doesn’t set my mind at ease.

With Melissa, Petra and the others, though, it's sometimes like we're five girls thinking with one mind. I’m not ‘the young one’ of the group, even though I am technically the youngest of the five of us, I am treated as an equal, and any conversation we have always involves all five of us. Even if many conversations consist of Melissa essentially delivering a speech to us and the rest of us listening. Yes, I know that Melissa originally befriended me because of my connection with Jamie-Lee Burke and the other Angels, but that doesn’t mean that she can’t also be friends with me for me.

…Something that’s proved when the bell rings to signify the start of our first break and I head to our ‘spot’ behind the sports hall, where my friends greet me with a smile- all four of them, even the girl who for the last twelve months hasn’t made any effort to hide her contempt for me.

“Hi Ash!” Lucy says with a grin as I sit down in between her and Petra.

“Hi girls!” I say with a girlish giggle. “Everyone had a good rest-of weekend, then?”

“Ugh, right up to when I had to get up this morning,” Melissa snorts, earning genuine giggles from the rest of us.

“Was it that you didn’t like the cold,” Petra teases, “or that Liam was very warm?” The five of us all grin as Melissa’s cheeks start to redden at the mention of her boyfriend's name.

“You’ll find out the answer to that when you’re sixteen and your boyfriend stays over,” Melissa retorts, which causes our Polish friend’s cheeks to start to flush. “Which isn’t too long from now, is it?”

“…Perhaps not,” Petra mumbles, before giggling excitedly. Petra’s birthday is two weeks from tomorrow, and her family are planning a big celebration; it is her sixteenth, after all, and even though her family may not 100% approve of me being her friend- or even 1% approve of it, for that matter- I am still invited to celebrate the big day with her.

Of course, it’ll also be Harriet’s birthday the following Monday, but her party will at least be the following weekend, and won’t clash with anything my school-based friends have planned. In all honesty, though, as much as I like Harriet (and god knows Harriet's mother likes me a lot more than Petra's parents do), it’s Petra’s party I’m looking forward to the most…

“Are we gonna have the party at your house, or at, like, a hotel or somewhere?” Cameron asks.

“Probably my house,” Petra replies with a shrug. “I don’t know yet, hehe! Ah, but I am looking forward to it so much! Maybe my parents won’t treat me like a little girl, not anymore.”

“They’ll learn,” Melissa says confidently. “My parents did.”

“Meh, it’s not THAT bad,” I shrug, earning confused stares from my friends. “Try having, like, an army of younger siblings.”

“Ooh, I almost forgot!” Cameron giggles as it becomes my turn to blush. “How is your littlest little sister, anyway?”

“She’s okay,” I mumble in reply, before letting out a happy giggle. My newest youngest sibling, Felicity Hazel Moore, was born on the 18th of December last year and quickly became the centre of attention of the whole household- well, the whole household apart from me, anyway. Mum and dad say they understand me not having any free time to devote to helping out with the baby, what with my upcoming exams and all, but I still feel a little guilty that I haven’t given my newest sister as much attention as I did to Dorothy or Eddy when they were born, mainly because the reason is I’m trying to juggle being part of two different close-knit friendship groups…

“Ahh… SO jealous,” Lucy giggles, much to my surprise. “Can’t even remember when my sister was that little. All I can remember is her being a pain in the arse.”

“Well, I repeat, try having an army of younger siblings,” I say, making my blonde-haired friend smirk.

“Meh, your sisters are okay,” Petra shrugs. “Well, I only know Bryony, but she seems to be cool.” I can’t help but smile happily as my friends all nod in agreement- for all the friends that I have, Bryony is still closer to a ‘best friend’ than any of them from either group.

“Jo says a lot of the boys are interested in her too,” Lucy teases, making me roll my eyes. “Though she’s keeping them away for now.”

“Can we not talk about my little sister’s thankfully non-existent love life, please?” I ask.

“FOR NOW,” Lucy repeats, before we exchange a genuine giggle. I don’t know exactly what it was that made the blonde girl not hate me anymore, but I’m grateful nonetheless- after all, as the saying goes, you can never have too many friends. Even if keeping them all happy can be extremely tiring…

The rest of the break period is spent thankfully gossiping about things other than our sisters and their love lives, as is the lunch period, which seems to pass by in a blur. Before I know it, the bell is ringing to indicate the end of the school day, and minutes later, I head out to the car park where my father and his car are waiting, with my (thankfully still single) sister sitting on the back seat.

“Hi Ash!” Dad says as I slide onto the seat next to him. “Good day in the end, then?”

“Meh, same as every other day,” I reply with a shrug, before getting my phone out of my bad and switching it back on.

“Well, good chat, anyway,” dad sighs as we drive away from our school. “I hope you’re not planning on spending all of tomorrow night on your phones?”

“Only the time we’re not at dance class,” Bryony replies as I’m reminded that Petra’s isn’t the only birthday we’re celebrating this month.

“You know what I mean,” dad says with a quiet growl. “It’s your sister’s big day tomorrow, and yes, you’ll be at ballet so you won’t be around for most of it, that can’t be helped. What can be helped is you at least popping in to say happy birthday to your sister and eating some cake.”

“I can do cake,” I shrug.

“Good,” dad says. “I want the two of you to go out of your way to make Dorothy feel special, okay? Especially with the new baby now here.”

“Yes, yes, we will,” Bryony says.

“Well- okay, then,” dad says. “I know I say this every time you get a new brother or sister, which this will be the last time, but I want you both to know that just because Felicity’s here now, we’re not going to be any less there for you if either of you need us. That applies for Cassie, Dorothy and Eddy as well.”

“Yes, we know,” I say. “This is, what, the fifth time we’ve had this talk?”

“Since Felicity’s been born,” Bryony interjects, earning a stern stare from our father.

“Well, then let me say it for my sake, if not for yours,” dad growls, before letting out a sigh. “I know you’re both old enough and clever enough to know this already, but Cassie and especially Dorothy aren’t. Neither of you asked for this responsibility, or to be big sisters, but- well, I’m sure you already know.”

“Yeah,” Bryony whispers while I bit my lower lip.

“I kinda- kinda did ask to be a big sister,” I mumble, making dad frown.

“…You may have asked to be a sister,” dad concedes, “but you didn’t ask to be the oldest.”

“And to be fair,” Bryony says, “Ashley’s a much better older sister than she was an older brother.” Despite my best efforts, I feel tears start to form in the corners of my eyes as dad beams me a proud smile.

After picking up our two younger sisters from primary school, we head back home, where Bryony and I head straight up to our bedroom to get changed. However, as I change into my plain grey denim skirt and pink hoodie, I can’t help but muse on what Bryony said in the car.

“Bryony,” I say hesitantly.

“Ashley…?” My sister replies as she changes, thinking nothing of stripping down to her underwear in front of me.

“Did- did you mean what you said in the car?” I ask. “You know, about me being a better sister than a brother?”

“Only ‘cause you’re a better girl than you were a boy,” my sister replies, before sighing. “But yes, you know? When you were a boy you were, like, miserable all the time… As a sister, you know, I can, like, talk to you…”

“D’aww,” I coo, waiting for Bryony to put on her jumper and jeans before giving her a tight, loving hug.

“Yes, yes, okay!” Bryony protests as she wriggles out of my hug. “God! That’s the last time I say anything nice about you…”

“What, you don’t like being hugged?” I tease my sister, who rolls her eyes in response. “I’m sure all the boys in your year will be disappointed to hear that…”

“Yeah, well, that’s their problem,” Bryony says as we head downstairs for dinner.

The rest of the evening passes quietly- well, the hour and a bit while Cassie and Dorothy are at their ballet class does, anyway- and I eventually climb into bed just after 10pm; and despite the many sources of stress in my life, I actually feel calm as I close my eyes and quickly drift off to sleep.

I wake up earlier than usual the following morning, though not as early as one of my younger sisters, who I can already hear laughing excitedly as I head downstairs in my warm pink dressing gown.

“Happy birthday, Dorothy!” I say as I catch sight of the now 6-year-old girl, before giving her a hug that’s much more warmly received than the hug I gave her older sister last night.

“Thank you, Ashley!” Dorothy giggles excitedly, before grinning and staring at me expectantly.

“…Okay, here you are,” I say, taking a small gift off of the large pile on the sofa and handing it to Dorothy, who grins excitedly as she unwraps it to discover a small pink diary with pictures of Disney princesses on the front (it's very convenient to have a relative whose birthday is at the start of the year).

“Thank you, Ashley!” Dorothy repeats, giving me another excited hug before running off to show my gift to dad while I head into the kitchen to find my mother and all my other siblings.

“Morning Ashley!” Cassie says with a giggle as I get my cereal and sit next to her at the kitchen table.

“Morning Cassie!” I reply, making my bubbly sister giggle again. “Morning Bryony, Eddy and Felicity too! And Mum too, heh!”

“Was beginning to think you’d forgotten me,” mum says with a sly grin. “Have you given Dorothy her present?”

“Like I had any choice,” I reply, making mum grin wider.

“I got her a new scrunchie to wear at ballet!” Cassie squeaks happily.

“That’s the theme of a lot of her gifts,” mum says, earning knowing smiles and nods from me and Bryony. “Are you all looking forward to tonight’s party?”

“Yep!” Cassie replies. “Though really, I would rather be at ballet with Ashley and Bryony.”

“What a surprise,” Bryony whispers to me, nearly making me choke on my cereal!

“Well, Miss Fullerton says you’ll be in the big girls’ class soon,” mum consoles Cassie. “And if you went tonight, none of your friends would be there, would they? Unlike Bryony and Ashley, who WILL be there with their friends.” Well, one of them, at least, I think to myself.

“Well- okay, I guess,” Cassie shrugs as she finishes her breakfast, before running upstairs to get changed into her school uniform.

Bryony and I follow suit a short while later, and before long we four girls are in dad’s car, heading to our respective schools. However, as you might imagine, the advice that mum gave Cassie this morning is ringing in my ears, especially when Bryony heads off with Sabrina and the rest of her friends, while I head to form with George, and only George. My mood picks up at breaktime, though, when I head to my usual spot and am greeted with the same enthusiasm with which I was greeted yesterday.

“Hi Ash!” Cameron giggles as I sit down and straighten my short grey skirt.

“Hi girls!” I say with a giggle. “What’s new?”

“Ugh, literally NOTHING,” Melissa moans. “Other than being desperate for the summer to come round, right?”

“Hell yeah!” the four of us all cheer in reply.

“We should totally go to the beach one day in summer,” Lucy suggests. “You know, like, the five of us?”

“Totally,” Cameron agrees. “Ooh, or maybe, like, a music festival?”

“I can agree with that,” Petra says.

“Sure,” I say, before remembering that I'd already made plans with my other friends for this summer- and they'd specifically delayed their plans for last summer for my benefit. “Though… I, umm, may have, you know, a clash…”

“Oh- Ash…” Melissa sighs, making me shrivel in my chair. “Are you really that desperate to go to Disneyland with your family AGAIN?”

“Yeah,” Lucy says, the familiar sneer returning to her face. “You’ll be, like, sixteen by then, surely they’ll let you stay home by yourself?”

“Well- I doubt it,” I say with a sigh, before clenching my fists to steel myself before I continue. “What I’m really talking about, though, is- I kinda promised Laura and the other girls I’d go to the beach with them this summer too. I mean, they were going to go last year, but didn’t because I couldn’t go…”

“So?” Melissa asks, making me frown. “Just go with them some other week, I mean, we’re going to have MONTHS off during the summer, aren’t we?”

“Well- yeah, I guess,” I chuckle.

“There should be plenty of festivals in the summer, shouldn’t there?” Petra asks.

“We’ll just make sure WE get tickets to the best ones,” Melissa says with a smug grin that I thought I’d seen the last of.

“And AngelCon too!” Cameron reminds us. “That’s going to be in London this year too, isn’t it?”

“Well, if anyone should know…” Melissa says as four pairs of eyes look expectantly in my direction.

“…It’s supposedly going to be in July,” I say, smirking as my four friends all giggle excitedly.

“Oh, I am SO going to that!” Cameron squeaks excitedly as I try not to fidget- this chat has been a stark reminder of just why I’m friends with Melissa and co.

However, the chat soon moves onto other topics, such as music, fashion and boys (though on that last topic, I am at least excused from joining in), and by the time I return to class, I’m again happy, or at the very least, no longer anxious about the coming summer. And in fairness, it’s not like the excellent eight wouldn’t have felt the same way if they thought I could get them an ‘in’ at a big event like AngelCon.

…And, seemingly to set my mind at ease, my ‘Angel links’ aren’t even brought up at lunchtime, as talk of fashion and boys dominates the discussion before we return to class for our final lesson of the day. Once that’s over and done with, I head out to the car park as usual, and before long, we’re at my younger two sisters’ (and my former) primary school, and for the first time in a very long time, it’s the younger of the two girls who’s the most excited!

“Hello, birthday girl!” dad says as Cassie and Dorothy climb onto the back seat alongside Bryony.

“Hi Daddy!” Dorothy squeaks.

“Did you have a fun day at school?” I ask, Dorothy responding with a spiel about her day that lasts until our car returns home. What amuses me the most, though, is how Cassie remains silent and lets Dorothy tell us about her day, when usually it's a miracle if she goes 30 seconds without saying anything. I can’t help but smile on how easily Cassie’s fitting into the ‘big sister’ role after 8 years of being a ‘little sister’.

Once we're home, Cassie and Dorothy immediately rush upstairs to change into the special dresses they've chosen to wear for tonight's party, while Bryony and I remain in our uniforms for the time being. Our younger siblings enjoy a fancy meal prepared by our mum while Bryony and I have a lighter meal instead, and once we’ve eaten, we head up to our bedroom, where we finally strip off our uniforms in favour of another uniform- a black dance leotard and a pair of pink tights. After tying each other’s long blonde hair into tight, severe buns (something that’s become a bit of a ritual for myself and Bryony), we head down to dad’s car, and twenty minutes later, we’re pulling up outside the front entrance of the Krystie Fullerton School of Dance.

As per usual, once we’re inside and out of the cold, Bryony wastes no time in heading over to where Sabrina and the rest of her friends are sitting, while I head over to the quiet corner where Melissa is tying her soft ballet slippers to her feet.

“Evening!” I say, earning a smile from my petite friend. It still amazes me how the most popular girl in our school can be so meek when she’s not in the school environment. It could well be she’s only confident at school because she’s got her gang around her- but then again, I’m a part of that gang, too…

“Hey,” Melissa eventually says. “You okay?”

“Meh, not bad,” I reply. “Are they doing auditions for the new show today?”

“Think we’re still rehearsing, learning the choreography,” Melissa replies. “Why, are you thinking of going for a solo role?” In the school’s performances, solo roles are usually restricted to the Elite class, who are all over 16, have for the most part been dancing since before they could walk and are looking toward professional dance careers. However, one or two solo roles are usually reserved for dancers aged 14 or over who are part of the advanced class- a description that perfectly fits me and Melissa. And whether she’s meek in this class, I know there’d be hell to pay at school if I were to beat her to a role…

“Haven’t decided yet,” I shrug. “It’d depend on how many roles are available, and what roles they are.”

“Same here,” Melissa shrugs. “Heh, though I don’t even like Daft Punk.”

“Best not to let Madame Renou-Briggs hear you say that!” I say, sharing a giggle with my friend. “Ahh… Kinda in a bit of trouble just being here tonight, heh.”

“Really?” Melissa asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “It’s one of my sisters’ birthdays, and they’ve got a party tonight and, well, yeah.”

“How old are they?” Melissa asks.

“Six,” I reply. “Kinda why I’d rather be here, heh. Though it would be nice to be at a party where no one even knows that I’m not, you know, ‘XX’.”

“Heh,” Melissa chuckles. “I bet it’s a cute party, though. And I’ve said before how jealous I am that you have so many little sisters, heh.”

“Oh- definitely,” I say. “Dorothy's kinda got it hard, being in the middle of six, but she always has a smile on her face, heh.”

“’Dorothy’?” Melissa asks with an odd look on her face. “Poor kid…”

“It- it’s just my family’s idea of a joke,” I say. “I’m Ashley, my oldest little sister is Bryony, then Cassidy, Dorothy, Eddy, Felicity…”

“They couldn’t have called her, I dunno, ‘Daisy’ or something?” Melissa asks.

“If only you’d been around six years ago,” I say, earning a grin from my friend as we’re called into the studio and take our place at the barre.

After an hour of plies and pirouettes, I and the other twenty-odd girls in the class exit the studio and head back to the changing room, where I slip my feet out of my stiff pointe shoes and wriggle my toes to try to get some feeling back into them other than pain. As I’m pulling my short skirt and pink trainers back on, Melissa slides up next to me with a cheeky yet confident look on her face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at school, then,” Melissa says. “Enjoy your kid’s party, hehe!”

“Yes, yes,” I sigh in reply. “And it’s not my party, it’s my sister’s.”

“Well- whatever,” Melissa says. “The next party you go to? Petra’s? I guarantee you’ll enjoy it more, hehe!”

“Yeah, it’s probably a safe bet,” I say, before exchanging a gentle hug with the petite girl as Bryony approaches. “Ehh, looks like dad’s here, see you tomorrow!”

“See you!” Melissa says as I head off with my sister, confused by Melissa’s sudden confidence- her guarantee about Petra’s party seemed like more than just a generic statement…

Two and a bit weeks later, I step out of my mother's car feeling and looking a lot more grown-up than I did at my dance class. I'm wearing a very fancy dark blue dress with a figure-hugging bodice and a flared knee-length skirt, a lot more make-up than I typically would on a Saturday night, including scarlet lipstick and matching nail polish, two slender gold studs in each earlobe, and most exciting of all, I'm wearing a brand new pair of shoes with a two inch heel that were bought especially for this party. I take a deep breath as mum drives away, before ringing the doorbell. Seconds later a wide grin spreads across my face as the birthday girl herself answers the door.

“Happy birthday!” I squeak as I exchange a friendly hug with the now 16-year-old girl.

“Thank you!” Petra squeaks in reply, before leading me into the house, where the party is already in full swing. I keep my smile on my face as I walk through the partygoers, even though it’s clear from some of their facial expressions that they’re NOT pleased to see me.

I should point out that I’m not talking about our mutual friends from school- the only school friends there are Melissa, Cameron and Lucy, and technically Petra’s sister Ariadna, all of whom know and like me. Petra’s older brother and sister, though, aren’t as fond of me, and Petra’s parents especially aren’t. When I first made friends with Petra, she explained that her family was from Krakow, one of the more conservative parts of Poland, and she was brought up to follow their traditions- even though she was born in London, English is her second language. Petra was brought up in the Catholic faith, like her parents, and while I know loads of Roman Catholics who have no problem with me being, well, me, Petra's family aren't in that group. For them, anyone L, G, B or especially T is to be viewed with distrust, especially if that person is friends with their daughter. And with me being both ‘L’ and ‘T’, there’s basically no chance of them ever fully accepting me as Petra’s friend. Petra’s even said that if I was ever alone with any member of her family other than her or her sister, my safety might even be at risk. All of which is a pity, given that I like Petra the most of anyone in our ‘group’- I also find her the most attractive, too…

“Hey Ash!” Melissa says as I approach the part of the living room where she and Cameron are sat. “Love that dress!”

“Thanks!” I giggle, doing a quick spin to show off the garment. “Yours looks amazing too!”

“Thank you,” Melissa says with a smug grin. “Of course, I do have extremely rich parents who can afford to buy me designer clothes, hehe!” Very humble, I think to myself as my smile starts to falter. “Not as rich as someone’s parents, though!” I giggle along with my friends as the birthday girl starts to blush.

“Ahh…” Petra chuckles. “We are not THAT rich, hehe!”

“Rich enough to afford those shoes, though?” Cameron teases as Petra shows off the red soles of her fancy new shoes.

“SO jealous,” I say with a happy sigh. “What time’s Lucy getting here? Doesn’t seem right, just the four of us…” I fidget uncomfortably in my seat as an angry look spreads over Melissa and Cameron’s faces.

“Lucy won’t be coming tonight,” Melissa says, her tone of voice hinting that I may have just made a major faux pas.

“Umm… Okay?” I say.

“She won’t be coming any other night, either,” Cameron says with a sneer.

“Okay…” I repeat, confused by my friends’ sudden change in attitude. Just yesterday, we were hanging out with Lucy at school, chatting with her as we usually did. Now, 24 hours later, she’s a pariah? Melissa didn’t even say anything at ballet last night… “Did- did something happen?”

“Let’s not spoil the party by talking about HER,” Melissa sneers, before the smug smile returns to her face. “We should be talking about the birthday girl instead!”

“Yep!” I say with a giggle, even though I can’t keep my mind away from Lucy. We’d never been particularly close, I’d barely call her a friend, but in recent weeks we’d at least become civil to each other… I know the in the past, Melissa’s threatened Lucy to be more accepting of me or risk being ostracised, but she had been doing just that…

My thoughts are interrupted when the doorbell rings again and Petra jumps up to answer it. A few seconds later, my friend returns to the living room with another girl I semi-recognise as a student from our school. She's a few inches shorter than me, but extremely skinny- a look emphasised by the slender knee-length skirt of her dress and the 3.5" heels on her shoes. She has long blonde hair a similar colour to mine, and wears very fashionable designer glasses- and behind the lenses of her glasses, she seems to be looking directly at me...

“Girls, you know Lydia, right?” Petra says as the new girl greets us all with gentle hugs- my hug lasting longer than either Melissa or Cameron’s…

“Hey, of course I do!” Melissa giggles, before turning to myself and Cameron to explain. “We’re in drama class together.”

“Ah, okay,” I say while Lydia squeezes her very slender frame into the seat next to me. “I love that dress!”

“Thanks!” Lydia says. “Yours is pretty cute too, hehe! You’re Ashley Moore, aren’t you?”

“’Fraid so, heh!” I reply with a nervous chuckle- is Lydia going to be Lucy’s replacement?

“Aww, don’t be like that,” Lydia coos. “I think it’s cool, like, you lived your whole life wanting to be a girl, and now you are one. A gorgeous girl, actually!”

“Aww, thanks!” I giggle. “I’ve still got a LONG way to go, though, to be as beautiful as any of you four.” Needless to say, Melissa approves of this response.

“Well, for starters, you’ve definitely got the right hair colour,” Lydia teases, making me blush as our three brunette friends all pretend to pout, before breaking down in a fit of giggles.

“Petra,” the Polish girl’s mother says, interrupting our giggles before saying something in Polish that I don’t understand exactly, but I infer to mean ‘do your friends want any drinks’ as the birthday girl disappears into the kitchen and returns shortly afterwards with fancy looking mocktails for us all.

“My parents won’t let us drink alcohol until we’re eighteen,” Petra says apologetically.

“That’s probably for the best,” Lydia says. “I had a glass of champagne at my brother’s eighteenth last year, and ‘cause I’m so skinny, it REALLY went to my head, hehe!”

“Hehe,” I giggle, making my new friend grin appreciatively.

“Ooh, here comes the cake!” Cameron giggles as Petra’s father and brother emerge from the kitchen carrying a large cake with pink frosting, while we’re all ushered into the middle of the room.

I stand back and watch as Petra’s mother and father give a speech in Polish that I (obviously) don’t understand, but which is obviously very sweet and loving judging by Petra’s reaction. Eventually, the speech ends, and Petra blows out the candles on the cake to cheers and applause from us and Petra’s family. After we’ve all had a slice of cake each, Petra turns on some music while her family clears some space in the room to allow us to dance- and much to my surprise, Lydia immediately slinks up next to me.

“Hey Ash!” Lydia giggles.

“Hey Lydia!” I reply with a grin.

“Did you understand any of that?” Lydia asks me. “You’re doing languages at school, right?”

“Umm, German and French, not Polish,” I reply with a giggle. "Though Petra's taught me the odd word, not enough to keep up, though."

“You’d think that because they knew there were English people here, and we ARE in England…” Lydia says, before trailing off. “Never mind, hehe!”

“Yeah,” I say with an unsure chuckle. “So, umm, you said you have an older brother?”

“Two, actually,” Lydia replies. “Moron 1 and Moron 2, heh. How about you? Any brothers or sisters?”

“Umm, one brother, four sisters,” I say, making Lydia’s jaw drop.

“F- five!?” Lydia says with a giggle.

“Yep,” I say with a smug grin. “And I’m the oldest, heh. Next oldest is my sister Bryony, she’s 12 and goes to our school. Youngest is just a few weeks old.”

“Oh, that is so cool!” Lydia giggles. “And cute, hehe!”

“Yeah,” I chuckle. “You know, when people meet me, the first thing they ask me ISN’T about my brother and my sisters, heh.”

“Well- you asked first,” Lydia teasingly reminds me. “But- yeah, I am kinda ‘curious’, heh…”

“All my life I just- wanted to be a girl,” I say. “It’s kinda hard to explain if you don’t know what it’s like yourself, heh.”

“I bet,” Lydia says. “So, umm… Do- do you have a boyfriend?”

“Not interested in boys,” I reply with a shrug, before grinning. “What, just because I’m a girl now, I have to like boys?”

“Well- umm, Jamie-Lee Burke and Kelly Watson do…” Lydia mumbles.

“Oh, you- you’re an Angels fan too?” I ask.

“I LOVE the Angels,” Lydia giggles. “You know Jamie-Lee, don’t you?”

“We’ve met a few times,” I say smugly, before biting my lip as I wonder whether Lydia’s interest in being my friend is similar to Melissa’s…

“SO jealous,” Lydia says. “I’d probably, like, just fall apart if I ever met one of them, hehe!”

“They’re really nice, though,” I say. “They’re just, like, people, you know?”

“Oh sure, miss ‘friend of celebrities’!” Lydia teases, making me blush. “Aww, I didn’t mean that in a bad way… I think you’re, like, one of the coolest people I know, hehe!”

“Thanks,” I giggle, before feeling confused as Lydia bites her lip.

“So, umm…” Lydia says quietly. “You- you really don’t, like, ‘like’ boys?”

“Nope,” I reply. “Why, do- do you have a boyfriend?”

“Not right now,” Lydia replies. “Have you- have you ever kissed a girl before?”

“…A few times,” I reply as I think back to the time when Suri and Laura both pretended to be my girlfriend, and that one kiss I shared with Mia, the kiss that caused me to be a member of this group in the first place... “But only, you know, a few... Have- have you ever kissed a girl before?”

“No,” Lydia confesses, before a twinkle comes to her eyes. “I’ve always, you know, wanted to, though…” I lick my lips as I gaze into Lydia’s brown eyes, both of us seemingly having the same idea at the same time…

Mere milliseconds after entering the kitchen and ensuring that it's empty, Lydia's mouth meets mine, and moments later, our tongues are slowly exploring each other's mouths while Lydia rubs a hand up and down my thigh, sending tingles through my body with every touch...

Our make-out session only lasts a few seconds, but during those seconds time seems to stand still, and I already feel my body start to yearn for more- and more than just kissing and thigh rubbing, too...

“Hey, you two,” Melissa says with a knowing smirk as we emerge from the kitchen.

“Oh, hey Melissa,” I say, hastily rearranging the hem of my dress. “Just, you know, getting a drink…”

“I bet,” Melissa teases, before winking to let us know that she approves of our little ‘encounter’. Lydia and I exchange a knowing look as we head back to the makeshift dancefloor, though I let out an involuntarily yelp as I feel Lydia’s slender fingers give my right buttock a stealthy pinch.

“Plenty more where THAT came from,” Lydia teases as we rejoin our friends and start dancing again.

Shortly after 10:45pm, our parents arrive to drive us home, though before we leave, I make sure to exchange Facebook details with Lydia- along with another stealthy kiss when we’re sure that no one’s looking.

“See you later, girlfriend!” Lydia whispers to me, making my whole body tingle as she climbs into her father’s car and drives away.

“Evening,” dad says as I elegantly lower myself onto the passenger seat of his car, conscious of the shortness of my dress. “Good party?”

“Yeah, it was great!” I reply, giggling as I get my phone out to discover that Lydia has already connected to me on Facebook and sent several ‘kissing’ emojis through messenger.

“The fun doesn’t stop when you leave, then,” dad sighs as I reply to Lydia’s message with several ‘kissing’ emojis of my own.

The virtual make-out session ends before I get home, however, and as I step inside, I let out a sigh of relief as I free my feet from my high-heeled shoes, before slowly walking upstairs to my bedroom. Much to my surprise, despite it being after 11pm, my bedroom light is still on, and when I head in, I discover my sister is still awake, reading a book in bed.

“Hey Bryony,” I say to the 12-year-old girl. “You’re up late?”

“Meh, wasn’t much point try to get to sleep while you were still out,” Bryony shrugs, putting her book away as I sit down in front of our mirror and start removing my make-up and jewellery. “…I still want that dress when I’m older.”

“Get your own,” I retort, making my sister roll her eyes, before I remember a conversation from earlier in the night. “Bryony, you- you’re friends with Jo Sedgwick, aren’t you?”

“Mm,” Bryony grunts in the affirmative.

“Were you hanging out with her today?” I ask.

“Yeah, at Sabrina’s house,” Bryony replies. “Why are you so interested about Jo?”

“Did she talk about her sister at all today?” I ask.

“Why would she?” Bryony snorts. “I don’t spend all my time with my friends talking about you…”

“Yes, yes, okay,” I sigh. “It’s just- ugh, never mind.”

“Good,” Bryony says, before yawning and laying back down in bed. “Can I go to sleep now?”

“It’s a free country,” I retort, rolling my eyes as my sister lays back down and rolls over so she’s facing away from me.

I climb into my own bed shortly afterward, and given the evening’s activities, it doesn’t take long for me to fall asleep.

The next thing I’m aware of is sitting on the sofa downstairs next to Lydia, both of us wearing the same dresses we wore last night. Almost immediately, our lips meet, and I feel my whole body start to tremble as our lips part and our tongues start to touch, and-

“Ashley,” Bryony calls, distracting me from my girlfriend. “Ashley! Wake up!” I feel my body shake from side to side as Lydia seems to slip away from me, and within seconds I find myself waking up in my bed with my sister shaking my shoulder.

“Ugh, go away,” I moan, earning a frown and a stern stare from my sister.

“Mum told me to wake you up,” Bryony says without any trace of sympathy in her voice. “She’s taking you round to Laura’s at 10 and figured you’d want to shower first.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” I moan, throwing off my bedcovers and exposing my body to the cold morning air.

After a quick breakfast and an even quicker shower, I head back up to my bedroom to get dressed for the day, but before I do, I check my phone to see if I’ve received any new messages- and I can’t help but grin when I see several new messages from the girl I met last night.

‘Hey you,’ Lydia’s message reads, punctuated- of course- with several ‘kissing’ emojis. ‘You doing anything today?’ I check the time of the message and see that it was only sent 3 minutes ago, and as Lydia is still online, I postpone getting dressed in favour of sending her a reply.

‘Hey, not much,’ I type. ‘Just meeting up with some friends in a bit.’

‘Cool,’ Lydia types. ‘Melissa and her friends?’

‘No, Laura White and the rest of her group,’ I reply, trusting that if Lydia knew who I was on sight, she’d likely recognise Laura’s name as well.

‘Okay,’ Lydia replies, causing me to bite my lip in confusion- with this being a text conversation, there’s no way of telling if that was a good ‘okay’ or a bad ‘okay’…

‘We’ll see each other tomorrow at school, right?’ I ask, crossing my fingers that I haven’t offended my girlfriend of less than 24 hours.

‘Sure,’ Lydia replies, and again I struggle to determine her feelings- though her next message certainly gives me a good clue. ‘I just thought that as we spent a lot of last night snogging, you’d want to pick up from where we left off?’

‘No, I definitely do,’ I type. ‘I haven’t seen Laura or the rest of the girls all week though.’

‘Yeah, but you can see them any time,’ Lydia types, making me frown- that really isn’t true. ‘Don’t you want to hang out with me?’

‘Of course I do,’ I type, prompting an idea to pop into my head. ‘Why don’t you come and hang out with us today?’

‘I’d rather not,’ Lydia types. ‘I don’t know them as well as you do.’

‘I could introduce you to them,’ I offer.

‘Wouldn’t you rather have me to yourself?’ Lydia asks, punctuating her message with several ‘kissing’ emojis that just exacerbates my dilemma. After last night’s ‘activities’, I definitely do want more, to spend as much time with my new girlfriend as possible. But then again, we’re both only fifteen, and there’s only so much we can legally do- especially as our only options for where to hang out are my house (with my parents and younger siblings), her house {with her parents and her older brothers) or out in public. And there’s the fact that I haven’t seen Laura or the rest of the excellent eight in over a week, and they put their weekly get-together back from Saturday to Sunday purely because I was attending Petra’s party last night. But then again, I will see them at Harriet’s birthday party next weekend, and even then, I’m not going to get to kiss any of those girls…

‘I’ll tell them I won’t be going round today,’ I type. ‘Give me a couple of minutes to let them know.’

‘Cool!’ Lydia types, followed by yet more ‘kissing’ emojis that I reciprocate before opening another chat window with Laura.

‘Hey Laura,’ I type, trembling slightly as I try to work out exactly how I’m going to let my friend down. I don’t have long to think, though, before I get a reply.

‘Hey Ash!’ Laura replies. ‘What time will you be round, are you going to be late?’ That’s one way of putting it, I think to myself.

‘Yeah,’ I reply, taking a deep breath before continuing. ‘Sorry, but won’t be able to come round today, I’m knackered after last night.’

‘I thought you might be,’ Laura types with a ‘winking’ emoji. ‘It’s okay. You get your breath back lol!’

‘Lol,’ I reply with a ‘smiling’ emoji.

‘We’ll still see you next Saturday, right?’ Laura asks.

‘Of course!’ I reply, before pondering how to word my next message. ‘Do you think Harriet would be okay if I bring along a friend?’

‘You’d have to ask her,’ Laura replies. ‘Me and Megan have been told to leave our BFs at home though.’

‘What about a GF?’ I ask, following by ‘winking’, ‘blushing’ and ‘giggling’ emojis.

‘Did you and Petra finally get together last night?’ Laura asks with a ‘winking’ emoji of her own.

‘No, a different girl,’ I type. ‘Lydia Wilson, from my year in school, dunno if you remember her?’

‘Yeah, I think so, she was in drama club, wasn’t she?’ Laura asks. ‘Blonde hair, glasses, really skinny?’

‘That’s her,’ I type.

‘Is she who you’re hanging out with today?’ Laura asks, and I have the word ‘yeah’ typed in the reply box and ready to send before I realise the trap that my friend has led me into. I hesitate as I think of how to reply to Laura’s question, but before I’m able to think of anything, she starts typing again.

‘It’s okay,’ Laura continues. ‘I’ve blown off a few weekends to spend more time with Kain lol. And do NOT make any ‘blowing off’ jokes.’ I let out a giggle at Laura’s innuendo, especially when she punctuates it with a ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji.

‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ I reply. ‘And nice choice of emoji.’ Laura’s reply of a ‘winking’ emoji is enough to elicits more giggles from me- and reassure me that Laura at least is okay with me taking a break from the excellent eight this weekend.

‘See you on Saturday!’ Laura types, to which I reply with a ‘smiling’ emoji before returning to the chat with my girlfriend.

‘I’m all yours today,’ I type with a ‘smiling’ emoji that gets immediately reciprocated.

‘Too right you are,’ Lydia replies with a ‘winking’ emoji that makes me giggle. ‘Do you need directions to my place?’

‘Please,’ I reply, saving to my phone the Google map that Lydia sends.

‘My parents and my brothers are out most of today,’ Lydia types with a ‘smiling devil’ emoji. ‘They won’t be back until late afternoon, so we’ll have the whole place to ourselves.’ I reply with the same emoji my girlfriend just used, before signing out of Facebook and picking my shortest skirt and tightest top out of my wardrobe.

A short while later, mum drops me off at Lydia’s house, and as they drive away, my girlfriend opens the door and gives me a long, deep kiss before leading me inside…

Lydia and I remain by ourselves until the early afternoon, when her brothers arrive home. Lydia had warned me that her brothers are almost as insensitive as Petra's family when it comes to LGBT issues, and sure enough, when they arrive and see me in my short skirt, their faces immediately contort into frowns- frowns that deepen when they see the wide grin on their younger sister's face. After a quick text message, dad arrives in his car a few minutes later and immediately senses my giddy demeanour as I slide onto the passenger seat of his car.

“Afternoon,” dad says, trying to disguise how wide his eyes had widened. “Take it you had a good day, then?”

“Definitely,” I reply with a barely suppressed giggle.

“Yeah, well…“ dad says, before letting out a long sigh. “Ash, even a blind man can tell that the ‘friend’ you were with today was more ‘girlfriend’ than ‘girl friend’.”

“Yeah, so?” I shrug. “I’m fifteen, it’s not unusual to have a girlfriend when you’re fifteen, is it? Even despite my ‘situation’, before you say anything.”

“I wasn’t going to comment about THAT,” dad says. "But- ugh, and I really DON'T want to sound insensitive here..."

"You could do that by just, you know, not saying anything," I say, biting my lip as I sense that probably wasn't the best thing I could've said to my father.

"Well, like it or not, you're getting this talk," dad says. "And yes, it is THE talk."

"Wouldn't 'the talk' be more appropriate coming from mum?" I ask. "Mother to daughter, that sort of thing?"

"Well, no, because firstly, your mother's never had a girlfriend before, whereas I have," dad replies. "And secondly... Ash, like it or not, you are still, well, physically male."

"Kinda failing at the 'not sounding insensitive' thing," I say with a frown.

"Well…" dad says, before growling quietly. "I would like just once in this conversation to not begin a sentence with the word 'well'. Which isn't going to happen if you keep arguing with everything I say."

"Sorry," I mumble.

"Like it or not, Ash, you are still, erm, anatomically male," dad says. "You have the 'equipment'. And you're going to want to use it."

"Sorry for interrupting again," I say, "but is this conversation meant to make me feel really uncomfortable?"

"Yes," dad bluntly replies. "I had the same conversation with my dad when I was your age. Younger, actually. And I felt just as uncomfortable then as I do now."

"Bet you weren't wearing a skirt though, were you?" I ask.

"No, I can safely say I wasn't," dad replies. "Look, Ash, you're a smart kid, so I'm going to skip to the end of this conversation, I trust you to fill in the blanks. So here it comes: Don't. Get. Her. Pregnant."

"Umm..." I mumble quietly.

"Believe it or not, I have done a lot of reading about your, well, 'situation'," dad says. "I know that those pills you take block testosterone production but they don't make you completely infertile, not yet, anyway. So, for the love of god, remember that next time you're alone with your girlfriend, okay?"

"Yes, trust me, I'm not going to make you a granddad at the age of 37," I say, making my father roll his eyes.

"Not while I still have a living grandparent myself," dad chuckles. "Ash, I don't want you to be miserable, I just want you to be careful, okay? And trust me when I say those two things aren't mutually exclusive."

"Yeah," I chuckle, trying not to frown as dad inadvertently brings my mind back to the other group of friends I didn't spend today hanging out with. I want to keep hanging out with Laura and the rest of the excellent eight. I also want to keep hanging out with Melissa, Petra and Cameron. And I definitely want to keep hanging out with Lydia. I thought I'd found a balance in my life, able to keep both sides happy while staying happy myself, though right now, my life feels more imbalanced than ever...

The following day, I arrive at school to be greeted as usual by the one friend- the one person I'm not related to by blood, even- who's been a constant in my life for the last five years, though the grin he has on his face is more than a bit unnerving.

"Alright, mate?" George says, his teasing tone of voice making me roll my eyes. "What? Megan told me that you blew her and the other girls off yesterday in favour of that Lydia girl in our year? Mate, I've got to say: nice one!"

"Yeah, well, don't let your girlfriend hear you say that," I snort.

"What?" George protests. "I thought talking about girls was the only thing we had in common anymore..."

"Yes, well- ugh," I sigh. "George, mate, I'm sorry, okay? I- I'm just not comfortable, you know, 'kissing and telling'..."

"Okay, no problem," George says. "Just- well done again, heh!"

"Thanks," I say with a sarcastic snort as we take our seats and Mr. Jackson begins our form session. I can immediately tell from the giggles going round the class, though, that it won't take long for news of me and Lydia to make it around the whole school...

Sure enough, when breaktime comes and I head through the corridors to my usual spot, I'm accompanied by the whispers and giggles of the other students, something I'd hoped was a thing of the past. On this occasion, though, I can at least be confident that the giggles aren't simply because I'm wearing a skirt. If anything, I'm almost proud of them.

...And when I arrive at my spot, I discover Lydia already there waiting for me along with Petra, Melissa and Cameron, and upon seeing me, she immediately leaps to her feet and gives me a gentle kiss on my lips, much to the amusement of the nearby kids!

"Hey, lover!" Lydia whispers as she leads me to my usual seat, making sure to give my backside a playful pinch before I sit down.

"Hey girls!" I giggle. "Recovered from the weekend yet, Petra?"

"Funny, I would have thought we would ask you that question!" The Polish girl teases, making both me and my girlfriend blush.

"The answer to your question, Petra, is 'yes'," Lydia answers for both of us. "You were DEFINITELY right, Melissa!"

"Yeah," Melissa says with an awkward chuckle as I frown in confusion. "Anyway, did you see who Lucy was hanging out with this morning? Allie. Gresham."

"Ugh," Cameron spits. "What, do natural born losers just gravitate toward each other or something?"

"Must do," Lydia shrugs as I find myself nodding in agreement with the other girls- whatever Lucy did to earn Melissa's wrath, I'm not going to question it, especially not if Lydia agrees too. I just need to make sure that I don't do anything to direct her anger toward me, especially not if it might jeopardise my relationship with Lydia, too.

"Ugh, I dunno what it is, but I am already looking forward to the weekend, hehe!" I giggle, earning nods of agreement from everyone.

"Oh, I think I know..." Lydia purrs, making me giggle again.

"Was it not your friend Harriet's birthday this weekend?" Petra asks.

"Yeah, it's her party on Saturday," I reply, though I fidget when I suddenly see Lydia frowning. "...Though I still haven't decided yet if I'm going to go to that." Or rather, I've just undecided, I think to myself. I was really looking forward to Harriet's party, but at the same time, I want to spend as much time with Lydia as possible, and she's made it clear she has no interest in being friends with the excellent eight, as much as I might try to sell them to her. And it's not like I'm going to find another girlfriend as willing as Lydia to be with a girl like me.

"Right answer," Lydia says with a grin, before giving my tights-covered knee a playful squeeze and whispering in my ear. "I can think of something you'll enjoy a LOT more than that party!" I nod in agreement, though as I do, I let out a silent sigh. I wish I could be in two places at once...

“See you tomorrow!” Melissa giggles as she gives me, Cameron, Petra and Lydia a hug each as we head out of school and into the car park. Cameron takes her goodbye hugs next, then Petra, and finally Lydia turns to me with a devilish grin and gives me a long, soft kiss on my lips, which attracts a lot of attention and good-natured jeering from nearby students and a lot of disapproving stares from nearby teachers!

“And I’ll see YOU later!” Lydia giggles, giving me another kiss before skipping off to her parents’ car. I grin and wave as her father drives her away, before happily heading to my own father’s car, where Bryony is already waiting on the back seat.

“You took your time,” my twelve-year-old sister snorts as I sit down on the front passenger seat, straightening my short grey skirt before fastening my seatbelt.

“Good day at school, then?” Dad asks.

“Meh, it was okay,” I shrug as I get my phone out of my pocket and switch it back on.

“Well, try to enjoy them while you can,” dad advises. “Six weeks from now, they’ll be all over bar your exams.”

“Umm, I AM going to sixth form college?” I remind my father. “That’s basically school, only with no uniform, no detentions, no boring subjects… Why would I treasure school over that?”

“Lydia?” Bryony asks, making dad laugh and me roll my eyes.

“She’s going to the same college I am in September,” I remind my sister. “Probably.”

“I know you think you’ll enjoy college more,” dad says, “but trust me, you’ll be really nostalgic for your school days when you’re older. Not least because, well, you know…”

“It was where I first became who I really am?” I ask, smiling as dad nods. “Yeah, I guess there is THAT.” And it is true- the first time I presented ‘girl Ashley’ to the world, it was wearing a school uniform. And while the reaction to ‘girl Ashley’ may not have been entirely positive, the fact is that I’m still sat here wearing the same blouse, skirt and tights as every other girl in the school. However, it’s also a fact that me being able to wear this uniform at all, let alone in public, is thanks to friends who aren’t at this school anymore- friends I’ll no doubt remember more fondly than Melissa, Cameron or Petra- or even more fondly than Lydia…

Not that I’ve had the chance to make any fond memories over the last two months, though. Ever since we started dating, nearly every free second I’ve had has been spent either chatting with Lydia online, on the phone or face-to-face, and in the latter case we rarely do much ‘chatting’ as our mouths are usually too preoccupied to do any talking. We hung out with Melissa, Cameron and Petra a lot as well, of course, especially at Lydia’s birthday party two weeks ago, but we spent just as much time, if not more, by ourselves- such as after Lydia’s birthday party. The only time I hung out with the rest of Excellent Eight at all was at the end of February when Lydia was ill with the flu and even then, I felt like I didn’t fit in with them- though this could well be due to me missing both Harriet and Nicole's birthday parties to spend time with Lydia. And yet, rarely does a day, or even an hour go by when I don’t think of the girls, how they're doing, what they're doing… They barely even include me in their Facebook group chats anymore.

Though with all that being said, it’s not just my personal life that’s been busy, as dad implied just now. School coming to an end also means that my exams are just around the corner, and I’m spending every second I can studying and revising- well, every second that Lydia can spare me, anyway. When I’m not revising (or even sometimes, while I’m revising), I’m also working on my physical flexibility, as this is the time of year that girls of 15 or 16- which includes me- audition for a place in Ms Fullerton’s elite ballet class, and the name ‘elite’ is not an exaggeration. Last year, Laura, Suri, Mia and Nicole all auditioned, and none of them passed, so I doubt I’ll have any chance either, but like my great-grandmother Hazel often says, you won’t know if you don’t try. That said, though, I haven’t officially put my name forward for an audition yet, not least because auditions are always held in front of the rest of the class. Nonetheless, being extra-flexible isn't a bad thing- Lydia definitely approves, for starters!

Something that’s proved when I open up Facebook messenger on my phone to discover that despite the fact we only saw each other a few minutes ago, Lydia has already sent me a barrage of ‘kissing’ emojis.

‘Hey babe!’ I reply, along with several ‘kissing’ emojis of my own. ‘Long time no talk lol!’

‘Too long,’ Lydia replies with a ‘hugging’ emoji. ‘What you got planned tonight?’

‘Studying, studying and maybe some studying too,’ I reply with a ‘yawning’ emoji that earns a ‘giggling’ one in reply from my girlfriend.

‘I know the feeling,’ Lydia replies. ‘Gonna be SO awesome when exams are done and we can have the whole summer to ourselves!’

‘Yep!’ I type. ‘But there’s always this weekend…’ The ‘winking’ emoji I use to punctuate my message gets another ‘giggling’ one in response.

‘Can’t wait!’ Lydia types. ‘And can’t wait for FriYAY either!’

‘Me too!’ I reply with a ‘cheering’ emoji.

‘But only because I get to see you in a cheerleader uniform,’ Lydia types with a ‘winking’ emoji that makes me giggle and squirm excitedly in my seat- for the first time ever, I'm more excited by the prospect of someone seeing me in my uniform than I am by the uniform itself.

‘You should come to ballet class,’ I type. ‘Then you’ll get to see me in a leotard as well!’

‘Tease,’ Lydia types with a ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji. A few seconds later, dad’s car pulls into the primary school of my two younger sisters, who both giggle excitedly as they pile onto the back seat of the car- the reason for their excitement being the same as Lydia’s just now!

“Ballet night! Ballet night!” Cassie and Dorothy both cheer as they fasten their seatbelts.

“Yes, okay, girls!” Dad says, trying futilely to settle the young girls down as we set off. “You don’t want to wear yourselves out before you even get to your dance class, do you?”

“Like that’s ever going to happen?” Bryony asks, rolling her eyes as Cassie sticks her tongue out at her.

“Is your friend Daisy’s mum picking you up tonight?” Dad asks.

“Yep!” Cassie squeaks in reply. “And she’ll be bringing us back too. Miss Fullerton says me and Daisy might get a good role in the Daft Punk ballet over summer, and she says we might join the intermediate class a year early, not just because we’re both born in October but because we’re both really good at ballet too!”

“MS Fullerton,” I remind my sister, who giggles and sighs. “She’s been married almost a year now.”

“Will you be Ms Moore when you marry Lydia, Ashley?” Dorothy innocently asks, making me sigh happily both at the thought of my girlfriend and at the knowledge that at the age of six, Dorothy is still too innocent to know about what me and Lydia get up to. Though she does at least know all about and unquestioningly accept the idea of same-sex marriage- something that puts her ahead a lot of many so-called adults.

“We’ll have to see about that,” I reply, earning a smirk from dad and Bryony as we head back home.

Once we’re home, Cassie and Dorothy waste no time in racing upstairs to change into their ballet uniform, while Bryony and I head up to our bedroom to change out of our uniforms.

“Just think, my sister,” I tease as I hang up my school skirt and blazer. “One day, all of this will be yours!”

“Yay, can’t wait,” Bryony sarcastically snorts. “Nothing like your sister’s old uniform to make you popular at school.”

“…Especially when that sister used to be a brother?” I ask hesitantly, biting my lip as Bryony frowns- the last thing I want to do is make her feel guilty.

“You know I don’t think THAT,” Bryony snorts.

“I know, I know,” I whisper. “It’s just that, you know, Sabrina wears her sister’s old uniform, doesn’t she?”

“…I think so,” Bryony mumbles. “Ah- and so does Lily, and as her sister is Laura that means-“

“Yes, yes, I know,” I chuckle. “How- how about Lucy’s sister?”

“I dunno,” Bryony shrugs. “Maybe. It’s not something we really talk about that much.”

“Meh, I get that,” I say as I pull on a comfortable long-sleeved top, a short denim skirt and a pair of warm black leggings. “What do you girls talk about, I mean, at your table at break and lunch?”

“Why do you care?” Bryony asks with a sneer that makes me frown.

“I’m just interested, that’s all,” I reply. “Want to make sure our old table’s being properly looked after, I have a lot of good memories that involve that table.”

“And…?” Bryony asks, making me frown even deeper. Why does she have to be so intelligent? I think to myself.

“…And I still don’t know why Lucy was kicked out of our group,” I sigh. “And ‘cause she sits with you now at break and lunch, I thought-“

“Yeah, well, we don’t know either,” Bryony says. “I even asked Jo, like you wanted, but she has no idea. Maybe she looked at your boss Melissa’s boyfriend funny or something.”

“Melissa’s not my ‘boss’, she’s my friend,” I retort.

“Yeah, sure she is,” Bryony scoffs, making me frown yet again. “Still, at least she won’t be mad at you wanting to steal her boyfriend, heh.”

“Well, that’s true,” I shrug as we head back downstairs. Though god knows that even though I don't have to worry about that, there are still thousands of other things I have to worry about when I'm around Melissa...

After dinner, I retreat back to my bedroom to revise, though I’m continually interrupted by my phone. Not because of any incoming notifications, but because I’m constantly checking it to relax whenever it feels like my brain is about to explode. With Lydia being in the same position as me when it comes to studying, she unsurprisingly remains quiet all night, which I knew about in advance, but I still check my phone for new messages anyway. It takes a while before I realise that what I’m waiting for isn’t a message from Lydia, but from Laura, Suri or the rest of the excellent eight.

At the start of year 11, even though (or maybe because) they were no longer at the same school as me, or the same college as each other, all of the girls would have a long group chat in the evening to catch up, to which I’d always be invited, even though I was rarely able to get a word in edgeways. Since Christmas, these invitations have been less and less frequent, and when I check messenger, I see that the last time I spoke to any of the girls was over a week ago. Though I can’t say I blame them for not inviting me to the chat- it’s not like they’d have any reason to chat with me, seeing how I've missed two birthday parties and counting so far. Even though I may not be a member of the excellent eight anymore, I doubt I'll ever not miss them- after all, they were the first to accept me for who I truly am…

My phone’s alarm wakes me and Bryony up at 7am the following morning, and like clockwork, I and my sisters go through our morning routines of eating breakfast, brushing our teeth and getting dressed in our uniforms. After we each give Eddy and Felicity a kiss goodbye, the four of us head out to dad’s car and we’re soon en route to our schools- though at least one of my sisters has her mind on a different kind of school.

“What will you be doing tonight at ballet, Ashley?” Cassie excitedly asks me. “Will you be rehearsing for the recital?”

“You were literally at your ballet class what, twelve hours ago?” I retort. “You didn’t get enough of it last night? Never mind, silly question.”

“Yep!” Cassie says with a smug grin. “So…?”

“…I’m not sure yet, probably rehearsals,” I reply.

“Bryony…?” Cassie asks, making me smirk as my sister audibly rolls her eyes.

“If Ash doesn’t know, I’m not going to, am I?” Bryony sighs.

“I’m still going to ask anyway,” Cassie says in a teasingly sweet voice, unfazed by our sister’s irritation.

Fortunately for Bryony’s frustration levels, the car arrives at Cassie and Dorothy’s primary school a short while later, and a few minutes later, the two of us are dropped off to start the final day of the school week. As usual, none of the girls greet me at the school gate- not even Lydia, but I am greeted by the one friend who's been a constant presence in my life.

“Alright, mate?” George asks with an oddly wide grin on his face as we head to form.

“Yeah, you?” I reply with a confused look.

“Yep!” George chuckles. “Just, you know, looking forward to tomorrow?”

“What, Saturday?” I chuckle. “Who isn’t?”

“No, the party?” George asks, clearly confused that I don’t know what he’s referring to.

“Umm, what party?” I ask. “Who’s holding it?”

“…Meg,” George says, not just confused, but concerned that I didn't know. “You know, her birthday?”

“It- it’s her birthday tomorrow?” I ask. How have I forgotten about that? Even worse, why did I never hear about the party until now?

“Umm, no, it was her birthday on Tuesday,” George replies. “Did- didn’t you know this?”

“Yeah, of course,” I blatantly lie as it suddenly starts to dawn on me that it’s not just the nightly chats that the excellent eight are excluding me from. Even though I didn’t go to Harriet or Nicole’s parties, I was still invited to them. For Megan to not invite me to hers, especially when I’m best friends with her boyfriend, makes my mind race and my heart break. Do they think I wouldn’t want to come to the party? Have they just forgotten about me? Do they think that because I’m still fifteen, I’m too young to attend? Or worst of all, do they simply hate me…

“…You okay?” George asks, frowning with confusion and concern.

“Hmm?” I say as my train of thought derails. “Oh, umm, yeah, just- you know, hormones…”

“I thought you couldn’t have those until you were sixteen?” George asks.

“Well- the hormone blockers, then,” I sigh. “Either way, a lack of testosterone sort of thing.”

“Huh, okay,” George shrugs as we take our seats and wait for Mr Jackson to start the day.

The first two lessons of the day pass by quickly, and once the bell rings to signify the start of break, I head straight to our spot next to the sports hall. However, my route takes me past my old table, the table I shared for years with the rest of the excellent eight, and I can’t help but feel guilty. This time last year, the eight of us- well, seven, as Priya had already left school by that point- would’ve been deep in discussion about Megan’s party. Today, though, the table belongs to my sister and her friends, and while I don’t know what they’ll be talking about, it’s a safe bet they won’t be talking about Megan’s birthday. Lucy certainly won't, judging by the angry glare she shoots me as I pass the table en route to the sports hall.

Fortunately, when I arrive at my usual spot, my mood immediately improves when Lydia gives me a long kiss and a playful pinch of my backside!

“Hey babe!” Lydia coos, giving me a kiss and my backside a stealthy pinch before I sit down.

“Hey girls!” I giggle, before fidgeting in my seat to get comfortable so that my next question sounds as genuine as possible. “Ahh… Everyone looking forward to the weekend, then?”

“Duh!” Cameron replies, triggering a giggle from all of us. “Even if it is my stupid little sister’s birthday so my parents are making me stay in for that.”

“Oh, poor you,” I tease. “Only having to do that once per year instead of five times!” As always, when I make a joke in this group, I find myself biting my lip, hoping that this didn’t cause too much offence. After a brief pause, though, I let out a quiet sigh of relief when Melissa giggles and Cameron rolls her eyes at me.

“Yes, yes, OKAY,” Cameron sighs, before giggling herself. “Just because you two are gonna spend all weekend glued to each other!”

“Yep!” Lydia says with a smug grin as she links her fingers with mine. “Just the two of us, hehe!” I grin along with my girlfriend, even though inside, I feel even more conflicted. It should go without saying that the reason I didn’t go to Nicole's party is because Lydia didn’t want us to go- or rather, didn’t want ME to go. And as flattering as it is to have an attractive girl want me all to herself, it’s causing me a lot of stress I really don’t need right now…

“It’s also, umm, Megan’s birthday at the weekend,” I say, once again biting my lip, though this time, it looks like I HAVE caused offence. “Umm, Megan… Cartman? You know, umm, head girl last year…” I bite my lip and try not to blush as the other girls all sneer at me- Melissa isn’t shy about her opinion of prefects, particularly heard boys and girls- or, for that matter, anyone given a position that she perceives as somehow above her.

“Ugh, HER,” Melissa eventually spits. “Yeah, ‘Cartman’s the right surname for her.”

“Respect her head girl autoritahhhh!” Cameron sarcastically snorts. “What a total waste, George Dixon going out with someone like HER.”

“Though he’s hardly any better,” Melissa snorts as I start to feel VERY uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, Ash, I know he’s your friend, but- ugh.”

“Umm… Okay…” I mumble, frowning as Lydia’s fingers slowly unlink from mine.

"You don't actually LIKE him, do you?" My girlfriend asks with a sneer, making it clear that there is only one right answer to the question

“I mean, for starters, he is a TOTAL nerd,” Cameron says.

“Does he not play basketball on the team?” Petra asks.

“Don’t let that fool you,” Melissa scoffs. “Total nerd. I mean, he’s a PREFECT, for god’s sake. And- get this- he used to go to ballet class.”

“Umm, so do we?” Petra asks.

“Yeah, but we’re girls,” Melissa shrugs. “And yes, Ashley, that includes you, I know you went too, back when you were a boy, but that was ‘cause, you know, you wanted to be a girl back then, right?”

“Yeah,” I say, trying not to frown at the half-truth- getting to hang out with Laura and the other girls was another major reason I went.

“And I mean, George never has, has he?” Melissa asks. “Wanted to be a girl, I mean?”

“Eww!” Lydia sneers. “Thanks for putting me off my lunch with THAT thought, Mel!”

“Sorry,” Melissa shrugs, before continuing to stare at me, obviously expecting an answer to my question.

“…He’s never said anything,” I mumble. “Well- not to me, anyway…” Way to implicate your best friend, I think to myself.

“Never even wanted to wear one of your skirts?” Cameron asks, making my heart start to race as I remember the one time Megan and I coerced George into trying on our clothes- and the fact that a pair of tights somehow went missing immediately afterwards...

“…No,” I lie. “You’re kind- kinda making me a bit uncomfortable, talking about George?”

“Okay, fine, be like that,” Melissa sneers dismissively as the topic of conversation thankfully moves on to something completely unrelated.

However, I can’t help but frown for the rest of break as the five of us gossip- I know consciously that George isn’t the coolest boy in school, far from it, but to hear the girls slag him off like that makes me cringe- that could very easily be me if I ever say or do anything wrong. Sometimes I wonder if I have any real friends at all…

As I head to my next lesson, however, I am at least given one glimmer of hope when Petra walks up alongside me.

“For what it’s worth,” the raven-haired Polish girl says, “I think George is okay.” I smile at my friend as she heads off to her next lesson, and I can’t help but wonder how different things would be if the rest of the Excellent Eight had got to know her as well as I have.

Thankfully, when lunch rolls around there’s no opportunity to be mean about George, or anyone else for that matter, as I (along with Melissa, Cameron and Petra) change into our cheerleader uniforms and spend the entire 45 minutes dancing and whooping for our school teams. Naturally, Lydia shows up to watch, and as I rehearse the dances, I make sure to maintain eye contact with her, letting her know that the cheers are as much for her as they are for the football or cricket teams. And, of course, that I can’t wait for the day to end and the weekend to start- even if I am still conflicted about my friend’s party…

As it’s Friday afternoon, though, and despite my exertions over lunch, the last lesson of the day takes what feels like forever. Eventually, though, the day (and the week) comes to an end and I head out to dad’s waiting car- though not before giving Lydia her traditional goodbye kiss, of course!

“Afternoon,” dad says as I slide onto the passenger seat of the car and immediately get my phone out of my bag. “Hi dad, nice to see you…”

“Hi,” I say, earning an eye roll from dad and a snort of laughter from Bryony on the seat behind me.

“What time will you be going round to your girlfriend’s tomorrow?” Dad asks. “I am right in assuming that’s where you’ll be spending most of the weekend?” Well- that IS the question, I think to myself.

“Haven’t decided yet,” I shrug. Haven’t even decided IF I’m going to Lydia’s, I think to myself self-pityingly.

“Fair enough then,” dad sighs. “I’m sure you remember, but just in case-“

“Yeah, I know,” I say. “No having Lydia at our house if any of my siblings are around.”

“And even then, not in our bedroom,” Bryony snorts.

“Either way, kinda difficult with Felicity only being a few months old, but okay,” I shrug.

“Yes,” dad says in a smug voice that makes me roll my eyes. “Yes it is.” I sigh and shake my head at my dad’s attitude- he’s not shy (and neither is mum) about the fact that he doesn’t approve of Lydia, and he especially doesn’t approve of my spending time alone with her. Then again, he had the same attitude about the excellent eight- at first, anyway, and he eventually relented there, and is slowly coming around about Melissa and the rest of her gang as well. After today, though, I can’t help but wonder whether or not dad has a point about them…

After picking up Cassie and Dorothy, we head straight home, where after a quick dinner, Bryony and I head upstairs to change into the pink tights and black leotards that we’re required to wear for the evening ahead. A short while later, we’re back in dad’s car, and soon after that we’re pulling up outside the Krystie Fullerton School of Dance. When I head inside, I immediately seek out Melissa, but when I spot her in her usual corner, I'm surprised to see that she's not alone.

“Hey babe!” Lydia coos, standing up and giving me a long, deep kiss that attracts a lot of attention from the other students (and a lot of disapproving stares from their parents).

“Hey you!” I reply with an excited squeak. “What are you doing here?”

“What, I need an excuse to watch my sexy girlfriend wrapped in skin-tight lycra?” I giggle and left out a quiet yelp as Lydia gives my right buttock a stealthy pinch, though this makes the nearby parents scowl even more- and attracts even more unwanted attention.

“Miss Moore,” Ms Fullerton says with a disapproving look in her eyes but a slight smirk on her lips. “You DO remember the school’s policy on public displays of affection, don’t you?”

“Ah, I- umm, yeah,” I mumble, my cheeks flushing as Lydia gives my buttock another pinch. “Sorry…”

“Just make sure it doesn’t happen again,” Ms Fullerton giggles before extending a hand to my girlfriend. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met, I’m Krystie Fullerton.”

“Yeah, I- I know who you are!” Lydia says, almost bouncing up and down with excitement. “I LOVE your show, hehe! I’ve got all your DVDs, I follow all your Instagrams…”

“Thanks,” Ms Fullerton replies with a professional-looking smile. “Always nice to meet a fan, heh. Though tonight I’m less ‘Angel’ and more ‘teacher’, so I’d better get the class started- unless you’re here because you want to pull on a pair of pink tights as well?”

“Ah- no,” Lydia replies. “I mean, I’d LOVE to, really, but I did ballet until I was thirteen, and my doctor says I have, like, bad bone density or something so-“

“So they won’t let you dance en pointe,” Ms Fullerton says sympathetically. “That is a pity. Still, I’m sure Ashley will appreciate a cheerleader today.”

“Well, I owe her after lunch today,” Lydia replies as we share a private giggle over the 'cheer' Melissa, Cameron, Petra and I performed for Lydia after cheer club (which, naturally, excluded Lucy and poor Allie Gresham).

“I- I’m sure I don’t want to know anything more,” Ms Fullerton says with a chuckle. “Just take a seat by the side of the class and turn your phone either to silent or off, please.”

“Okay,” Lydia says, taking her phone out of her bag and preparing to switch it to silent, before an excited look spreads across her face.

“…Yes, you can have a selfie,” Ms Fullerton says, posing with my girlfriend for the photo before ushering me and the rest of the class into the studio and to the barre, where we begin our warm-ups.

As I warm up, I can’t help but glance over at Lydia, who’s engrossed in her phone- no doubt editing and uploading her selfie with Ms Fullerton. I can’t help but feel slightly jealous that Lydia seemingly forgets all about me when she meets a celebrity, though under the circumstances, I can’t say I blame her. I’m reminded of when I first made friends with Melissa, though, and the feeling- that hasn't gone away- that she sees herself more as 'friend of a friend of Jamie-Lee Burke' than 'friend of Ashley Moore'. I’m sure, though, that if Lydia was only cared about meeting Angels, she wouldn’t be so touchy-feely with me. I hope this is the case, anyway…

After our warm-ups are over, we’re split into two groups, with me and the other 15-16-year olds in one group and the younger girls in the other. While the other group practises their arabesques, our group is instructed to change our soft ballet slippers for pointe shoes, and a quick glance at the corner of the room reveals the reason for this departure from the norm- namely two very lean, strong young men in form-fitting dancewear. Needless to say, this makes a lot of my fellow students VERY excited.

“Ooh, it’s pas de deux day!” Melissa excitedly squeaks as she drinks in the sight of the two male dancers. “Makes sense, it IS a big part of the elite audition, after all.”

“Yeah,” I say. I should explain that the two male dancers are themselves from the elite class- our 'advanced' class currently has no regular male dancers. And I should know- I was one of the last ones...

“Oh- come on…” Melissa sighs. “I know YOU don’t like it, but some of us like being handled by fit boys, you know?”

“I never said I hated it,” I retort. “Where would be the problem if I liked it, anyway? Girls dance with boys all the time, don’t they?”

“Well- if you say so,” Melissa shrugs. What does she mean by this? I think to myself. “Come on, don’t want to keep the other boys waiting, hehe!” And what does she mean by THAT? I think to myself as I also can’t help but also notice that Melissa is extremely eager to dance with the two young men, when earlier today, she was mocking George for 'dancing while male'…

“Okay,” Ms Fullerton says as she further splits our group. “First we’ll practice fouettes. Jennifer- you dance with Jack. Ashley- you dance with Thomas.” I nod as I step toward my partner and balance en pointe as he places his hands on my hips. As he spins me around and I elegantly kick my leg out to the side, I can't help but be distracted by Melissa's words. As natural as it is for a girl to dance with a boy, what I'm doing now still feels awkward to me- not least when we perform a few more steps from the audition routine, steps that involve Thomas holding me aloft for several seconds at a time.

What got the most about what Melissa said was the way she said ‘other’ boys. ‘Other’. Maybe it was a slip of the tongue- god knows I’ve had to put up with a few of those from my parents or my sisters. I always put those down to the fact that I never changed my name when I started transitioning- ‘Ashley’ is as much a girl’s name as it is a boy’s name, if not more so, and I do definitely want to keep to the ‘theme naming’ my parents have for me and my siblings. Maybe it’s the same for Melissa too, but something about this particular ‘slip of the tongue’ makes me feel uncomfortable. Though 'feeling uncomfortable' is par for the course when you're friends with someone like Melissa.

“Okay, that was good!” Thomas says as he places me back down on my feet. “You’re really well-balanced, but you need to watch your arm placement a bit more, you were getting a bit, you know, squirmy toward the end.”

“Thanks,” I reply with a giggle as I straighten my leotard, before being gripped with a feeling of awkwardness- I sometimes forget that when a girl giggles at a boy, it can sometimes- well, more often than not be taken the wrong way. I bite my lip as I glance over at Lydia in the audience, but much to my surprise, she doesn’t have a look of jealousy in her eyes- if anything, she seems more aroused than usual at the sight of me dancing with a boy. Either that or she’s looking at Thomas…

As I head to the back of the ‘queue’, I rack my brains trying to figure out why exactly I’m feeling so paranoid today. Melissa and Lydia both like me, after all. Neither of them have any problems with me being a girl, or having me in their home- certainly not Lydia, anyway. So why am I so uncomfortable around them, and has this feeling only worsened since I started seeing Lydia?

Fortunately, the rest of the lesson keeps me on my toes- literally- enough to take my mind off of things, and once it’s ended, I and the other girls head back to the changing room, where I waste no time in freeing my aching toes from my pointe shoes and pulling my comfy pink converse trainers back on. As I’m lacing up the shoes, I sense a familiar slender blonde-haired girl sit down next to me, though when I turn to face her, I discover to my surprise that it’s not my girlfriend, but rather my sister.

“Oh- umm, hi Bryony,” I say.

“Hi Ash,” Bryony replies as she begins untying her own pointe shoes.

“Why aren’t you sitting with Sabrina and the others?” I ask.

“Yeah, it’s nice sitting with you too for a change,” Bryony snorts. “Ash… A- a couple of the girls were, umm, they overheard something that- umm, that you might, well, not like…” I stare at my sister in confusion as her cheeks start to redden- she’s not normally this evasive when she’s talking to me, quite the opposite, usually.

“…Which is?” I ask.

“They said that- that Lydia and Melissa were talking about you,” Bryony says. “Behind your back. They weren’t saying nice things.” I blink as I try to process what Bryony’s saying- she’s never been fond of Lydia, same as my other sisters, but it just wouldn’t be like her to make something like this up. But Melissa wouldn’t slag me off behind my back, and Lydia certainly wouldn’t… So why am I having a hard time disbelieving my sister?

As I open my mouth to reply, I can’t help but picture Lucy's current situation. Ostracised for god knows what reason and Melissa’s favourite verbal punching bag when less than 24 hours beforehand she was one of her best friends. From what I can tell, the same applies for Allie as well, and could just as easily happen to me if I ever so much as put a word wrong… But then again, Melissa IS the most popular girl in school, she’s effectively entitled to choose who she wants to be friends with. Well, for the next six weeks, anyway, until we leave school. But she CHOSE to be friends with me. Lydia CHOSE to be my girlfriend. Why would they now slag me off behind my back if they’re supposed to be my friends? Even if we do spend a lot of our free time slagging off half of the school- including George…

Melissa and her gang do seem to spend a lot of their time- most of OUR time- slagging off the other kids in school they- WE- consider less cool than us. And while we weren’t above the odd bit of gossip, the Excellent Eight were never as nasty as we were to George today. I shouldn’t really complain, though- before being part of Melissa’s gang god knows I was on the receiving end of it more often than not. I’m more than overdue my ‘turn’ as the cool kid in school, and I’m definitely more than overdue a real girlfriend too. Considering the things Lydia has said- and done- to me in private, I refuse to believe she’d slag me off behind my back, especially to one of my best friends. My sister is mistaken- or straight-up lying. Melissa IS my friend. I think so, anyway...

Bryony DID say, though, that she didn’t hear them herself, that it was someone else who told her what they heard, so this information isn’t just second-hand, it’s third hand. No doubt some other younger kid trying to wind me and Bryony up just for their own twisted fun.

“They’re probably just taking the piss,” I snort.

“What, Melissa and Lydia?” Bryony asks.

“Uh- no,” I reply in an unintentionally condescending tone that makes my sister frown. “Whoever told you that. You didn’t hear it yourself, did you?”

“Well-, no,” Bryony mumbles, her cheeks reddening with shame. “It- it was Sabrina who told me.” Bryony’s best friend, who also happens to be the younger sister of one of my closest friends too. Well, sister of a fellow member of the Excellent Eight. Assuming I even count as a member anymore…

“Well- well Sabrina’s probably just playing a prank on you,” I shrug, making Bryony look even more miserable at the prospect of Sabrina treating her- well, treating her like Melissa supposedly treats me… “Come on. I’ll show you.” I smile confidently as I finish lacing up my trainers and pull back on the short purple dress I wore to dance class today, before heading over to where Melissa is sat in her usual corner, chatting away with my girlfriend. Both girls grin as I approach, which should settle my nerves about Bryony’s lies, but for some reason makes me feel even more tense…

“Hey Ash!” Lydia purrs as she leaves up and gives me a kiss (as well as giving my backside a playful pinch). “You looked SO hot out there!”

“What, even when I was being thrown around by the boys?” I ask, remembering my girlfriend’s odd look from earlier.

“ESPECIALLY then,” Lydia giggles. “Even if I was jealous.”

“Who of, me or Thomas?” I ask, earning a confused look from my girlfriend.

“Umm, Thomas, of course,” Lydia replies. “What’s this all about, anyway?”

“It- ugh, this’ll sound silly,” I chuckle. “My- my sister says someone told her they overheard you and Melissa- well, having a go at me… I know, it sounds stupid, right?” Much to my dismay, rather than laughing it off, Lydia suddenly gets defensive.

“We- we were talking about the other transgendered girl,” Lydia says. “Laura or whatever her name is.”

“Yeah,” Melissa concurs, shooting an angry look at my sister that makes both Bryony and me squirm. “We were just saying how you were a much better dancer than her.” Which I’m not, but okay, I think to myself.

“Yeah,” Lydia says. “Like, she TOTALLY sucks. Literally, too. Like, my brother’s girlfriend goes to the same college as her, and ever since she split from her boyfriend, she’s, like, shagged ALL the boys in the college.”

“W- wait, Laura’s split from Kain?” I ask.

“Probably only the gay boys,” Melissa snorts, which suddenly makes me feel VERY uncomfortable. Was Bryony right after all?

“Wh- what d’you mean by that?” I ask, my body trembling with anxiety- and fear at how Melissa will react, whether or not she’ll see my question as a challenge. But why should I feel this anxious at arguing with someone I literally only just described as one of my best friends?

“What I mean is that Laura SUCKS,” Melissa sneers. “So do all the other losers you used to hang around with, the two dykes, the two Pakis, that spaz and-“

“Hey!” Sabrina protests, having suddenly appeared out of nowhere. “That ‘spaz’ is my sister!”

“Ugh, go away, little girl,” Melissa sneers dismissively.

“That goes for you too,” Lydia snorts at my sister, suddenly making me feel VERY uncomfortable, not to mention confused at the sudden attitude change of the two girls.

Except, the more I think about it, the more I realise that Lydia and Melissa's attitudes HAVEN’T changed. This IS who they are. This is who they’ve been the whole time, and who they’ve spent the last few months trying to make me into. Why they’re being so open about it now, I couldn’t say. Maybe they think they’ve got me so wrapped around their little finger, that Lydia thinks I love her so much I’ll ignore her being a bitch about my friends and Melissa thinks I’m so scared of her that I’ll just laugh at anything she says, no matter how awful it is. Did they ever even think that I am a girl?

Melissa’s forgotten one thing, though- being the most popular girl in school doesn’t matter one tiny bit when you’re not in school anymore. And in six weeks’ time, we won’t be. Next September I’ll be going to the same further education college as Nicole, Megan, Harriet and Mia, four REAL friends. Which is something Melissa, Cameron, Lucy and maybe even Petra never were. As for Lydia, well, maybe she is attracted to me in some way. Maybe she’s just getting with me to help Melissa keep me ‘sweet’. I don’t know. All I know is that no one talks this way about my friends. And absolutely NO ONE talks to my sister like this.

“Hey! Leave Bryony out of this,” I say, earning angry sneers from both Lydia and Melissa.

“Don’t talk to ME like that!” Lydia spits, the look of lust that was in her eyes suddenly replaced by a look of pure disgust. “I was going to ask if you wanted to ride home with me, rather than the LITTLE kids, but I think I’ll not bother now, little BOY!” I bite my lip as all of my earlier suspicions are all confirmed. My blood starts to boil as I'm filled with a rage I haven't felt in a long time, and as much as I want to shove Melissa's words down her throat, I know that's the last thing I should do right now.

“Good,” I sneer, before turning my back and walking away from the two girls… And right into Ms Fullerton.

“Ashley,” the blonde-haired teacher says with a concerned look on her face. “What’s going on? I heard raised voices?” Before I can open my mouth to reply, my sister replies.

“Melissa and Lydia were slagging Ashley off behind her back,” Bryony says. “And Lydia called Ashley a boy.” Unsurprisingly, this makes our teacher sigh VERY angrily.

“Ugh,” Ms Fullerton spits. “I- I’m sorry you had to go through that, Ash, especially from your girlfriend.”

“EX-girlfriend,” I say. “And why are you sorry? There’s nothing you could’ve done about it…”

“Maybe not,” Ms Fullerton says. “But there’s damn well something I can do now. See you on Tuesday, Ash.”

“Come on, dad will be waiting,” Bryony says, making me follow her even though I really want to see Melissa and Lydia get their just desserts…

On the car ride home, though, it suddenly dawns on me that I am now once again single. But even worse, not only do I no longer have a girlfriend, the more I think about it, the more I realise I never had one to begin with. Much like when Suri and Laura would pretend to be my girlfriend, so was Lydia. The only difference was that Suri and Laura were pretending to help me, while Lydia was only interested in helping herself. Which sucks, as despite her attitude, she was cute. She was funny, she was really attractive, and she- well, I thought she accepted me for who I was. How wrong could I have been? One thing’s for certain, though- I’m better off single than with her. Better to wait for a genuine, loving girlfriend than a fake one like her. Even if, because of who I am, I may be waiting a long time…

As we approach home another unpleasant thought dawns on me- that not only do I no longer have a girlfriend, I don’t have any friends either. Like Allie and Lucy, I’m going to be ostracised at school, bullied, made fun of- and god knows they don’t need any extra reason to do that to me. On the one hand, though, it will only last for another six weeks before my exams start. On the other hand, it’ll be a long six weeks…

…And as I’m reminded when I arrive home, I DO have friends at school, the reminder coming in the form of a tight hug from my sister as I try to remove my dress.

“Umm, what is this for?” I ask as I pry Bryony’s arms off me.

“For being a cool big sister,” Bryony replies with a shrug. “And finally opening your eyes about Lydia. AND Melissa.”

“Yeah, I- I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” I mumble, my own cheeks starting to redden.

“It’s okay,” Bryony shrugs.

“Yeah, but it- it really isn’t,” I say, returning my sister’s hug until she eventually wriggles free. “You were trying to help and I just, you know, had a go at you… That wasn’t on.”

“Meh, I’m okay,” Bryony mumbles, though even though she has her back to me, I can tell she’s crying.

“Nah, you’re not,” I sigh, before smiling sadly as my sister and I share another hug.

“I meant it when I said you’re a cool big sister,” Bryony chuckled tiredly.

“Yeah, well I’m about to be the single LEAST cool person in school,” I snort. “I am NOT looking forward to Monday.”

“Meh, it’s only gonna be another six weeks for you,” Bryony shrugs. “But then I suppose you could say ‘why didn’t you pretend to be Melissa and Lydia’s friend for another six weeks?’” Good question, sis, I think to myself as I’m forced to concede that there really is only one answer to that question.

“…Tomorrow,” I reply with a smile.

“What’s tomorrow?” Bryony asks.

“Megan’s birthday party,” I reply. “You know Megan, tall girl with glasses who I used to hang out with?”

“Yeah, I know her, she was cool,” Bryony says. “Couldn’t you have just pretended to be ill or something to get out of being with Lydia, and then gone to the party anyway?” I really, really wish I had your brains, I think to myself.

“…I suppose I COULD have,” I reply, “But this way, you know, I’m not sneaking around, not hiding anything and I- I actually feel relieved, you know? Like by telling Melissa where to shove it, all the stress has just- gone, you know?”

“Why, ‘cause the worst-case scenario has actually come true?” Bryony asks.

“Thanks, sis,” I snort.

“You’re welcome,” Bryony says in a sickeningly sweet voice. “So d’you want to tell dad about the party tomorrow? Or will one of your friends’ parents give you a lift there? Actually, ‘cause they’re all seventeen now, can any of them give you a lift?”

“Ah, that- that’s a good point,” I grimace.

Because as much as I want to go to the party tomorrow, there’s no guarantee that I’d be welcomed there. I wasn’t invited, after all, I wasn’t included in the chat on Megan’s actual birthday on Tuesday and the only reason I even found out about it was George assuming I was invited. I grimace again as I realise that George is likely going to pay the price for my decision next week as well- and god knows my conscience couldn't take a repeat of what happened with him and Ryan Reid...

It might well be that the Excellent Eight have decided that they’re better as a ‘super seven’ after all. They may well decide that they don’t want the obnoxious fifteen year old getting in the way of their fun, that I’ve burned my bridges with them and they want even less to do with me than I want with Melissa and Lydia. Bryony may well be right- I’d have had an easier time of it if I’d kept up the pretence with Melissa and Lydia for six more weeks and then decided whether or not to ditch them. But the fact of the matter is that I’d rather have the potential of friendship with genuine girls like the excellent eight than the guarantee of fake friendship with girls like Melissa. And the excellent eight did like me for who I was in the past… I hope.

Twenty hours later, I stand outside Megan’s front door, taking deep breaths to stop my legs from quivering. On the outside, I am the picture of feminine beauty. My hair is long and glossy, styled into my usual side bang to hide my scar- though the thick layer of make-up I'm wearing, including bronzer, thick eyeliner and heavy eyelashes do that job just as well, and if it doesn't my dark pink lipstick (and matching nail polish) certainly will. My slender body is covered in a stylish patterned knee-length dress, my hairless legs are covered in light black tights and on my feet I have a pair of fashionable pumps with a 2-inch heel. On the inside, however, I feel like I’m five years old, begging to be allowed to play with the big girls. The one consolation is that these ‘big girls’ will at least not question the fact that I AM a girl…

“Oh- oh, hi Ash!” Megan says as she answers the door. “I, umm, I didn’t know you’d be coming today…”

“Yeah,” I whisper nervously. “Umm, do- do you have room for one more?” My question is answered immediately when the tall girl leans in to give me a hug that I eagerly reciprocate, tears trickling down my cheeks as I realise that I truly am among friends.

As I’m led into the home, however, I realise that Megan accepting me means I’m just one down, and six to go when I enter the living room and the rest of the Excellent Eight immediately stop talking and stare straight at me.

“I found this on the doorstep,” Megan says as I nervously bite my lip.

“Umm, hi everyone!” I say with a nervous wave.

“Hey Ash,” Laura says stoically as my whole body once again starts to tremble nervously.

“Why are you here?” Mia asks. “Shouldn’t you be out with your girlfriend today?”

“I- I don’t have a girlfriend anymore,” I reply.

“Why not?” Priya asks, making me start to wilt under her accusing stare. Of all the Excellent Eight, Priya’s the one who’s always been the most wary of me, and while I doubt any answer will satisfy her, I only have one answer I can give- the truth.

“…Because she was keeping me away from all of you,” I say, before slowly weeping as the girls all rise from their seats to encircle me in a long, genuinely loving group hug.

I spend the next twenty minutes explaining the situation to the girls, detailing everything that’s happened since January with Lydia, with Melissa, Lucy and the rest of the gang, despite my constant efforts to try to change the subject to something a bit more fun (it is Megan’s party, after all). As I talk, I can’t help but muse on how natural it is to be talking to the girls again, almost like we were picking up a conversation from yesterday, rather than several weeks ago. There’s no need to pretend with them, no need to put on a 'mask'- I can be myself. A 100%, undeniable girly girl.

“Ugh, this Melissa girl sounds like a NIGHTMARE,” Harriet spits.

“Trust me, she is,” Suri snorts (Suri having had a lot of contact with Melissa in cheer club last year). “TOTALLY up herself, thinks she’s, like, the queen of Earth or something, right Ash?”

“Umm, I guess,” I say as I fidget uncomfortably. “Can- can we not talk about Melissa, please? I just want to completely forget about her while I can.”

“Meh, nothing wrong with bitching about- well, a bitch,” Laura shrugs.

“Yeah, I- I get that,” I retort. “But- but all Melissa and her gang do is bitch about everyone else. I don’t- I don’t really want to be THAT type of girl.”

“And you’re absolutely right,” Priya says with a warm smile that warms my heart.

“You still could’ve told us what was going on, though,” Mia says. “You SHOULD’VE told us. I felt like I was losing a friend, and I- I hate that feeling.”

“I- heh,” I chuckle. “Not always easy to get a word in edgeways in the chats, heh!”

“Well- that’s true, I guess,” Nicole chuckles. “Mainly because SOME PEOPLE won’t stop kissing in the chat?”

“What, us?” Harriet protests in a mock innocent voice, before leaning in to give her girlfriend a long, tender kiss. And while I feel jealous, as I am newly single, after all, there’s nowhere else I’d be right now. Especially because of what’s coming when the weekend ends…

“I take it you’re not looking forward to Monday, then?” Laura asks with a sympathetic smile.

“Ugh,” I spit, not needing to say anything more as the other seven girls all start chuckling. “I’m not looking forward to COLLEGE, either.”

“Aww, why not?” Nicole asks.

‘”Cause I got really, really lucky when I became friends with the seven of you,” I reply with a sad smile. “And I know I’m never gonna have THAT kind of luck again.”

“Don’t say that!” Harriet admonishes me. “You’ll have us, and Nicole and Megan next year, right?”

“Right!” Nicole and Megan reply simultaneously.

“For the first year,” I sigh. “Then I’ll be right back to-“

“Stop being so negative!” Megan interrupts, before sighing. “I was going to say ‘especially at my party’ but I kinda agree there should be a ‘no-bitch’ rule today. Ash, any girl would be lucky to be your friend, honestly.”

“We all think so,” Suri says. “Bound to be some girls there who’d love to be your friend. Hell, maybe even some boys- though I know you’re not into THAT, heh!”

“And don’t worry about being the only trans girl at the college,” Laura says reassuringly. “Been there, done that, and if I can land on my feet, you definitely can, heh!”

“Thanks,” I say as I start to blush. “As for boys, meh, my best friend at school’s a boy. Where is George, anyway?”

“Oh, he’ll be here,” Megan giggles. “He’s just, you know ‘warming up’.” I frown as the other girl share a collective giggle, obviously aware of something that I’m not.

“…Should I ask?” I say.

A short while later, George arrives, and I quickly become aware of what Megan meant when she said ‘warming up’. Megan’s party has an unofficial ‘Dirty Dancing’ theme to it, and after we’ve eaten a special dinner prepared by Megan’s parents, we head out to the garden where a special area has been set up for us to ballroom dance. The original plan was for Megan to dance with George while the other six girls dance with each other, but obviously my presence means there’s now an odd number. Fortunately, Megan’s younger brother is around and he’s press-ganged in to dance with Suri (the shortest of the eight of us) while Nicole dances with Priya (Suri’s original partner), Mia obviously dances with Harriet and I dance with Laura (who was originally meant to dance with Nicole). Needless to say, both Laura and I have a great time dancing with each other- not least because we both take it in turns being the 'girl'!

As the evening draws on and our feet get more and more tired (dancing in heels isn’t as big a pain as dancing in pointe shoes, but it still aches a lot), we gradually retreat to the sides to rest and get refreshment. Eventually, 'Time of Our Life' starts playing over the stereo, and the eight of us, including Megan’s brother, much to his relief, clear off of the dancefloor to allow George and Megan to dance by themselves. Even though he hasn’t danced in ages (or at the very least, hasn’t taken any ballet classes in ages), George doesn’t put a foot wrong as he leads Megan around, and it’s very clear from the look in their eyes that they are truly besotted with each other- a look I thought I saw in Lydia’s eyes, but the more I come to think about it, the more I realise just how phoney she really was.

Eventually, the dance reaches its climax as George lifts Megan high over his head, holding her aloft and making it look like the tall girl is flying- which she undoubtedly believes she is. The seven of us let out long, loud cheers and applause as the music ends and George sets Megan down on the ground.

“So cool!” Suri squeaks while George stands aside to let us embrace Megan in a tight, loving group hug. “SO wish I’d thought of this for my birthday…”

“So wish I had a boyfriend who could lift me like that!” Laura sighs as I make another mental note to ask her what happened between her and Kain.

“Well- I can spare him for ONE lift, I suppose,” Megan giggles.

“Wh- really?” Laura asks as Megan looks pleadingly at George, who lets out a reluctant-sounding sigh and nods.

“Go on,” George chuckles tiredly. Laura doesn’t need any further invitation and immediately heads to the far end of the dancefloor, before running up and being lifted above George’s head, just as Megan had been a few moments earlier. “Anyone else?” Needless to say, all of the other girls raise their hands at George’s invitation- myself included, much to my own surprise.

I let the other girls take their turns first, and when my turn comes, I head to the edge of the dancefloor and take several deep, nervous breaths before running up to George, who unhesitatingly places his hands on my hips and lifts me high above his head, just as Thomas did last night at ballet. Unlike yesterday, though, there is no awkwardness, no worrying that I don’t belong here- because I do. I am a girl, being lifted by a boy just as the other girls had just been. Never mind the fact that the boy in question is my best friend, never mind the fact that he knew ‘boy Ashley’ better than anyone else including the rest of the excellent eight. It feels almost like when I went up in the air, the last lingering trace of ‘boy Ashley’ was washed away, and the person that came back down was 100% girl- no matter what Melissa, Lydia or anyone else says or even thinks.

“Oh- eurgh,” George moans as I give him a playful kiss on his cheek, an action that would’ve been unthinkable even 24 hours ago, but now feels perfectly natural.

“Thanks,” I whisper softly.

“For what, chucking you over my head?” George asks.

“For EVERYTHING,” I retort. “Everything you’ve done over the last five years, the support… Everything.”

“You- you’re not getting gay on me, are you?” George asks, making me snort and roll my eyes.

“No,” I reply, “because I already AM gay. I’m a girl, and I only fancy girls.”

“…My mistake,” George chuckles as I hand him back to his girlfriend.

The party only lasts for another hour before we all head home, with me getting a lift from Priya along with Suri and Laura, all of us still on a high following the party- not to mention George’s lift!

“Ah…” Laura chuckles as she stretches out alongside me on the back seat of the car. “That was an AWESOME party, hehe!”

“And the next one’s only three weeks away!” Suri squeaks excitedly. “And yes, ALL of us will be invited.”

“Thanks,” I say with a tired, happy chuckle. “And thanks again for, you know, not kicking me out when I gate-crashed.”

“You were never a gate crasher,” Priya reassures me. “We’re the Excellent EIGHT. Can’t use that name if there are only seven of us, can we?”

“Even if she is off to university in just a few months,” Suri pouts.

“Do you know where you’re going yet?” I ask.

“…Almost certainly going to be Durham,” Priya mumbles in reply as Suri moans unhappily.

“Durham?” I ask. “Isn’t that way up north?”

“It’s basically the Arctic Circle,” Suri snorts.

“I’m in line for a scholarship,” Priya explains. “I was looking at Oxford or Cambridge, but Durham’s still a really good uni, and the chance of getting all of it for free… Can’t pass up an opportunity like that.”

“Even if we will be down to seven after all?” I sigh.

“I’ll still technically live in London,” Priya retorts. “I’ll come home for holidays, and we’re all still having that beach trip this year, aren’t we?”

“Hell yeah we are!” Laura giggles.

“Assuming someone learns to drive by then, anyway,” Suri says. “Looking at the only other person in this car who’s over seventeen.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Laura sighs. “Haven’t even taken my theory test yet…”

“Meh, well we can always get the train,” I shrug. “Heh, at least you’ll be waiting a while for me to pass my test!”

“Oh- yeah, I forgot you’re not even sixteen yet,” Suri says. “When’s your birthday again?”

“May 12th,” I reply. “Also the last day of school before study break, so THAT will be fun…”

“They- they wouldn’t dare do anything to you, Ash,” Laura reassures me. “Take it from someone with some experience?”

“Yeah, well, I have experience that both of us have been on the receiving end in the past,” I sigh as I lift my hair to show the fading but still-visible scar above my left eye. “Remember Sam Reid? I’m sure George still remembers her brother.”

“I remember them being expelled hours after that, too,” Priya says. “They wouldn’t want to risk it this close to their exams, surely?”

“You don’t know Melissa,” I moan. “In her world, she’s the princess who can do no wrong, everything she does is justified, sort of thing.”

“Well, she’s going to get a shock when she goes from her world into the real world,” Priya snorts.

“You will too, Ash, but in a good way,” Laura reassures me. “Working for the coffee shop has taught me that the real world is a hell of a lot more tolerant than school. School actually sucks for girls like us. The good news is that it does end. And you’re still going to have seven AWESOME friends waiting for you once you leave.”

“Right!” Suri and Priya both cheer from the front of the car.

“One thing I’d also say, though,” Laura says, her mood suddenly darkening. “You might want to delete Melissa and all the others off your Facebook.”

“WAY ahead of you,” I snort. “I’ve deleted pretty much everyone from school, apart from George and Petra, and Bryony and her friends. I’ve protected all my social media as well, so no one can, like, follow me just to hurl abuse. Doubt that’ll stop them trying, though.”

“Well- it’s something, at least,” Laura shrugs.

“And I hate having to hide myself away like this as well,” I moan. “I mean, tomorrow of all days, right?”

“Well- yeah,” Laura sighs sadly.

“What’s tomorrow?” Suri asks. “March 31st?”

“The international transgender day of visibility,” Laura replies. “A day for- well, it kinda speaks for itself, right?”

“And I’m making myself INvisible in preparation,” I sigh.

“Well it’s hardly your fault you go to school with a load of shitheads, is it?” Priya asks.

“I’m sorry,” Suri teases. “Did Priya Malik REALLY just use the word shitheads?”

“Can you think of any better words?” Priya asks, before rolling her eyes. “Never mind, don’t answer that!”

“I know it’ll be a tough few weeks,” Laura says as she gives my hand a supportive squeeze. “But no matter what happens, you’ll ALWAYS have friends in us. ALWAYS.”

“24/7,” Suri says. “If you ever need to chat, just chat. Even if we’re in a group chat, you can drop us a private message as well.”

“And we’ll try to slow the group chats down a bit as well,” Laura reassures me. “Make sure you’re not too ‘lost’ in them.”

“No, I- I kinda miss the fast-paced chats, heh,” I chuckle. “I’ve missed these face to face chats more, though.”

“Well, plenty more where this came from!” Suri giggles. “And don’t worry, SOME of us are planning on going to uni in London, hehe!”

“Hmm… Okay,” I muse. “I mean, you can never have too many friends, but I’d need to know first whether they were good friends.”

“Friends as good as us?” Laura asks.

“There aren’t any friends as good as you girls,” I reply, earning a hug from Laura and happy squeaks from the other girls as I head back home.

When I get home, Bryony is already in bed and asleep, so I take care not to wake her as I take off my shoes and my dress and get ready for bed myself. Before I fall asleep, though, I can’t help but check Facebook on my phone. With my new high security measures in place, there are no notifications on my page, but when I browse some of the photos of Megan’s party, I see something that makes me sigh.

One of the posts is a photo of me and Laura dancing together, in which we were both tagged. This has earned the photo several dozen ‘like’s and comments from our mutual friends, most supportive, but some obviously not. One of the comments, posted by Laura herself, simply reads ‘Melissa Jeffries- welcome to the blocked list, bitch.’ And even though I know I shouldn’t, there’s a large part of me that really, really wants to see what Melissa posted…

I must have drifted off shortly afterward, as the next thing I’m aware of is a loud knock coming from my bedroom door, waking me from my slumber. A glance over at Bryony’s bed reveals that she’s already up (she had previously said she’d be at Sabrina’s house today) so I slide out of bed and open the door to be greeted by the face of my father, who looks extremely concerned.

“Oh, hey dad,” I say. “What’s up?”

“Ash, your friends are here,” dad says, and it takes a while for my tired brain to realise who dad means.

“Oh, umm, Laura and the others?” I ask, smiling as dad nods. “Is it okay if they come over?”

“It would’ve been nice to have been asked in advance,” dad replies. “But under the circumstances, yeah, I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” I say, grabbing my fluffy silver-coloured dressing gown before realising what dad had just said. “What ‘circumstances’?”

“You dumping your girlfriend on Friday,” dad replies, the concern not leaving his face. “Something I'm only finding out about now. Ash, they’ve told me that- that school’s going to be difficult for you, over the next few weeks.”

“Yeah, well, like you said, I’ll be done in six weeks anyway,” I shrug.

“A lot can happen in six weeks,” dad says.

“Meh,” I shrug. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“I could end up being called to pick you up from A&E again,” dad replies in a dark voice.

“It’s not going to come to that,” I say, even though deep down inside, I’m far from confident.

“Your friends also told me that today is the International Day of Transgender Visibility,” dad says. “I didn’t know that until just now.”

“Well- well you’re not transgender,” I say with a shrug.

“No, but you are,” dad says, making me bite my lip to keep myself from crying. A brief moment of silence passes between us before dad speaks again. “Go on, get downstairs, your friends are waiting.”

“Thanks, dad,” I whisper before skipping down to the living room, where all seven girls immediately jump up and greet me with a tight group hug that makes me shriek with laughter.

“Hey Ash!” Laura giggles. “Fellow ‘visible girl’!”

“Yeah, well, I’m not feeling very ‘visible’ right now,” I moan, before a sly smirk spreads across my lips.

“Why not?” Mia asks, a concerned look spreading across her face.

“Umm, no make-up?” I reply, earning teasing laughs from all of my friends. “Why are you all here so early, anyway?”

“Well, we want to get as much celebrating in as possible?” Laura replies. “It’s a day for us to be open, for us to be proud about who we are.”

“Not that the other 364 days of the year should be any different,” Harriet interjects with a smirk.

“And also…” Priya says with a grimace. “We- we want to make sure you’re okay.”

“You did say you blocked all of the idiots at school,” Suri says as we all sit back down. “But we don’t know whether or not you saw some- well, on Facebook last night…”

“I- I saw Laura’s reply to Melissa,” I sigh. “I didn’t see the comment itself. I- I’m not sure I want to know…”

“It- it was a photo of you and Laura,” Nicole says. “Umm, like, photoshopped, it- in it, you and Laura had beards, and-“

“Yeah, thanks, don’t think I need to know any more,” I sigh. “Doubt I’m gonna be able to pull a sickie for six weeks, heh.”

“That’s why we’ve come up with a plan,” Nicole says with a smug grin. “For the next six weeks, while you’re at school, one of us will accompany you home.”

“Umm, I appreciate the thought,” I say, “but my dad gives me a lift home, I’m not going to be in any danger going to or from school.”

“Well- then one of us will be waiting for you every day when you get home,” Suri continues.

“That- that really won’t be necessary,” I say, before letting out a loud sigh. “Okay, it might…”

“Well- we’ll see how it goes tomorrow,” Laura says. “I’ll be here tomorrow regardless. Because we know you’d do the same for any of us, right?”

“Right!” The seven girls all simultaneously cheer, making me grin- even though I know that in recent weeks, that wouldn’t necessarily have been the case.

“…I would NOW,” I chuckle, earning sympathetic smiles from my friends.

“It still sucks that you don’t have any REAL friends in your year,” Suri sighs. “Well, apart from gorgeous George, anyway!”

“Hey, keep your eyes off him!” Megan playfully chastises the petite Indian girl.

“Ooh!” The rest of us- myself included- all coo, making the tall bespectacled girl blush.

“I will be fine at school tomorrow, honestly,” I try to reassure my friends. “I sit next to George in form. I can hang out with Bryony and her friends at lunch and break, or I can just spend it in the library studying. God knows I need to catch up a bit, heh.”

“And auditions for the elite ballet class are around now, aren’t they?” Nicole asks.

“Yeah,” I reply. “Not sure if I’m going to try out, though. And thanks for saying the ‘B’ word, that oughta get Cassie up in the next few minutes.” I smirk as all of my friends share a genuine laugh.

“Why wouldn’t you audition though?” Mia asks. “You’re a great dancer.”

“Yeah, but you need to be REALLY great to pass the audition,” I sigh. “None of you did, after all, and I’m not a patch on any of you.”

“You’re not THAT bad,” Laura says. “Take it from someone who actually danced with you yesterday, you are REALLY good, hehe!”

“Thanks,” I chuckle bashfully. “I’m still not as good as any of you, though. Heh, felt like even Megan’s brother was better than me last night!”

“Oh, thanks for reminding me,” Megan sighs. “I am going to PAY for dragging him to the party yesterday. He’s going to want me to go to his birthday party now and wait on him hand and foot, so thanks for that, Ash.” I bite my lip and start to blush as my friend’s mock chastisement (and I know Megan enough to know that she is only teasing), before remembering that I had this exact same conversation with my fake friends two days ago- and I remember the joke I said then as well.

“Oh, poor you,” I retort. “Only having ONE younger sibling hanging off you all the time…” Unlike with Cameron, all seven girls- including Megan- immediately start laughing good-naturedly at the joke. And also unlike with Cameron, I knew the girls well enough to know that I didn’t have any worries whatsoever about them being offended.

“Ahh, touché,” Megan chuckles. “Ooh, and speaking of…” The eight of us all giggle as the living room door opens and a pyjama-clad Cassie walks through, her eyes quickly widening at the sight of all of us.

“Hi Cassie!” Laura says with an excited giggle.

“Didn’t I say all you had to do is mention the word ‘ballet’ and she appears?” I tease, earning a scowl from my younger sister.

“Shut up, Ashley,” Cassie pouts at me, earning playful ‘ooh’s from all of my friends (and me as well).

“I think I preferred you when you were high on sugar all the time and dancing around everywhere,” I tease my sister, earning myself a raspberry in response.

“What year are you in at school now, Cassie?” Megan asks.

“Year 3,” Cassie replies. “Bryony says she’s already worked it out, and I’ll start secondary school just after she leaves it.”

“Okay, that’s cool,” Megan says with a nod.

“But I might be in Ms Fullerton’s pointe class at the same time as her,” Cassie continues. “Ms Fullerton says that because my birthday’s in October, me and my best friend can start in year 7 rather than year 8!”

“And that’s the important school, of course!” Laura giggles. “We were actually talking about whether your sister will get into Ms Fullerton’s elite class, too!” I sigh and roll my eyes as Laura giggles, while Cassie looks confused.

“What’s an ‘elite’?” My eight-year-old sister asks, earning ‘aww’s from my friends at her innocence.

“It’s basically Ms Fullerton’s top class,” Nicole explains. “You have to be sixteen or older to be in it.”

“So, you can only ask to be in it if you’re an older girl?” Cassie asks disappointedly.

“Well… Yes and no,” Nicole replies. “As well as being over sixteen, you have to pass a special test to get into it, which your sister’s taking in a few weeks’ time!” And thanks for telling Cassie THAT, I think to myself as my sister’s jaw drops.

“Are you taking a special ballet test, Ashley?” Cassie asks me. “Can I watch?”

“I- I’m not sure I’m taking it yet,” I say.

“But why not?” Cassie pleads. “You’re a brilliant ballerina…” Despite my sister’s whine, I can’t help but grin at her compliment.

“A lot of us took it last year,” Laura explains. “And none of us passed the test either, as it’s really hard.”

“Though when you’re sixteen, we reckon you’ll pass it with flying colours!” Suri teases my sister, who grins happily.

“So, are you all here to help Ashley practise for her test?” Cassie asks, making me roll my eyes again.

“Well… We are now!” Mia giggles.

“Can I at least get dressed first?” I protest as my friends and my sister all giggle excitedly.

Needless to say, I am allowed to get dressed and eat breakfast, but afterward, my friends take great delight in helping me practise for the elite class test while Cassie and Dorothy both watch on eagerly, especially when I put on my pointe shoes and have my body (and especially my feet) bent into shapes totally alien for any teenaged boy, but which come naturally to me. My friends leave just before lunch, though before they go, one of the girls stops behind to have one final word with me.

“Ash, before I go,” Priya says softly. “I know out of all eight of us, you and me have probably got along the least well.”

“Yeah- probably…” I grimace.

“Maybe because of our age difference, I don’t know,” Priya shrugs. “Maybe because of when you tried to come out to your dad and- well, Suri kinda got a bit hurt by what happened, and the big sister instinct- something you know all about, heh!”

“Yeah, I guess,” I chuckle.

“For what it’s worth,” Priya says with a wide, genuine grin, “Bryony, Cassie and the others are lucky to have you as a big sister. And I’m lucky to have you as a friend.”

“I feel the same way,” I whisper as I give the petite Indian girl a gentle hug. “Dunno I’d agree about being a great big sister, though- if I’m gonna get shit tomorrow at school, got knows what they’ll do to Bryony as well…” I shudder as I remember Melissa’s implied threat from last year. All of a sudden, I feel REALLY selfish about enjoying this weekend with my real friends…

“Well- well Bryony has real friends too,” Priya says. “They’ll look after her, just like we’ll look after you.”

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“We’ll talk soon,” Priya says, giving me a reassuring hug as she leaves the house. “VERY soon. I promise.”

“Talk soon,” I say, shutting the door behind my friend and letting out a long sigh. This weekend has been one of the best I’ve had in a long time, and I really, REALLY don’t want it to end.

And yet, when my alarm wakes me at seven o’clock the following morning, I know that it must. My heart is in my throat and my legs are shaking as I pull on my black tights, my white blouse and my short grey skirt, and even though I look no different to how I did last Friday, I feel different. After the weekend, I know for a fact that I belong in this uniform, just as much as any other girl regardless of how they were born. I have earned the right to wear this uniform, to wear gold studs in my earlobes, to wear mascara on my eyelashes and to have long, blonde hair that cascades over my shoulders. And yet, I’m nervous- terrified, even. Harriet has often said that a skirt is a symbol of strength. Today, however, it feels like a bullseye…

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Dad asks as we pull up outside the school. “If you’d prefer, I can always call in, say you’re unwell-“

“No- no, not this close to my exams,” I sigh. “And it’d just be delaying the inevitable. Even if today is April the first, of all days…”

“I’ll look after you,” Bryony says with a comforting smile as we get out of the car, though I’m far from reassured. Nonetheless, I have a confident smile on my face as I stride into school… Which immediately starts to falter as I hear the giggles and whispers from my fellow schoolmates, something I thought I’d put far behind me. As much as they hurt, though, I can choose to ignore whispers and giggles- though I can’t ignore the two tall boys from my year who suddenly block my path.

“Hey, Moore,” one of the boys, who I recognise as a member of the football team called Gavin, snorts angrily. “Where you going?” Okay, I think to myself. You want to humiliate me? Two can play at this game.

“Umm, form?” I reply. “Same place we go every morning at this time?” Don’t make them TOO angry, I think to myself.

“What’s under your skirt?” the other boy, another footballer called Rick, asks.

“Why are you so obsessed with what’s under my skirt?” I snort, barely having any time to realise my mistake as Rick roughly shoves me to the ground, causing me to drop my bag and my skirt to ride dangerously high. My heart races as Rick looms over me with an angry look on his face, before an arm comes out of nowhere and stops Rick, shoving him away from me and pinning him to a nearby wall.

“Don’t,” the owner of the arm says- who I immediately recognise as my best male friend.

“Who are you, her boyfriend?” Gavin sneers.

“No, I’m her best friend,” George says, making my heart swell with pride. “Now piss off. I mean it!” I start to tremble with fear as the two boys angrily stare at George- if they’re willing to hurt me, god knows what they’d be willing to do to him. They slowly start to circle my friend, obviously with the intention of one of them restraining him while the other beats him up, but much to my relief, they eventually back off. I let out a sigh of relief as George helps me to my feet.

“Are you okay?” My friend asks as I straighten my skirt and we continue toward our form room.

“I think so,” I reply, before sighing. “Mate, they could’ve really hurt you…”

“Doubt it,” George snorts confidently. “What? You’re not the only one with a big outside school exam coming up, over the summer I should get my shodan.”

“Showdown?” I ask.

“N- no, ‘shodan’,” George clarifies. “In judo, it means ‘1st degree black belt’. I’ve also started studying aikido, so even if they had somehow got me from behind, I could still have REALLY messed them up.”

“Yeah, but still, though,” I moan. “You’d still have got in a lot of trouble for fighting, even if it in self-defence. And it wasn’t even self-defence!”

“Yeah, well, they’d have got in more trouble for attacking a girl,” George retorts. “Besides, I’m a prefect, I have the authority to stop fights, which is all I was doing.”

“Well- if you say so,” I sigh. “You can’t be everywhere I go, though…”

“Don’t see why not,” George shrugs.

“How did it even get around school so quickly, anyway?” I moan.

“Pretty sure that was all Failbook’s doing,” George snorts. “Don’t worry about it. I WILL protect you. I owe you that much.”

“How do you owe me anything?” I ask as we take our seats. “You’re the one who’s supported me, you’re the one who’s going to get a trashed reputation because of me-“

“Why should I care about that?” George asks. “I’m only here for another six weeks, same as you. And why should I care what the girls here think about me? I’ve already got Meg, she thinks I’m great, end of story.” Before I can retort, we’re interrupted by one of the girls at a table adjacent to ours, who has an evil grin on her face.

“Hey Ashley!” The girl asks. “What razor do you use to shave your face?” I roll my eyes as this triggers a giggling fit among the other girls at the table.

“Why?” I reply. “Do you want to know which one you should use to shave yours?” I smirk as the laughter suddenly stops dead.

“Shut your face, you stupid freak!” The original girl sneers angrily as George sniggers. “You too, you fat turd!”

“Scary,” George says with a snort of laughter. “Ash, have you ever thought about being a stand-up comedian? You were even faster than Lee Mack in what you said to her and Rick.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I chuckle. Pity I don’t have a choice in that, I think to myself…

The first two lessons of the day pass mostly without incident. George accompanies me to my first lesson (despite not being in the class himself) and the walk to the second lesson isn’t far, and in the lessons themselves we’re too busy for anything to happen. At break, though, I keep my head held low as I walk to my new (and technically, old) usual spot. I know there’s no point in heading to Melissa’s spot near the sports hall, so I head to the table that used to be the hangout of the Excellent Eight, but is now used by my sister and her friends.

Naturally, Bryony has saved a space for me at the table, a space I eagerly fill, but a few moments later, it becomes apparent why there’s a space free.

“Freak,” Lucy spits in my direction as she walks past the table and in the direction of Melissa and her friends. I roll my eyes and snort at the feeble insult, and so do the rest of the girls at the table- including, much to my surprise, Lucy’s sister.

“Ugh, SO sorry about her,” Jo snorts. So much for Melissa’s threat against Bryony, I think to myself.

“I take it Princess Melissa has forgiven her, then?” I ask, smirking as Jo sighs and shakes her head.

“She is such a moron,” the blonde-haired girl says. “You can sit with us if you want, Ash, I don’t mind.” I smile as the other girls at the table all nod in agreement.

“Yeah, from what B- Bryony says, you’ll be m- much less of a p- p- pain than Lucy w- was,” one of the girls I don’t recognise says with a noticeable stutter. “I’m B- Bailey b- by the w- way.”

“Nice to meet you!” I chuckle. “Bailey would probably have been Bryony’s name if she’d- umm, if she’d been a boy…” And that’s how you make things awkward in the space of ten seconds, I think to myself.

“…Forget what I said about her being less of a pain,” my sister snorts, making her friends laugh and sparing my blushes.

“And we’re all cool about ‘you know what’ at this table,” another girl that I do recognise says.

“Ah, you- you’re Lily, aren’t you?” I ask. “Laura’s sister?”

“Stepsister, but same thing,” Lily replies. “Well- we think so, at least! She was really happy that you showed up at the party on Saturday, by the way.”

“So was Nicole,” Sabrina says.

“Yeah,” I sigh happily. “I’m happy to have some real friends again too.” Friends who welcomed me back with welcome arms- something Melissa and the rest of the girls would NEVER do. Well, with maybe one exception…

“A- Ariadna,” I say nervously, attracting the attention of the black-haired girl. “Has Petra said anything over the weekend? About, umm, about what happened, I mean?”

“Umm, no, not to me,” the Polish girl replies. “Though she does often talk about you a lot.”

“Ooh!” The other girls at the table all coo, making me and Ariadna blush.

“You literally asked for that,” Bryony says, before giggling as I give her a playful nudge.

“What do you girls usually talk about, then?” I ask.

“Just- just girl stuff, really,” Sabrina replies with a shrug.

“So you’ll fit right in,” Bryony says, making me smile as the table settles into a gossip session that ends far too quickly for my liking when the school bell rings to signal the start of the next lesson. As he’d promised, George arrives to escort me to the lesson, and once the lesson (which again passes without incident) ends, he takes me back to the table, where my new, younger friends are waiting to pick up our conversation from where we left off.

As lunch passes, I manage to relax more and more. Just like the old days, our table is its own little bubble, completely cut off from the rest of the world- which today of all days, more than suits me. With five minutes left before the bell rings to signal the end of lunch, I excuse myself from the table and head to use the toilet.

When I enter the toilet block alone, I suddenly realise my mistake.

“Eww, what are you doing in here, BOY?” A girl I don’t recognise, but who obviously recognises me, asks.

“…I’m taking a piss, what d’you think I’m doing?” I reply. This time, however, my quick wit doesn’t seem to work.

“Boys go in the boys’ toilets, you freak!” The girl shouts as three other girls flank her and start approaching me.

“Well it’s a pity that I’m a girl, isn’t it?” I retort.

“Oh yeah?” One of the girls sneers. “Prove it!”

“What, isn’t the hair, the make-up and the skirt enough proof?” I ask.

“Take your pants down and show us!” Another girl shouts as I back away, planning to hide in a cubicle until the bell goes only to find myself being backed into a wall.

“Why are you so bothered about what’s in my pants?” I ask. “Are you a lesbian?” Unfortunately, all this does is anger the girls even further, and they charge toward me, two of them restraining me while the other two try to grab my skirt and my tights. I desperately kick out to try to preserve my modesty, not even bothering if I hurt or injure the girls, when we’re interrupted by the last sound I hoped to hear.

“Hey!” Bryony’s unmistakable voice yells. “Leave her alone!” No, please god, no, I think to myself. Bryony’s tall for her age, but at least 2 years younger than the girls who are harassing me, and even together we’re both outnumbered two to one.

“Get lost, little girl,” one of the girls says, roughly shoving my sister to the ground and causing her to hit her shoulder on a sink.

All of a sudden, I find myself losing control of my actions. A feeling of pure rage fills every cell in my body and I feel ten times stronger than before, easily breaking free of the girls holding me back. I rush over to the girl who hurt my sister and grab her by the collar, clenching my right hand into a fist and raising it high…

“What’s going on here!?” Mrs Richardson, one of our teachers, yells as she enters the toilet block. All of sudden, the adrenaline in my blood thins and I unclench my fist- but not before recoiling at the look of pure terror in the eyes of the girl I was about to punch. “Ashley?”

“…Nothing,” I mumble, before helping my sister back to her feet.

“Well if I had to guess,” Mrs Richardson says, turning to face my four tormentors, “you four were in here trying to cause trouble for Ashley- who is as entitled to use these toilets as any other girl- Bryony here tried to stop you, you pushed her to the ground and Ashley was trying to defend her. Am I right?” I bite my lip as the four girls all nod. “I thought so. My office. NOW!” I try my hardest not to tremble as the girls all skulk off, though I need several deep breaths to calm myself as the teacher turns to address me. “Ashley, I’m sure when I saw you with your fist raised, you were only defending your sister, right?”

“I- I don’t know,” I moan, before breaking down in tears.

“…I think you two had better come to my office too,” Mrs Richardson says softly. “What lessons do you have next?”

“Umm, science, Mr Cox,” Bryony replies. “I don’t know what Ash has next.”

“I’ll let Mr Cox know you won’t be in the lesson,” Mrs Richardson says. “Ashley… There’s no need to be upset. I didn’t see you punch or hit that girl, you’re not going to get into trouble.” I nod and try to contain my emotions, but the truth is that I’m not upset about getting into trouble- I’m upset because the girls were right all along.

I was in an impossible position, and my first instinct was to resort to violence. If Mrs Richardson hadn’t shown up when she did, I would have punched that girl, just like the violent thugs this morning nearly did to George. I can wear the clothes, the make-up, even go to dance class, but the truth is that I’m no better than them. I can never change who I truly am inside.

After we’ve been taken to the office (passing my four tormentors, who all have their faces to the wall outside) and I have the chance to calm down, I try to explain my feelings to Bryony, who has one very blunt response.

“What a load of complete bull- poop,” Bryony says, conscious of the fact that there’s still a teacher in the room.

“It’s true, though,” I sigh. “I was going to punch that girl.”

“I’ll keep pretending I didn’t hear that,” Mrs Richardson says.

“Ash, for god’s sake,” Bryony sighs. “Yes, you’re my big sister, but I’m a big sister too. What d’you think I’d do if I saw a girl from my year threatening Cassie?”

“Ugh, I- I dunno…” I moan.

“I’d hit them,” Bryony says bluntly.

“And I’ll pretend I didn’t hear THAT either,” Mrs Richardson says, before sighing. “But your sister isn’t wrong, Ashley. I don’t know exactly what’s been going on with you and the other girls in school, but I know that you ARE a girl, and anyone who says or acts otherwise is wrong, and WILL be punished. I will be speaking to Mrs Houghton about this- don’t worry, you’re not going to be in any trouble- and we’re going to make sure this NEVER happens again.”

“Why bother?” I snort. “I’m leaving in six weeks anyway…”

“Even if you were leaving tomorrow, we would still do this,” Mrs Richardson says. “We would NEED to do this, and not just to show that we’re taking this seriously, but because it’s not fair for you to be treated like this, Ashley.”

“Melissa Jeffries has a LOT to answer for,” Bryony sneers.

“And that’s another person I’ll obviously need to have a word with,” Mrs Richardson says as a sly grin spreads across my sister’s face, as she’s once again used her brain to figure out a way of dropping Melissa in it without actually saying anything. “First, though, I’ll give your parents a call and get them to pick you up early.”

“Thanks,” I whisper as I’m left alone in the office with my sister, who I immediately give a long, tight hug that she’s only too happy to reciprocate. “And thank YOU. Are- are you okay?”

“Meh, I’m fine,” Bryony shrugs. “And you’re welcome, after all, what are big sisters for?”

Dad comes to pick us up a short while later, and it takes the entire car ride home and then some to reassure him that we're both okay- even though deep down inside, I'm still far from okay. Despite Bryony's reassurances, I still can't shake the sight of the fear in the girl's eyes as I was about to hit her. No matter what I thought at the time, all she saw was someone she saw as male about to assault her- an image no woman should ever have to see.

And yet, it was the exact same thing I saw this morning before form. If it wasn't for George showing up when he did, god knows what Rick and Gavin would've done to me. I don't know what the solution is- all I know is that I'm sick of violence of any and all kinds- and I'm sick of school too. I don't know why everyone turned against me so quickly- maybe pent-up frustration about not being able to touch me for the last six months, out of fear of offending Melissa, maybe Melissa herself has put some kind of 'bounty' on me, I don't know.

Fortunately, about half an hour after we arrive home, I'm able to forget all about my fake ex-friend when one of my oldest real friends drops round and gives me a long, friendly hug.

"Hey Ash..." Laura sighs. "I heard you had a really, really shitty day?"

"Umm... How, exactly?" I ask, before sighing as I look at my younger sister, who simply shrugs.

"Me, Sabrina, Nicole, Laura," Bryony explains, and I don't need to be told that it was a chain of text messages between the four girls that led to the hug I received when I opened the door.

"Well, this is day one of a very, very small number," Laura sighs as we sit down. "Pretty soon, that place will be done with. Gone. You can move on with your life and everyone who still cares about how 'cool' they were at school can stay stuck in the past. And yes, I know that's easy for me to say when I still hang out with the same girls I hung out with while I was at school, heh."

"Me included," I remind my friend, who smiles warmly.

"But I never cared about whether or not you were cool when I hung out with you," Laura insists. "That might not have come out right..."

"No, I- I get what you're saying," I sigh. "And I feel the same way. But it would've been nice to have, you know, more friends..."

"If it helps, I've not really made many at college," Laura sighs. "Only two girls that me and Suri hang out with at lunch time, that's about it, really."

"...Doesn't help as much as you'd think," I say, earning a chuckle from my friend. "And- and it's not just school I'm worried about. I'm worried about me, too."

"You!?" Laura asks. "Umm... Why, exactly?"

"At school today, I-" I begin, before sighing. "I was being confronted in the loos by a gang of girls, Bryony tried to intervene, she got shoved to the ground, and I- I nearly punched one of the girls."

"...And?" Laura asks with a shrug. "Other than Bryony proving she's not nearly as smart as she thinks she is by taking on a gang of girls by herself?"

"Hey!" My sister protests.

"I- Laura, I nearly punched a girl in the face," I say. "The way she looked, she was- she was TERRIFIED of me."

"Good, if she was picking on your sister," Laura says. "If anyone hurt Lily I'd rip all their hair out."

"Yeah, but, I- ugh," I spit. "I can't get that look of fear the girl had out of my mind."

"Well, that just shows what a good person you are inside, doesn't it?" Laura says with a supportive smile.

"Told you," Bryony says, making me roll my eyes.

"...You do remember I was once suspended from school for a day for punching your ex-boyfriend in the stomach?" I ask. "I don't feel particularly guilty about THAT, even though he was technically telling the truth..."

"Yeah," Laura grimaces. "I kinda- kinda feel a bit guilty there too, heh. But- I dunno. Everyone has a 'dark side', I guess. When are you next seeing Dr Williamson?"

"Umm, Wednesday," I reply. "Yes, I'll mention it to her too."

"It might also be worth mentioning something else," Laura says. "You know my brother, right?"

"Yeah," I reply with an exasperated sigh that makes Laura giggle- her brother is more than a little tiring.

"Once, he picked me up from ballet," Laura continues. "And he- he actually raised a fist to Ms Fullerton when she got on his nerves."

"Jeez," I grimace. "And he- he's now actually going out with another Angel as well?"

"Yep," Laura says proudly. "Because he realised he'd crossed a line. He sought out counselling, got it, and is a much better person than he was before."

"...That just means he must have been an unbearable arsehole beforehand if this is the 'improved' Ricky," I say with a frown. "I'm sorry, I- I'm not sure that story really helped me."

"Meh, fair enough," Laura shrugs. "Just thought it might. But- everyone gets angry from time to time. Doesn't make you any less of a girl just because you lost your temper when you saw your little sister getting hurt."

"And as I've already said," Bryony interjects, "if anyone ever hurts Cassie, or Dorothy, Eddy or Felicity, god help them."

"Atta girl!" Laura giggles, making my sister grin and blush. "And that goes for you too, Ash. It's gonna be hard the next few weeks, that's for sure. But we're here for you, because that's what friends- no, that's what sisters do."

"...You can never have too many friends?" I ask, echoing the catchphrase of the transgender woman who is an icon and role model to myself, Laura and countless other transgender girls around the country.

"You can never have too many TRUE friends," Laura says, getting up and giving me another hug that I'm only too happy to reciprocate.

The following day, school goes a lot quietly than it had before. The whole year was brought in for a special assembly to reiterate that any transphobic behaviour would result in an instant suspension, and repeated behaviour would result in expulsion- and with exams just around the corner, no one is willing to risk that. It turned out that yesterday's targeted harassment was a result of Melissa texting around her 'minions' and offering a reward for the first person who took a photograph of me with my genitals showing. Needless to say, that text got back to Mrs Houghton, who decided that Melissa needed to stay away from school for the rest of the week- something I certainly didn't argue with, especially as the Easter holidays started the following week, meaning I had a full month with no Melissa in it! With the 'bounty' no longer a thing, my tormenting and teasing quickly died down, almost as though the fact that I was transgender had no effect on anyone else- which it, of course, doesn't.

Later that night, I went to ballet class, only to discover that Melissa's presence was no longer welcome there, either- and thanks also to what she said on Friday, that absence would prove to be permanent. In her desperation to prove that she was the 'alpha bitch', Melissa ended up destroying any chance she had of ingratiating herself with Heavenly Talent, the Angels or anyone else she admired- and I can't say I have any sympathy for her whatsoever. At Ms Fullerton (not to mention the rest of the Excellent Eight)'s urging, I did eventually audition for the dance school's elite class, and while I didn't pass, I wasn't far off- Ms Fullerton said that if a passing score was 100, I was around an 85, which was enough to put a smile on my face. So I'll never be a professional dancer- it doesn't make me any less of a girl, just like one flash of anger doesn't either.

Of course, Melissa would eventually return to school after the Easter break, and the teasing would resume- but not for long, as study break would quickly appear on the horizon. And while I did miss having a girlfriend- or, in Lydia's case, sort-of girlfriend- I was given hope by a text message that appeared on my phone on the Friday before the start of the Easter break.

'Not everyone at school thinks you're a freak,' the text message read. 'I still think you're cool. Petra xx.'

Maybe there will be something I miss about school after all...