In this chapter, our hero learns about clothes and expectations.

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

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I was following my mom down the aisle that divided the children's clothing department in half, when the shopping cart she was pushing shuddered to a stop. She muttered something under her breath, and the cart rattled as she tried to shake it loose.

After a few tense moments, one of the wheels squealed before unlocking. Mom took in a deep breath, relaxed her grip on the cart as she breathed out, then looked over her shoulder and smiled at me.

"Come on, sweetie," she said as she started moving again. "Stay close. Don't want you getting lost."

I looked up at my mom, who seemed taller than usual, and tried to think of a sarcastic response. Nothing especially clever came to mind. I groaned and rolled my eyes, then ran a hand across the rough fabric of the jeans lining the aisle as I shuffled behind her.

Mom managed to keep the wheel from locking again when she turned and guided the cart between rows of dress shirts and suit jackets. She stopped in front of a rack of t-shirts, then turned to me and said, "I know your school allows casual wear for first graders, but see if you can find something nice here."

"Can't ya just pick somethin' for me?" I asked as I folded my arms across my chest.

"Sweet heart, we already talked about this. You're getting to be a big boy now, and need to start making some choices on your own."

I bristled at the 'big boy' line, but I knew trying to get my mom to stop treating me like a little kid was a losing battle. "Whatever," I said while glaring at the t-shirts.

"Okay," Mom said as she patted my shoulder. "I'll be over by the sweaters, so bring whatever you find over there when you're done. Alright?"

I shrugged and made a non-committal noise. Mom's hand dropped from my shoulder. I could feel her disapproving look boring into my back.

I braced myself for a lecture, but all I heard was a sigh, which was almost worse. Guilt tinted the wave of relief I felt when the rattle of her shopping cart faded.

I dove into the job before me, and didn't realize someone else was looking through the same stuff as me until we bumped shoulders.

"Oops! Sorry," I said as I turned. The rest of my apology got caught at the back of my throat when the girl I'd bumped into smiled at me.

"Hey!" she said as her smile grew. "Ya got sent over here too?"

"Ummm ..." I said while waiting for my brain to kick back into gear.

She nodded, as if the sound that had come out of my mouth had made perfect sense. "Me too," she added as she went back to rooting through the clothes again. "I know boy shirts is cheaper, but ain't these colors awful?"

I took another look at the rack in front of me. There was a rainbow of mostly browns and greys, with a few other colors mixed in that were too bland to have a name.

"Yeah," I said before my throat closed up again.

"There's lots nicer stuff 'cross the aisle. Wanna see?"

My curiosity battled with my shyness for a moment. My curiosity won, and I said, "Sure!"

"C'mon," she said as she skipped out of the boys department.

I followed close behind her, paused at the edge of the white linoleum tiles, then crossed before my courage completely drained away. I grinned when I found myself surrounded by colors ranging from pastel to neon, rather than blech to ugh.

"Ain't these awesome!" said the girl as she disappeared behind a rack of frilly shirts. Before I could build up enough nerve to do more than look, she returned with an armful of clothes.

"Wish I could get all these," she said as she flipped through the hangers dangling from her arm. "Oh, I found somethin' perfect for ya!"

I looked down when she whipped out a shirt and held it against my chest. It was a warm, honey colored t-shirt with tiny white flowers on it. When I ran a hand down the front, it felt like the cotton shirts I normally wore, but lighter and softer.

"Wait," I said as I pulled my hand away. "I can't wear this."

The girl tilted her head to the side. "How come?"

"I dunno," I said, even though I did know the answer.

She hung the hanger the shirt was on from my wrist as she said, "Then give it a try,"

"But ... I can't change here!"

She patted my arm and said, "Ya ain't gotta take nothin' off. Just pull it over whatcha got on."

What she said made sense. It definitely made more sense than wearing things I didn't like, just because I was a boy. Panic fluttered in my chest as I pulled the shirt off its hanger. "It's just a shirt," I said under my breath as I wriggled my hands through the armholes.

"Tommy!" my mom shouted from somewhere nearby.

I tried pulling off the shirt, but it seemed to have a mind of its own, and started sliding down my arms.

"Thomas Kayleigh Tracy!" she shouted again. My stomach flip-flopped at the sound of my full name,

"I'm sorry, Mom," I said through the cloth covering my face.

I felt her firm grip on my arm. "What are you sorry for?"

"I just..." I said as a lump grew in my throat.

"Tommy," Mom said, sounding more confused than angry as she shook my arm.

"I'm just ... just ... sorry," I said while willing away the tears threatening to well up.

"Tommy," she said as she shook my arm again. "Come on, honey. Wake up!" ¹

=-=-=

A few cars whizzed by when I opened my eyes. I rolled my head to the side, and saw my mom trying to concentrate on the road while giving me worried glances.

She lifted her hand from my arm, then brushed the hair out of my eyes. "You have another bad dream?"

"Not really," I said, feeling only a little guilty for the lie. With great honesty comes great risk, and I didn't want her to ask my therapist to talk to me about the dream again.

"Then why were you saying sorry?"

"Oh," I said, trying to think fast with a brain that wanted to go back to sleep. "I meant, I was sorry for ... uhhh ... forgetting my uniform. I mean, not being able to find it."

Mom gave me a skeptical look. "Did you look through all the boxes the movers left in your room?"

"Umm ... I think so." To be fair, while I'd been too tired to do a thorough search, I had looked through all my boxes.

Mom gritted her teeth as she made a sharp turn, then relaxed a little as she said, "Tommy, I know you don't like the idea of wearing a uniform, but after what happened at your old school ..."

A spark of anger flared as I asked, "Ya talking 'bout the school that kicked me out, 'cause I stood up to somebody who was making fun of me?"

Mom didn't say anything as she pulled up to the curb, and spent more time than she usually needed to park. There was a long, awkward silence in the car after she turned off the engine.

"Honey," she said as she turned to me, "we've already gone over this before. Your new school is the only one I could find that was at a reasonable commuting distance from my work. Unfortunately, it has different requirements from your old school."

"Ya mean, like wearing uniforms, and marching down the halls, like a buncha zombie robots?"

Mom grinned and said, "I'm not sure if you can be both a zombie and a robot, but I'm pretty certain there won't be any marching in the halls. But, as for the rest ... well ..."

I nodded and said, "Yeah, I get it. Follow the rules. Wear the uniform. Watch my temper. Don't cause trouble. Stuff like that. Right?"

Mom leaned close, and I flinched when she kissed my cheek. "Moooommm," I said as I looked out the passenger window. Fortunately, the only person I saw was a kid standing near the front doors of a low, brick-faced building.

"Don't worry," Mom said as she scrubbed at the side of my face with her thumb. "I checked first to make sure no other students were close enough to see."

"I didn't mean ..." I said, while trying to think of something that wouldn't hurt her feelings. "I mean ... it's just ... well, ya know."

"Yes dear. I know. You're in middle school now. I'm not so old that I've forgotten what it was like coping with the kind of peer pressure I had to deal with at your age."

I saw the mix of hope and sadness in Mom's eyes. Feeling like a total jerk for causing the sad part, I reached out and touched her hand as I said, "I'm sorry for ... well ... everything."

Mom unhitched my seatbelt, then pulled me close. "Shhhh. It's okay. You did nothing wrong."

I didn't exactly cry while she held me, but I was sniffling a little when she let go. "Thanks Mom. I kinda really needed to hear that."

Mom smiled and pulled a tissue from her purse before handing it to me. After I blew my nose, she said, "You're welcome, sweetheart. Now head on out there, and have the best first day of school ever!"

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Footnotes:
¹ This footnote marks the end of the dream Tommy is having about when he was six, and went on a shopping trip before starting first grade. When he wakes up in the car, he's eleven, and is in his first year in middle school. I hope this clears up some confusion about how old Tommy is. If you have any other questions, feel free to send me a private message, or leave a comment below.

In this chapter, our hero runs into a hall monitor, and school policies.

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

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My heart was thumping as I climbed out of the car. I scanned the front of the school while closing the car door, and snapped my eyes shut when the one kid I saw looked directly at me.

"Oh, wait a minute!" Mom shouted from behind me.

After checking to make sure nothing had burst out of my rib cage, I turned and crouched down. "What's up?" I asked in the calmest voice I could manage.

My mom reached through the open window, and held out a card. "This is your student ID. It arrived in the mail Saturday when the movers were loading up the truck. Sorry I forgot to give it to you earlier."

I nodded and smiled as I pocketed the card. "No worries. Have a good day at work!"

"I will," Mom said as she started up the car. "You have a good day too!"

I waved as she pulled away, then turned back to the school. There was still someone standing outside the front door. At first glance, I thought I was looking at a guy. When I risked a longer look, the skirted uniform, and the curves underneath, told me I was wrong ... probably.

A cool breeze brushed my hair against the back of my neck. A few dry, reddish-brown leaves skittered across my path as I strode up the winding concrete walkway. I didn't find anything to pull when I reached the entrance, so I gave pushing a try, but the door didn't budge.

"Ya gotta tap to get in," said a voice that sounded both friendly and authoritative.

I turned to the voice, and saw the girl I'd been trying to avoid. My knees wobbled when she smiled at me. I tried asking what she meant, but no sound came out.

"Ya new here?" she asked as dimples joined her smile.

Her plaid skirt and long, black hair billowed in a gust of wind while I tried to speak. After half a dozen agonizing seconds, I decided my voice was stuck on pause, and answered with a nod.

"I figured. Didja bring your student ID?"

I made a garbled noise that was supposed to sound like, "Yeah," as I dug into a pocket. My numb fingers nearly dropped my card as I handed it over.

She gave my ID card a quick look. "Tracy Thomas?"

It sounded weird hearing my last name first, but I didn't have the nerve to correct her, so I nodded again.

Nice to meetcha," she said while bringing my card up to a plastic box attached to the door frame. "Just gotta hold your card against the scanner to get in." The scanner beeped when she touched it with my card, and the doors slid open.

"I'm Richelle," she said as she stepped inside. "Better get in here before the doors close."

I dashed between the doors as they whooshed together, and stumbled into her. I felt something soft against my cheek, then blushed when I realized what I'd bumped into.

"Sorry," I said as I backed up, then lost my footing when I smacked my skull into the door.

She caught me by the shoulders, held on until I got my feet under me again, then said, "You okay?"

"Urmm ... yeah," I said as I looked at my toes. "Sorry for being so clumsy, Richelle."

She reached under my chin, and tilted my head up, until I was looking into her gentle, golden-brown eyes. "It's all good," she said, "and you can call me Richie, if you'd like."

When I remembered how to breathe again, I said, "Umm ... I better get to class."

Her bronze cheeks reddened as her hand dropped. "Oh yeah, you're right. Ya know which homeroom you're in?"

"Uhhh ... no?"

"Ah," Richie said as she held out the sash draped over her shoulder, "that's what hall monitors are for. Follow me!" she called out as she headed down the hallway.

I had to jog to keep up with her long-legged stride, and was half out of breath by the time we stopped.

"Here we are!" she said as she opened a door.

It took me a second before I realized she was holding the door for me. "Oh! Um, thanks," I said as I stepped through.

"De nada," Richie said as she returned my card. "I'm still on duty, so I gotta head back to my post. Ms Etcherson over there should be able to help get ya set up." She gave me a lopsided grin when she let go of the door.

"Welcome to Saint Milton's Middle School," she said as the door closed. I caught the start of a wink before the latch clicked shut.

=-=-=

I was staring at the closed door, trying to figure out how to deal with being winked at by a girl who had some sorta guy vibe, when a no-nonsense voice said, "Good morning."

I turned and saw a woman sitting behind a tall desk that stretched from one side of the room to the other. The clatter of her typing stopped, and she looked over the top of her glasses as she asked, "May I help you?"

"Oh yeah," I said as I approached her. "You Miss Etcherson?"

"That's Ms Etcherson, not Miss."

"Sorry," I said as I shoved my hands into my pockets. "I meant, are ya Ms Etcherson?"

"That's correct. May I see your student ID?"

I pulled the hand that held my ID out of a pocket. "Here ya go," I said as I laid my card on the desk.

She picked the card up with the tips of her long, pink fingernails, examined it a moment, then asked, "Are you Tracy Thomas?"

I frowned and said, "Actually, it's Thomas Tracy."

Ms Etcherson waved my card over the scanner sitting on the desk, did a few mouse clicks, then handed my ID back to me. "Everything in our system indicates you're Tracy Thomas. We have no records of a Thomas Tracy, or a Tracy comma Thomas."

"Who'd have Comma as a middle name?"

A small crease formed between her pinched brows. "What I meant was, when a last name is listed first, there's usually a comma between the last and first name. Our records show no comma in your file."

I took a close look at my card. Sure enough, it showed my last name first, and no commas were to be found anywhere. "But ... but, there's gotta be some mistake."

"I'll send a confirmation request to your previous school," she said as she began typing. "Until we hear back from them, we won't be able to make any updates to your file."

"What? Really?"

"I'm sorry," she said as she looked up from her computer screen. Her voice softened when she said, "I know how rough it can be starting off in a new school, but our policies are there for a reason."

"Okay," I said as my shoulders slumped.

Ms Etcherson gave me a comforting smile, then said, "Let's concentrate on getting you settled in. Did you receive your uniform?"

"Well ... yeah, but I couldn't find it this morning."

"You lost your uniform on your first day?" she asked as her eyes widened.

"Not exactly. A UPX guy dropped off the package ya sent on Friday, when we was getting ready to move. I 'member tossing it in a box with with some other stuff, but I ain't been able find my uniform in any of the boxes we've unpacked so far."

"Ah, I see," she said as she gave me a knowing nod. "What size clothes do you wear?"

"I dunno. Maybe ... medium?"

"I can work with that. Do you know your shoe size?"

"Um, lemme check," I said as I bent down and began untying one of my sneakers.

"Never mind. I've got a pretty good eye for shoe sizes."

"Whatcha need my sizes for?" I asked as I retied my sneaker.

"School policy," she said in a muffled voice.

When I stood up again, nobody was behind the desk. "Hello," I said as I looked around. "Ya there, Ms Etcherson?"

A hand popped over the edge of the desk, and dropped a package of clothes in front of me. "I'm right here," she said. "Just give me a minute."

I rocked on my heels while listening to the rustling behind the desk. After a couple of minutes, Ms Etcherson stood up with a pair of black shoes in her hands, which she placed beside the clothes.

I stared at the shoes.

After a few seconds, I said, "I can't wear those."

"Do they look too big?" she asked.

"No, it's just-"

"Oh, so they're too little?"

"No, it ain't that. It's just they're ..."

"Too dressy?"

"Well, I guess they are, but what I meant was-"

"If you're trying to indicate you'd rather wear your current footwear," she said as a sliver of frustration slipped into her voice, "I need to let you know, this school has a strict dress code. Athletic shoes are only permitted during physical education classes. In all other classes, more formal footwear is required."

"But ... but I can't wear these."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "And why exactly is that?"

"'Cause they're girl shoes!"

"And?"

"And?!" I screeched, the stress of disbelief making my voice rise an octave. "And," I said as I held out my arms, "I ain't a girl!"

Ms Etcherson looked at her computer screen, then swiveled it around towards me as she said, "Not according to our records."

I scanned down a couple of lines, then gasped when I saw what it said in the gender field. "What the-!" I choked down the swear word. "There's gotta be some mistake. Can't ya tell I'm a guy just by looking at me?"

"Unfortunately, due to recent additions to school policy, no staff members are allowed to make any assumptions about a students gender based on appearance, behavior, or any other related criteria."

My jaw hung open as I tried to make sense of what I'd heard. "That's ... that's crazy! What do I gotta do to prove I'm a boy?"

"School policy requires a Gender Affirmation form, signed by a parent or legal guardian, before a student's gender can be updated in our records." She turned her screen back around. "I don't see any indication such a form has been submitted."

When my fingers curled up, I was reminded of something my therapist had said. After imagining all my frustration gathering into my fists, I opened my hands, and visualized the negative emotions drifting to the ground.

Once I was more under control, I said. "I understand ya need to follow policy. Is there anyone else I could speak to, who might be able to change my file, so it shows I'm a boy?"

"In some special cases, policy amendments can be made by the school principal."

"Great! Can I talk to him?"

"Mrs McCrudger is not a him," she said in a cold voice as she tapped a few keys on her keyboard. "At the moment, she's in the middle of a conference call, and can't be disturbed."

The clear plastic bag crinkled when I grabbed the clothes. "Okay," I said as I picked up the shoes with my other hand, "I'll try coming back after my first class. Could ya tell me where that is?"

"Before you go to class, you'll need to change into your uniform."

"Okay. Fine. I'll wear the stupid shoes."

"And the rest of the uniform."

I thought about what I'd said to my mom about wearing uniforms and following rules, sighed, then said, "Yeah, I'll wear the whole thing. Is there someplace I can change?"

Ms Etcherson pointed to a door at the far end of the room. "You can use the visitor restroom. It's single use, so you can lock the door for privacy while changing."

I gave her a nod, trudged towards the restroom, and tried to shake off the feeling that life as I'd known it would never be the same again.

In this chapter, our hero does some reflecting, and meets a principal character.

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

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After locking the bathroom door, I walked over to the sink. The black leather shoes clunked, the clothes package whuffed, and my ID card clattered when I dropped them on the counter. I took a hard look at myself in the mirror. The person looking back wasn't muscular, or hairy, or any of the other stuff that gets dumped on you when you hit puberty.

"Could I really get away with this?" I asked my reflection.

The dream I'd had in the car came back to me. I thought again about the time I'd been taken clothes shopping when I was six. The girl I'd met there didn't treat me like a boy. She'd even encouraged me to try on something from the girl's department. Of course, she had looked to be around the same age I'd been. I wasn't sure how the tween-aged kids in my new school were going to react.

"Well," I said as I peeled open the package, "there's a sure fire way of finding out."

A pink plastic bag slipped out, slid across the counter, and bumped against the mirror. Next came a white shirt, a red and blue plaid skirt, and a matching strip of cloth. No pants were to be found anywhere. I flipped over the bag. It had 'Undergarments' written in black, curly letters across the top.

"I guess this counts as part of the uniform," I said before tearing open the bag. I pulled out a long pair of socks, something that looked like a tank top, and some panties. All of them were white, and none of them were especially frilly, but they also didn't look like anything a boy would wear.

Except, maybe, for me.

I thought about some of the times I'd been harassed by other kids for wearing stuff that was 'too girly'. Girls seemed to get to wear whatever they wanted. But if my coat was the wrong style, or my shirt had flowers on it, or my pants were the wrong color, everybody freaked out!

I ran my fingers through my hair as I thought of the most recent incident. It was barely long enough to touch my shoulders, but some idiot had decided to harass me about my hair anyway. I'd already been in a bad mood, and lost my temper, which led to getting into another fight, which led to getting ... expelled.

I swallowed the pain climbing up my throat, and looked at the clothes spread out in front of me. "Dammit," I said in a hoarse whisper. "If this is what I gotta do to keep outta trouble, then let's do it."

=-=-=

I was shivering once I'd stripped everything off, both from nervousness, as well as the cold tiles on my bare feet. I picked up the panties, stepped through the leg holes, and pulled them up over my hips. The material they were made of was thin, and they didn't have a flap in the front. Besides that, they weren't all that different from the underpants I'd been wearing a minute ago.

Except for a tiny white bow in the front, the top was as plain as the panties. It had a stretchy band, which pressed against my ribs, but not in an uncomfortable way. The socks were both silky and cottony. My legs tingled as I slid them up to my knees.

I glanced at the mirror. A sharp pang of guilt ran through me when I saw a girl in her underwear, followed by a mild dose of confusion. "Oh jeez," I said as I looked away. "Dr Zigler's gonna have a field day with this one."

The long-sleeved shirt had rounded collars, but didn't feel much different from any other shirt I'd worn when I put it on. Something about the buttons on the shirt felt backwards, and it took a couple of fumbling attempts before I figured them out. I had picked up the skirt, and was trying to decide which side was the front, when someone knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" I asked as I scrambled to pull on the skirt.

"It's Mrs McCrudger, the school principal," said a deep, yet feminine voice. "Ms Etcherson sent me a message about an issue you may be having with your uniform. May I come in?"

"Hold on a sec," I said as I yanked at the waistband. Once the skirt felt more or less in place, I unlocked and opened the door. "Come on in."

An older woman holding a red backpack smiled at me from the doorway. She gave me a fast up and down look, then said, "Your skirt is a little askew." She stepped in and closed the door. "Would you mind if I helped?" she asked as she leaned the backpack against a wall.

I looked down at my skirt, and realized I had no idea what might be wrong. Not knowing what askew meant probably wasn't doing me any favors. "Actually," I said as I looked back up, "I'd appreciate any help I can get."

My breath caught in my throat when she hooked her thumbs into my waistband. I flashed to a moment when somebody had pulled down my jeans, saying he wanted to see my panties. Fortunately, I'd never been brave enough to wear girl's underthings. At least, not before today.

I froze in place when Ms McCrudger shifted the skirt around my waist. The snap of elastic against my stomach when she let go reminded me to breathe again.

"Are you okay?" she asked while giving me an unreadable look.

"I guess so," I said as I shrugged. "It's just been a long time since anybody helped me get dressed."

"Oh," she said as she took a step back. "I do apologize. I'll let you tuck in your blouse on your own."

It took a quick think before my brain translated blouse into shirt, which I began tucking into my waistband.

While I was busy with that, Ms McCrudger picked the shoes up from the counter. "Here you go," she said as she placed them with a couple of sharp clicks on the tile floor.

"Thanks," I said as I shoved my feet into the shoes. It took some effort pushing against the straps across the top of my feet, but the shoes weren't too bad once I had them on.

The principal frowned, but a smile was lifting a corner of her mouth. "Next time, you may want to undo the buckles before you put on your shoes."

"Oh, ermmm ... sorry 'bout that."

"It's okay," she said as the other corner of her mouth lifted. "Mistakes can become useful experiences, if we learn from them."

I picked up the strip of cloth that was sitting on the counter, held it out to the principal, then said, "Speaking of learning, could ya tell me what this is?"

"Ah," she said, "that's your crossover tie. Just slip it under your collar, cross one end over the other, and press the snaps together."

"Got it," I said, and managed getting it under my collar with no problem. The next part was trickier, and I went cross-eyed trying to see where the snaps were. "Ermmm ... could ya gimme a hand with this?"

Mrs McCrudger smiled and said, "Of course," as she reached for the tie. She did something under my chin, and I felt more than heard something snap closed at the base of my throat.

"That's kinda tight," I said in a stifled voice.

"Sorry about that," she said as she reached under my collar.

After a moment, the tie loosened, and I sighed with relief. "Thank you!"

Mrs McCrudger smiled while adjusting my collar. "Does anything else about your uniform feel uncomfortable?"

I was tempted to say, 'Everything'. Instead, I said, "Well, it does feel different from what I'm used to wearing."

The principal nodded as she said, "It can take some time to get used to wearing a uniform." She picked up the backpack, and held it out to me. "This should be big enough to hold your clothes from home."

"Thanks," I said as I accepted it, then kneeled by the pile of clothes I'd dropped on the floor. When I unzipped the backpack, it fell open, and something heavy in the front pocket smacked against my thigh. I unzipped the pocket, and found a tablet inside. "Somebody forget this?" I asked as I held it up to the principal.

"Actually," Mrs McCrudger said as she bent down, "all students at this school receive one of those." She pressed a button on the side of the tablet, and the face lit up, displaying several rows of icons. "This is the emergency call application," she said as she pointed to a phone icon. "It allows you to reach school security, the police, the fire department, and other emergency services."

I touched the icon, and a window with a bunch of phone numbers opened. "Huh," I said as I scrolled through the numbers. "I guess this could come in handy, but couldn't I just call 911 on my phone if there's an emergency?"

The principal stood up, crossed her arms, and said. "Because of the distraction phone use has caused in the past, all calls to or from devices not linked into the school network are blocked."

"Wait a minute. I can't use my phone? Not even to call my mom?"

She shook her head and said, "We had tried allowing limited phone access outside of classes, but some students found ways of circumventing the call blocking while in class. That's why the current system had been put in place."

Before I could complain about the unfairness of punishing everyone for something probably only a few people knew how to do, the tablet chimed. A small yellow window popped up, which said, [Homeroom period has ended. First period begins in 10 minutes.]

"Uh oh," I said as I began stuffing clothes into the backpack. "Looks like I missed homeroom."

Mrs McCrudger smiled and unfolded her arms. "It's okay. I'll make sure your homeroom teacher knows you'd been at the office, so you're not marked as absent."

Once the floor was clear of clothes, I zipped the backpack closed, grabbed my student ID, and slid it into one of the backpack's side pockets. "I appreciate that," I said as I stood up. "Could ya point me to my next class, so I ain't late for it?"

The principal nodded and tapped the yellow window on my tablet. When another window opened, she pointed to a red dot in the middle of the map being displayed. "This is where you are." She traced her finger along a set of blue arrows as she said, "This is the way you go to get to your next class. The dot will move through the map as you get closer."

"Oh cool," I said while shouldering the backpack. "Thanks!"

"You're very welcome," Mrs McCrudger said as she opened the door. "Take care, and enjoy your first day at Saint Milton's!"

In this chapter, our hero goes to his first class in a girl's uniform, rewords a proverb, and meets a boy with flair.

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

=-=-=

When I walked out of the office, a bell rang, and the doors on either side of me opened. An avalanche of noise filled the hallway as students poured out of the classrooms. I was seriously considering going back the way I came, and finding someplace to hide, when someone called my name.

Well ... my last name.

"Hey, Tracy!" yelled a familiar voice.

I had looked up and down the hall a couple of times before I saw Richie running towards me. "Whoa," she said as she skidded to a stop in front of me. "Lookin' proud and true in the red and blue!"

A handful of students passing by us raised their fists in the air as they shouted, "Proud And True!" A couple of the boys and one of the girls who had shouted gave me a thumbs-up before moving on.

I shook my head in confusion. "What was that all about?"

"Just some school spirit." Richie said as she took a step closer. "So, where ya headed for first period?"

I held up my tablet, and pointed to the arrows on the map. "Wherever this leads me."

Richie touched the area of the map where the arrows led. "Oooo," she said when a window popped open. "Ya got Ms Cho."

I gulped, then said, "Is she nice?"

"¡Si! I had her for English Lit last year."

I scoured my brain for a reference to the class name. "Wait a minute. Ain't that like, a high school class?"

"Sorta, but Ms Cho only teaches intro stuff." She scrunched up her nose as she said, "I was kinda worried when I first started, but it wasn't too bad."

"Ah," I said as some of the bunched up muscles in my shoulders loosened, "I'm so glad to hear that."

"If you'd like, I could walk ya to her class, and do intro's."

"I'd appreciate the help, but I don't wanna make ya late for your own class."

A spark ran up and down my side when Richie slipped her arm between my waist and elbow. "Don't worry," she said. "Hall monitors get extra time when they're helping other students."

She smiled at me when she tugged at my arm, and I did my best to not trip over my own feet while running to keep up with her.

=-=-=

"Hey, Ms Cho," Richie said as she led me into a noisy classroom.

A youngish woman sitting behind the desk at the front of the class looked up from her keyboard. A smile spread across her face as she said, "Miss Hernandez! It's so nice to see you again."

Richie let go of my arm and returned the smile. "It's good to see ya too!" She placed her hand in the small of my back, nudged me forward, and said, "Ms Cho, I'd like ya to meet Tracy, who's starting in your class today."

The teacher was still smiling when she turned to me, but her forehead wrinkled when she said, "It's always a pleasure to have another young ... person ... joining my class."

Something cold dropped into my stomach when I heard her pause.

While I was trying to think of a way to explain why I was wearing a girl's uniform, Ms Cho nodded at the scanner on the corner of her desk, and said, "Would you mind tapping in?"

I reached for my card, slapped my hips a couple of times, then remembered the skirt I was wearing didn't have pockets. I took a deep breath to steady my nerves, swung my backpack off my shoulders, and dug through it. Once I found my student ID, I walked a few shaky steps towards the desk, and pressed my card against the top of the scanner.

The teacher looked at her screen when the scanner beeped. Her smile brightened when she looked at me, melting the shards of ice in my stomach. "Welcome to Introductory English Literature, Miss Thomas. Please feel free to sit at any unoccupied desk."

Richie stepped up next to me and patted my shoulder. "I gotta head off. Good luck, and have fun!"

I smiled and waved to her as she ran out the door, then walked to the nearest desk. I slid into the chair a couple of moments before my legs gave out on me. A few students looked my way as they entered the class, but nobody pointed and laughed. By the time the bell for first period rang, I was only a little nervous about what might happen next.

Ms Cho looked up as a couple of late arrivals rushed in. "Okay, ladies and gentlemen. Once everyone's tapped in, please find your seats, and take out your tablets."

The chatter around me dropped to a low murmur, and the room was filled with the clatter of devices being placed on desktops. I pulled out my tablet and placed it on my desktop as well. After switching it on, my tablet lit up, and a window appeared, with a header that said, [English Literature Class Notes].

I looked up, and saw our teacher typing as she said, "For those just joining us today, we've been studying Poor Richard's Almanac, by Benjamin Franklin." She did a final key press as she said, "If you will take a look at your notes window, you'll see Mr Franklin's version of a proverb we'll be discussing today."

I looked down when my tablet chimed, and saw some text, which said,
[For want of a nail, the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe, the horse was lost.
For want of a horse, the rider was lost.
For want of a rider, the battle was lost.
For want of a battle, the kingdom was lost,
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.]

A few seconds after I finished reading, Ms Cho said, "Would anyone like to comment on what this proverb might teach us?"

A blonde-haired boy sitting across the aisle from me raised a slender hand.

The teacher smiled at him as she said, "Your enthusiasm is always appreciated, Mr Brunford, but let's hear from one of our newer students first." Before I could look down, and pretend I was still reading, Ms Cho turned her attention to me. "Would you like to share your thoughts, Miss Thomas?"

"Uhhhh," I said while trying to not look at all the eyes on me. "I ... ummm ... don't know?"

"Considering this is your first day in class, that's a perfectly valid response." The corners of her eyes crinkled as she said, "Being aware we don't know something can be the first step towards learning something new."

The boy next to me raised his hand again, and Ms Cho nodded at him. "Okay, Mr Brunford. Please share your thoughts."

He stood, brushed out a couple of creases in the legs of his dark blue pants, then said in a light, almost musical voice, "It seems like it's saying little things can be important, and if you don't take care of them, big problems can happen." He frowned when someone snickered, then sighed as he slumped back into his seat.

Ms Cho glared at the back of the room until the snickering died down, then smiled at the boy who answered. "Very good, Mr Brunford."

She turned her attention to the rest of the class, and asked, "Would anyone else like to add anything?" When nobody answered, she did a couple of mouse clicks, then said, "You should see a new entry in your class notes. Please be sure to fill in both blanks before submitting your response."

I looked at my tablet, and found a sentence under the proverb, which said, [For want of a _____, a _____ was lost.]

While I was trying to think of an answer, Ms Cho said, "Extra credit will be awarded if you submit something you can relate to on a personal basis. So long as it's not something rude," she added while giving the back of the room a meaningful look, "feel free to enter whatever you like."

I spent a few minutes trying to think of something personal. My pulse started racing when inspiration struck. I tapped the blank spaces, typed in 'comma' and 'gender', then hit the submit button before I lost my nerve. Less than a minute later, a chat window opened.

[Ms Cho: That's a very interesting submission.]
[Me: ty]
[Ms Cho: Is it based on personal experience?]
[Me: sorta]
[Ms Cho: Sorta?]
[Me: I mean yes]
[Ms Cho: You're a very brave young lady. I'm glad to have you in my class.]

I was distracted for the rest of the period as questions raced through my head. Did the teacher really think of me as a 'young lady'? Why'd she say I was brave? Was she really glad to have me in her class? Would my other teachers be as nice as Ms Cho?

I was so deep in thought, I didn't realize the class was over, until someone poked me in the shoulder. The cloud of confusion drifted away when I looked in the direction of the poker.

The boy who'd been sitting next to me smiled and adjusted the knot in his tie. "Hi," he said. "I'm Vic." He held out a hand with an elegant flair as he stood. "Vic Brunford."

"Hi," I said while giving his hand a quick shake. "I'm T-" For a nanosecond, I considered giving my real first name, reconsidered, and said, "Tracy." I thought about the way my name looked on my student ID card, and added, "Tracy Thomas."

Vic did something between a bow and a curtsey as he let go of my hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Tracy." He picked up his tablet after unfolding from the curtsey-bow. "I noticed we're in the same second period. Would you mind if I walked with you to our next class?"

"Uhhh ... sure," I said as I stood.

"Brill!" he said as his smile turned into a grin. "We're gonna knock 'em dead in Social Studies."

"Oh joy," I said, the acid in my voice matching my opinion of our next class.

"Hey, don't get all gloomy on me," he said as he slipped his tablet into a huge tote bag. He smirked and pulled the handles of the bag over his shoulder as he said, "Don't worry, your girlfriend'll be there too."

My stomach tightened, and my fingers tingled. "My ... my what?"

In this chapter, our hero gets to know a pretty boy, is harassed by a major creep, and holds hands with someone who makes his heart flutter.

CAUTION: This chapter includes actual descriptions of bullying, including verbal assault and sexual harassment, rather than indirect references to bullying, as in previous chapters. If you feel that might cause any difficulty for you, please think very carefully before reading this chapter. While I love having my stories read, knowing people are taking care of their mental and emotional well being is a lot more important to me.

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

=-=-=

"Sorry for jumping to conclusions," Vic said as we headed out of the classroom. Once we'd merged with the heavy foot traffic in the hallway, he said, "I just saw how chummy you two looked, and ... well ... I guess I really stepped in it."

I ducked out of the way of a girl running past us, then smiled at Vic as I shook my head. "No need to apologize. I just ... kinda never thought of anybody being interested in me like that."

"So, you never had a girlfriend?" His brows wiggled. "Or a boyfriend?"

My cheeks warmed as I said, "Of course not. To both!"

"Sorry again," he said as he gave me a light shoulder bump. "It's a wonder I can talk, let alone walk, with both feet in my mouth."

Something about the image of him trying to walk with both feet in his mouth made me chuckle. Or maybe it was a giggle. It was hard to tell with the loud chatter of the other students.

Vic looked like he was going to ask me something, then gasped when he was slapped in the back.

"Yo, Brunfag," said a tall, chunky boy as he slapped Vic in the back again.

Vic hunched his shoulders. "Get outta my face, Griff."

"Dial down the hostility," Griff said as he held up his hands. "Just messin' with ya." He looked at me with a smile any shark would envy. "I know you're new here, so I better warn ya 'bout this one."

"Nobody wants to hear it," Vic said as he quickened his pace.

"What's his damage?" I asked as I ran to keep up.

Vic sighed, then said, "He's just some bloody plonker, who thinks a bit of eyeliner means you've got a thing for guys."

I studied his face as well as I could while running down the busy hallway. "You got makeup on?"

"Not since the first day of school," he said as he shook his head. "The powers that be decided girls are only allowed subtle makeup, and boys are allowed none."

"They made a rule, specifically saying boys can't wear makeup?"

Vic slowed as we reached a door near the end of the hall. "Eh, they can keep it," he said with a smirk. "I'm already pretty enough as I am."

=-=-=

I saw Richie talking to a girl with puffy pigtails when we entered the classroom.

Vic walked towards them as he said, "Richie ... and Chrissy!"

Chrissy turned to Vic, and said, "Oh m'gosh. What happened to your hair?"

Vic let out a deep sigh, then said, "School messaged my parents, dad took me to a barber, and snip snap, my hair got chopped."

"Wait a minute," I said as I stepped up to the group. "This school can make ya cut your hair?"

Richie's mouth quirked to the side as she nodded. "If it don't meet school guidelines, then yeah."

I held a hand up to the side of my head. "But ... what if I don't wanna?"

"Don't worry," Richie said as she draped an arm across my shoulders. "They only make guys keep their hair short."

The warmth of her arm on my shoulders drove away the panic I'd been feeling, which made more room for my growing anger. "That's ... that's just ... so unfair!"

"You're telling me," Vic said.

Chrissy reached up, and parted the hair covering Vic's forehead down the middle. "Y'know, with a couple of barrettes, it could still look cute."

Vic shook his head, shaking loose the part in his hair. "Nah, they'd probably just ban that too."

Richie snorted. "This is ridiculous. First the makeup thing, and now this?"

"Definitely should be first order of business at our next meeting." Chrissy said as she put her hands on her hips.

"What meeting?" I asked.

The ringing of the second period bell drowned out Chrissy's answer, but it had looked like she'd said something about telling me later.

Richie let go of my shoulder as she said, "Guess we better tap in."

Richie, Chrissy, and Vic lined up behind a couple of other students already standing by the teacher's desk. I slipped off my backpack and pulled out my card as I hurried to get behind them.

"Hey," Griff whispered from behind me. Even though he'd only said one word, there was something in the tone of his voice that made my hair want to crawl off the back of my head.

"Hey," he whispered again after the line moved. I ignored the desire to bloody Griff's snout, and tried to remember another one of the visualization techniques my therapist had taught me.

"Where's your bra?"

I imagined myself being someplace far, far away as the line moved again.

"Ain't girls supposed to wear bras?"

I was at the edge of a quiet lake. A gentle wind rustled through the trees around me. I was not in some weird school with crazy rules. There definitely wasn't a creep standing behind me.

Griff's warm breath tickled the back of my ear. "It should be right here."

A finger pressed between my shoulder blades.

"What the hell ya think you're doing?!" I shouted as I spun around.

A tall, nearly bald man appeared beside us. "What's going on here?"

"Nothin', Mr Mason," Griff said as he leaned away from me.

"That wasn't nothin'," I said through gritted teeth.

Mr Mason turned to me, and asked, "Did he touch you in any way that made you uncomfortable?"

My stomach churned as I nodded.

Griff frowned and said, "All I did was tap her shoulder."

"Is that correct?" Mr Mason asked.

"I guess ... sorta ... yeah. But the way he did it was ... just ..." I gave up trying to finish the sentence.

"I see. And did he say anything inappropriate?"

"He asked me about ... " Something wet and hot slid down my cheek. "He said stuff 'bout me wearin' a ... a br-"

"I did not!" Griff shouted.

Mr Mason turned to him, and said, "That's something I think we can discuss with Mrs McCrudger."

Griff's brows shot up. "What? Can't you tell she, or he, or it's lying?"

Mr Mason's voice boomed through the classroom. "Mr Griffins! Office. NOW!"

Griff growled, glared at me, then stomped out of the room.

The stone cold expression Mr Mason had while he watched Griff leave melted when he looked at me. His voice was warm and mellow, like a cup of hot cocoa, when he said, "Would you like to speak to the school therapist?"

I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand as I thought. I still wanted to pummel Griff until there was nothing left of him to hit. Under that were a lot of other feelings; none of which I could name. "I dunno," I said as I shrugged.

Even though he didn't smile, there was a twinkle in his eye as he said, "I'll take that as a yes."

A hand slipped into mine. I turned and saw Richie smiling at me. She gave my hand a squeeze, then looked at Mr Mason as she asked, "Would it be okay if I took Tracy to see Dr Korvin?"

"That sounds like a good idea," he said as he nodded at Richie, then looked at me and asked, "Would you be okay with that?"

I did my best to smile as I nodded.

"Very good. I'll contact Dr Korvin, so she knows to expect you."

=-=-=

The clap of our shoes against the wooden floorboards echoed down the empty hallway. I barely noticed the sound of classes being taught as we passed by closed doors. Richie brushed the back of my hand with her thumb as she said, "Don't worry, Dr Korvin's really nice."

I gave her hand a squeeze. "I'll be okay. This ain't gonna be my first therapist."

"Really?" Richie was quiet as we passed another door. "Would I be getting too nosy if I asked what kinda things you're seeing a therapist for?"

I grinned and said, "Maybe a little, but I don't mind telling ya."

Richie bit her bottom lip, then said, "Sorry 'bout that."

"It ain't really a big secret. Just got some anger management issues he's helping me with."

"Ahhh," she said, while giving me a curious look.

"You almost seem disappointed."

"No, not really. I was just expecting something ... different."

"You mean like split personalities, or stuff like that?"

Richie smiled and shook her head. "Nah, nothing like that. I just ... never mind."

"Okay, ya really got me curious. Whatcha think I was seeing a therapist for?"

"Maybe like ... gender stuff?"

"Huh?"

Richie stopped and gave me a look that was happy, sad, and hopeful; all at the same time. "I just thought maybe you were ... well," she let go of my hand as she said, "however you identify really ain't any of my business."

A lost, empty feeling opened up inside of me when she let go. "You mad at me?"

"Of course not," she said as one side of her mouth dimpled. "Why'd ya ask?"

"Well, when ya stopped, and then let go, I thought ... maybe ... I dunno."

"Ahhh, I see. Well, I stopped 'cause we're here," she said as she gestured towards a door. "And I let go," she added as she pulled the door open, "so I could do this."

"Oh," I said as some of the emptiness faded. Part of me wanted to reach out to her, but another part was terrified of the idea, so I wrung my hands instead. "Sorry for making assumptions 'bout how ya feel."

Richie grinned and said, "Está bien."

My heart beat faster as I said, "This is like, close as I ever got to being friends with someone in ... ever. Guess I was worried about messing that up by getting ya mad."

"I can't promise to never get mad," she said as she touched my cheek. Her lashes fluttered when she lowered her hand. "But as far as the friends part goes ..." Richie let go of the door, swallowed a couple of times, then said, "that's something I'd really like."

And then ... she hugged me.

I stood there a moment, not sure how to react, then leaned into the hug. "I'd like that too."

In this chapter, our hero gets a new understanding of what delicate can mean, learns about a confrontation in the principal's office, and follows a friend in pain into the unknown.

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

=-=-=

I entered a cozy office, and saw a woman with long, coppery hair sitting at the far end of an overstuffed sofa. She looked up when the door closed, and gave me a warm smile. "Hello", she said as she stood. "Are you Tracy Thomas?"

"I guess so," I said while trying to shove my hands into pockets I no longer had.

"Hmmm," she said as she picked up a tablet from the table in front of the sofa. "So ... you're not sure?"

"No, it ain't that," I said while playing with the hem of my skirt. "It's just ... something weird happened when they transferred my records to this school, and my name got entered backwards."

"Ah," she said as she glanced at the device in her hand. "So, you prefer ... Thomas Tracy?"

"Tommy, actually."

She did some one-handed typing, then sat and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Tommy. I'm Dr Anne Korvin." She patted the thick seat cushion on the other side of the sofa. "Would you like to join me?"

"Sure," I said as I pulled off my backpack, then sat with my back against the padded armrest.

Dr Korvin looked at her tablet again, then said, "According to the message your teacher sent, it looks like there'd been some sort of a confrontation with another student."

"You could say that," I said as I dug my fingers into the velvet folds of the cushion under me.

She nodded, then asked, "Could you describe what happened?"

"Well ... some jerk was getting on my case. I tried to ignore him, but he wouldn't let up, so I told him to back off."

"And how was he getting on your case?"

He was just saying ... just ... stuff," I said as I wrapped my arms over my queasy stomach.

"I realize this may be difficult," she said as she leaned closer, "but would you mind telling me what he said?"

"He was asking about ... bras." A sour taste rose in the back of my throat. "And ... like ... asking if I was ... wearing one."

Dr Korvin's brows lowered. "That was quite an inappropriate thing for him to say." Her face and voice softened as she asked, "How did that make you feel?"

"It made me wanna punch him!"

"And did you?"

"Well ... no."

"So, what did you do?"

"I yelled at him."

The therapist nodded. "That's a very normal reaction. Do you know why you yelled, instead of hitting him?"

"I guess 'cause my therapist - I mean another therapist, not you - has been helping me with anger stuff, and ... maybe some of what he's been sayin' kinda finally stuck with me."

"Is he a therapist from your previous school?"

I shook my head and said, "Dr Zigler's somebody my mom took me to."

Doctor Korvin spent a few second seconds entering something on her device, then asked, "Have you felt more in control of your anger since you started seeing him?"

"Well, there's a major piece of ... something, that ain't got a bloody nose, still walking around. So, I guess ... yeah, he's kinda helped."

"I'm glad to hear that. While it can be unhealthy to suppress emotions, even negative ones, it is important to control how we react." She gave me a serious look as she said, "It's especially important to learn control if we feel inclined to react in ways that might cause harm to others, or ourselves."

I thought back to the last time I'd let loose on someone, and the trouble it had caused, for both me and my mom. "I'm kinda learning that."

The therapist nodded, then became quiet as her grey eyes searched for ... something. Eventually, she asked, "Has he helped you with any other issues?"

"Urmmm ... like what?"

The therapist tapped her chin, then said, "I'd like to ask you a question, but I want you to be aware that you don't need to answer it, if you'd rather not. Okay?"

I tried to imagine what sort of question she was going to ask, gave up, and nodded.

"Is there a gender with which you most identify?"

"Ya mean like, boy or girl?"

"Yes, or any of the many other genders."

"There's more'n two?"

Dr Korvin smiled. "Oh yes, there's quite a few."

"Like what?"

"Let me see," she said as she set her tablet down on her lap."Besides boy and girl," she added as she counted off on her fingers, "there's transboy, transgirl, nonbinary, genderfluid, rugged, delicate-" ¹

"Wait a minute. Delicate's a gender?"

"Actually, it's more often used as an adjective describing a gender, when someone wants something a little more neutral than feminine, but it's also used by some as a gender."

I thought about that for a while. Once I remembered what an adjective was, more thoughts swirled around. "Ya mean, somebody could be like ... a delicate, or a delicate ... boy?

"Exactly!"

I thought some more. "How ya know which one y'are?"

"That question can be very easy, or very difficult, to answer." The therapist rested her elbows on her knees, and held her chin in her hands. "Does delicate, or delicate boy, feel as if it describes your gender in a meaningful way?"

"I ... I ain't sure. Is that weird?"

"Not at all. Gender identity isn't always an easy concept to grasp, and finding a way of describing how you feel can be challenging."

"Would it be okay if like, for now, I went with ... boy?"

"Absolutely," she said with a firm nod.

"Even if I'm dressed like a girl?"

"Does what you're wearing make you feel like a girl?"

I chewed on a thumbnail for a while, then said, "I dunno."

"Does it make you feel like a boy, or any other gender?"

"Well ... it don't make me feel like a boy. I ain't sure 'bout other genders."

"Does it make you feel anything else?"

I shrugged and said, "I guess I feel different, but not in a bad way."

Dr Korvin's tablet chirped. Her eyes scanned down the screen, then she looked at me and said, "The principal is asking me to consult on an issue that's come up, but I'd like to continue our discussion. Would you mind if I scheduled an appointment for us to meet again tomorrow?"

"Uhhmmm ... sure," I said. While I wasn't much of a fan of therapy, I'd enjoyed talking to her, and had a growing list of questions I wanted to ask.

"Wonderful!" she said while doing some fancy fingerwork on her tablet. "Okay, I've set up our appointment." Two muffled chimes came from my backpack when she made a couple of swiping motions. "I've also sent you a list of some of the genders, and a list some of the pronouns you may hear being used here at this school."

"Thanks," I said as I picked up my backpack.

"You're welcome," she said as she stood. "I'm so glad I got to meet you, Mr ... or would you prefer Miss?"

"Would just Tommy be okay?"

The therapist smiled and held out a hand. "I'm looking forward to our next appointment, Tommy."

I returned the smile as I shook her hand, and said, "Me too."

=-=-=

I'd decided reading the gender list was the first thing I wanted to do, and was going through it while walking back to Mr Mason's class, when the squeak of a door opening caught my attention. I smiled and waved when Vic walked through the doorway, followed a moment later by Chrissy.

Vic smiled back and said, "Hey, good to see ya!"

I noticed his eyes were red and puffy when I stopped in front of him. "You okay?" I asked.

"Meh, I've been better."

"What happened?"

"Just kinda talked to the principal about some stuff."

Chrissy walked up from behind Vic and said, "Stuff de probably shoulda brought up a long time ago."

I wondered about the odd sounding pronoun ², and decided reading Dr Korvin's other list would be the next thing I needed to do as I asked, "Ya got sent to the principal?"

Vic shrugged. "Not exactly. After ya left with Richie, Mr Mason asked if anybody'd heard what Griff had said. I hadn't heard everything, but when I told him what I did hear, he asked me if I'd come with him when he went to see Mrs McCrudger."

Chrissy wrapped an arm around Vic's waist, and gave him a sideways hug. "I hadn't heard anything, but I came along for moral support."

"Wow," I said, "so ya told the principal everything Griff said to me?"

"Well, as much as I'd been able to understand," Vic said as he nodded. "Even though I didn't hear everything, what I did hear, plus what Mr Mason said, was enough to get Griff in trouble."

Chrissy sighed and said, "Of course, Griff completely denied everything."

Vic tensed as he said, "That's when I called him a soddin' liar." His fingers curled up, and his knuckles turned white. "When he called me a liar back, something inside me broke, and stuff I'd never planned on telling anybody just started pouring out."

I thought about how Griff had treated Vic in the hallway, and how he'd treated me in the classroom. "Holy crap," I said in a low voice. "What happened?"

"Well ... a couple weeks ago, Griff followed me into the loo," he said in a shaky voice, "and he ... he ..." Vic's jaw moved a couple of times before his mouth closed. A few tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes.

Chrissy ran a hand up and down his back as she said, "Ya wanna find someplace more private to talk?"

When Vic nodded, Chissy took his hand, and led him to a door on the other side of the hall.

It was a door with a sign that said, 'Girl's Restroom'.

Neither Vic or Chrissy paid much attention to the sign as they walked into the bathroom. I began to follow, then paused when the door swung shut behind them. While I'd never considered going into such a place before, I knew someone I cared about on the other side of the door was hurting.

I spent a minute doing some breathing exercises, but my hands were still unsteady when I placed them on the door. I closed my eyes, willed enough strength into my arms to push the door open, and walked into the inner sanctum of all the things I'd always felt I could never be.

=-=-=

Footnotes:
¹ Delicate and rugged are identifiers for those who might consider describing themselves as feminine or masculine, but don't want to use words so strongly linked with whatever bits someone has. They can also be used as replacements for female and male, if you're looking for a somewhat neutral, but still nuanced gender.
²Below is a list of pronouns for those who use delicate or rugged as a gender.

Types of Pronouns:	subjective	objective	weak	strong	reflexive
Delicate Pronouns:	de	dem	des	dems	demself
Rugged Pronouns:	ru	rum	rus	rums	rumself

In this chapter, our hero learns about restroom rules, bravely selects what to eat for lunch, and joins his first SIGL meeting.

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

=-=-=

Vic was leaning against the far wall when I entered the girl's restroom. Chrissy dabbed under his closed eyes with a fingertip, leaving behind shiny tan dots.

Vic's eyes popped open when the door thunked closed behind me.

"Would you relax?" Chrissy asked as she spread the dots with another finger.

"I don't wanna get in trouble again."

"It's just concealer. Nobody'll even notice."

Vic smiled at me, but there was a worried look in his eyes when he asked, "Does it look like I'm wearing makeup?"

I walked across the room until I was standing next to Chrissy, then took a long look at Vic's face. "I guess your eyes are still a little red, but your lids don't look as bad as they was before. Besides that, I wouldn't have guessed ya had anything on."

"See," Chrissy said as she recapped a small, tan bottle. "If she don't see it while looking ya square in the face, I'm sure nobody else will."

Hearing myself called 'she' hit me ... well ... maybe not like a ton of bricks, but at least as hard as a loosely packed snowball. Griff had called me 'her' and 'she' too ... at least, at first. On the other hand, the school therapist didn't act weird when I said I was a boy, and called me Tommy when I'd asked her to.

While I was juggling gender stuff in my head, the bathroom door creaked open, and an annoyed voice asked, "What's a boy doing in here?"

I turned and saw a couple of girls standing near the doorway. "I'm sorry," I said as I took a step away from them. "I was just worried about my friend, and ... well ..."

The taller girl flung her long ponytail over a shoulder, and her duffel bag swayed in her tight grip. "Why ya 'pologizing for him being in here?"

The shorter girl wrinkled her freckled nose, then poked the other girl in the ribs with an elbow. "Can't ya tell her friend's a delicate?"

The taller girl's face went from angry, to confused, to embarrassed. "Oh ... sorry 'bout that." Her face turned pink as she rushed into a stall.

The shorter girl unwrapped one of the arms she had around her backpack, and waved as she walked up to us. "I'm Jessi,"she said as she held out a hand to me.

I shook her hand as I said, "I'm ... uhhh ... Tracy."

Jessi smiled when she let go, then asked, "Ya still getting used to your name?"

"Whatcha mean?"

"Ya sounded a little unsure when ya answered." She tilted her head towards the closed stall door, and said, "If you're worried about Tanya, don't be. She's just having issues with the new bathroom rules."

"Ahhh," Chrissy said while waving her hand under a faucet. A gush of water flowed over her fingers as she asked, "What kinda issues?"

"It's sorta complicated," Jessi said, "but it mostly boils down to a problem with a boy who'd been harassing her."

Vic sighed and said, "I can relate."

Jessi turned to him and asked, "You having problems with a boy too?"

"Sorta, yeah. He decided I fancied him, so he cornered me in the boy's loo, and tried to-"

"What's a loo?" Jessi asked.

Chrissy gave Vic a gentle smile, then reached for a paper towel as she said, "It's British for bathroom."

"Hold on," Tanya called out. A toilet flushed as the door to her stall opened. "They made a delicate use the boys room?" she asked as she strode towards the nearest sink.

Vic's jaw clenched for a moment, then he said, "I'd tried getting my mum and dad to sign that stupid form, but they're both stuck in the dark ages, so it was a no go for where I wanted to go when I needed to go."

"Dang," Tanya said as she scrubbed her hands. "Not being able to be yourself, 'cause somebody wouldn't sign a form, sounds pretty awful." She sighed while rinsing off her hands, then smiled at Vic as she reached for a paper towel. "For what it's worth, I think ya aughta be able to at least use a bathroom ya feel safe in, no matter what your parent think."

"Really?" Chrissy asked as she dragged a backpack off the counter.

Tanya nodded as she dried her hands. "Everybody deserves a place they feel safe."

Chrissy pulled out and activated her tablet. "Would ya be willing to thumb-sign our self identified gender petition?"

Tanya drummed her fingers against her thigh, then smiled as she tossed the paper towel into a waste basket. "Sure!" she said as she dug a tablet out of her bag. "Could ya send it to me?"

Jessi reached into her backpack, and pulled out a tablet as she said, "Me too!"

Chrissy tapped her device a few times, then made a couple of swiping motions. Tanya's and Jessi's tablets chimed at almost the same time. After a minute or so of reading, Jessie pressed her thumb against the face of her device, and Chrissy's tablet beeped.

Tanya thumbed her tablet a few seconds later, then said, "I'm glad you're doing this."

Everyone's devices chimed at the same time.

"Sounds like second period's over," Vic said while threading an arm through the handles of the tote bag at his feet.

Jessi grabbed Tanya's wrist when the muted ringing of a bell started in the hallway, "We better get to study hall if we wanna be ready for another one of Mr Garner's pop quizzes."

Tanya groaned as she was dragged out of the bathroom, but there was a playfulness in her voice when she said, "Don't worry 'bout me. Save yourselves!"

Vic giggled, then touched the back of my arm as he asked, "Ya got third period lunch?"

I wriggled my backpack off my shoulders, and looked for my tablet as I said, "Lemme check." After finding and starting up my device, I poked at a few of the icons. "Ah," I said when my schedule finally opened, "says here I got first lunch shift for third period."

"Great!" Chrissy said as she stowed her tablet. "That means ya can join us for today's meeting!"

=-=-=

"Dangit," I said as I stuffed my jeans back into my backpack.

"What's wrong?" Vic asked while picking up a tray from the stack by the lunch line.

"I forgot to ask my mom for lunch money this morning,"

Chrissy picked up a couple of trays when the line moved. "Don't worry," she said as she handed a tray to me. "There's a meal stipend on your student ID card."

"A meal what?" I asked as I slung a backpack strap over my shoulder.

Vic set his tray on the serving line rails as he said, "It means the school gives you a free lunch when you scan your card at the cash register."

While I wondered how the school could afford to give out free lunches, a couple of boys shoved open the double doors near us. A cold breeze rushed in, and my legs prickled with goosebumps when it blew up my skirt.

"Brrrr," Chrissy said as she set her tray next to Vic's.

"Double brrr," I said as I stepped up next to Chrissy, and placed my tray with a dull clack on the serving line rails.

Chrissy rubbed her arms as she said, "I really wish they wouldn't make us wear skirts. At least, not when it starts getting cold."

"Me too," I said as I nodded. I'd often felt jealous about girls being able to wear pretty things, but I never really thought about there being a down side for them as well. Having your legs turn into popsicles while wearing a skirt was definitely a big down side. I was wondering what other things girls had to put up with, when I realized someone was trying to get my attention.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Regular or veggie loaf?" asked a burly man in a chef's uniform on the opposite side of the serving line.

"Huh?"

The man gestured with a spatula to a pair of trays filled with brown slabs of ... something. "Would you like the regular meatloaf," he asked, "or the vegetarian option?"

"Ummm ... which would you suggest?"

He held a plastic-gloved hand a few inches from his mouth, made a kissing sound as he opened his fingers, then grinned and said, "Both are très magnifique!"

I said a quick prayer to any school lunch deities who might be listening, then pointed to the tray on the left.

The man gave me a quick nod, then filled a ceramic plate with foodish looking items. "Enjoy!" he said as he reached over the sneeze guard, and handed the plate to me.

Once I picked something to drink, a chipper lady behind the register tallied up what I had on my tray. I tapped my card on the scanner in front of her, nodded and smiled when she thanked me, then turned and looked for someplace to sit.

"Oh, there she is!" Vic said. I glanced in the direction he was pointing, and saw Richie waving at us. "Looks like she saved seats for all of us," he added as he began walking towards her.

Chrissy smiled at me as she said, "C'mon!" then followed behind Vic.

I almost fell into my old habit of finding someplace I could eat alone, but having lunch while being surrounded by friendly faces was too tempting. "Habits are for nuns," I said to myself, then took a couple of quick steps until I'd caught up with Chrissy and Vic.

"Hey there," Richie said when I sat beside her. "Everything go okay with Dr Korvin?"

"I guess so," I said as I shrugged. "We talked a bit about Griff."

Vic grumbled under his breath, then stabbed his fork at a chunk of meat ... or possibly a meat-like product.

Chrissy patted his arm and said, "I've got a feeling he's gonna be gone for a while."

Vic sighed and said, "Sorry 'bout that. Just hearing his name can set me off." He sat up straighter and smiled. "Don't mind me."

"How 'bout a new topic?" Chrissy asked.

Richie nodded and said, "Good idea." She rapped her knuckles on the table, then said, "Let this official meeting of the Self Identified Gender League come to order!"

In this chapter, our hero runs into some trouble while trying to help his friends, does some gender revelation, loses his temper, then finds himself in *very* deep trouble.
.

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

=-=-=

I finished reading Dr Korvin's gender list while the Self Identified Gender League discussed points of order, then sliced off a chunk of meatloaf, and popped it in my mouth. It was chewy, and the mild spices did a decent job of hiding the not-meat taste. Feeling braver after facing the scariest item on my plate, I tried the peas, which were mushy, and the mashed potatoes, which were on the soggy side of fluffy.

I was calculating how many stars I'd give for my first lunch at Saint Milton's Middle School, when Richie nudged my arm, and said, "Hey ... soñadora."

I took a sip from my juice carton, then asked, "Señor who?"

Richie grinned and said, "I was calling you a ... ummm ... never mind." Her face and ears reddened as she looked away, then she pointed a fork at Chrissy while saying, "Madame Secretary was trying to tell ya something."

I decided learning more Spanish would be the next thing I'd do when I finished reading Dr Korvin's pronoun list, then looked at Chrissy and said, "Sorry 'bout that. What was ya saying?"

Chrissy bubbled with excitement as she said, "I just realized, with Jessi and Tanya thumb-signing our petition, we're only a signature shy of being able to submit it to the school board."

"That sounds great!"

"Definitely!" Chrissy said, then held her hands in a pleading gesture. "I know this is asking a lot, but would ya mind adding your signature to the petition?"

While I'd never been interested in getting involved with school politics before, the puppy-dog eyes she was giving me vetoed every excuse I could think of for saying no. "Sure," I said as I woke my tablet out of sleep mode.

"Thank you!" she said as she swiped a finger across the face of her device.

I looked down at my tablet when it chimed. A long window opened, with a header that said, [Self Identified Gender Petition]. I scrolled through a couple screenfulls of text, then asked, "Is this saying you're trying to get rid of bathroom rules, and uniform rules?"

"Don't forget grooming rules," Vic said as he squished a couple of peas with a finger.

"Actually, we ain't tryin' to get rid of the rules," Chrissy said as she put away her tablet. "We just want 'em to be better."

I slurped up a warm spoonful of mashed potatoes while looking through the petition again. "It says something here about freedom of gender expression. Does that mean people ain't allowed to express their genders here?"

"Not exactly," Richie said. "You're free to express your gender, so long as it's boy or girl." She set her fork down with a metallic clink. "Mrs McCrudger's been working with the school board, and was able to get some rules changed for transboys and transgirls."

"Other genders are sorta unofficially recognized by most students and teachers," Chrissy said, "but not by the school board."

Vic sighed, then said, "But no matter what gender ya identify as, if ya can't get your parents to sign a form, confirming you're whatcha say you are, you're outta bloomin' luck."

"So all this," I said as I pointed to the petition, "is saying we want the right to say what gender we are?"

Chrissy grinned and nodded. "You got it!"

"That sounds fair," I said as I pressed my thumb against the thumbprint image at the bottom of the window. My tablet buzzed, and a small orange window popped up, which said, [ERROR: Thumb signature recognition pending school record confirmation.]

Richie looked over my arm, then asked, "Something happen with your school records?"

I nodded and sighed. "Sorta, yeah."

One of Vic's eyebrows rose. "What happened?"

"It seems like a comma went missing when my records was transferred here from my old school. That's how my first and last name got swapped around. I ain't figured out how my gender got messed up yet."

"So, you're not ... not a transgirl?" Richie's mouth opened and closed a couple of times. "Sorry, I just kinda ... I mean ... with your pretty hair, and your body language ..." She was quiet for a second, then said, "I know a delicate can be like that, but your card said you're Tracy Thomas, so I just thought ..."

I wasn't sure how to process most of what she said, especially the 'pretty' comment, so I latched on to the last thing I heard as I said, "My school ID got messed up too. My name's really Thomas Tracy."

"Oh wow ... I had no idea I'd been calling you the wrong name, Tr-Thomas."

"Actually, I usually go by Tommy."

Richie grinned at me as she said, "Tommy's a cute name."

While I was trying to figure out what anyone could find cute about my name, Chrissy frowned and tilted her head as she said, "I'm a little lost. Are ya saying ... you're a transboy?"

"I dunno," I said as I searched through Dr Kovin's gender list. "What's a transboy?"

"I ain't sure what the official definition is," Vic said, "but I'm pretty certain it means someone who identifies as a boy, but was born with girl bits."

I thought about Vic's answer, then blushed when I realized what he'd meant by 'bits'. "Ermmm ... no, definitely not a transboy. More just a regular boy." I looked down at what I was wearing, then said, "Well, maybe not *regular* regular, but something close to that."

Chrissy gasped. "They made a boy wear a girl's uniform?" When I nodded, she frowned and said, "That's awful!"

"Actually," I said, "It ain't been all that bad."

Chrissy blinked a few times. "So, ya don't mind wearing girl clothes?"

I thought about the past few hours, then said, "To be honest, it's mostly been ... kinda nice."

Vic gave me a long, steady look. "So," he said as a smile sneaked out of the side of his mouth, "you're a delicate ... like me?"

I chewed on my lip while thinking about the genders on the list Dr Korvin had sent to me. "I dunno about being a delicate, but I've thinking I may be a delicate boy."

Richie nodded and said, "Whatever he -- do you mind he?" she asked as she touched my arm. When I nodded and smiled, she said, "Whatever he identifies as, or even if he don't identify with any gender, shouldn't matter. People aughta be able to wear what they want, when they want."

"And go where they feel okay going," Vic said.

"Like it says in our petition," Chrissy added.

I groaned as I shoved my tablet into my backpack. "Sorry I couldn't help with the votes."

Richie smiled and said. "It's okay."

I snorted, then said, "No, it ain't okay. Not if it means some of us gotta wear skirts, no matter how cold it is, or others gotta get their hair chopped off, 'cause of forms or .... bits."

"You're absolutely right," Richie said.

"But what can we do about it?" Chrissy asked.

"We take it to the principal," I said as I stood.

"I like that idea," Richie said as she stood beside me.

"I'm in," Vic said as he pulled his bag onto his shoulder.

Chrissy grinned and said, "Me too!"

I reached under the table and grabbed my backpack as I said, "Then let's do it!"

=-=-=

"Where's the principal?" I asked as I swung open the office door. I stepped out of the doorway, so my friends could follow behind me, then said, "We need to see her right away."

Ms Etcherson stopped typing and glanced at the four of us, then continued as she said, "She's in a conference at the moment, and can't be disturbed."

I growled with frustration. "Again?"

"She's a very busy woman."

I looked at the far end of the room, and saw the door to the bathroom where the craziest thing I'd ever done happened. I swung around and looked at the door beside me. It had a sign which said 'Margaret McCrugder - Principal'.

"Well," I said as I grabbed the handle to the nearer door, "she's gonna be busy with us now."

"Wait!" Ms Etcherson shouted. "You can't go in there now. She's in the middle of very sensitive negotiations with an important board member."

"I don't care how important they think they are," I said as I yanked open the door. "We're going in."

"I realize the board already agreed to several of my proposals," Mrs McCrudger said as we marched into her office, "but the new policies only cover the needs of some-" she looked up when Vic cleared his throat, then said, "Mr Director, something's come up. ... Yes ... yes, I understand your time is ... of course ... I'll ask my assistant to contact your staff. ... Thank you."

The principal pressed a key on her keyboard, pulled off her headset, set it down in the middle of her desk, then said in a level voice, "That was a ... a *very* important call."

"This is important too." Richie said.

Chrissy nodded and said, "We wouldn't be here if it wasn't."

My heart thudded against my ribs as I stepped forward. "There's some stuff in this school that needs changing."

Mrs McCrudger steepled her fingers as she asked, "What would you like to see changed?"

"There's like ... lotsa stuff."

"Such as?"

I took a deep breath, waited for my anger to cool, gave up, and blurted out, "Dammit! Just ... all kinds of crazy crap is going on, and it needs to change. Now!"

The principal gave me a single, slow nod, then said, "I see."

"NO!" I shouted as I slammed a fist on her desk. "Ya *don't* see!" Rage and pain welled up as I thought of what Griff had done. "If ya did, none of the goddam shit that's been goin' on woulda happened!"

Even though her face was a study in calmness, Mrs McCrudger had a dark look in her eyes as she said, "Very well. I will give your concerns my undivided attention."

Relief washed through me as I asked, "Really?"

"Yes. This afternoon."

A chill ran up my back as I said, "Wait. When?"

She rested her forearms on her desk and leaned forward. "After school."

A frosty ball of dread dropped into my stomach as I whispered, "After school?"

The principal's brows lowered as she said, "In detention."

In this chapter, our hero deals with detention, decides on a gender, and gets a chance to turn a dream into reality.

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

=-=-=

Detention.

Even thinking of the word made me shudder. Wondering what sort of punishment I'd be facing, and worrying about how my mom would react, blocked out every other thought as I wandered from class to class. I was completely drained by the time the last period was over, and shuffled like a zombie, or possibly a robot, to the detention room.

When I entered the tiny room, Mrs McCrudger opened a drawer in her desk as she said, "Please have a seat."

I looked at the row of desks on the other side of the room, and saw Richie, Vic, and Chrissy sitting at three of them. Even though nobody spoke, they all gave me quick smiles as I walked to the last desk. Once I had my backpack stowed under my chair and was sitting, the principal brought over a pile of laptops, and placed one in front of each of us.

When she got back to her desk, she folded her hands in front of her keyboard, then said, "Please open your laptops, then sign in, using your first name as a user name, and your last name as a password."

I lifted the top of the device on my desk, and the screen lit up. I tried signing in the way I'd been told, got an error message, grumbled while switching my first and last name around, and logged in.

After the click of everyone's keyboards stopped, Mrs McCrudger said, "Now that you've all signed in, I'll be sending a document to you." A moment after she tapped her mouse, a window opened on my screen, with a header that said, [My Change Suggestions].

The principal looked at each of us as she said, "I would like you to write an essay, using at least one hundred words."

I cringed at the word 'essay'. It was a close second to 'detention' as my least favorite word.

"Please describe the changes you'd like to see in this school," she said, "and why you'd like to see those changes. While I expect you to be polite, I'd also like you to be open and honest."

I peeked at Richie, who gave me a wink while her fingers danced across her keyboard. Feeling a little braver, I cracked, my knuckles, then began to type. Bashing school policy isn't as easy as some might think ... at least, not while trying to be polite. Keeping my temper under control was even harder.

Eventually, I tabbed over to the submit button, and hit the Enter key with a shaky finger.

The principal looked up a few seconds later, gave me a nod, then studied her screen. I could barely hear my friends typing over the thump of my pulse rushing through my ears. After a couple of minutes, a chat window popped up on my screen.

[Mrs McCrudger: I enjoyed reading your essay.]
[Me: ty]
[Mrs McCrudger: You misspelled "horrible".]
[Me: sorry]
[Mrs McCrudger: I also noticed a few missing punctuation marks, and capitalization errors.]

I started rolling my eyes, caught myself, and clenched my jaw instead.

[Me: Sorry about that.]
[Mrs McCrudger: Besides that, it was well done.]
[Me: Thanks again.]
[Mrs McCrudger: Would you mind if I asked a personal question about something you wrote?]

I tried imagining what sort of question she wanted to ask, then shrugged as I started typing again.

[Me: More personal than what I sent?]
[Mrs McCrudger: Perhaps not more personal, but on a similar level.]
[Me: I guess so.]

The clatter of my friends typing began to drop off.

[Mrs McCrudger: Pardon me a moment. I need to review the other essays.]
[Me: Sure.]

I waited for the principal read what my friends wrote, and pass messages back and forth with them. It gave me plenty of time to wonder if maybe I should have been more polite in my essay. It also gave me time to worry about what Mrs McCrudger wanted to ask me.

Eventually, a few dots at the bottom of my chat window pulsed, letting me know the principal was sending a new message.

[Mrs McCrudger: You mentioned feeling all students should be allowed to dress how they want, and go where they want, and identify with what gender feels best to them.]
[Me: I said that?]
[Mrs McCrudger: Well, I'm paraphrasing, but that seemed to be what you were saying. Was I mistaken?]

I shift-tabbed to my essay window, read through what I had written, then switched back to the chat window.

[Me: I guess I did say all that. Just not the exact same words.]
[Mrs McCrudger: With that in mind, is there a specific gender with which you most identify?]
[Me: I guess boy.]
[Mrs McCrudger: You're not sure?]
[Me: I never thought of being anything else.]

I thought back to my session with the school therapist.

[Me: At least not before today.]
[Mrs McCrudger: What happened today?]
[Me: I learned about delicates, and delicate boys. I think I'm a delicate boy.]
[Mrs McCrudger: I see. Would you like your mother to sign a form, confirming your gender identity?]

My throat tightened as I thought about that.

[Me: Why do you ask?]
[Mrs McCrudddger: It's a topic which came up when she asked to see me.]
[Me: You saw my mom?]
[Mrs McCruger: That is correct.]
[Me: Where?]
[Mrs McCruger: In my office.]

"Oh jeez," I whispered as I typed with fingers that were almost too numb to feel the keys.

[Me: She's here?]
[Mrs McCrudger: Yes, and she'd like to speak to you.]

Before I could ask what my mom wanted to say to me, the principal stood up and said, "Thank you for your essays. I'll be giving what each of you said serious consideration tonight. You're all dismissed."

"All of us?" I asked as I grabbed my backpack.

Mrs McCrudger looked at me and said, "We need to discuss something in my office first."

=-=-=

Terror took away all ability to speak as I followed behind the principal. By the time we reached her office, I'd been able to do enough breathing exercises to bring myself down to just really worried.

Mom was sitting in a chair in front of the principal's desk when I walked into the office. She smiled and said, "Hello, sweetie. How was your day?"

I stared as I walked closer to her. I stood in front of her, and stared some more. "That's the first question you have for me?"

She pursed her lips, then frowned as she asked, "What should have been my first question?"

"I dunno," I said as I flopped into the chair next to her. "Maybe something like, 'Hey, Tommy, my one and only son ... why are you wearing a skirt?' "

My mom smiled again as she said, "I figured you'd tell me about that when you're ready."

"And ... you're not freaked out?"

"Well, I was a little surprised, but not 'freaked out'."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Why should I be?"

" 'Cause I'm a boy!"

Mrs McCrudger lowered herself into the leather chair behind her desk as she said, "Does that mean there's a part of your essay which doesn't accurately reflect how you feel?"

I gave the principal a confused look. "Which part ya talking about?"

She started typing as she said, "The part where you said people should be able to wear what they'd like to wear."

"I ... uhhh ... well, I guess ... yeah, people aughta be able to where what they want."

"I'm glad to hear that," she said while clicking her mouse. The printer behind her began humming as she asked, "Is what you're wearing now something you'd like to wear in the future?"

"I dunno," I said as I looked down at my bare knees.

Mom reached under my chin, and turned my head, until I was looking into her deep blue eyes. "What don't you know?"

"Lotsa stuff."

"Such as?"

I shrugged and said, "Stuff like, why I like pretty stuff, even though I'm a boy; or why girls get to wear boy stuff, but boys ain't allowed to wear girl stuff; or why ya got mad at me when I'd tried putting on that shirt."

My mom blinked and shook her head. "I don't understand. What shirt?"

"The one I'd been trying on in the girl's department, when you'd took me shopping for school clothes."

Her forehead wrinkled. A couple of seconds later, her brows shot up. "Are you talking about when you were six, and you'd wandered off with some strange girl?"

"She wasn't strange," I said. I thought about how she'd talked a boy into wearing girl clothes, then said, "Well, maybe a little strange, but she was nice too."

"Perhaps, but you still shouldn't have-" Mom's eyes widened as she said, "Wait a minute, you thought I was upset about the shirt you were trying on, because it was a girl's shirt?"

"Well ... yeah."

She reached across the space between our chairs, and patted my hand. "Sweetheart, I was upset because ... I thought I'd lost you. It had nothing to do with what you wanted to wear."

"So ... ya don't mind me dressing like this?" I asked.

Not at all," she said as she squeezed my hand.

I gulped and squeezed back. "What about me calling myself a delicate boy, instead of just a boy?"

For a second, it looked like she was going to ask something, then she smiled and said, "If you're okay with it, then so am I."

"If you're sure about that," Mrs McCrudger said as she slid a sheet of paper towards my mom, "would you mind signing this form?"

=-=-=

"I see you know how to get into a car while wearing a skirt," my mom said as I slid into the passenger seat.

"I've watched ya do it tons of times," I said while pulling my legs in.

"I'd noticed," Mom said as she buckled herself in.

I slammed my door closed, then latched my seatbelt as I asked, "Why didn't ya say anything?"

Mom was quiet for a long while, then said, "When you were younger, I suspected you might be transgender."

"Really?"

She nodded and said, "At least, I did at first. There was something about you that was ..."

"Delicate?" I asked.

"That's a good description," she said as she nodded. "But, as you got older, you changed."

"I didn't seem as delicate any more?"

"Not exactly. It was more as if ... you wanted to keep that part of you hidden. Whenever I tried drawing you out, you tended to be defensive, and evasive. Eventually, I figured it might be best if I didn't keep pressing the issue, and let you decide when you were ready to talk to me."

My throat and chest ached when I thought back, and realized how much effort I'd put into shutting her out. "I'm so sorry, Mom."

"You've nothing to be sorry about," she said as she brushed a strand of hair over my ear. "Whether your my son, or daughter, or anything else, I love you, and I'll always be there to support you."

That's when I started bawling.

After a long hug, and several tissues later, I smiled and said, "Thanks so much, Mom."

My mom smiled as she hitched my buckle back up, then got herself buckled in. "Any time, sweetie." She started up the car, then said, "I think we need a treat."

"Ya mean, like ... ice cream?"

Mom nodded and said, We could do that, but maybe we should go shopping first."

"What we need to go shopping for?"

"School clothes."

"I already got my uniform." I thought about the UPX package still hiding in one of the boxes at our new home, and said, "Make that uniforms."

"Good point. How about casual clothes?"

"I got those too."

"Are you happy with them?"

"Well ..."

"I thought so," Mom said as she pulled away from the curb. She gave me a warm smile as she said, "You're old enough to know what you do and don't like to wear." She grinned as she added, "Let's go find what that is."

=-=-=

The End

Below is a list of the characters who have appeared in my story so far. When new chapters are posted, all new names will be added to this list. If you have any questions about the list, feel free to send me a private message, or add a comment here. :)

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

=-=-=

Thomas (Tommy) Kayleigh Tracy - main character

Angela Tracy - Tommy's mom

Richelle (Richie) Hernandez - hall monitor Tommy meets while entering school

Felicity Etcherson - principal's administrative assistant

Margaret McCrudger - school principal

Theresa Cho - Tommy's first period teacher

Victor (Vic) Brunford - boy Tommy meets in first period class

Orville (Griff) Griffins - bully who harasses both Vic and Tommy

Christine (Chrissy) Jackson - girl Tommy meets in second period class

Eric Mason - Tommy's second period teacher

Anne Korvin - school therapist

Jessica (Jessi) O'Donnell - shorter girl Tommy meets in girl's restroom

Tanya Franklin - taller girl Tommy meets in girl's restroom

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

=-=-=
Delicate and rugged are identifiers for those who might consider describing themselves as feminine or masculine, but don't want to use words so strongly linked with whatever bits someone has. They can also be used as replacements for female and male, if you're looking for a somewhat neutral, but still nuanced gender.

Below is a list of pronouns for those who use delicate or rugged as a gender.

Types of Pronouns:	subjective	objective	weak	strong	reflexive
Delicate Pronouns:	de	dem	des	dems	demself
Rugged Pronouns:	ru	rum	rus	rums	rumself

Richie's Story
Copyright 2021 by Heather Rose Brown

Have you ever wondered what was going through Richie's head when when she met Tommy in "For Want of a Comma"? Well, now you can! While this peek into Richie's experience covers only a few chapters from FWoaC, I thought people might find it interesting seeing things from a different perspective. Enjoy! :)

=-=-=

I stood a little closer to one of the hedges near the school's front entrance, grateful for the way they helped block the late September breeze that kept trying to blow up my skirt. I leaned against the sun-warmed bricks behind me, and could almost hear my abuela scolding me for slouching like a boy.

I was thinking about the argument I'd had with her about the 'proper' way I should dress and act, when a car pulled up to the student drop-off area. A cool wind swirled around my legs when I took a couple of steps away from the building. I wondered if maybe I should have gone with the tights my abuela had gotten for me. They were only a little girlier than my socks, but might have kept my legs warmer.

A few minutes later, a boy climbed out of the car. At least, it was someone who looked like a boy, but with a body language that practically screamed girl. I thought back to the transgender inclusiveness presentation Dr Korvin had given at the start of the school year. One of the genders she had talked about popped into my head.

Transgirl!

After hearing the way she yelped when someone in the car startled her, and seeing how she crouched down to look into the car, instead of bending at the waist, told me my guess was probably right. My heart beat a little faster when she started walking towards me. I barely noticed the cold when the wind gusted.

The shy way she looked at the ground as she walked up to the front entrance made me want to leap to her rescue. The way she tried to push open a sliding door made me want to laugh. I ignored the urge to do both, and said, "Ya gotta tap to get in."

I smiled and asked if she was new, but all I could get out of her was a nod. The way she was shaking like a leaf, I half expected her to blow away when the wind picked up again. Realizing she might be too nervous to talk, I concentrated on being helpful, and asked for her ID card.

I caught the card just before it slipped out of her fingers. "Tracy Thomas?" I asked after reading it. I still couldn't get more than a nod out of her, so I introduced myself, showed her how to use the scanner, then stepped through the open doorway.

When I saw her just standing there outside the doorway, I told her to hurry in, which may not have been the best idea. She plowed into me, which hurt, but probably not as bad as when she smacked the back of her head into the door that had closed behind her.

I held onto her shoulders when I saw how wobbly she was looking. "You okay?" I asked while waiting for her to pull herself back together.

Instead of getting mad at me for blocking her way, Tracy stared at the ground and said, "Sorry for being so clumsy, Richelle."

Seeing her looking so miserable broke my heart. I reached out, tilted her head up, and found myself falling into her sky blue eyes."It's all good," I said as my heart thumped faster, then added, "you can call me Richie, if you'd like."

Hearing her mention needing to get to class made me realize I'd been staring at her. My cheeks warmed as I pulled my hand away. I switched to hall monitor mode to hide my embarrassment, and lead the way to the office.

When I saw the lost look in Tracy's eyes, I was almost tempted to follow her into the office. If I knew of anyone who could cover for me as the front door monitor, I might have done that. Instead, I let her know who to go to for help, offered a warm welcome, then gave her a friendly wink as the door closed.

I'm not sure if my feet touched the ground when I wandered back to my post. All the way there, I found myself wondering how I could get away with seeing her again, without coming across as some sort of stalker.

=-=-=

The boy who had the next shift for door monitor arrived half a dozen seconds before the homeroom release bell rang. I ran for the office, dodged the hordes piling out of the classrooms, then smiled when I saw Tracy step into the hallway.

"Hey, Tracy!" I shouted, then picked up my pace when she looked my way. I stopped short a few feet away from her, and said, "Whoa," when I saw how cute she looked in her uniform. Not that she hadn't already look cute in a t-shirt and jeans, but it was like the dial had now been turned up to eleven.

"Lookin' proud and true in the red and blue!" I said when my brain cells started firing again. A couple other students chimed in as they went by. I explained their reaction as school spirit when Tracy asked, then tried to find out if there might be any chance of us being in the same class.

As the fates would have it, I wasn't in her class. Fortunately, I did know her teacher, so I said, "If you'd like, I could walk ya to her class, and do intro's." When she went back into shy mode, saying she didn't want to be a bother, I looped my arm through hers as I let her know it wasn't a problem at all.

I smiled as I led the way down the hall, wondering how I got lucky enough to meet someone like Tracy.

=-=-=

The hallway was nearly empty by the time by the time I'd dropped off the new girl at her class. The first period bell finished ringing as I knocked on the school therapists door.

"Come in!" Dr Korvin called out. The prettiest redhead who I'd never admit to having ever had a crush on stood up as I walked into the office. "It's so good to see you," she said as she held out a hand.

I shook her hand, and definitely didn't crush on her some more, as I said, "It's good to see you too!"

Once we were both seated, she asked, "How'd your weekend go?"

I sighed, then said, "Not too bad."

The therapist smiled as she narrowed her eyes. "Does 'not too bad' include you talking to your grandmother about what we discussed last week?"

"Sorta," I said as I shrugged.

Her brows rose as she asked, "Care to elaborate?"

As much as I didn't want to relive another argument with my abuela, I knew Dr Korvin would eventually drag it out of me, so I said, "Well, I did tell her I liked girls."

The therapist gave me a huge smile as she said, "That's wonderful!" Her smile shrank a little as she said, "At least, I hope it was."

I waggled my hand in the air as I said, "Más o menos."

"Ah," she said as she nodded. "So ... it was wonderful, more or less?"

"Maybe not wonderful, but it was okay. Well ... part of it was okay."

"Which part was okay?" she asked as her forehead wrinkled.

"The good part is, she's totally okay with me liking girls."

"And the bad part?" she asked in a soft voice.

I let out a long, frustrated sigh, "She thinks I act like a boy, 'cause I believe only boys can like girls."

Dr Korvin's sigh sounded almost as frustrated as mine. "I'm sorry to hear that. I know how hard it can be dealing with someone who has difficulty separating gender and orientation."

I frowned and asked, "How ya know what it's like?"

She was quiet for a few seconds, then said, "When I told my father about my fiancé, he went into a guilt trip about turning me into a boy, by trying to raise me on his own."

Once I scooped my heart off the floor, and shoved it back into my chest, I said, "I didn't know ya had a fiancé."

The therapist got a dreamy look in her eyes. "She's the love of my life."

"She?"

When Dr Korvin nodded, I felt a spark of hope when I realized what that meant. The spark fizzled when I remembered what fiancé meant. I hung my head, and tried to ignore the ache in my chest.

"You okay, mija?" she asked as she stroked the back of my head.

Having her call me her daughter wasn't exactly what I'd always dreamed of hearing her say. I could never think of her as a mother. Still ... the warmth and comfort reached me, even through the awkwardness. I lifted my head, put on my best smile, and said, "Not exactly, but I think I will be ... eventually."

=-=-=

I yanked a few sheets of tissue paper off the half empty roll, blew my nose, then said, "I'm happy for her." Even in the messed up state I was in, I still knew those words were only partly true. The toilet whooshed as I stood, and I tossed a handful of wadded up tissues into the bowl before it finished flushing.

I looked at my reflection after stepping out of the stall, and wondered if maybe I should have held onto the makeup I'd been given for my thirteenth birthday. I waved my hand under a faucet a few times before activating the sensor, then splashed some cool water on my face.

I was drying off with a paper towel when the bathroom door opened. "Hey Chrissy!" I said when I saw her walk in.

My friend smiled back as she said, "Good to see you!" Her smile faded when she got closer to me. "What happened?"

I rolled my paper towel into a tight ball, then tossed it into the wastebasket as I said, "I had an appointment with Dr Korvin this morning, and was talking about what happened over the weekend, and ... well ..."

"And you came out to your grandma?" Chrissy asked as she dumped her backpack on the counter.

I nodded and leaned against the sink.

"Oh no," Chrissy said while resting a hand on my arm. "Did she get all 'phobic on ya?"

"No, nothing like that happened," I said as I shook my head. "She did start harping on me about acting like a boy, though."

My friend sighed as she let her hand drop. "She still don't get the part about ya being a little more rugged than other girls?"

"Not really," I said as I shrugged. "But enough about me. How's things been going with you and Vic?"

"I'll tell you on the way to Mr Mason's class!" she shouted over the ringing of the first period release bell.

I pulled on a fresh smile. "Sounds good," I said as I followed her out of the bathroom.