“Cover yourself, Max!” somebody shouts when I emerge from the water. I stick my tongue out in the general direction, but can’t help the grin that sneaks onto my lips. The clothes were all it took, and suddenly people treat me… differently. Like they did on gender-swap day, but more casual. Like this is normal. Nobody batted an eye when I came into homeroom earlier, dressed like this. Sinéad kept obnoxiously calling me Mia at every chance she got, and Jacy even slipped up once and called me Mia as well, to the amusement of everybody at our lunch table. He apologized, and I told him it was fine.
Now, school is over, and we’ve gone to the lake for a swim. Most students from our year are here. Drew, Sinéad, Jacy, Theo, Lindsey, Leslie… Lena. We haven’t talked since the incident at the party. Occasionally, I caught her looking in my direction, but she always glanced away before I could make eye contact.
With rivulets of water running down my back, I make my way over to my towel. Drew is still at the center of the lake, by the rocks. Most of the boys and Sinéad are with him. They’re jumping, pushing each other off, baking on the hot stone.
I didn’t leave because I was uncomfortable with them. It was quite a lot of fun, actually. But now that my body has cooled down from having spent all day in a classroom with broken AC, I have something else I need to do. The start of a poem has firmly lodged itself into my mind, itching to be let out.
The towel is crisp against my skin. I make sure that my hair isn’t dripping anymore, then I take the towel and my bag head for the little hill at the edge of the area where my classmates have left their stuff. There, I sit and get out the black notebook. I had to force myself to take this one rather than the new, green one. I still have to fill this one, after all. Not that there are a lot of pages left.
I hide underneath the surface,
Where nobody can see me.
Where I am weightless,
So I don’t have to feel the weight of the world.
Yet somehow, I still manage to fall.
Steps rustle in the grass. When I raise my eyes, Lena is walking toward me.
She stops a few strides away, offering a shy smile. “Hey, uh, are you in a mood for company?”
I nod and idiotically scoot over, like she doesn’t have the whole hill to herself.
Both of us crack up at the humor of it, then she sits down next to me. She’s wearing an oversized white T-shirt over her bikini.
“I want to apologize,” she says, as soon as she has crossed her legs underneath her. “For Friday.”
“Didn’t you already?”
She halts, her eyes caught on mine. “Yeah, but…” She grips the hem of her T-shirt, staring down at her hands. “That felt like the kind of apology after which you don’t talk again.”
“And you… want to talk again?”
She gives a mute nod. “Is that weird?” she asks then. “Like, I respect that you don’t have any feelings for me, but I would still like to get to know you a little better.”
“I think it’s okay,” I assure her. “I don’t mind at all.” Truth be told, I have no experience with people having a crush on me. I don’t know how you’re supposed to deal with that, but there’s no way that not reciprocating a crush has to mean avoiding that person.
“I’m glad. You know, not to blame her, but Sinéad can sometimes get a little overeager in her quest to play matchmaker, and I was a little worried the incident had made things awkward.”
“Well, it doesn’t have to be if we don’t make it so.”
Relaxing, she leans back onto her hands, turning her face into the wind.
“You… haven’t told anybody, have you?” I ask, my voice halting.
“No…” Her eyes are earnest when she meets my gaze. “And I won’t ever tell anybody, unless you make it public yourself.”
“Good.” My stomach is still squirmy at the thought of somebody else knowing, but I suppose that cannot be helped.
“You know,” she says, pulling up her shoulders before pushing out her chest, “I used to think I was gay.”
I watch her silently. Is this confession meant to make me more comfortable? Like a trade of secrets, to ensure that she will keep quiet. An offering of vulnerability she can afford because she already knows a secret of mine that nobody can know.
“That changed a few week ago, when you caught my attention.” Conveniently around the time of the gender swap day. Which probably means that she’s still very much gay. Good for her. “Well, it really confused me at first, and I told Sinéad. Well, not that I was gay, but that I thought you were cute. And she was really encouraging.”
“Since when have you known that you’re… gay?”
She gives a low chuckle. “For years. Found out at a church retreat of all places, when us girls played spin the bottle and somebody dared me to kiss a friend of mine.”
The chuckle turns into barking laughter. “No. I tried to kiss her a few days later when I visited her and her Mum saw, so my friend told her that I’d done it against her will and that I was of the devil and all that nonsense. I never talked to her after that and they moved a month later.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“I’m over it. I think.” She grins. “But that’s why I haven’t told anybody else yet, even though I’m pretty sure Sinéad would be perfectly accepting, for example.”
“Yeah, I think so, too.” Hypocrite much? But then, isn’t being trans very different from being gay? Just that somebody accepts a close gay friend, doesn’t mean they accept a trans stranger. Well, not as much of a stranger anymore, but comparatively speaking.
My fingers keep fiddling with the notebook in my lap, so I finally decide to put it away. But before I can stuff it into my canvas bag, Lena says, “What were you writing, by the way? If I may ask?”
I consider lying. I consider telling her that I journaled a little and that I’m embarrassed about it. But then I glance up and see the genuine curiosity in her face, and a feeling of kinship tugs at my heart. Whom can I tell, if not her?
“Do you promise not to tell anybody?”
She gives me a surprised look. “Nobody knows what you write in your notebook?”
My face is hot and I can feel sweat seeping through the skin at the back of my neck and on my forehead. “Well, not really. So?”
“Of course! You know my secret now, that should be guarantee enough.”
“Right.” I bring the notebook back to my front and open it. “I write poems,” I say. “Like, not usually with a lot of rhymes and very free form, but…”
“Can I see?” she asks, a bright smile on her face as she waits for me to hand the book over.
Her expression shifts into one of concentration as she reads through the latest poem. “Oh my god, same,” she breathes when she’s done. “That’s a very nice metaphor. It’s about Drew, isn’t it?”
“He told me a few days ago he’s also going to Statehaven.”
“Isn’t that good?”
I give a slow shake of my head. “I was hoping to get away from him.” Just saying it makes my stomach tight with guilt. “He’s together with Sinéad. I don’t want to be in love with my somebody who’s got a girlfriend.”
“That shouldn’t be a reason to give up a friendship like that,” she says gently.
“Well, that's not the only reason.” I’m also trans. Is she the kind of person I can tell this to? If anybody, it should be her, right? Not necessarily because I know she’ll accept me, but because at least I know that she won’t tell anybody.
“Did he… do something?”
A twinge runs through me. “What? No! No, it’s…”
I hold out my hand as if I was going to take the notebook, but don’t, for fear of touching her on accident. “May I?”
“Of course.” She gives it to me, and I open it to an older page.
There’s a chasm running through me
Separating me and I
And sometimes I fear
That I am stuck on the wrong side
Only able to watch this girl I long to be
From afar.
She reads the short text attentively. I watch her, that familiar storm of fear and hope building in my chest.
When she finally looks up, her expression is thoughtful. “So, I assume that means you’re trans?”
All I manage is a mute nod. My throat has tied itself into a knot and it’s all I can do to force myself to continue breathing.
“But that’s great, isn’t it? Everybody already accepts you dressing femininely, you’re pretty much already a girl to them. You look pretty much like a girl anyway, so you definitely won’t have any trouble passing, once you start transitioning.”
“I’ve been on hormone blockers for four years now,” I mumble. My chest is a swirling mess of warmth and fear that has yet to fully dissipate. My heart is racing with adrenaline. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
“That’s even better! If your Mum is this supportive…”
“She doesn’t know.”
Lena gives a disbelieving laugh. “Why am I not surprised?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, frowning.
“Oh, nothing bad. It’s just that you’re always so… driven? You might seem introverted, but then you’re by far the most likely out of all of us to make it out there, aren’t you? I wish I had that much drive.”
“So…” My hands are slick with sweat. “Does that mean you’re okay with… this?”
She perks up, startled. “Of course! Girl, I’m also queer. And in case you forgot, I already liked you before I knew this about you. Knowing this… honestly makes me want to spend even more time with you.” She hesitates. A frown forms on her face as she thinks. “And I mean, this kind of explains why you were always so quiet and why you want to move away on your own, but I still think your fear is unnecessary. Have you seen the way Drew looks at you? That guy would still want to hang out with you if you were a green alien that farts teargas.”
***
A few days later, Sinéad texts me in the afternoon that she needs my help with something.
I’m not sure how I feel about the idea of assisting her once more in her quest to win and keep Drew’s heart, but I also don’t have anything else to do, so I pack my notebooks and head over. The bus ride takes longer than simply taking the car, but I pass the time without trouble, studying for the first of the last two exams. I already know pretty much everything, but a little more studying can’t hurt, can it?
Sinéad is already waiting for me with an open door. Immediately, she hands me the usual smoothie, then she takes me upstairs to her room.
“So, I’ve been thinking,” she says, opening her closet and starting to shift through the shelves of neatly folded and color-coded clothes. “I think I want to tell Drew that I’m not Sunshine Girl. I don’t have to include that you are, but…” She pulls a long skirt from a hanger and hands it to me. I accept it, a little dumbfounded, but too focused on what she’s saying to question it.
“What would Drew say?”
She gives a limp shrug. “Dunno. I guess he’d be mad.”
“Wouldn’t that kinda work against everything we’ve done up until this point? You know, making him fall for you?”
“I’m not sure I care as much anymore,” she says, hugging her arms to her chest as she stares at the neat stacks of clothes in her closet. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, you know? I don’t like the thought that he might just love me for something that’s not really mine.”
I frown. “But he doesn’t just love you for the poetry. What a stupid thought! He loves you because you’re funny and smart and kind and beautiful as hell! The poetry was just the thing that made him realize.”
She gives me a sad smile, grabs a whole bunch of tops and hands them to me.
“And anyway,” I go on, realizing that I didn’t even come close to convincing her, “wouldn’t that risk him figuring out that you’re protecting the real Sunshine Girl? I still very much don’t want him to know, and aren’t I the obvious candidate then?” My fingers curl around the tops, holding them tightly. “I don’t mind you taking the credit for this, I really don’t. But if you feel too bad about it, I’d much rather just give up the whole thing so you can say you lost the password or you’re creatively burnt out or something. At least that way you won’t have to write any more poetry?”
“I’d prefer it if I could tell him in a way that’s more than going I lied so you’d fall in love with me, but obviously, I’d need you for that. And I wouldn’t force you to reveal yourself.” Her expression is calm as she meets my eyes; considering.
“You do believe me, don’t you?” she says after a long moment. “That I didn’t just do this to make Drew fall for me? I realize how this must seem to you.”
Guilt twists my insides. Hadn’t I at least considered the possibility? “Yes,” I say in a low voice. “I already said, I don’t care about the credit.”
Maybe then he wouldn’t like her anymore.
Maybe then…
Ripples run through me.
She gives a hum. Another skirt, a pair of shorts, and a dress join the growing heap of clothes in my lap.
“What are we doing here, by the way?” I ask, glad for the brief diversion. “If you want me to help pick an outfit for you or something, you’ll have to give me the chance to voice my opinion.”
“Huh?” she asks, giving me a look I have trouble interpreting. “Oh, no, they’re for you.”
I freeze. “Why?”
“You’re trans, aren’t you?”