I woke up to a wonderful morning. The storm and heavy rain didn’t bother me. Life was good. The day before had been remarkable. To begin with it was my first anniversary as Secretary of the Treasury. That in itself was remarkable. In my not so humble opinion I was the obvious selection based on my merits. Then there was this tiny thing that under normal circumstances would have made it impossible for me: I’m transgendered. Just for once that worked in my favor. The newly elected president needed to show how inclusive his administration was.

Of course there was friction. Less than I had expected though. The Vice-President regarded me as an abomination even if he didn’t hate me personally. Secretary of State Wilson on the other hand hated me with a vengeance. The rest were mostly friendly to neutral.

The second reason the day before was a red-letter day was that it was my first day when I was officially and legally a woman. Which also meant that I married my high school sweetheart. He had always insisted that he’d make an honest WOMAN out of me. What a way to celebrate my thirty-fifth birthday! The only thing that had marred it was that my husband, my husband, how lovely that sounded, had been offered a top position at an international oil company. I was not happy. I didn’t let that spoil the big day but one way or another I’d foil those plans.

I looked at my husband thinking about imaginative ways of waking him up when James, our “butler” knocked on the door

“Madame Secretary, the Chief-of-Staff of the President wants to speak to you. It’s urgent.”

Madame Secretary. How wonderful it was to hear that. That was the first time I had been addressed in that way. People in DC can be sticklers for protocol. If only I had known it would be the last time as well. I reluctantly left the warm cozy bed and went to take the call on the secure line.

When I came back my husband had woken. He immediately saw my chocked and sad face.

“What’s happened?”
“That was Oliver from the White House. Marine One has crashed and the President is dead.”
“So Vice President Owens is president now. That means you’re out of office.”
“Yes, I guess. But not because of Owens. When he heard, he had a fatal heart attack.”
“OH NO! That means speaker Schultz is the new president. That scoundrel, traitor and enemy of the people!”
“Bill! Schultz isn’t that bad.”
“He’s from the OTHER party and by definition scum”
“Maybe, but he was already a year old when his parents immigrated”
“But you get on well with Senator Smith. What’s the problem then?”
“Bob was also in Marine One.”
“Oh, no! That means your archenemy the Secretary of State is in and that’s why you are out.”
“Admittedly Wilson was born here but a little known fact is that he has only spent a grand total of twelve years IN the country.”

At that point James entered the room.

“Madame President. Chief Justice Martínez has arrived. He wonders if you have a bible of your own you want to use. Otherwise he brought his own private.”
“I’m coming. I’ll get the family Bible. Get out of bed Bill.”

About ten seconds later he reacted.

“Oh, Woman! How low can you stoop to stop me accepting that job offer at the oil company?”

Took him longer than I expected.

December 2021 Christmas Holidays Story Contest Entry

In my eyes the town looked as miserable as it had done 25 years before when I left it. I suppose it was OK if you had a thing for Midwest small towns. A long way from any sizeable city it was the commercial center for a wide swathe of the countryside. Not that the aforementioned countryside was particularly densely populated. I passed a small mall when entering the town. That was new. However, the main reason for the existence of the town was The Mill. Most of the working population worked for the mill directly or indirectly. The fact that I arrived on a cold and windy December day didn’t matter. I couldn’t have hated South Odom any more anyway.

The only reason that I had returned was the funeral of my parents. They had both died in a car accident. The only traffic light in town had malfunctioned. I did not look forward to the ceremony but I felt an obligation to attend. Not to my parents but to myself. Besides their lawyer had called and asked me to attend the reading of the will. Apparently I was mentioned in it which surprised me.

I checked in at the only hotel in town that had any claim to some comfort, not that that claim was any strong. I had dinner at what I remembered to be a good restaurant. Bad mistake. The food was still good but I was recognized and the owner didn’t exactly throw me out but the experience wasn’t pleasant. Well, I wouldn’t stay in town long. Only two nights and then I’d be gone again.

The funeral was the day after, on December 23. My so called siblings actively abused me, apart from Mary. The one family member that had always stood by me before and after I had declared that I was a girl, now a woman. One. The ceremony was OK as such things go. I had expected to be filled by hate towards my parents but now with them passed on all I felt was a mild regret of what could have been. My siblings on the other hand was another matter. The same applied to the rest of those attending. I was standing there alone within a “quarantine zone of about two meters. Actually that was a benefit since some of them had spat at me when first seeing me. They had same high opinion of me as my parents had had. At least Reverend Smith had passed away some years ago. I had always believed his bigotry, intolerance and hatred had largely shaped the mentality of the town. Not that people, including my family, hadn’t, listened eagerly, even enthusiastically, to him week after week.

I didn’t go to the reception afterwards. Mary had quietly advised me that my siblings had hired security to forcefully prevent me attending if I tried. My old friend Karl heard that and invited me to a tour of the mill. This saved face. Karl had been Marvin’s best friend through high school and Eve’s only friend after revealing myself. Two. Now he was the manager for the mill. I was very grateful for him. Not only for the face-saving but also because I genuinely wanted to visit The Mill. He showed around the place and I got a thorough insight into the working of the place. He also spent quite a lot of time telling me about the situation of the mill. How the old owner family had let the place run down before selling it earlier in the year. How Karl thought the mill with some upgrades and expansion, not retrenchment, could make the company very profitable again. How he had failed to engage the new owners.

After lunch I had to go to the reading of the will. I had expected it to be a depressing experience. It turned out to be much worse. The only reason I was called was because my parents wanted to humiliate me one last time. Oh, I was mentioned in the will. The text was vituperate and ended by declaring that their unnatural son Marvin Schmidt, or whatever name that blemish to the earth was hiding under was explicitly and completely excluded from inheriting anything at all.

Afterwards Mary managed to get a moment alone with me and handed me a small package. It turned out to be Moma’s old music box with the twirling ballerina that had fascinated me as a child and that Moma always said was to be mine one day. My parents had denied me that. Had my siblings been aware of how much it meant to be it would have been destroyed long ago but Mary had saved it for me.

After that I had only one more errand in town. I was going to visit my old Principal. The person that had made it possible for me to survive high school and had made sure that my teachers had given me fair grades. Three. These grades had earned me a full scholarship at an Ivy League university. A good thing too since after attending the commencement ceremony as myself things really had gone the drain. And I had made such an effort to make myself beautiful and the dress really was beautiful. When I got home afterwards there were two suitcases with my stuff standing on the porch. My parents were still a bit soft at that time. I left town on the night bus that evening and hadn’t returned until my parents’ funeral.

Fortunately the university had declined my parents demand that they rescind my scholarship. The university had no problem with a girl attending instead of a boy. Well, there were some paperwork and workarounds until my status was all legal.

When I got to my old Principal’s house I was a bit surprised. He wasn’t alone. My old coach was there as well. A bit awkward since Coach never had liked me and had not been very good at hiding it. On the other hand I had later learnt that he had written an unsolicited letter of recommendation to the university and that was what had tipped the scales to give me a full scholarship.

The evening went much better than I had expected though. We had a very nice time. I realized that Coach really had despised me when I was in high school. He thoroughly disliked me not because I was a girlish wimp, which was the reason I was bullied before I came out as a girl, but because he couldn’t stand my swottish know-it-all attitude. The reason he wrote the letter was because he despised even more how people treated me and had a grudging respect for the fact that however inept I was athletically I always tried the hardest I could. Four.

The last night ever I had planned to spend in my old hometown was thus quite a good one. I had to admit that I had misjudged my old coach. A humbling experience. I seldom make such mistakes.

The next morning I checked out. By now word about who I was had spread so I was abused as being a disgrace and how dared I defile my parents’ funeral by attending. I left the breakfast room without eating. The girl in the reception was embarrassed and softly offered her excuses when the manager went away. Five.

I stayed in the hotel lobby to make one short call to my Vice President.

- John, you lost. Implement my instructions.
- You have got a point there John. It can wait until after Christmas.

John had been with me since the day I started my company. He would hate to do what I instructed him to do but he would do it. He was completely devoted to me. So devoted that he proposed to me every New Year’s Eve. Suitable date given my name he claimed. I felt a bit sorry for him. He really should find some nice woman to marry. One that could love him. I wasn’t the one. I had had all love beaten out of me years ago.

When I left the hotel to get into my car I felt I couldn’t leave the town fast enough. That wasn’t to be. Two demons from my past waited by the car. Two of the gang of three bullies that had made high school hell for me. The grabbed me and deftly had me in a secluded alley within a minute. They were still much stronger than I and they soon had my arms and legs hand-cuffed despite my struggle. They gleefully reminded me how much I had “enjoyed” the last time they had raped me and now they had three holes instead of two to use. As they were ripping the clothes off me the third of the gang appeared. Great, now he’d get the chance to do what he had missed last time due to being at home with the flu.

For the second time in two days I was wrong. A first for me. Arnold first told them to stop what they were doing and when they refused despite him asking politely several times he “persuaded” them. The two bullies were unconscious by then and Arnold had a broken arm. Arnold called the police and an ambulance.

At the hospital we both were checked. I had only a few bruises and Arnold’s arm had a clean break that they set quickly.

I was curious why Arnold had stopped the bullies instead of joining them. This was not the Arnold I had known and hated in high school. Arnold explained that he had met an angel disguised as a woman that had made him see the error of his ways. Not only that, when he heard that I was leaving town the same day he was appalled that I wasn’t going to spend Christmas eve in loving company. He invited me home. The aforementioned angel most likely had food enough for six and not only five. I was curious so I accepted.

I hadn’t realized that Arnold came from Swedish ancestry and that Christmas eve was the main family holiday in his family. Had I done so I’d have refused. As it turned out Arnold hadn’t lied about his wife. She really was an angel. I was a bit nervous when I saw that the kids were teenagers, two boys and a girl. My experience with teenagers had not been very good over the years and it was obvious they knew who I was and, more importantly, who I had been. Once more I was wrong. There was only acceptance. Not even for second was there any resentment even for the fact that I was the cause for the father of family to have a broken arm. Or for that matter that this meant his staying home from his job at The Mill would cause a financial burden on the family. Arnold had done the right thing and that was enough. The kids were curious, not antagonistic. Politely curious. I saw that they were eager to know more about my situation and in particular about transgender people. I also saw that they were hesitant to ask and would stop immediately if I gave the slightest hint of being uncomfortable. I usually was but this time it felt good to talk about it, really good. I had never really talked about it earlier. The atmosphere was so relaxed. The dinner was a treat. I had expected to feel awkward when they started handing out the Christmas presents. There was no need. The family just included me completely naturally. There even was small symbolic present for me. Ten.

Despite their protestations I left them late in the evening. I had to get back to the big city to prepare for a meeting I had with an Arab emir early on Boxing Day. The night was clear and starlit so driving at night was no problem. As soon as I had left town I stopped and made another call to my Vice.

- John, you were right after all. There are at least ten righteous people in S. Odom. Don’t close The Mill. Don’t close the mall. Make sure that the proposal from the manager of The Mill gets an unbiased and fair evaluation and if positive we’ll invest what he needs. Also, you could hint to Karl that Arnold Svensson deserves a raise.

I had bought The Mill and the mall earlier in the year with the intention to obliterate S. Odom. I had decided to destroy the economic base for that hell-hole. My good conscience, fundamentally kind John, had persuaded me to spare the town. I had reluctantly agreed if I could find ten righteous people in town when I went to my parents’ funeral. I hadn’t expected to. Once more it turned out that I was wrong. Maybe I wasn’t as infallible as I had thought. I also felt like an enormous burden had fallen from me. I still despised most people in my old home town but I no longer hated. The relief was enormous. For twenty-five years hate had been my driving force. It had been the basis for my whole existence. It had caused me to build up a billion dollar business. Now that I had shed it I found that I didn’t really need it. Of course, I have always believed that the sum of your vices is constant so I had to replace hate with another vice. I added to John

- Just a warning. I plan to say yes on New Year’s Eve.

A sweet romantic story of boy meets girl(?)

As a freshly minted senior it was really beneath me to notice freshmen but for some reason I did notice the two of them. At first I thought they were boyfriend and girlfriend even if the girl was a bit tomboyish. This was confirmed when I heard that they were called Taylor and Bobby. I really was surprised when I learned that the “girl” was Bobby and the boy Taylor. I could have sworn that Bobby was a girl. Well, we all make mistakes but I still found it hard to think about Bobby as anything but a girl. He gave off such feminine vibes!

At first the boys were like any other freshmen – confused, scared, occasionally bullied. As the weeks went on most freshmen found their feet, including Taylor. Bobby? Well, he seemed to withdraw more and more. I could see how frustrated Taylor grew. Many boys would have distanced themselves from a boy such as Bobby, especially since he turned into a bully magnet. Not Taylor.

Well, as I said freshmen were beneath my notice so why would I care? Nonetheless I did keep an eye on them. I still have no idea why.

One day in October I got a whopping surprise. Taylor came to school in a skirt, hose, make-up … Doing the full “Girl”. Everyone was surprised, Bobby slunk away. Until lunchtime everyone was too shocked to do anything. Then some sophomores gather around Taylor…

First taunts and then they started hitting him. That’s when I intervened.

- Hey guys! Don’t beat up my date! When I take her to the movies tonight people will think I did that.

Completely shocked the boys just looked at me. They were not alone. I could almost hear the thoughts. Why is Peter doing this? Is he gay? Can we use this?

That last thought vanished as the rest of the football team positioned themselves around me. No matter the circumstances the team always sticks together even if I could see some of them questioning what I did. And why did I do it?

If I was right Taylor was really brave. Brave, caring and all-round good guy. Brave but at the same time a bit stupid and very, very naïve.

Taylor stuttered

- Thank you for saving me
- Calm down. Let’s sit down and have lunch together

Taylor was apologetic, thankful and scared. I assured him (her?) everything was OK and insisted that we really were going to the movie that night. A date. Taylor tried to stop me. I didn’t take no for an answer.

- But I have nothing to wear!
- No problem. I think I can talk my sister into lending you something.

Finally Taylor agreed. We were to meet after practice and first I’d take her to see my sister and then I’d drive her home. I wanted everything to be done the proper way. Meeting the parents and all that. At practice I talked to my teammates and told them why I was doing this and what I believed to be the circumstances. They agreed to back me up. This was a huge relief. They even volunteered be around to protect Taylor and Bobby.

My sister was strangely difficult to convince to lend Taylor a nice dress. I wound up bribing her but insisted that the bribe would include a complete do-over. Then I left them since I had an errand to do.

Meeting Taylor’s parents went well. They were a bit surprised about the girl Taylor and a date with me but they soon came around.

I had got my money’s worth from Sis. Taylor was really cute. Pretty in a girl-next-door manner. The movie was a good one. After we went and something to eat. We talked a lot. Taylor had relaxed. They were fun to talk with. They turned out to be quite smart and with dry wit I appreciated. However, Taylor once more showed themselves to be very naïve. Didn’t even notice my careful probing. It turned out I had been right. Taylor rose further in my esteem. From being a pure rescue job this started to become something more. How much more? I didn’t know. I did give Taylor the obligatory kiss when dropping them off at the door-step. A quick peck one on the cheek. It wasn’t late since I had asked the principal for a meeting early in the morning.

This was not the last date. I kept asking Taylor for new dates. Finally they agreed. We had fun. We really clicked. I opened up the world of sports for Taylor. Taylor opened up the world of arts for me. We went to games, we went to plays and ballets. Opera – only once. That was a step too far for me. Ballet on the other hand – so much strength and grace and the same time … I even tried to talk Taylor into taking classes. Taylor absolutely refused and only laughed when I offered to take classes with them.

On the other hand I was surprised when Taylor started to hang out with the cheerleaders, even practiced with them. Unfortunately I couldn’t watch as much as I wanted to since their practice was at the same time as football practice. Nonetheless, hanging out with the cheerleader did wonders for Taylor’s girliness. The quick pecks on the cheek moved to the lips and became longer.

Even if everyone in school assumed Taylor was a girl Taylor’s position in school was a bit ambiguous. Taylor changed in a separate room but had PE with the girls. The Principal had been very accommodating. However, Taylor never brought any documentation from a psychologist so “he” remained a boy in the records.

As Taylor and I grew closer and closer I got worried. Not only about the relationship. I was worried that Taylor would lose their old friendship with Bobby. At first it appeared so. Bobby kept his distance from Taylor. However, as the weeks went and both Taylor and Bobby were safe Bobby and Taylor found their old friendship again. The safety of Bobby and Taylor was ensured by the football team. It was a great relief that John, the quarter-back, took charge of looking out for Bobby.

By March people were starting to talk about Taylor as a possible prom queen. Absolutely ridiculous but we were flattered.

In April Bobbie came out as transgendered, finally! Bobbie had all the paperwork and had started the full transformation, as far as the laws allowed. Since people were used to Taylor everything went without any new fuss. And John, the QB, started dating her immediately. The poor guy had really fallen for her!

A few days later Taylor told me that they wanted to have a serious talk with me. Since it was quite nice warm evening I got her into my car and we drove to “Lovers’ Point”. Taylor became frantic when realizing where we were heading.

- NO, NO, NOT HERE. ANYWHERE BUT HERE
- Don’t worry. I think I know what you want to say and this is the perfect place.

Taylor kept protesting but for once I ignored their wishes. Arriving at “Lovers’ Point”, a piece of land stretching out into a wood-surrounded lake with a lovely view of the sunset, I was a bit bummed that the spot I had planned to use already was occupied by Bobbie and John. Bobbie was clinging on John smothering him in kisses. I wondered what going to happen in Fall when John went to college. I came to the conclusion that it’d work out ok. John was a levelheaded guy and would dive into his studies until he found something new. Bobbie? Bobbie was in love, not exactly with John but with being in love, or more accurately: in love with being in love as a girl.

When Taylor and I had found a spot Taylor cried a bit before finally telling me what was so important.

He had only come to school as girl so that Bobbie would take the terrifying step to admit she was a girl. Taylor never thought of himself as girl, it was all an act. Things had not gone as expected. Bobbie had been too scared and never dared to take the step. Taylor had kept on and on hoping. And then I had complicated everything. Taylor was grateful for what I had done for him. Now that Bobbie had come out and there was no point in doing the girl he had planned to go back to being a boy. The problem was that he had gotten deeper and deeper into the girl act. And she “hated” me for being such a nice guy. Taylor had started loving me.

He had struggled to stop it. He had failed. Now he was so confused. Was he a girl or not. Did he love me or not. And he had deceived me. That was the worst part. Taylor broke down in tears.

With a finger under Taylors chin I raised her head and looking into a pair of blue eyes I’d gladly drown in

- Shush. I knew from the beginning what you were doing. You never deceived me. I knew very well what I was doing. Who do think talked to your parents and the principal?
- You did all that even if you knew?
- Yes, I did. I did it gladly. I admired your courage, you caring, you being an extraordinary friend. I couldn’t do less. Only thing is – I did the same mistake you did, I fell in love despite vowing not to. I don’t care if you are a boy or a girl I love you. We still have time for you to figure out who you are.

And then I kissed the love of my life.
I realized I had been wrong! Terribly wrong! What I had felt was not love.

Kissing Taylor without either of us holding back was Epiphany!
What I had felt before was just a pale reflection of love. Boy or girl, I LOVED Taylor. We would have lots of problems ahead of us. Not only in finding out who Taylor is but also separation when I went to college.

Right now that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered!

Except that I was sitting there by the lake with Taylor snuggling up to me and that I loved Taylor and Taylor loved me.

Right, this story carries all kinds of warning flags. I’m not joking. If you have even the faintest trace of triggers don’t read this story. Otherwise it's rather sweet.
*************************************************************************
The town where I grew up was not exactly a multicultural metropolis like New York. On the other hand, it was not a redneck backwater either. While most of us were white we had our share of other ethnicities as well. Mostly native Americans and blacks. Still, none of those blacks were as black as the new student in my high school class. She was really ebony black, not the various hues of brownish black of the “native” blacks. Native in the sense that they, and their forefathers had been in this country for at least fourscore and seven years. Rasa on the other hand was pure African. Pitch black, tall, muscular and moved like a large feline. No wonder she soon was tagged with the name “The Black Panther”.

She was exotic and intrigued us all. Me perhaps more than most. She was a breath form the wide world. Perhaps not the sophisticated world of New York, Paris or Milano but something more primordial but no less exciting. She never told us from where she was but she had a distinct African accent. I knew nothing about African accents so I couldn’t place it.

Too bad she kept us all at a distance. I wanted to get to know her better. I was not the only one but the kept everyone at a distance so it wasn’t because I was the school wimp. At least not only that. She never interacted with any other students either. She had no extracurricular activities. She came to school, she was an attentive student and then she left for home,

Rasa Tabula was an enigma. She excelled in mathematics and hard sciences while struggling in social sciences and humanities. Rasa was always very good at doing anything she committed to. At first, she and our math teacher had a very strained relationship. He kept calling her “Captain” Tabula with a strange stress on the captain. So what if she could handle a boat or a ship? Admittedly she was a bit young for that, she was only 16, but since there were no major water surface within hundreds of miles, that hardly mattered. Then one day he mentioned an ICC ruling. As the resident Englishman I thought I was the only one in town interested in cricket but I could not place the ruling Mr Watson referred to and apparently disagreed with since the attenuating circumstances did not warrant that verdict. Anyway, Rasa completely agreed with Mr Watson, apparently to his great surprise. It must have been that common interest that made Mr Watson change his attitude to Rasa. He even suggested that she’d tutor me. I was surprised. Not that I didn’t need it. I did. What surprised me was that Rasa accepted. For some reason both Mr Watson and Rasa later claimed to know nothing about the game of cricket.

That’s how I was the only student in school that got close to Rasa. I can’t say I learnt to understand her but we did get a bit closer. I even dared to ask her how she’d become so good at math.

“I had nothing else to do in prison. And mathematics is clean. Not dirty like law, business, social sciences and politics.”

OK, that was a conversation stopper. No need to be sarcastic if she didn’t want to answer me. Despite that I grew to like her. I still can’t explain why. Perhaps the “Black Panther” triggered my protective instincts. Yeah, I’m joking. Still there were subtle signs that things troubled her.

Sometimes I caught her softly sobbing. More and more often as a matter of fact. Once I put my arm around her to comfort her. The next moment I was on the floor, my arm aching and a nasty knife I didn’t even suspect she was carrying at my throat.

“Don’t ever touch me without my permission!”

I had no problem to promise that. That incident and the way she kept dressing in a way to hide her body and its curves made me suspect that she’d been a victim of a rape. As I later learnt I was both right and horribly, gut-wrenching wrong.

That was not the last time she lashed out at me like that. Another time she lashed out when I saw she was in pain and I suggested that she take a painkiller. Once more on the floor I could hear,

“I’ll never touch that stuff again.”

She was always sorry afterwards and even more helpful and kept insisting how good I was for her. Nonetheless, for some reason, I felt a connection with her. It could have been that I felt sorry for her. It could also have been some sort of perverse curiosity. Or it could have been something else altogether like that she kept saying how good I was for her and the only reason she lashed out at me was that I was the only person around whom she didn’t feel she’d have to keep herself in complete control of. Strange sort of compliment. Maybe I did some good?

Even stranger was that I managed to keep that secret from my parents. I also kept her as my tutor, I took the bumps, I started to help her with her weak subjects. I also started to take karate classes. I desperately wanted to be able to defend myself if necessary. Rasa and I had classes at the same time at the community center. She took ballet. She loved the structure and discipline. Of course Rasa was very good, she always was when she committed to something.

Every now and then Rasa would say the strangest things.
“Rasa, how come you’re never happy? Why do you never smile?
“I used to be happy. When I was a small boy, I was happy.”

Boy? I knew better than to probe more when I saw the look on Rasa’s face.

That that was necessary was brought home to me one December day in school. Rasa caught a bully messing up a small kid. She got furious. The way she beat up the bully was spectacular. I had to intervene.

“Rasa, don’t kill him!”

I never really thought that she’d actually kill him until I saw how she reacted. She grew stiff and cold. In a cold dispassionate and very calm voice she said
“You know, you never forget the face of the first person you kill, no matter the circumstances. Then they all become a blur.”

That scared me witless. Not what she said but the way she said it. The bully must have been as scared since he had an involuntary bowel movement. After that day he never bothered another student again and made sure never to come within twenty feet of Rasa.

The mystery around Rasa and her seemingly violent past only got deeper a week later when an accident necessitated a change of clothes when she was at my home. She shed her cold wet shirt in the kitchen without thinking about the people around her. I was boy enough to focus exclusively on her small but delicious breasts. My uncle, who is a doctor and had worked for Médicins sans Frontières, focused on something else. My mother found Rasa some clothes of my father’s. Mine would have looked ridiculous on her. Later, when Rasa had left my uncle noted
“That girl is either a zombie or a ghost. Judging from her scars, apart from being carved up thoroughly, she has been shot more than once with high power, military grade weapons. No one should have survived that.”

I confronted Rasa with that on New Years Eve. She broke down in tears. She looked at me

“Please hug me.”

Since she invited me, I more than willingly hugged her. We must have looked silly. The Black Panther hugged and consoled by the school wimp.

“I’m a killer. I have killed countless people in the most atrocious ways. I have raped and pillaged and probably committed all sins imaginable. I was a child soldier. I was a very bad child soldier, or good if you could ask the local warlord.”

Looking at her I completely believed her. I also shuddered at what she must have done. Rasa was always very good when she committed to something.

“My recruitment was very straightforward. The warlord’s soldier came to our village and killed all the men and boys over 15. Boys 13-15 were “recruited”. My sign-up fee was my life. As initiation I had to kill a small girl. I knew that if I killed her that would be a clean death. No multiple rapes, no drawn-out lingering death. I have rationalized like that ever since. But most of all I wanted to live. I cut the throat of my little sister.”

At that point I had the choice to flee screaming or hug Rasa tighter. I didn’t do the sensible thing.

“They let me live. What they hadn’t told me that a gang rape was still on. I survived. They trained me to be a ruthless killer. I was repeatedly raped until I became too dangerous. I became very dangerous as fast as I could. The drugs took away my inhibitions. I became the most efficient killing machine in the “army”. That gained me a promotion to captain. That meant I led a company of drugged vicious killers. Oh, I was good. I hated myself but I kept going. What alternative did I have? The government troops were as bad as we. On second thought perhaps not as bad, but bad enough and if they had caught me, I would have died. Not cleanly but after long torture. I still wanted to live.

That kept on until an international force was deployed to put us down. They couldn’t get close to my warlord’s HQ because of the SAMs his “sponsors” had supplied. I secretly contacted them and arranged to stage an uprising to take out the SAMs coordinated with an attack by them. I succeeded.”

I never doubted that. Not Rasa. I felt nauseous but I kept hugging the sobbing and shaking girl.

“I made one mistake. I was still alive, just, afterwards. They spent a preposterous amount on saving my life. Not because they were kind but because they could use me. I knew all about the warlord’s operation. At 15 I was already one of the inner circle. I insisted to come out of the process as a girl. They had promised me a clean slate afterwards and I thought that it’d be easier as a girl. After the wounds I had suffered there was nothing “male” left anyway. They moved me here. I got a new name. A complete new set of records perfectly balanced and elaborated for an African girl of no particular consequence. A complete new life, if only on paper. How Mr Watson could connect me with the old me I have no idea but he’s an honorable man and kept silent once he realized I despised myself even more than he despised me. He was perfectly right that the verdict was a miscarriage of justice. I was sentenced to time served in view of what I had done to take down the warlord.

Who did I try to fool? Them or me? There is no clean slate. I¨m still the same person that did all those horrible things. I still have the memories.”

We sat silent there, in the middle of the living room all alone in the house for hours. She softly sobbing in my arms. My parents didn’t come home until much later. At last I managed to calm down Rasa. Not make her at peace but at least calmed down. There we made our New Year Resolutions.

“Rasa, I resolve that I will make anything I can to make you happy again, to find serenity, to find peace”
“Peter, I resolve that I will never again beat you up.”

A strange New Year resolution but one I was happy to hear. Looking up I saw that we were sitting directly under the mistletoe. I made Rasa aware of that and slowly and very carefully kissed her. A long soft passionate kiss. The moment later we pulled away from each other, embarrassed.

Rasa got better after that. We sort of became girlfriend and boyfriend. I should have run as far as way as fast as I could screaming but I felt this strange attraction to this at bottom wonderful and very vulnerable killing machine. Still, the kiss under the mistletoe was the only one for a very long time. We did what teenage kids in love usually do. We dated. We spent time together. We said sweet nothings to each other. Rasa unwound a bit and started to integrate with the other students. I never saw her smile but at least there were less anguish visible. Not surprisingly she became the top female athlete in school. Her records had no mention of her past as a boy so that was never a problem. She also blossomed as a girl. She threw herself into teenage fashion. For good reasons she favored non-revealing clothing. Still, as usual anything Rasa committed to she excelled at. You can be flirty without showing skin. She did. She teased me. Rasa was such a girl!

To be on the safe side I continued my karate classes despite Rasa’s new year resolution. I had found that I liked karate. And, surprise, it turned out that Rasa is not the only one that can excel at something when committing.

Things got better until June 29 approached. I never found out why June 29 was such a sinister date for Rasa. I never wanted to. I have no doubt that I could easily find the answer in the ICC records. I’m never going to. The bottom line was that Rasa’s bad spells came back and got worse as June 29 approached. Not as bad as to make her break her New Year resolution. Until she did.

The doctors tell me that my arm and leg will heal perfectly. They also tell me that I don’t really need a spleen. The only inconvenience is that having only one kidney will require me to live more carefully in the future.

As a direct consequence of the incident Rasa has left us. As she was departing she told me
“Thank you, Peter! Thank you for everything! Thank you for keeping your New Year resolution!”

That was the only time I saw her smile. The only time I saw her truly serene and at peace. I kissed her for a second, and last, time.

Rasa was right, you know. You never forget the face of the first person you kill, no matter the circumstances.

Pete was the school gay boy. Well, actually he wasn’t. Gay that is, in the sense of happy etc. He was probably the gloomiest student in our high school. He made no secret of his liking boys though. It was so blatant that it had become a trope. We didn’t talk about gay people, we talked about pete people. We soon learned to live with his ooogling. Pete was definitely not a menace to anyone. He was the most non-aggressive person I have ever met. Besides, he was such a puny kid that the threat factor was in negative numbers.

I’m ashamed to admit that Pete was ridiculed. I was among the offenders. I think that many others also had a problem with handling his constant gloominess rather than his sexual orientation.

Pete was also the victim of various pranks. I got involved in one of the less nasty ones. As a result of losing a bet I was to ask Pete for a date. Since Pete wasn’t stupid I’d expected him to say not. To my surprise he accepted. When I explained why I had asked him and why he had accepted he told me that he had expected something like that. Otherwise, I’d never had asked him. On the other hand he considered me to be “honorable”. If I asked him for a date I’d be honor-bound to make it a real one. Damn him! Now I really had to make it a proper date.

I did plan the best date I could. I dressed up. I told Pete to dress up. I even met the parents before taking Pete away. Everything by the book. The date was not inexpensive but, as it turned out, well worth the money. Pete was actually fun when he forgot to be gloomy. We talked a lot. To the surprise of both of us we found out things about ourselves that we were unaware of or tried to suppress. We both promised to think things over during the weekend and then meet again Sunday night. I followed Pete to his porch. There Pete took my head in both his hands and brought my head down to his and then proceeded to kiss me. A long lingering kiss. That was when it really brought home to me what I had begun to realize only earlier that evening. That kiss was life-changing.

On Monday very little work was done in school. Our teachers spent hours in meetings and when actually trying to do some teaching the students were too distracted to get any work done. All for a dress, a pair of pantyhose, some light make-up, continuous handholding and a glorious smile. Oh, that was it! The smile. Pete couldn’t stop smiling. Pete was supremely happy and gay. Gay in the original meaning of the word.

I kissed a girl, and I liked it.

I was turning blue standing there in the cold sea. I cursed myself for being such a coward. Standing on the beach were Mike and Steve, the two biggest jocks in my school, eagerly waiting for me to get out of the water. I was scared, really scared of what they were going to do. How could I be so stupid to come out this way? Not that anybody would be surprised. I had always come across as too feminine for a boy and everyone, including me, knew it was only a matter of time - but anyway - this was a really stupid way to do it.

I had known it already in the locker room. I had hesitated to go out on the beach. Finally I had swept a blanket around me. That had worked until I decided to take a swim. The short distance to the water had shown everyone, including the two jocks what I wore.

"...two, three, four / Tell the people what you wore"

It was an Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polkadot Bikini that I wore for the first time.

Now I was too afraid to come out of the water. While Mike and Steve were captains of their respective teams and great rivals there was no chance of trying to play one against the other since they were also great friends. How could I deal with this? I was so stupid to wear this provocative bikini and I hadn’t fully realized the effect the hormones had had on my body. I had only got a few steps before both of them ran up and asked me to go out with them. I fled into the water and now I’m turning blue, too scared to confront them. I hadn’t expected problems of THIS kind.

I wasn’t afraid for myself any longer, I realized that Mike and Steve never would lay a finger on the new girl me but I was still scared. What would they do when I told them I already had a date? They don’t take rejection well. I was scared they’d try to take it out on my date. Paul is the sweetest, cutest, most intelligent boy you could imagine but he’s NOT the big burly jock type, even if he IS the captain of a school team - the Mathematics team.

I should have thought things through better. I really didn’t want anyone to be hurt because of me. You see, what very few people knew was that Paul is a karate black belt.