Chapter 5 – Friends Without Benefits.

My second week of school began without any real fanfare. I went to school like normal, and I started my classes again, like normal. I think I was most surprised by how much people ignore when they don’t expect to see something. I remember back in the first days of my transition when I was first letting my hair grow and taking care of my nails and skin better. I was terrified that people might see even a hint of femininity and call me on it. The reality is that people are extremely unobservant. Amazingly, we’ve lived this long as a species. With the fear of my return to class in the rearview mirror now and a relatively peaceful start to the year, I was feeling pretty positive about my chances. I would write about Monday, but nothing of interest happened. What truly saved my ass with this entire enterprise started on Tuesday morning at the end of homeroom. “Remember, boys,” Mister Carstairs calls as we prepare to leave the room for our first classes of the day. “The sign-up sheet for your Phys Ed options is on my desk. Complete them BEFORE you leave, please.” Begrudgingly and a little anxious to get to class, I follow the line of drones toward Ol’ Carstairs's desk as the whole subject of gym class resurfaces in my head. What the hell am I doing to dodge it this week? I look down at the sheet and scratch my little head. “What’s the last one on the list, sir?” Carstairs looks over. “Oh, Juniors and Seniors can elect to take a pass for the local Gym rather than formal Gym class here in school.” “So we can just… go work out?” He nods like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Sure, or play badminton, tennis, swim, hell, you could even take a yoga class if you wanted. We accept that most of you aren’t going to be the sporty types, so why bother harassing you with it? You’re paying enough for this school, so we give you options for your Physical Education credit.” This is Holly again, sorry for interrupting, but I need to explain something here. I need you to understand that this is not just a convenient plot device to aid me in my wonderful tale of transness. No, this is something that happened. I was preparing to try and fake my way out of gym class for as long as I could manage before sucking it up to talk to a doctor for an actual exemption when my school offered this to me the first semester of my Junior year. Most convenient thing ever? Yeah, it’s like a mattress truck driving past a building as you take a header off the top floor. This one option offered by my school pretty much single-handedly saved my ass. I signed up for the Gym pass so fast that I think the pen burned a hole in the paper. I knew the particular Gym in question. It was a fairly upmarket establishment, perhaps a half mile from school. What was most important was that I knew the changing rooms had single stalls. I could participate and not lose the credit I sorely needed. I’m still terrible at most sports, but I can at least attempt them, and that is what counts here. The how would be interesting, but it was certainly possible with a little help. I might need to take Meg up on her offer after all. My morning classes passed without any real fanfare. For once, I was feeling pretty positive about my chances going forward. There had been some missteps already and a few setbacks, but my cover was still intact. So far, it was holding pretty strong; I think I’ll make it if I’m careful. And I was beginning to get the feeling that I’d make it if I was careful. Even Brandon the Moronic wasn’t able to dampen my mood at lunch. Feeling particularly sociable in my excellent mood, I chose to spend my remaining lunch break in the common room rather than alone in the library. If things have been ok so far, why avoid everyone? I’sittingat with my usual friends, the nerds, and we were talking comic books. You know, the typical nerd things to do in most stereotypes and all realities, no matter the multiverse you live in. At the moment we’re arguing about who was the best movie Furyman. Connor Kevin wins overall best for the Animated series, and this is, of course, before Brian Christian’s phenomenal role in the Dark Fury trilogy… so far, I’m on the side of Kevin Michael. “Yo, you weren’t kiddin',g dude.” The voice booms over our sensibly volumed conversation, and I feel a hand clasp me on the shoulder with a hearty level of force. I turn around, expecting to get attacked in some way, only to see the huge form of Face grinning down at me. “Face?” “You weren’t kidding when you said you were a Junior, man, I was convinced they were punkin’ me.” I look at him like he’s got brain damage, which, considering he’s on the Defensive line, he most likely does; TBIs are serious business, folks. “Why would I lie?” “Man, you’re so small, I was convinced it was a joke, dude. Why’d you hang out with these nerds, huh?” he asks, missing the tone of the conversation he’s just dove into head first. We might be the nerds, but he’s come to our corner and we will scowl disapprovingly if he’s not careful. I’m not sure why, but I feel emboldened by the day’s success, so I try a new tack rather than cowering in fear. “They’re my friends, Face, don’t be a dick.” Face seems to think, which is quite a visual experience. “Oh, yeah, sorry dude, catchya yeah?” As he trots off to the football players on the far side of the common room, Andy turns to face me with a look of absolute respect on his face. “Dude, what was that?” “Face? Oh, he was convinced I was a freshman over the weekend.” “Nobody tells the Football guys to stop being jerks, what if he’d pounded you?” I shrug. “Face just needs you to be a bit literal sometimes.” Andy looks at me like I’m a god. This has always been one of the many things about male social hierarchy that confused me. Why is everything so power-based? Is my knowing someone from a higher social circle suddenly elevating me to a higher position? Why? It bugs me that this benefits me, and it bugs me that it's this simple. Rob was right, and it's so stupid. Nate, one of the other guys who, for the record, was on team ‘nipples on the Fury Suit,’ seems extremely suspicious. “How’d you know him?” “I was at the arcade with Rob and his friends on Saturday at Three Pines. Not my idea of a good time, but they’re not that bad when you get to know them.” My friends now seem to think that I’m an alien. I’m not super comfortable being the center of attention. Thankfully, the bell goes and I’m able to get out of there before things get even weirder. High School is difficult enough when you’re learning to navigate the strata of society, doubly so when you’re like me, trying to just keep your head down. As I’m heading out of the common room on my way to German class, Rick jogs up beside me. “You know, if I’m seen with another football player, I’m afraid my fellow nerds will shun me for being too cool.” “Huh?” “Nothing,” I grin. “What’s up?” “Not much, you seem like you’re in a good mood,” he opines. I think about it for a moment. “Yeah, I think I am today. It’s certainly not the worst day.” “Cool,” he grins. “Look, I know the mall was a bit nuts this weekend, wanna come over and hang out this weekend? Nothing crazy, just play some games and chill?” This is the point I should be formulating my excuses. I like Rick, he’s a nice guy, but I’m incapable of pushing back and staying away from him. Not only do I need to stay strong for myself, but from what Meg said, I need to consider how I’m making him feel. Whether he realizes it or not, he’s reacting kinda like I’m a girl. I am, but that’s not the point. I’ll be honest, even I can see it now. “Sure, Rick, sounds fun.” I hear myself answer before I even know what I’m doing. I am such a traitor. “Cool, catch you around, Alex,” he grins as he darts off down a corridor to what I assume is his next class. What the hell did I let myself in for? I’m not stupid. By this point, I’m well aware of how this is heading, but I feel almost powerless to stop it. A tiny part of my animal brain says Hot boy, good. The pragmatic part of my brain that is stopping me from living, stopping me from risking exposure, is screaming at her to shut up. Nobody is listening, it seems. “So it’s just you and him, hanging out, together?” Megan confirms later in her bedroom after school. I lie back on Megan’s bed, squeeze my eyes closed, and nod, “I’m such an idiot, I know.” “I don’t think you are,” her sister offers. “People wanting to be your friend are intoxicating when you’re lonely. Combine that with your hormone-addled brain sending you funny signals about boys, and I’m surprised that you can even function.” “My brain is not addled.” I protest, tossing a cushion in the direction of the voice. Kara chuckles, “About as much as ours were at twelve or thirteen, sweetie.” I look over at her and frown. “This is normal?” “Yup, boy crazy; It’s kinda impossible to fight.” “I have to.” I grump. “I can’t let anyone see this, or I’m so dead. I can’t let myself get dragged down this path now. Why can’t I just go back to having no interest at all in anyone? It was so much simpler.” I sit up and look at the girls. Kara is paying attention, and Meg is doing her homework at her desk. “How the hell do you control it?” “Being in an all-girls school does help somewhat.” Meg offers without looking. “No boys to lose our minds over. You girl, are kinda screwed.” I roll my eyes and flop back down. “Great!” I feel the bed sink as someone sits beside me. Kara’s voice is suddenly a lot closer. “Just go; be friends. The best way to avoid showing you care about him might be to express that interest differently… as a friend.” I look up at her. “Will he buy that?” She looks me over theatrically and shrugs. “Depends if he can see the obvious or not.” Oh, what’s going on? Oh, yes. We’re at the Byrne house, relaxing after school. Right now,w I’m enjoying being able to let my proverbial and literal hair down. I’ve ditched my jacket and hood, ie, and I’m enjoying being able to just hang around them in the T-shirt I wear under my shirt. It provides me reasonable compression, but on its own, it’s obvious what I am. Around the girls, I don’t need to hide it anymore. They’re being extremely helpful with my Rick issue? I like that. They’re trying to be supportive, but I don’t think they grasp how knotted up my brain is about the idea of A, liking boys, and B, this boy in particular. I’ve said it before, but I feel it needs to be reiterated. I’m comfortable in my identity, and it’s not that I feel like I’m ‘gay’ for liking boys. I’m so very used to liking nobody that it’s just weird to like anyone. I’m also very aware of the risks and the fact that people will think I’m something I’m not. It’s all self-protection in the end. In any other circumstances, I’d be swooning over a boy like Rick. The only problem is I’m not the girl he would want, and he’s not going to be the boy I need. “Oh,” Meg segways. “You know, how can we get passes to use the gym near school now?” “They told us this morning,” I admit. “Can you guess who signed up immediately?” “Spot of luck. Do you think you can manage to hide all this… at a public gym?” She asks, gesturing at me. “I might need some help on that front, flatten things out, you know?” Kara looks thoughtful. “Is this all you do now?” “Sure.” “No sports bras or binding at all?” I make a face. “I haven’t had any options.” Meg goes over to one of her drawers and starts rummaging around. She’s there for a minute or two before she pulls a black piece of fabric out. “Here, try this.” I look confused, and she unfurls the fabric,c, revealing a plain black sports bra. “Mine from the end of middle school, maybe a 32A. It should flatten those girls out and give you some support at least. I wore it for Cross Country.” She tosses me the bra and I catch it. I feel almost guilty holding an item of women's clothing, even though it was handed to me like a certain elf received a sock. I know that sounds stupid, but welcome to the compounded guilt of my weird situation. “Try it on,” she urges, looking at me like I’m thick. “Here?” “No, in Gary’s room,” she rolls her eyes. “Ye,s here.” I mean, they’ve seen my chest area,dy so I sigh and stand up. With a mental shrug, I pull my T-shirt over my head and politely cover my breasts. “How do I put this on?” “Like a T-shirt,” she offers. “Over your head, pull your hair out and arms through, then pull it down.” I follow her instructions and wriggle into the tight garment. It takes me some time to get it settled, but once it’s in place, it holds me with a strangely unfamiliar security. I bounce on my toes and feel very little movement in response. Turning sideways, I look in the mirror. I’m shocked to see a girl looking back, her long hair loose and the boy's pants cinched tight at her waist, a stark contrast to the black sports bra she’s wearing. “Huh, it works,” I murmur. “Feels kinda tight.” “Yeah, they’re supposed to.” Meg grins. “God, I hate your figure.” “Right now, we so do,” I admit. “I’ve got to keep hiding it.” “Not forever, sweetie,” Kara offers. “And with that, I’m pretty sure you can pull this off.” I look back at the mirror. And tried to imagine a few layers. “You know, with a couple of shirts, maybe a sweater, I probably could.” “There is one problem with that.” Kara points out. “It’s not just gym class at school surrounded by people you know. At school, they expect Ale, the boy, so they see that as long as we hide the obvious differences. This is a mixed public gym where nobody knows you… I suspect it might be more complicated.” I had not considered this. A new environment means new people with new perspectives. New perspectives mean new problems. “I’ll just have to play it by ear,” I shrug. God, that feels weird with the bra straps pulling as I do it. “Seeing you like this just feels so normal now,” she admitted with a grin. “I can’t believe we never saw it.” “This is why I’m the smart one,” Megan grins. “I spotted it first.” “I think I win that one,” I admit. My expression turns suddenly more serious. “Thanks by the way; for not freaking out and telling everyone.” Meg gives me a reassuring smile. “Girl, it didn’t even cross my mind. We’ve been friendly for years, but we’re friends for real now. No way I’d ever screw you like that. Pl, us even without your irritatingly hot bod, there’s no way that anyowhohat thinks like you could be a boy.” “What do you mean?” Meg seems to think for a moment before answering. “Your way of approaching things, how you relate to others. You seem a lot more observant and sensitive to others' feelings. You’re kind and sweet and… I don’t know. I just get a vibe; a girl vibe.” “Shit if it was that easy I’d have come out years ago.” I grump. “Wish I could make it that simple for my parents.” “You’re convinced they’ll take it badly?” Kara asks. I ponder her question for a minute before answering. “I don’t honestly know,” I admit. “That’s what stops me from doing it. The uncertainty, the risk. For anyone else, this might not seem like the end of the world, but to me, it’s everything. I can’t go back to being him… I can’t. If it went wrong and they shaved my head and sent me off to military school, I’d…” I don’t finish the sentence. It’s too painful. Meg frowns. “Your parents are good people, I’m sure they’d be fine with it. They love you, they’d never do that to you.” “I really can’t see them doing anything like that, they love you,” Kara adds. I fix both sisters with a look. “If you knew half of the stories I’ve read of loving families turning on their kids over this, you’d be as terrified as I am.” I get home as it's turning six that evening. It’s unusual for me to be out this late, as I’m normally the first one home in the afternoon. It turns out that when you have people you can trust to be yourself around, you enjoy spending time with them, who knew? I change out of my school clothes and into a nice cosy hoodie and jeans. I’m feeling a little hyper-aware because I’m still wearing Megan’s sports bra, but honestly, it's so comfortable. My chest feels more supported and far less visible, which is honestly giving me so much confidence. The only downside is that my terrified brain is convinced this thin piece of fabric, no thicker than a tank top, is visible to anyone who sees me. It’s funny how our brains work, right? I sit down and get to work knocking my homework out before we eat. For once, I didn’t get a chance to do it at lunchtime, so it’s a game of catch-up to get myself back on track. Who knew having a social life could impact your studies this much? Dinner is relatively uneventful. We typically eat a little later than most families because we wait for Mom to get back from the hospital. Her shifts aren’t insane, but they run a little late, meaning that we eat around eight. I might have given the impression that my dad is some sort of macho man obsessed with having sports star sons, but he’s not. Most weeknights, he’s the one cooking because of Mom’s hours. We eat, no blood is spilled,d, and we go our separate ways. Dad made a rather delicious roast tonight, and I’m stuffed; you can’t just have one helping! I’m ensconced in my room later that night, finishing off the last of my English paper, when there’s a knock at the door. “Come in,” Mom sticks her head in, “You busy,y honey?” “Just finishing my paper,” I admit, “sup?” She walks in and sits down on the bed. “I made you an appointment with Doctor Harris for next Monday. I’ll take you, then I can drop you at school afterward, ok?” Monday… Monday, my first periods are English and Algebra… awesome. “Sure, works for me.” Should I be more worried? Yes, this can potentially out me, however, I can contain it if that occurs. Doctors are signatories to HIPAA, meaning that they can’t tell Mom if they find out anything. I’m over sixteen now, which makes me, in medical terms, able to decide my medical fate. That’s my worst-case scenario, and honestly, it’s manageable even if it’s not preferable. Why not just tell my doctor and seek treatment? Insurance bills tend to get you on that front. Mom looks a little like she wants to talk, so I spin around and raise my eyebrows. “So your father was telling me you’ve been out socializing a lot more since the semester started. It sounds like you are having more fun at school?” “I’m making some friends, I guess.” I concede. She smiles. “I’m glad, sweetie, you’ve had us a little worried for a while. I was really afraid you were struggling to get on with people...” I feel really bad about this because I can’t tell her why. I want to tell her, I have for years, but I know the risk is too high. I’m afraid of them trying to protect me from myself. I’m afraid of them trying to decide my future. “I’m fine, Mom,” I offer. “I’m doing okay.” “You can talk to me,” she insists fruitlessly. “You know that, right?” I wish I could, Mom, I do. “I know,” I mumble. I can see that she doesn’t quite believe me, and it hurts me so much to lie. I just know this is too much for her to handle. “Are you happy, Alex?” No, of course, I’m not happy. I’m hiding myself from everyone that matters to me, and I’m terrified of being discovered. I’ve fought off suicidal thoughts and depression. I’m nowhere near alright. I’m so far from ok that I’d need to take three boats, one plane, and a bus to get there. It’s selfish, of course. To me, my problems are the worst in the world. I have a roof over my head, parents who technically love me, and an education at an excellent school, even if it’s the wrong one. I could be doing far worse, and I can survive two years. I give my mom a more real smile and nod. “I’m good.” She seems relieved, and she leans in and hugs I can protest. It feels good, but when she pulls back, there is an odd look on her face for a moment. It vanishes and she smiles. “Good nig, ht sweetie.” “Ni,ght Mom.” When she leaves, I get up and pull off my sweater so I can get ready for bed. It’s only then that I catch sight of my sports bra in the mirror. She… didn’t, did she? Oh shit.