by Justme

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Chapter 16: To be is to do

Pop. "Aaagh!" I'm hyperventilating a little. It didn't really hurt much, but I don't think my hip joint is supposed to do that. And other stuff hurts--like it's being stretched almost but not quite to the point of tearing.

"Uh-oh. You OK?" Linda has a hand on my shoulder.

"Uhhm.. yeah, I think so." I suck in my breath through clenched teeth. "Can you help me back up though? This is kinda starting to hurt."

"Sure." She grabs me under the armpits and around my chest from behind and heaves me up. Luckily I don't weigh much and she's pretty strong.

My hip joint gives another quiet pop as it moves back to a more familiar position. Aah. Much better. "Thanks." I brush some dirt and grass off my inner thighs.

"You did it! You did the splits!"

Huh. "Yeah! But--ow. I don't know how soon I'm gonna want to do that again."

"Does it feel like you pulled something?" She's biting her lower lip.

"No, stuff got stretched a lot farther than it's used to but it doesn't feel like I did anything permanent. Just--something in my hip went pop and it felt kinda weird."

"That is weird. I've never had anything like that when I do it."

Something about it seems kind of familiar, though. Then I figure out what it is. "Maybe my hip is like, double-jointed. My uncle can bend his thumb backwards and when he does that it kinda sounds like this felt."

"Eww. That's so gross. Your uncle's thumb, I mean." Her look of disgust gives way to one of encouragement. "Well, that's pretty cool though--I honestly didn't think you were going to be able to do it by the tryouts."

"But you said-"

"I'm a cheerleader, remember?" She strikes a pose and flashes me her peppiest smile. "I'm trained to be encouraging and enthusiastic even in the face of impossible odds. And sometimes it works."

I can't help but smile back at her. "Yeah, I guess sometimes it does."

"Well, now that you seem to have gotten all the basic moves down that's the next thing we need to work on--your enthusiasm."

"What? I've been giving it all I've got."

"No, I know; you've really been putting your little heart into it. It's just--the look on your face when you're doing it. It's like--how do I put this? Like you're concentrating really hard."

"Well, yeah, 'cause I am." Duh. I mean, how'm I supposed to make it through a whole routine without screwing up if I don't concentrate?

"Which is good, but--I mean, the point of cheerleading is to get the crowd excited, and it's kinda hard to do that if you don't seem excited. You know? It's like, the look on your face says you're focused on getting the job done, of doing the moves. But when you get right down to it, it's like all those moves are just a way to communicate how enthusiastic and excited you are, and if that doesn't show on your face you kind of lose the whole effect."

"Oh. So, what--I should plaster a big smile on my face the whole time?"

"Ugh. No, no, no. I've seen girls doing that on some other squads and it just looks soooo phony. It should come from your heart. You should really feel it. Then it'll show on your face without even trying."

"So, but didn't you just say you were trained to do it even when things look hopeless? How can you feel it when you know there's no real chance for your team? And I mean, you know, I'm not sure I even really want to be doing this in the first place."

She looks puzzled, like she doesn't get how I can't figure this out, or like maybe she thinks I'm pulling her leg or something. "Oh, come on. After all the work you did to prepare for the tryouts, to get the role of Kurt--you're trying to tell me you don't know how to act?"

Uhhh... no, actually, I don't. But I can't let her see that so I make my expression say "Oh, duh," instead of "oh, shit," which is what it would say if left to itself. And she seems to be buying it, so... maybe I can act.

Huh.

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"So, like, what would you do?"

"Shoes. And if you have enough left, a little makeup always comes in handy. But definitely, the shoes."

"Really? How come?"

"Well, like, the belt sounds pretty cool, and like it would be a nice accessory and all, but you can get by without it if you have to. Some outfits you just can't wear without the right shoes."

"Yeah, I guess I can't just keep borrowing Liv's whenever I feel like it." Sigh. I really want that belt but I guess it will have to wait. Again.

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"Hey, that looks like--it is! It's Grandmother Sorensen's car! They were driving up for a visit but I didn't know they'd be here so soon!" She drives a gigantic Pontiac something-or-other that's about twice the size of Mom's Mustang. It's kind of comical 'cause she's like five-foot-nothing with heels on so all you can see when she's driving is her gray hair in a bun and her white-gloved hands on the steering wheel. She says she feels safer in a big car. I don't think anyone sharing the road with her does though. Anyway what's she doing here? Oh well, I'm just excited to see her so I run up as soon as she parks and open her door for her and help her out and wrap myself around her in a big hug. "Grandmother! I'm so happy you came!" On the other side I can see Mom getting out of the car looking simultaneously amused and apprehensive about something.

"Oof! So am I, dear, but I bruise easily these days." She's smiling but I get a sheepish grin and release her from the hug. She brushes the wrinkles out of her clothes and takes both of my hands in hers. "Let me look at you. My, how you've blossomed!" She sees Linda behind me and says in a scandalized voice, "She used to run around all the time dressed like a boy."

"Oh, I know." Linda sounds like she's trying not to laugh.

I roll my eyes at Linda, but I'm smiling. This is going very well. Then I realize I haven't made proper introductions. "Linda, this is my Grandmother Sorensen. Grandmother, this is my friend Linda Thorsen. You can thank her for the change in my dressing habits. She gave me tons of her old clothes, including these." I indicate the shorts and top I'm wearing.

Grandmother smiles. "You have my undying gratitude, Linda. They're such an improvement over what she used to wear. That's also why we've come, Leigh. Now that you've decided to start dressing like a proper girl I wanted to take you shopping to round out your new wardrobe." My whole face lights up when she says this. Grandmother's loaded and she'll never let me spend my own money when she's taking me shopping. Maybe I can get the belt and new shoes and makeup. And maybe a new outfit for the first day of school, too. This is so cool!

Linda hides her mouth behind her fist and I can tell she's having a hard time not exploding with laughter. I guess Mom wasn't expecting my reaction either 'cause her mouth's hanging open in shock. I don't care; I bounce up and down for joy. "Thank you thank you thank you! That would be wonderful. Would it be all right if Linda came along too?"

"Why certainly, if she'd like to."

"No, I couldn't, I'd just be in the way--"

I cut her off by grabbing her arm and pulling her aside. I put my mouth next to her ear and hiss, "Please, I need your fashion advice. Grandmother means well, but..." I indicate her with my eyes. She has great fashion sense--for, say, the Queen of England. Not for a teenager.

Linda follows my glance with her eyes, looking a little puzzled, then quickly looks back and gets a sort of amused yet sympathetic expression. "All right, if you're sure you don't mind," she says to Grandmother. "I'm not one to pass up a shopping opportunity. Just let me go grab my purse and tell Mom where I'm going." She heads for her front door.

Under my breath so Linda won't hear I say, "Close your mouth, Mom. You're gonna swallow a fly." Grandmother lets out an explosive and yet somehow ladylike laugh.

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"Where's Grandfather?" You know, I could get used to a big car like this. It's definitely much roomier and comfier than Mom's. Quieter, too. On the other hand it probably gets lousy gas mileage, and these days that's something you have to consider.

"Oh, he decided he'd rather stay behind and catch up on some things with your father. You'll see him when we get back." Grandmother says it very offhandedly but somehow I get the feeling there's something she's keeping from me. It makes me a little nervous.

"Here we are." Mom's driving so Grandmother could have a conversation with me without getting in a wreck. Plus, she knows the way. We had to come all the way down to Kingswood to go to the Woodland Mall, not that rinky-dink little place near our house. Grandmother's serious about her shopping. "It certainly is crowded today. Everyone keep an eye out for an empty spot."

"Must be the Labor Day weekend sales." Mom's giving me a funny look in the rear-view mirror. "What?"

"Nothing. You just never used to pay attention to that sort of thing. Just look for parking, OK?"

"OK. Hey, there's--oh, no, it's taken. Man, that car is teeny." I haven't seen one that small since we lived in Europe. I read the nameplate as we drive slowly past. "'Honda CVCC.' I thought Honda made motorcycles." Now Linda's looking at me kind of funny. "What?"

She's kind of shaking her head at me. "You've gone a long way toward shedding your tomboy image in the past week, but sometimes you still just sound like such a boy." Mom's suddenly staring at me in the mirror like a deer caught in headlights and Grandmother's eyebrows just went up. When I was trying to maintain an image as a boy this kind of thing would have thrown me into a panic, but it's like now I'm a lot more comfortable and confident with who I am so I feel like I can afford to have a little fun with it.

"Drat. I should have known I could never fool you." I put on a slightly over-the-top 'boy' act and movie villain voice. "It was all part of an elaborate scheme to try to get you in a changing room and see you in your underwear, but now my plans have been foiled. Curses!" Mom's eyes are popping out of her head now--I'm glad Linda can't see her face from where she's sitting--and Grandmother's wearing a puzzled frown, looking questioningly at Mom.

I've scored a direct hit, though. Linda's doubled over laughing. "You are so good at that! I swear, if I didn't know better I'd almost be convinced you were a boy!" The look of sheer relief on Mom's face is comical enough to make me laugh too, and now Grandmother looks highly amused. And maybe impressed.

I flash her a grin and then smile sweetly at Linda. "Seriously, though. I think I picked up some bad habits from doing that for so long. So let me know when you see me doing stuff like that and it's not on purpose, OK? It could be kind of embarrassing in the wrong situation."

"Sure, Joey. No problem." She's still chuckling as she pats me on the arm supportively. "Ooh, look, a spot!" I look where she's pointing; we're almost on top of it. Apparently Mom sees it too 'cause she slams on the brakes to keep from overshooting it, screeching the tires and sending Linda and me sliding into the back of the front seats.

Grandmother looks worried. "Are you girls all right?"

"Yeah, fine."

"Me too."

"All right. And Leigh, you should say, 'Yes, I'm fine.' Always enunciate clearly. People will judge you by how you speak." She doesn't come right out and say it will reflect on her; that's just understood.

I can't bring myself to roll my eyes at her though. It just isn't done. Instead I look down at my hands resting in my lap. "Yes, Grandmother." Shoot. I never did fix that chipped nail. If I cover it with my other hand maybe she won't see.

"Now, this is why it would be a good idea to always wear your seat belts in the future. You never know when something like this will happen and it might not turn out so well next time."

"Yes, Grandmother."

"Yes, ma'am." Linda looks and sounds as chastened as I feel. Grandmother has a way of doing that to people.

----------

It's kinda weird to be back here. I mean, I used to hang out with my friends Ben and Matt at that arcade all the time when we lived here. The sound of the scores racking up on the pinball machines kind of made me want to go in, but actually I started freaking out a little bit as we walked past. Luckily they weren't in there.

----------

They didn't have it at the J C Penney here so I guess I'll have to buy the belt out of my own money, some other time. Oh well. But Grandmother's already bought me three pairs of shoes--my own Keds so I can stop borrowing Liv's, tan "strappy" sandals to wear with "casual" dresses and skirts--I wanted the white ones but apparently that's a fashion faux pas after Labor Day, and a pair of dark brown calf-length leather boots with a low heel for a "dressier" look. I'm not sure I really have anything to wear those with yet and I'm a little worried about what she has in mind, but Linda seems to like them so I guess I shouldn't be. Anyway she says that's just for starters--after we're done buying clothes we'll go back to find shoes to go with the new outfits. Grandmother says a girl can never have too many shoes and Linda seems to agree.

You know, I've always more or less hated shopping, especially for clothes and shoes, but this is turning out to be pretty fun. I dunno, maybe it's that I finally get to work on the image I really want to present to the world, or maybe it's the way everyone gets involved and wants to help with comments and suggestions, but it's a completely different experience for me.

"Oh, look! Miz L, can we go in there? I just have to try on a pair of those jeans. You should too, Joey."

We were on our way to Hudson's but apparently Linda wants to make a detour. She's looking at a pair of bellbottom hip huggers on a mannequin display. They're kinda like the ones she gave me, only even more flared at the bottom. Like, way more. Like almost ridiculously more. "Uhhh... OK, if you say so." I can't keep from sounding skeptical.

"Oh, what's the matter, afraid you might get noticed? 'Cause that's what happens when you wear the very latest fashions, you know. Oh, wait, no--you wouldn't know, would you?"

"Hey! You don't need to get personal. I said OK, didn't I?"

"Well if you don't want to get teased, next time say it with a little enthusiasm." Her devilish grin tells me she's doing it to challenge me, not to be mean.

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"You go first, I'll wait." There's only one changing booth available.

"No, come on in. There's room for both of us and it'll go faster if we share."

"But--"

She looks gently exasperated, if that makes any sense. "Oh, come on. I already know about your little secrets"--my heart skips a beat until I see her pointing at my stuffed bra cups--"and I was thirteen not that long ago myself. You really don't need to be shy or self-conscious around me."

"Well... OK, I guess." I don't have to feign my reluctance. The blush is genuine, too. But I am securely tucked and taped, so as long as the panties stay on I should be safe.

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"Those really look cute on you."

"Thanks. Yeah, on me, cute. On you, hot."

"I keep tellin' ya, Joey, be patient. One day before you know it you'll blossom and the guys'll be all over you like bees on honey."

Sure, if Michelle can ever find a doctor willing to help me. Sigh.

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"No, put your money away, Linda. This is my treat." I have no idea where Mom gets her cheapness from, but it sure as heck ain't Grandmother.

"But--"

"No, I insist. Consider it my way of showing my appreciation for all you've done for my granddaughter."

"Well... thank you. It's very generous of you." Linda's classy enough to know when to graciously accept defeat.

"You're most welcome." Grandmother looks very satisfied with herself.

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"Miz L? Is that you?" That voice sounds familiar. Who--

Oh, shit. Ben and Matt are here. And they've spotted Mom. Fuck, what am I gonna DO? Is there somewhere I can hide? Why is Linda looking at me like that? Oh my god, what am I gonna do? I feel sick, and my blood is pounding in my ears, and now would not be a good time to faint, much as I'd like to--

"Joey, are you all right?" No, Linda, I'm fucking not all right!

"Hey, is Larry around somewhere?" These guys were my best friends before we moved. Two of the best friends I've ever had. I've even kind of made the effort to keep in touch with them over the summer. Hell, I spent a week with Ben's family at their cabin Up North just last month. I've gone to church with him more times than in my entire life otherwise, whenever I stayed over on a Saturday night or went Up North with them on a weekend. He's gonna see right through me. I gotta get out of here, now!

"No, he didn't come with us today." Mom's covering for me, and technically she's not lying; I'm not Larry anymore. Not that that makes me feel any better. How can I get away before he recognizes me? Where can I go? What excuse can I make? Think!

"Who's Larry?" Linda's looking at me and looks really confused. And worried. I guess I must look terrified, 'cause I am. And oh fuck Ben just got a good look at my face and now I'm gonna die.

"Larry? What--why--oh my God." If I wasn't about to go into cardiac arrest his expression might be funny as hell. As it is I think it's the most terrifying thing I've ever seen.

"I--" I can't think of anything to say and my voice catches in my throat. Oh god, I'm gonna cry and I can't stop it. Mom looks lost at sea and even Grandmother looks like she's been knocked for a loop. Oh god, if I can't faint, can I at least throw up? Where's a trash can when you need one? Oh god oh god.

"Why is he calling you Larry? What's wrong, Joey?"

"Larry, what the fuck is going on here? Why are you dressed like a girl?" He's scrutinizing Linda now, maybe wondering whether she's really a boy or something.

"'Cause I am one." It's all I can think of to say, but I mean, it's true. And now tears are streaming out of my eyes, as if to prove it.

"Whaddaya mean? No you're not."

Linda looks like she finally gets what's going on, or at least thinks she does. "Yes, she is." She looks at me intently. "You mean you actually lived as a boy and even fooled your friends?" I nod. She looks shocked, and maybe angry that I'd go that far.

"He is not a fucking girl. God damn it, Larry, what the fuck are you doing?"

"She is too a girl. I've seen her in her underwear. I think I can tell a girl from a boy, thank you very much." It should feel good to have Linda rising to my defense, but it just makes me sicker 'cause I know this can't end well.

"I've seen him fucking naked in the locker room. He has a fucking dick for Christ's sake! He is not a fucking girl. A fag, maybe." He looks disgusted. God, Ben, I thought you were my friend. How can you do this to me? Matt hasn't said anything; he looks like he doesn't know what to think or feel, but I think he's maybe a little afraid of me. I give him a pleading look: Help me, Matt. He just lowers his eyes.

"Watch your language, young man!" Grandmother finally comes out of her shock. "I'll not have you speaking of my granddaughter that way!"

Ben looks a little scared of her, but apparently not too scared 'cause he comes back angrily with, "Yeah, sorry 'bout the language. Look, I don't know what you people are trying to pull here, but I know this kid, and he is most definitely not a girl. I've seen."

"Benjamin Lambert, I'm surprised at you! How could you do this to your best friend?" Mom's doing her best to shame him into backing down but he just gives her a sour look, as if to say not anymore, he's not.

Linda looks distraught. "Joey--or should I call you Larry? Is this true?"

Oh god, not you too! I can't say anything; I just close my eyes tight and cry and try not to faint or throw up. This can't be happening. It can't!

"Is it?"

"Yeah, but--"

"Oh my God, you really are a boy?" Now she looks--I dunno, kinda like that doctor looked after Mom got done talking to her. I really want to vomit.

"No! I'm not a boy! I've never been a boy! Just 'cause I have a--thing--" I'm sobbing, and people are staring at us and it's like my worst nightmare only I can't wake up from it, and I wish I could die rather than have to live through any more of this.

"I hate to be the one to break it to you, but that thing is what makes you a boy! You sick little pervert! You saw me in my underwear!" She looks like a cornered animal. Her head whips to Mom and then Grandmother. "And you--sickos--helped him! Oh my God! I'm going home now!" She's stomping off toward the pay phones.

Now Grandmother's scurrying after her. "Do you need me to give you a ride home, dear?"

Oh god, the look on Linda's face--revulsion. "No thank you! Just stay away from me! All of you!" She's looking straight at me as she says the last part. She thrusts the bag with her jeans at Grandmother--"And you can keep these!"--and turns back toward the phones.

Ben's looking at me with disgust, anger, and something else I can't figure out but it's not pleasant. "God, if I'd known you were a fucking queer I'd never have let you sleep over." Just what I need--my best friend to kick me when I'm down. My former best friend. If he hates me so much now why can't he just leave and leave me alone in my misery?

"I am not a fucking queer! I'm a girl! God damn it, I'm a girl!" I scream it at him and I just can't take any more of this shit and I turn and take off running, bouncing off of a man in a gray suit who yells something at me but I don't fucking care, I just need to get away and hide and never come back. There's a corner--I skid around it, thank god I've still got my Converse on, just keep running and don't stop--I can hear them calling after me, trying to follow, so I duck into Hudson's and hope there's another way out--there's a bathroom; maybe I can hide in there for a while--but it's a ladies' room and everyone probably heard the screaming and knows what I am so I can't go in there. There's the men's room--I push on the door to duck in but a big guy in a security guard uniform is just coming out and blocking my way.

"Sorry, Miss, wrong door! The ladies' is over there." I see his embarrassed smile dissolve into confusion when I just scream at him in frustration and turn and run some more. Turns out there is another way out of here--a service entrance I guess, out to the back of the mall by the dumpsters. I make sure no one's looking and duck out and close it behind me.

The dumpster nearest the door is open. I lean over it and my gut wrenches and heaves and my throat burns as the contents of my stomach gurgle out and splash into the filthy bottom of the bin. I just stay leaning over it, sobbing for a while, until I can't stand the smell anymore and start looking for a place to curl up and die. Over there between the dumpster and the wall looks like as good a place as any. It's not terribly comfortable but when I'm dead I won't care.

I hope I can think of a way to do it and I hope it doesn't take too long 'cause I don't want to feel like this anymore.

###

Chapter 17: Sink or swim

I don't know how long I've been sitting here crying but my ass is really starting to hurt. Asphalt ain't exactly designed for comfort. I can barely seem to motivate myself to breathe but the physical discomfort prods me to do something to make it stop.

I look around for an answer and I see it in an empty beer bottle propped against the wall just out of reach. After staring at it for a good five minutes I decide it's not going to come to me so I force myself to scooch over to where I can reach it. I spend another eternity staring at the label without really seeing it but somewhere in my subconscious it registers. Schlitz. Dad's agency handles some of their advertising; he's always bringing home baseball hats and Frisbees and key fobs with their logo. No, not Frisbees--flying discs. Frisbee is a trademark. I try to laugh but it hurts too much so I cry instead.

Shifting over to grab the bottle relieved some of the pressure on my aching backside but now the hip I'm leaning on is starting to hurt. Time to do something about it. Holding the bottle by the neck, I whack it against the wall. It bounces off. I try again, harder, and it bounces again. Fuck, what do they make these things out of--bulletproof glass?

In frustration I pull it way back and swing it as hard as I can against the wall and finally it shatters but I smash my fingers against the bricks and it really hurts. Shit, I scraped the skin right off one of my fingertips and I'm bleeding all over my white shorts, which aren't really all that white anymore anyway and I'm not sure they'll ever come clean. And damn it, I broke off the nail tip too and Mom is going to be so pissed and I try to laugh again and this time I can but it just sounds completely psychotic, like I've totally lost it. Which just makes me laugh hysterically until I cry some more.

It's a bright, warm sunny day but I just feel cold and gray and hollow and numb sitting here surrounded by the stench of rotting garbage and vomit and the buzzing of flies. The pain in my ass is growing and my hand is starting to throb and I think more than just the tip came off 'cause it hurts and fingernails aren't supposed to hurt. I still have the jagged brown neck of the bottle in my wounded hand. It's glistening in the sun, casting interesting reflections on the dumpster and the asphalt and my other arm that dance around if I jiggle it the least little bit. I can see the veins in my wrist, forming a blue 'W' under the pale skin. Or if you look at it another way, it kind of looks like a connected or overlapping 'XY.' The source of all my pain. When I shift the broken bottle in my hand one of the shards of light slashes across it.

"Don't do it, Larry."

What the fuck? I thought I was alone in my misery. I want to say, "Why not?" but what comes out is a resigned, "I wasn't gonna." He doesn't look convinced. Guess I better drop the broken bottle. "How did you find me?"

"Security guard said you ran this way. I found the door behind the rack of suits and figured maybe you did too." For some reason Matt doesn't look afraid of me anymore. "Mind if I sit with you?"

"No, but you will. 'Snot very comfortable." I pat the ground next to me and he sits, wrapping his arms around his knees and looking off through the chain link fence.

After an awkward silence he asks, "Why?"

He's joking, right? "You have to ask?"

He looks confused. "Huh? Oh. No, not that. This." He waves his hand around in front of me. "How come you're pretending to be a girl?"

"I'm not pretending. I am a girl." I don't care about anything anymore so I can say it just like I'm speaking the obvious truth that it is, not defensively.

He looks disappointed in me. "Come on, man. I had gym class with you too." Like I said, I don't care anymore. I just shrug. "Look, if it'll help--" He looks like he's making up his mind about something. "Hell, after what just happened, if I can't trust you who can I trust?" What does that have to do with anything? He takes a deep breath and continues. "Sorry, this isn't something I tell just anyone. In fact you're the first. I'm... I'm gay too, Larry."

OK, maybe I care just a little. I put my arm around him, lean my head on his shoulder and give him a sideways hug. He stiffens up. "I'm touched you trust me that much. It's very sweet. I promise your secret is safe with me." I can feel him relax a little. "I'm not gay though. Just a girl." I feel him slump.

"Come off it, man. Like that chick said, you've got a dick, that makes you a guy. Like, by definition." I let go of him and mimic his posture, arms wrapped around my legs, chin resting on my knees.

"If it makes you happy to believe that, go right ahead. I know what I know. I don't really care what anyone else thinks anymore."

"Yeah, you do. Or you wouldn't be hiding out here."

"Good point. Shall we go back in?" I start to stand up but he takes my hand and pulls me gently back down.

"Not yet, if it's OK with you. I want to talk some more. I still don't get what you're doing."

"Fine." Jeez, maybe I need to write a handout about it or something, and like run off a few hundred copies on the ditto machine. This is getting old. I sit lotus-position, both to use different muscles and to visually emphasize what I'm about to say. "I'm a girl. Everyone looks at my body and sees a boy--even me. But my brain, my heart, and my soul all say 'girl.' It's just--unbelievably frustrating. I know what I am in spite of what I look like. I don't know how I know, but I know. I've always known."

"If you've always known, how come you're just doing this now? How long have you been doing it, anyway--since you moved?"

"No, just the past week or so."

"Wow. I guess you are kind of a natural."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you're good at it. At being a girl. You make a cute girl, too. Who knows, maybe if I wasn't gay..." He's got kind of a faraway look now.

"Thanks." Yeah, too bad. Matt's kind of cute himself, in a Pillsbury Doughboy kind of way, and a real sweetheart. I suddenly feel bad about all the shit Ben and I used to give him just for being such a nice guy. I put my arm back around him. "I kinda wish you weren't." It seems like the thing to do so I give him a little kiss on the cheek, which kind of startles him but he doesn't seem to mind too much, and then I rest my head on his shoulder again. "Then again if you weren't, maybe I wouldn't feel quite so... safe around you."

"Shit, this is confusing, Larry--uh, I guess you probably don't go by Larry anymore, huh?" I shake my head. "What was it that chick called you?"

"Linda?" Just saying the name makes my stomach wrench.

"No, that wasn't it."

"No, I mean 'that chick' was Linda. She was calling me Joey."

"Oh. Oh, yeah, right. ...I thought you didn't like that nickname."

"I got over it. Anyway only a few people outside the family call me that. Long story. Everyone else calls me Leigh."

"Your middle name?"

"Yeah. Only spelled l-e-i-g-h like Vivien Leigh. You know, Scarlett O'Hara from Gone With the Wind? Turns out that's where my middle name came from anyway."

"Oh." He's quiet for a minute, then: "When you say you wish I weren't gay, you mean... you like me? Like that?"

"I dunno. Maybe." Yeah, definitely. Why can't I just say it? "But I think I'd like you to like me like that."

"But I do. I mean, I did--oh, God." Matt is now glowing red like a traffic light.

"You were... attracted to me as a boy?"

"Uhm..., yeah. You're not mad, are you?"

"No, I'm flattered." He looks relieved. "Frustrated, but flattered. It's kinda romantic, actually, in a tragically surreal sort of way. Real old-fashioned star-crossed lovers stuff. With a modern twist." Now he's looking at me like I've lost my marbles. "'Cause as a boy, I was never attracted to you. Or any other boy; nothing personal. But as a girl I am, and now sadly you're not." And he's gone all red again. I giggle insanely before I can get myself under control.

"What are you laughing at?" A confused smile is peeking through his embarrassment.

"Nothing, just... well, if I couldn't laugh about it I'd have to cry. I think I've done enough of that for today."

"Yeah, I'll say."

"Hey!" I jab him with my elbow but it doesn't erase his grin.

He lets out a sigh. "Must be nice."

"What?"

"Being able to cry whenever you feel like it and not get razzed for it."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess."

"Is that why?"

"Why what?"

"Why you wanted to be a girl."

"What, so I could cry whenever I felt like it?" I want to hit him with both barrels of scorn for that.

"Not just that. Just, you know, so you could do girl stuff without taking any shit for it."

"No. I mean, not that I don't take advantage of it when it suits me, but that really has nothing at all to do with it."

"Then what?"

"I dunno. It's not really like I wanted to be a girl anyway. I already was, whether I wanted to be or not. What I wanted--what I still want--is to have a girl body. I feel like I'm s'posed to. You know?" He shakes his head. Of course he doesn't. "I mean, yeah, everyone keeps reminding me today how I have a dick. But I never wanted to. It's always been there but it's always felt wrong. In the way, kind of. Like it doesn't really belong there. Like--when we were really little Liv and I used to take baths together and I remember looking at her and thinking that's what I was s'posed to look like and wondering why I didn't and how I got stuck with this ridiculous thing." Matt looks like he's struggling to grasp the concept of not wanting to have a penis. I have an idea. I take both his hands in mine and look him straight in the eye--straight in the soul. "I know what I am and I'm telling you here and now, having a dick doesn't make you a boy. Any more than it makes you like girls."

That got him. Too bad that one won't work on most people.

We just sit there quietly holding hands for a while. "La- sorry. Leigh? Can I ask you something?"

"You just did." He looks annoyed. "Sorry. Go ahead."

"What's the deal with you not being attracted to boys before, but now you are? I mean, I didn't think you could just switch--honest, I've tried to think of girls that way but I just can't. It makes me feel a little queasy." I pout at him. "Sorry, but it's true. How did you feel--before?"

"Before I was always attracted to girls. If I'd thought about what that meant, with me being a girl inside, I prob'ly would've figured I was a lesbian at heart. Now, though, I don't know anymore. I mostly don't seem to notice or think about girls that way at all, and only some boys." I give his hand a squeeze and we both let out regretful sighs. "I dunno what the deal is with that."

After a minute he says, "I think I do."

"Really? Then spill it, 'cause when I stop to think about it, it drives me nuts."

"I think you're turned on by thinking about boy-girl sex, like I am with boy-boy sex. Sorry." I musta made a face at that or something.

"No, I'm sorry. Go on."

"So when you'd think about sex in your boy body, you'd want it to be with a girl, so you were attracted to girls. And since you're pretending to have a girl body now, and thinking about yourself that way, you'd want it to be with a boy so naturally you'd be attracted to boys, not girls." I kinda winced when he said 'pretending' but I think he may be onto something.

"Huh. Y'know, that actually kinda makes sense."

"'Course it does." He thinks for a minute, then smiles and says, "Either that, or you're basically bisexual but just afraid of gay sex."

"Hm. Boy-boy sex does kinda gross me out, I gotta admit." He looks hurt. "Sorry, it just seems--I dunno, unsanitary. But why on Earth would I be afraid of girl-girl sex? Seems like it oughta even turn me on, but it doesn't." He smiles and shrugs. "I think your first idea was right. So, Mr. Genius, since you seem to have the number for the Cosmic Answer Hotline today, any idea what the fuck Ben's deal was?" I'd been starting to feel a little better, talking with Matt, but thinking about Ben has reopened the recent wound and my eyes are tearing up before I even finish the question.

Matt looks down and kind of mumbles. "Sorry. I couldn't think of any way to make him stop."

"I don't blame you. I just don't get it. I thought we were best friends, and it's like he was going out of his way to hurt me as much as he possibly could. Which he did." He's looking at me like I'm some kind of idiot or something. "What?"

"You just said it yourself. As far as he's concerned you were his best friend. Like, ever." He seems kind of sad about it; I guess he feels overlooked. I look at him apologetically but he dismisses it with a wave. "Not your fault. He's been down in the dumps ever since you moved, man. He just got worse after you went Up North with them a while ago. And he's been takin' it out on everyone. I guess deep down he blames you for his misery. He might've been pissy even if you weren't dressed like that when he saw you."

"Oh." I really am crying now. Yeah, it is kinda nice not to have to try so hard to fight it, but do I have to enjoy the privilege so damned often? I thought I was done with this for today. "That is so, like, totally unfair! I mean, it's not like it was even my idea to move in the first place."

"I didn't say he was being rational. I was just telling you why he was being such a dickhead."

"Is he still around? 'Cause I don't think I could take it if he was gonna keep being like that."

"Naw, when you ran off he made a couple more rude comments, then when your mom and your grandma chewed him out he got all depressed and said he was gonna just go home."

I get a rueful smile amidst my tears. "Don't ever let her hear you calling her my 'grandma.' It's 'Grandmother Sorensen,' or 'Mrs. Sorensen' to you, thank you very much. She's very insistent about being addressed properly. And if you ever meet my grandfather, make sure you address him as 'Dr. Sorensen.' I don't think he cares so much, but she'd rap you over the knuckles with a ruler if she had one handy."

"Wow, sounds like she really has a stick up her ass."

I frown. I don't like people saying bad things about Grandmother. "Hey, she can be a lot of fun too. She taught me how to climb through barbed-wire fence without getting scratched so we could sneak over and ride bareback on her neighbor's horses." His eyes get big. "Well, she's good friends with them and they don't really mind. But it was more fun to pretend we were sneaking." He looks relieved.

"I stand corrected. She sounds like a real character." He sees my sour look and adds, "I mean that in a good way. I like eccentric people."

"And I'm truly thankful for that." I lean over and hug him. "It really means a lot to me that you didn't just take the easy way out and join Ben and Linda in the Leigh-kicking fest."

"Yeah, well, people who live in glass houses and all that."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short. You're just a genuinely nice person and you always have been." I'm embarrassing him, but he needs to hear it. "Anyway Mom's prob'ly worried sick about me by now and Grandmother must be having second thoughts about... all this," gesturing vaguely at myself, "so we should go find 'em, don'tcha think?"

"Yeah, good idea." As he gets up he offers me a helping hand--a true gentleman. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside too, 'cause it means at least on some level he's really accepted me for who I am. I give him a grateful smile.

----------

"Oh, sweetie! Are you all right? We were worried about you. Thank you so much for finding her, Matt." Mom looks me over. I cover my bloody finger with my good hand so she doesn't see it and freak out. "Oh, honey. Look at you. Come on, let's find a ladies' room and get you cleaned up. You can change into the jeans we just bought." She shakes her head. "I'm not sure we'll be able to save those shorts."

That's OK. I don't think I want them anymore anyway. Or any of the stuff Linda gave me.

----------

At the time it kind of felt like talking with Matt was making everything all better, but I'm still left with a hollow ache inside and feeling like any little thing could push me over the edge and start the tears up again. I guess losing two of the best friends you ever had inside of five minutes isn't that easy to get over.

It doesn't help that I don't have Linda on my side to counterbalance Grandmother's and Mom's clothing choices for me, and just thinking about that I get a stab of sorrow and a simultaneous flare of anger at the unfairness of it.

----------

Good grief. You have got to be kidding.

"Why don't you try this on for us? I think you'd be adorable in it."

"Oh puh-lease, Grandmother. I'm thirteen. This is nineteen seventy-five." It looks like a freakin' Alice in Wonderland costume. Uh-oh, she's got that disapproving look. Time to backpedal. "Sorry. If it'll make you happy I'll try it on for you. I just don't think it's me." Now she seems pleased.

"No, that's quite all right, dear. I'm happy that you finally care so much about the clothes you wear. That's where people get their first impressions of you and it's important to always be sure you're making the impression you intend to make." OK, why's she wearing that mischievous grin and why did she wink at me? Is that some kind of dig about me wearing girls' clothes now? Or maybe about me not wearing them before?

Matt seems unduly amused by our exchange and looks like he's about to add something so I cut him off. "You'll stay out of it if you know what's good for you!" My arms are crossed and I give him an exaggerated dirty look. He throws his hands in the air and pastes a 'who, me?' expression on his face but I can tell he's trying really hard not to laugh at me. Hmph, I'm glad someone is enjoying this. Actually I'm really glad he's still here at all, 'cause in spite of having to take this kind of shit from him I can really use the moral support right now.

As Grandmother wanders off to find something else to humiliate me with, Matt shakes his head and smiles. I give him a suspicious look. "What?"

"Man, you are such a girl. How did you get so good at that? In just a week?"

Shrug. "I dunno. It's not like I'm doing anything." He's giving me that skeptical look again. "More like, now I don't have to watch myself all the time to make sure I'm not doing something that'll get me beat up." He looks thoughtful. "Before, that was all an act. I mean, I got so used to it that some of it's automatic, and I still do it without thinking about it. Linda was giving me some shit about that in the car on the way here." OK, I just ruined my own mood again. "I wanna try to break those habits 'cause they seem to make some people uncomfortable and anyway that's not really who I am. But it's not like anyone's gonna beat me up for it. At worst I get razzed a little for being a tomboy."

"Huh. Yeah, but... I mean, how did you learn all that stuff so fast? You haven't been, like, practicing in front of the mirror for years or something, have you?"

"No--what stuff?"

"Like, I dunno, the way you stand, the way you move, that thing you did to me just now with the look, the way you talk, everything."

"I dunno, I'm just doing that stuff the normal way. For a change."

"What do you mean, the normal way?"

"I dunno." Jeez, why's he being such a pest about this? "All right, all right. Look, most stuff, people just tend to do it a certain way, OK? And you learn by watching 'em do it so you tend to do it the same way, right? That's the normal way."

"Yeah but there's some stuff where boys and girls just do it a little differently for whatever reason. I used to think it was because of, like, the different anatomy or whatever, but--you're doing it like a girl now and you're still built like a boy so..." He shrugs. I try not to look upset about the 'built like a boy' comment.

He has a good point, though. "I never really thought about that. I mean, yeah, obviously I noticed there were differences but I never really thought about--well, to me it's always been like, there's the normal way everybody does stuff, and then for some stuff boys have a different way of doing it and I've always had to pay close attention to make sure I got it right so people wouldn't beat me up for acting like a girl. 'Cause my natural inclination would be just to do it the normal way." He's looking like he wants to interrupt. "Yeah, now that you point it out, I guess most guys would see the guy way of doing it as the normal way and the girl way as different."

"But you don't 'cause inside you've always considered yourself a girl?"

"I guess. So, I mean, sure, I have lots more practice at doing it the other way, so like I said a lot of the time I even do it that way without thinking about it, you know? But if I don't fight it then a lot of stuff I fall back to doing the normal way." He looks kind of bemused when I say 'normal way.'

"OK, but like, if you never get a chance to practice it, how come you're so good at it?"

Hm, interesting question. It couldn't be, like, genes or hormones, 'cause as far as I know mine are sadly of the boy variety. Oh, I know what it is. "It's this thing I do, what I always thought of as a useless talent or just plain embarrassing. I mimic people even when I don't mean to." He smirks; obviously he's seen me in action. I can feel myself blushing a little. "And I've had, like, a whole week where I've been hanging around with girls all the time and not having to put the brakes on that, you know? When it comes to fitting in with a new crowd I've always been a quick learner." I spot a mannequin showing off one of this year's back-to-school fashions--a white polo shirt, khakis, and Topsiders, and a pink cardigan with the sleeves tied loosely around the neck. "Ooh, cute! What do you think of this outfit?" He's looking at me disapprovingly. "What? You don't like it?"

"It's just so... mainstream. When did you become such a conformist?" Ouch, that stings.

On the other hand... "Hey, when it came to clothes I always tried to blend in. You know, kind of a subliminal message to potential bullies--'nothing interesting here, move along.'"

"I guess, but you still never, you know, conformed to the norm. Like that." He's pointing at the outfit like it's something distasteful. "I mean, your sense of style may have been pretty dorky"--if I wasn't already feeling so far removed from my old life I might resent that, and anyway he's one to talk--"but at least it was your own. And, I mean, isn't it a little goody-two-shoes?"

"Huh, you should talk." He's giving me a sour look, but I mean, seriously. "I dunno, I feel like I don't have to worry about that anymore, you know? Trying not to be noticed. I feel like I have more choices now." But that's exactly his point, isn't it? "I guess I have just been kinda takin' the easy way out and copping Linda's style." And I could definitely picture her wearing this. Urg. I am starting to hate it when I think of her. How could she just turn on me like that? I mean, yeah, I guess finding out the girl you've been coaching for the cheer tryouts and sharing your clothes with and talking about boys with is a boy would be kind of disconcerting. And I know I'm not really a boy but obviously it would look like that to her. But still, I mean, it's not like I ever lied to her; I just let her believe what she wanted to believe because it was mostly true anyway. But I guess she wouldn't see it that way.

"You're better off without 'friends' like that."

Huh? Oh, I guess I'm crying. Again. "I just don't know what her deal is. We were getting to be such good friends, or so I thought."

"Well, I suppose we should cut her a break. I mean, look at how much trouble I had buying what you were saying about really being a girl even with a--well, you know what I mean." I guess he saw me wincing just then.

Sigh. "Yeah, I guess. That doesn't make it hurt any less though. And anyway that doesn't excuse her for being such a... bigot about it."

"Yeah." We just stand there kind of awkwardly for a minute, me with my arms wrapped around myself trying to stop the tears, him with his hands in his pockets looking lost and nervous, until finally he decides to come over and hug me from the side. "Maybe she'll come to her senses when she's had some time to think about it."

Snif. "Maybe. I'm not gonna count on it." He must not have seen the look on her face. I turn around so I'm facing him, without ever leaving his hug, and rest my head on his shoulder. A voice I don't recognize says in a wistful tone, "Ah, young love." I look up and see a woman about Mom's age walking past with a sappy smile. I can't help it; I crack up. After a second Matt does too.

----------

I'm getting that outfit anyway. I don't care, I like it. I think I'll wear it the first day of school.

----------

"Oh, hey. Can I just pop in here for a sec?" We're passing Waldenbooks.

Mom looks dubious. "Grandmother didn't bring you here to stand around for hours while you shop for books."

"No, seriously, I already know which one I want; it'll only take a minute. Please?"

"Oh, all right, but be quick about it."

----------

"That was quick."

"They didn't have it." No Dragonquest. That's what I get for shopping in a chain bookstore. I haven't found a real one near our new house yet though. Guess I'll just have to get myself a library card.

----------

"Here, honey, what do you think of this for the barbecue tomorrow?"

"Oooh, pretty! For you or for me?" Mom's holding up a cotton floral-print dress with a halter-style neck and a button-down front.

"I was thinking for you. I don't think I could pull off something like this at my age."

"Sure you could. It'd look good on you." I take it from her and hold it up to my front, checking in a nearby mirror to see how it'd look on me. I like! "Anyway you're only as old as you feel, right?" Plus, Mom looks pretty young for her age. That's where I get it from.

"Well, it's sweet of you to say that." She sounds skeptical.

The smile I see in the mirror falls as something occurs to me. Regretfully I hand the dress back to Mom. Sigh.

"What's the matter, sweetie? Don't you like it?"

"Yeah, but..." I lean in close and whisper, "My bra would show and I can't go without one."

She looks confused for a moment, then seems to get my meaning. She smiles. "You're not the first girl to have that problem. We'll stop in the lingerie department next."

Matt looks a little alarmed by that, then pointedly looks at his watch. "Oh, shoot! I just remembered my cousin is flying in from New York to be with us for Labor Day and my folks want me to go with them to meet him at the airport. I need to be going now." I shoot him a suspicious look, to which he responds with an apologetic shrug. I decide to forgive him since he's been a friend in my hour of need.

"Do you need a ride home, Matthew?"

"No, that's OK Mrs. Sorensen, I've got my bike here and if I leave now I should have plenty of time. But thanks anyway. Hey, good seein' ya again Miz L, Leigh." He gives me a good-bye hug and says, kinda quietly just for me to hear, "I hope this works out for you--it really seems to suit you." Then at normal volume, "Don't be a stranger, OK? I'll give you a call next weekend so you can tell me how your first week of school went."

I smile and give him a peck on the cheek, which makes him blush a little in front of Mom and Grandmother. "Thanks, Matt. Thanks for everything. You're one in a million." I give him a final squeeze before letting go.

"Ride carefully, young man. The streets around here are very busy today!"

"I will, Mrs. Sorensen. Well, 'bye then." I watch him walk away; he turns and waves one last time before turning a corner. I wave back and smile wistfully as he disappears from view.

Suddenly I feel alone, and very, very tired.

"He's a very nice young man. I think he fancies you, Leigh."

I look at Grandmother and smile sadly. "Trust me, it's not like that."

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you."

"Oh, Grandmother." I can't help rolling my eyes just a little at her innocence. "He's--" Shit, I promised not to say anything.

"He's what, dear?"

"Nothing. Never mind." My eyes are getting watery. I am not going to cry again. I'm not.

Damn it.

I take the neatly folded lace hanky Grandmother offers me and gently dab at my tears with it. I kind of need to blow my nose but I can't bring myself to do it with this thing so I just sniffle instead.

----------

Matt's comment about being a conformist is really getting under my skin but I'm just too emotionally drained right now to figure out what to do about it. All I know is when I think about myself wearing something I either like the idea or I don't so I'm just going by instinct. Grandmother seems delighted by the whole thing and happy to buy me whatever strikes my fancy. I just wish Matt or Dad or somebody was here to help us carry all this stuff 'cause I'm gonna collapse under the weight and Mom doesn't look too happy either.

"How much longer are we going to shop today, Grandmother? I don't think I can carry any more."

"Oh, we're nowhere near done yet. You still need some things for more formal occasions"--as if we ever do anything that requires dressing up--"and afterward we'll need to go back to the shoe store. At some point we need to stop at the salon and have them do something about that nail of yours. And I think you're old enough to start wearing a little makeup"--she gives a sort of 'no you don't have any say in this' look to Mom, who just smiles and shrugs because she's already given me her permission--"and of course you'll need some jewelry to go with all this. I think she's old enough to have her ears pierced; don't you, Sandra?" I don't know if I'm more scared or excited about that but Mom seems none too happy. Clearly she knows she won't win this argument though, 'cause she just groans her 'oh, all right' groan and gives a resigned-looking nod. "But we can certainly go drop this load off in the car before we continue."

----------

"Hey, Mom?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"When you said that dress was for the barbecue tomorrow, what did you mean? Are we invited to a barbecue somewhere?" I'm usually kind of shy and uncomfortable about meeting new people in an unfamiliar environment, but for some reason the idea of spending the day with people who don't know the old me seems really appealing.

"No, dear. Our barbecue."

"Oh." So why do I need a new dress just to have a barbecue in our own backyard? "Did we invite someone over?"

"Aunt Kathy and Uncle Keith and the kids are coming up from Toledo since the folks are here. Didn't I tell you?"

"No." Great, now I have their reactions to look forward to. Well, I guess it can't be much worse than today, can it? "Have you told them about me?"

"I had a long talk with Kathy about it when I called to invite them up this morning. I'm not sure she really understands but she's very accepting and open-minded about it. You know how she is."

"Yeah."

"Don't worry, sweetie. She'll talk to Keith and the kids and make sure they don't give you any trouble."

"Yeah." I know Aunt Kathy will take me at face value. It's the others I'm worried about. Uncle Keith is usually pretty easy-going but he's got that traditional Southern background. And Lisa, Lori, and Ken--I dunno. We've been pretty close since we moved back to the States a few years ago and it'd just really, really suck if we couldn't be friends anymore 'cause they were, like, all weirded out about me or something, you know?

Oh well. Guess I can't really do anything about that until tomorrow anyway.

----------

Four hours. I can't believe we shopped for four whole hours. That's got to be, like, some kind of record. For me, at least. My feet are killing me.

I guess I was kind of throwing myself into it to try to take my mind off what happened and what's going to happen tomorrow, but the actual shopping wasn't nearly as bad as I'd have thought. Even the shoes, though I think I may have tried on more shoes today than I had in my entire life up to now. I mean, I think some of it might actually have been fun if I hadn't been in such a shitty mood. I guess before Ben showed up I kind of was having fun. Weird, huh?

And you can't really see 'em unless I pull my hair back behind my ears, but I've got two glittering fake-diamond studs in my lobes. Grandmother wanted to buy me real diamonds but Mom put her foot down. Spoilsport. Oh, well--at least this way I don't have to worry so much about losing them. It hurt when they made the holes. Ever accidentally jabbed your thumb with a needle or something? Yeah, well this was a lot worse, trust me. But the studs looked sooo pretty when the lady in the shop held up the mirror for me to see and it was like totally worth it, you know? I know Livy's not really into this kind of stuff but I wonder if she'll be jealous when she sees. She doesn't have her ears pierced yet.

Actually I hope she's not. Jealous, I mean. I really like having a big sister who's nice to me and looks out for me. Aside from finally being able to be myself, that's probably the best part about this past week.

----------

Why does Grandfather look like he has really bad indigestion?

"Why don't you take these to your room, dear, and get them put away?" And why is Grandmother giving me the brush-off?

Best just go along with it, I suppose. "Oh, uh... all right, Grandmother." Crap, this is a lot of stuff. Did I mention a lot? Where's Dad when you need him? "Um, help?"

"Here, sweetie, let me take some of those."

Mom's already pretty loaded down but somehow manages to take a couple more bags from me. "Urk. Thanks." If I had one or two more hands I might have been able to manage on my own.

As we make our way down the hall I hear, "Holy shit!" Language, Livy! Grandmother might hear you! But she does have a point.

"So you gonna just stand there gawking, or give us a hand? At least get my door, please?"

"Yeah. Wow, what a haul." Crap, she sounds jealous.

"You could have come along today, Livy." Apparently Mom noticed too. A look of distaste fights with one of regret for control of Livy's face. "I'm sure Grandmother would be happy to take you shopping some other time."

"Yeah, if I decide to start wearing skirts and high heels... hey, you got your ears pierced! Before me!" It sounds more like an accusation than an observation. Shit, this is exactly what I was afraid of. I had an idea in the car, though.

"Yeah, I felt kinda bad about that but Grandmother was pretty insistent." I sort of dump everything on my bed in a big heap. "After we put this all away you wanna walk down to the mall with me and get yours done? My treat." I see the resentment just melt off her face, replaced by something that might be gratitude and a little bit more I can't quite read.

"Yeah. Yeah, that would be great. Thanks, Joey." She gives me a big hug. "You're the sweetest little sister a girl could ask for." Over her shoulder I see Mom get a misty-eyed 'oh, how precious' look on her face. I roll my eyes at her but I can't help smiling.

----------

I finally got rid of the last of my "boy" clothes--well, except for one outfit in case of emergencies; Mom insisted--because otherwise there's no way in hell all the new stuff woulda fit in my closet and dresser. I started getting rid of everything Linda gave me too, just on principle, but couldn't bring myself to go through with it--I guess some part of me still hopes our friendship isn't permanently destroyed even though I know that's a faint hope. So I just moved it all to the back where I won't have to see it all the time and be reminded of what happened.

I get a sick, hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach as I realize I'm going to be seeing her at rehearsal tonight. I guess Livy notices something 'cause she asks, "What's the matter, Joey? You feeling OK?"

"Yeah... no."

"You getting sick? Should we turn around and go home? We can do this another time if you're not feeling well."

"No, it's not that. I'll be OK. It's just... something happened while we were shopping today. Something bad."

"Bad?"

"Like, really bad."

"What, did you get mugged or something?" It kinda felt like that, yeah, but....

"No, I mean, not exactly. We..." I'm not sure where to start. "We ran into Ben and Matt. Ben... recognized me. He, uh, wasn't too happy seeing me like this. He made a big scene."

"Oh, god. Oh god, Joey. I thought he was your friend."

"Yeah. Me too." I'm getting close to crying thinking about it again.

"Wow, you must really be hurting. Betrayed like that, by your friend." She's shaking her head in disbelief, or maybe disgust. She was never all that fond of Ben to start with.

"Yeah."

"I'm so sorry. But it's over with, right? I mean it's never easy to lose a friend but at least it's not like you have to see him every day." That makes me wince. "What?"

"It wasn't just Ben."

"What, Matt too? Man, I thought better of him."

"No, no. Matt was totally cool. We're, like, closer than ever now." She gives me a sidelong look. I roll my eyes. "Not like that! Turns out he's gay." Shit, what am I doing? I promised to keep that a secret! "Um, don't tell anyone." Some friend I am; can't even keep my big mouth shut. You'd think I, of all people, would know better.

"Oh." I can see her digest this; it doesn't take long. "Figures. The nice ones always are. Then who?"

"Linda."

Now her eyes are big and she's got kind of an oh shit expression. "Your cheerleader friend from the play?" I nod.

"She came along for moral support. She was on my side at first but once Ben convinced her I had a... thing she like totally freaked out on me. Called me a pervert. Mom and Grandmother too. She said we were all a bunch of sicko perverts and to just stay away from her. Then she took off." Now I am crying. Seems to be my day for it. I'm giving up trying to fight it. "And we have rehearsal tonight. I don't know how I can face her after what she did to me today."

"Yeah. Oh, man--what if she decides to tell everyone?" She looks appalled at the thought.

"That would suck, but maybe not as bad as you might think." Now she looks like she thinks I'm nuts. "Well, they're actors, and I can just explain it away as doing research for my role. They'll buy that and maybe even respect me for going so far. Dad and I already worked this out. So, yeah, it would suck having that many more people knowing I'm not physically a girl but it wouldn't be as big a disaster as you might think. I just--I get sick to my stomach even thinking about Linda and how she turned on me, and the look she gave me..." Livy surprises me by pulling me into a hug.

"Shhh. You're shaking like a leaf, you poor thing." I hadn't noticed it, but yeah, I am. I hadn't noticed that I'd stopped walking, either. I hear real anger in her voice when she says, "If I ever get my hands on that bitch--I don't know what I'll do, but nobody does this to my little sister and gets away with it." After just holding me for a while she continues in a calmer tone, "Maybe you should stay home tonight."

"Mmmf." My agreement is muffled by the shoulder I've buried my face in. Better get my mouth clear and say it again--but by the time I do, I realize it's not the answer. "No, I've gotta go--if I don't go tonight I can't see ever getting up the courage to go again."

"Get right back on that horse, huh?"

"Yeah." Only horses are a lot more predictable and a lot less dangerous than people. "I don't know what good it'll do--she could probably make it so unpleasant for me that I'd end up quitting anyway. But I've gotta try. I doubt I'll be able to change her mind about me but at least if I don't just run and hide she'll have to deal with me one way or the other." Somehow I find that thought comforting--making her deal with me rather than the other way around--and I feel good enough to start walking again. I wipe the tears from my face and get a tissue out of my purse to blow my nose. This thing is really handy sometimes. "Let's talk about something else, OK? What kind of studs do you wanna get? I think emeralds would go nicely with your coloring. Fake ones, of course--I'm not made of money."

"Yeah, fake emeralds would be good, or maybe jade ones if they have 'em."

"Ooh, yeah, that'd be even better." Amazingly, life goes on.

----------

All they had for the starter studs were fake diamonds and plain stainless steel balls so Liv decided to match what I got. Her birthday's next month though, so while she's getting 'em done I'm sneaking and buying a really nice pair of jade dragon earrings for her. They're not very big but they're really pretty. That and the piercing pretty much blows my whole babysitting pay but she's really been there for me this week and I feel like doing something nice for her.

"That didn't hurt as bad as you said." Ack! Where did she come from? Luckily I've finished paying; I quickly stuff the earrings into my purse before she sees. Heart still pounding from the start she gave me, I turn and try to 'act natural.'

"Oh, really? I guess you're tougher than me." She looks like she wants to be proud of this but feels like she should act insulted. In a lot of ways being a girl isn't all that different from being a boy I guess--just the flip side of the coin. In the end she just shrugs it off and smiles.

"We should get back and see if Mom needs help getting dinner ready." On the way out she looks in a mirror by the exit and smiles at her reflection.

"You like 'em?"

"Yeah. Thanks for bringing me. I've kinda been wanting to do this for a while but just didn't wanna, you know, encourage Mom."

"Yeah. I just hope she gets it all out of her system before I get tired of it." This gets a little laugh out of Liv.

"I don't think you will. It seems like more your thing than mine. I'm just glad you're happy and Mom's happy and maybe she can finally stop pushing me to be something I'm not."

Sigh. "Yeah, I know what that's like."

She looks puzzled for a second, then the light bulb goes on. "Yeah, I guess you would, wouldn't you?"

----------

"Dad?" He's being unusually quiet again on the drive to the rehearsal.

"Hm?" Apparently he was lost in thought.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did." I roll my eyes. Hey, where did you think I got it from? Serves me right, I guess. "Sorry, go ahead."

"Why was Grandfather so quiet during dinner? And why wouldn't he look at me?"

"Well, he's worried about you. Apparently as a urologist he's read about some of this in his medical journals. He's really unhappy about you doing this without being under the care of a psychologist."

"What, does he think I'm just nuts?" I try not to show how much this hurts me.

"No, it's not that. It's just part of the recommended medical process and he feels like we're taking chances with you, playing with things we don't understand."

"Oh." That's not so bad, I guess. "But... why didn't he just say that to me? Why did he have to act all, like, I dunno--ashamed about me or something?" Dad gives me a brief but piercing glance and takes a minute to think about how to respond to this.

"I wouldn't say he's ashamed, exactly. But try to understand. He grew up in a different time. He's fairly open-minded for someone his age but a lot of his friends and colleagues may not be. I can't say for sure, but I'd guess he's struggling to really understand what this means, wondering what's really best for you, and maybe consciously or unconsciously worried about the social repercussions of being seen to support you."

"Oh." I remember how unreadable his expression was when I first told everyone. "Is that kind of what you went through too?"

He's keeping his expression fairly neutral but his neck and face have gotten a little pink. "Briefly. Very briefly." He's not proud of it.

"How did you get over it?"

"Well, we've raised you kids to be self-reliant. If you aren't responsible enough to make important decisions like this for yourself by now I'm not sure you ever will be. I had to keep reminding myself to try to trust your judgment and do the right thing, support you, and accept whatever consequences there may be. I was... struggling a bit with that. But... well, meeting with Michelle and talking to her helped reassure me this was the right thing for you. I have to admit that was a big part of it."

"You think if I asked her to, she'd talk to Grandfather and straighten him out?"

His eyebrows go up. I guess he hadn't thought of it. "It certainly couldn't hurt to ask. Would you like to call her when we get home, or would you like me to?"

"I'll do it. I've got some other stuff I wanna talk to her about anyway. Can I invite her to the barbecue tomorrow?"

"Of course. If I'd been thinking, we would have already invited her." He looks a bit chagrined at this oversight.

"So, not to pry or anything, but you seemed kinda lost in thought before. What was that about?"

He sucks in a sharp breath and lets it out slowly before answering. "Your mother told me all about your confrontation at the mall today." I had momentarily put that out of my mind but now it's back in full force and I suddenly feel sick. "I was trying to imagine possible scenarios of what might happen tonight and how best to handle them."

That's Dad for you. Me, I prefer not to borrow pain by worrying too much about stuff that hasn't happened. I tend to rely on my ability to think on my feet to deal with situations when they happen. Sometimes I end up regretting it--like today at the mall for example, but I'm not sure how I could've planned ahead for that--but it usually serves me pretty well and I save myself a lot of worry that way. But I suppose it can't hurt to have him thinking about it.

We're almost there, though. No chance of putting it out of my mind now. I feel like I could throw up at the drop of a hat. Better roll down my window for some fresh air.

I am not looking forward to this.

---

 
To Be Continued...