I groan this time as the alarm goes off at four a.m. I groan again and turn it off. I swing my legs sleepily out of bed before I fall back asleep. I stretch, yawn, and stretch again—then I pad into the bathroom to take a REALLY steamy shower.

Since it is my first day at school—ever—as a girl, I go easy on the makeup and clothes. NOT! I decide I may as well make a statement—especially since I’ll be using the boys’ room if and when I have to relieve myself.

I stumble down the stairs in my four-inch stilettos—not because they are too high; I’m simply still sleepy… Angi meets me at the bottom of the stairs with a smoothie and a large cup of coffee. I take them and drain the smoothie in several long gulps—then take a drink of the hot, bitter brew.

I smile and say, “Thanks, Mummy—just what the doctor ordered!”

She groans and I can’t help but giggle. She says “Come on, young lady. Your Momma is still asleep—and I’m taking you to school. You’re driving, though!”

I sigh and say, “SUCH a bother—having to drive and all!” We both giggle and move towards the garage.

Thirty minutes later, I get out of the Porsche and see several guys ogle me. I wiggle my butt a little as I get my bag out. Mummy whispers, “Be careful, Paige! Don’t be TOO provocative—that’s how girls get raped…”

I blush and nod. She gives me a kiss on the cheek and drives off—leaving me to face the consequences of the day.

I look at my phone and pull up the schedule that Ronnie had sent me—I know where to go first; I mean it’s not like I’ve never been to this school. I move towards the principal’s office—as requested.

I simply walk right past Mrs. DICKenson with a, “Good MORNING, Mrs. DICK-enson! Miss Ferguson summoned me.”

I hear some grumblings from her desk, but ignore them as I knock on Ronnie’s door. I enter when I hear the requisite ‘Come in!’…

Ronnie looks up at me and says, “Ahh! Good morning, Paige! You look LOVELY this morning! I think you know…”

I look in the corner she is looking towards and nearly yell, “BUTCH!”

Ronnie says, “Yes…’Butch’…”

Butch looks at me in awe and says, “Vick—that you man? Really? I…I’m sorry. I wanted to visit—but they wouldn’t let me, then I was out of state, and then you were gone…”

I close my eyes and breath, then say, “Hi, Butch. No, I’m not Vick… It’s Paige, now…”

He grimaces and says, “So it’s true… I caused you to become a girl?”

I sigh and say, “No, it’s not quite that simple—and CERTAINLY not YOUR fault, big guy!”

He shakes his head and says, “If I hadn’t tripped…”

I look at him with a VERY serious face and say, “Butch—it’s NOT YOUR FAULT! Understand?”

He says, “That’s really nice of you to say, … Paige—but I know I’m to blame. That’s why, I’m going to be on your protective detail.”

I look at him, then at Ronnie, and ask, “Say what?”

At that moment, Felix, another HUGE guy—and an openly gay guy, at that, knocks and comes in. He says, “Good morning, Miss Ferguson, Butch—and,” he smiles at me, “Paige, I presume?”

I nod, numbly…

Ronnie says, “Good morning, Felix. Now, Paige, these two are your protective detail—at least for now. If you need to go to the ‘facilities’, I want you to make sure at least one of them is with you. Here is a note from me that explicitly says that you are to be accompanied… I have also let the teachers know that I will NOT tolerate ANY bullying…”

I nod, dumbfounded, and say, “Thank you, Miss Ferguson. But…is this maybe a bit…overkill?”

She shakes her head and says, “I sincerely hope so, Paige. I sincerely hope so. Now, I believe that you have a trig class to get to—you and Felix…?”

I nod and Felix says, “Come along, Sweetheart—I see a beautiful relationship in our future!”

I lead the way out and say, “In your dreams, Lover-Boy… I have a VERY jealous girlfriend!”

He laughs and I giggle and Mrs. DICKenson scowls at us as we leave.

I look at Felix and ask, “Are you really up for this? I may as well get the first step out of the way…”

He looks at me and says, “Are you sure? *I* have the easy part…”

I shrug and wiggle my butt as I walk towards the boys’ room—my stilettos click-clacking on the old-fashioned marble floor. Without a moment’s hesitation, I open the door and walk straight in. The smell of testosterone and boys’ urine assaults my nose (it has BEEN a while since I have smelled it and it seems even worse than it used to– YUCK). I go to the first empty stall, squat to do my business (NO WAY I’m going to SIT…), and wipe. I flush, walk out of the stall to the sinks, wash my hands, check my makeup in the mirror, and add some lip gloss. I walk out and smile at the open jaws as I hook arms with Felix and we go to class.

On our way, Felix whispers, “That was AWESOME! But, be careful, huh? I don’t want to see you hurt…and I don’t REALLY want to kick any butt—but, I WILL if I have to.”

I smile at him as we walk into the classroom and say, “I know big guy—you and Butch are both softies at heart. Don’t worry, *I* won’t tell!” I giggle and we take our seats, just as the bell rings.

o~O~o

OK, so maybe it WASN’T the smartest thing to do…but, I was going to have to go sometime. Anyway, by the time first period will be over, it will have made it ALL across school that I am TG and the former Vick. For some, it won’t matter at all; for some, I will be ‘cool’; for too many, I will be a pervert—someone to loath and a convenient target.

Trig itself is no problem. The looks, even in those first minutes, start to become more of an issue—even for someone DETERMINED not to let them be. The girls—mostly curious. The boys—either lecherous; or loathsome…

Mr. Gregory, the teacher comes in and, of course, makes me introduce myself.

I get up and say, “Well, as many of you know, I’m not really new here. I’m Paige—those of you who knew me before knew me as Vick. Vick Fitzsimmons. I’m transitioning…”

And all hell breaks loose as I am barraged with questions.

So, our little community is the best kept secret in all things TG clinics—with the VERY best in the country. TG hopefuls come from all over the world to be allowed to transition. BUT, there are very FEW actually transitioning in the community, itself. I am only the third in the last twenty years—and the first in the last ten…

Gregory Hines, a running back hopeful, asks, “Vick, dude…you REALLY want to be a GIRL?”

The girls all hiss and boo him.

I lift my hands for silence and say, “Hi, Greg. It’s less what I WANT—it’s more what HAS to be… It…well…I just HAVE to… Understand?” I don’t go into details…

He says, “No…dude… But whatever is right for you, I guess…”

And so it goes for a full ten minutes—until Mr. Gregory says, “OK, class. Time for some trig. Paige isn’t going anywhere…”

So, I settle in and start taking notes.

The next class is no different…

Then, coffee kicks in and it is time to go to…the BOYS’ room…again…

This time Butch is my guardian…and I take a bigger hit…

Gerald Graham, a bigot if there ever was one one—and the school’s biggest one, for sure—just happens to be in the same one that I happen to go to…

I go in and quickly move to a free stall and lock the door. I scrunch my nose in disgust at the smell and squat, but again don’t sit as I relieve myself. I wipe and take a shallow breath before unlocking the door… I click towards the mirror to wash my hands and check my makeup.

Gerald stands in my way and sneers, “What do we have here? If I didn’t KNOW better, I would think there was a HOT babe in the BOYS’ room. As it is, I KNOW there is a HUGE PERVERT in here. What are we going to do about this pervert, boys?”

A posse of misfits starts moving towards me and I start to sweat a bit—well, make that ‘glisten’, since everyone knows that Pinks don’t ‘sweat’.

I watch the three thugs—all on the varsity football team—advance towards to me. It is clear that I’m going to need extra makeup to hide the bruises.

Butch gets in front of me and asks, “Do you REALLY think you’re goin’ to get past ME? It’s MY fault that she is here… Come on…maybe you want to join her?”

One idiot actually tries it and winds up sprawled on a toilet in one of the stalls. The others back off and Gerald says, “Well, I guess we know where you stand, Butch. Watch out at practice. You’ll regret this!”

And they all leave. I release the breath I’m holding and thank Butch before checking my makeup.

And we get to third hour just as the bell rings…

I wish I could say the rest of the day goes better, but…I can’t…

What I can say, is that the girls seem to be more accepting of me, in general, than the boys… It seems the girls—at least many of the ‘in-crowd’ are almost…threatened…by me. Of course, whether I ever wanted to be a girl or not, I am doing my best to be the BEST one I can—and, if I do say so myself, I look HOT…

Oh well, tomorrow is another day—and cheerleading tryouts at that…

o~O~o

I am not sure about this new ‘arrangement’—it kind of creeps me out having Misty serve me breakfast. Sure, Momma and Mummy, both, assure me that all is well…

“How would Miss like her eggs,” Misty asks.

I look at her. She is dressed similarly to what I have seen her over the last week. In black slacks, that are, upon closer scrutiny, women’s—these are looser in the leg than men’s would be, hanging straight down, plus there is no zipper on the front (it is actually on the side), leaving the front totally flat. He has a white ‘shirt’ on that, again upon closer scrutiny, turns out to be a woman’s blouse (the buttons are too small and on the wrong side for a man). His lace-up ‘shoes’ are really women’s bootlets that have a two-inch stiletto heel that is hidden by the large legs of the slacks—unless you really pay attention (well, and the obvious click-clack of a high heel on the ceramic kitchen tile). His fingernails are slightly longer than I have seen—and are squared off at the tips. They also now have a very slight white edge in the slimmest possible version of a French Tip (just enough to be visible, if paying attention). The biggest thing I notice are his ears, though… He is sporting large white pearls in each lobe…

I pull myself together, remembering that Allen was a TERRIBLE cook and say, “One—over easy and a piece of toast, lightly buttered, is fine, Misty…”

He nods and clicks around the kitchen, his butt wiggling in that funny manner again, preparing my breakfast. Angi comes in and kisses me on the cheek, “Good morning, Love! I’ll have the same, Misty! OJ for us both, too.”

I roll my eyes towards Misty’s back and Angi’s eyes crinkle, but she motions for me to be quiet.

In short order, I get an over-cooked egg and slightly burned toast. I sigh—I could have done much better; and quicker, too.

Mummy looks at her egg and toast with disdain and says, “Well, I guess it’s the attempt that counts…” Her tone sent a completely other message and Misty blanches slightly.

He says, “Yes, Mistress.”

I shake my head and Angi I go to her car and get in it—of course, I drive…

I hug Mummy and give her a quick kiss on the cheek as she comes around the car to get into the driver’s seat. I look at the entrance of the school and sigh. I say, more to myself than anyone, “Well…here goes another day in paradise…”

“Well, that is ONE way to put it,” a somewhat familiar voice giggles.

I look around and see Paulette Sisko smiling at me. Paulette is a girl on the cusp of being popular—she is one of those ‘bridger’ girls that can get along with most any group—but, especially the popular crowd.

I smile and say, “Hi, Paulette. Be careful talking to the pariah…you might catch something…”

She giggles and says, “No worries, I got my ‘pariah’ vaccine last month—I’m safe!”

I roll my eyes, but giggle with her. I ask, “Not that I’m complaining, but to what do I owe the pleasure?”

She smiles—and it seems genuine. She says, “Well, I thought you could use a friend. I know those are sort of in short supply for you, right now. And…no…it doesn’t bother me that you’re TG—OR that THAT bothers 99% of this school…”

I take in a deep breath and hold it for a bit, then let it out. I say, “Well…thank you, Paulette. I appreciate the offer. It’s sort of weird coming back to a school that I have attended for years and suddenly have no friends, other than an overprotective football player with a misguided guilt-complex and a gay guardian that has who-knows-what for motivation. That being said, I’ll be honest—I’m not really sure of YOUR motivation. Call me paranoid…but…”

She actually laughs and says, “See? We’re going to get along great! I love a girl that’s honest! So, sure…I’m curious. But, more importantly—I’m open to having a new friend. No strings attached…”

I look at her and decide she is being genuine. I say, “OK. Curiosity killed the cat—and I already HAVE a girlfriend… If we’re clear on that…how can I settle that curiosity of yours?”

She blushes and says, “Well, too bad about the girlfriend—but not a deal-breaker. But, how did you EVER get the courage…?”

We walk towards the front entrance and slowly get to know each other better. I am still guarded in my responses, but am starting to loosening up…

o~O~o

The actual school day is about the same as yesterday—I do get slammed hard into my locker from behind when a large crowd is surging by. I can’t SWEAR that it was deliberate, but…

I’m not accosted in the bathroom, but I now have to make sure that BOTH my guardians are with me after yesterday—Miss Ferguson’s orders. Honestly, it is REALLY embarrassing—not that I have to use the boys’ room; I could care less. It’s that I need GUARDS to do so…

There are fewer questions in class today—and more stares and glares. I tell myself I don’t care—I know it is a lie…

I make it through the day—and my resolve to even try out for cheerleading has largely eroded. I am about to just text Mummy that I am going to forgo the ‘experience’ when Paulette catches up with me.

She says, “So, you’re trying out for cheerleading, right? That is SO cool! I’m a loser when it comes to actually moving my body to the wiles of music… But, do you mind if I tag along? I like watching those that DO!” She giggles.

I sigh and say, “I don’t think so… I mean, I don’t mind you watching—but, I don’t think I’m going to try out…”

She gives me a strange look—almost one of regret. She says, “And here I thought you were different—not one to conform to the ‘norm’. One to not give into pressures…” She sighs, “Too bad!”

I look at her and ask, “Excuse me? What do YOU know about me? Yes, I had every intention of going in there and kicking some butt—and trust me, I could—and letting them totally NOT pick me; just to discriminate against me. But, after today, I have to conserve my energy—pick my battles. I mean, what do I have to gain by letting them humiliate me?”

Paulette shakes her head and says, “Nothing—and EVERYTHING! So…what if I told you there’s someone on the panel that’s pulling for you? I can’t guarantee that you’ll get picked—but, I CAN guarantee that there are people that are PULLING for you!”

I sigh and think, “DAMN HER!” I say, “But…I don’t WANT to be a cause…I just want to be…ME…”

She smiles, ruefully, and says, “I don’t think you have that option, Hon… You can be a victim—or, you can be a driver for the movement. There isn’t really any in between—at least not HERE… Maybe in some snooty private school where you can BUY your peace.”

I look at her and groan, “Angi put you up to this, didn’t she?” The accusatory tone is very clear.

She gives me with a confused look and says in an honest tone, “I have NO idea what you’re talking about…”

I shake my head and say, “Never mind—long story. Come on…we have just enough time…”

We get to the practice field and I go into the (empty) boys’ locker room to change. I put on some comfortable loose clothing and good shoes and walk out to the sign-up sheet and sign in. I nearly fall over when I see Paulette sitting at the judges table along with Penelope Van Stryker—THE popular girl in school—and head cheerleader and full-on epitome of ‘mean’ girl.

I give Paulette an accusing and confused look and she just smiles sweetly at me.

Penelope claps her hands loudly and says, “OK, ladies. We have two positions open and it looks like we have five hopefuls. Ultimately, the choice is mine—but Paulette here, while not a cheerleader has a VERY good eye at seeing things I might miss and she will have significant sway in my decision. I will pick two of you for the team and one alternate. Are we clear?”

All of us in the group mumble that we are ready and Paulette says, “Chrissy Akers—you’re up.”

Penelope gives her a series of rapid-fire moves and combinations to perform and Chrissy nods and starts. She is good—I know I am better…

Five minutes later, Jacky O’Dell is up…and so on—until it is my turn. I am deal last, since I signed up last.

Penelope gives me a series of really complex moves and combinations to perform—they are MUCH harder than the other girls got. I turn a bit red, but simply nod and go to it. In reality, we had done much harder stuff than this at camp where I had practiced those moves hours every day.

When I am done, I can see that Penelope is not happy. She and Paulette confer—and whisper—and get animated and, finally, after about fifteen minutes, Penelope says, “OK. I have come to a decision, Chrissy and Flo, you’re in. ‘Paige’—you’re the alternate.”

I can see that Paulette is furious at Penelope. Chrissy and Flo are jumping up and down. Jacky comes over to me and says, “Congratulations—I hope you do well on the team. Penelope is a bitch—YOU were by far the best…girl…out here today; you can even cheer circles around HER. I’m sorta glad I didn’t make the team—my Mom just made me try out.”

I smile at her and say, “Thanks, Jacky. I appreciate that. Would you like to get a cup of coffee? I think we’re done here.”

Jacky nods and says, “Sure. Is it OK if Frenchie comes along?”

Frenchie, another of the washouts, is coming our way and I say, “Sure! The more the merrier, right?”

And we all move towards the locker rooms. As I gather my stuff I give Paulette an exasperated ‘I told you so’ look. She barely shakes her head and mouths, “Chin up!’. I sigh and run to the boys’ locker room to change and meet the other girls to walk to the Starbuck’s down the block for a quick cup of coffee.

An hour and a load of caffeine later, I meet Mummy-dearest outside Starbucks and she drives us home. Of course, I have to tell her all about the day and she frowns when I am done. She says, “Paige, Hon, this isn’t healthy for you. There’s absolutely no reason for you to have to put up with this crap! We can get you into Rose Academy—I’ve checked it out, it has a really good reputation…”

I want to scream at her, but take a really DEEP breath and blow it out before I interrupt, “Look, Angi. I know you believe it’s best for me to just dodge this… But, at some time, I’m going to have to enter the REAL world, right? I mean…”

Angi glares at me and says, “Paige, please don’t interrupt me like that! It’s VERY bad manners! Going to a private school isn’t dodging the issue—and I DON’T think that dodging ANY issue is best for you! Do you REALLY think that after all the time we’ve spent together? Well?”

I shake my head no and say, “No, I guess not—but that is what it would feel like to ME. And don’t you always say ‘perception is reality’? I promise you again—if it gets overwhelming, then I’ll let you transfer me to a private school. For now, just let me handle this in this manner—it really DOES help me work through it all…”

Angi sighs and is quiet for a minute; clearly conflicted. Finally, she says, “OK, Paige. You’re strong-headed; that’s nothing new. Just don’t mistake that hard head for one that can’t be hurt—either physically OR mentally.”

I nod and say, “OK, Mummy. I promise.”

She groans and she changes the subject for the rest of the drive home…