“Come on in, come on in!” Sinéad says, throwing open her door and waving me in. It’s early morning, really early morning, and I just had Mum drop me off in front of her doorstep because Sinéad told me to come over the morning before school. Today is crossdressing day — the final day of the week. The days before were fun. I didn’t have a great outfit for every single day, but I did put in the bare minimum of effort so it wouldn’t seem weird that I’m participating today.
“I see you’re already in uniform!” she exclaims, running off to another room further back in the house while I’m still struggling out of my shoes.
It was a weird feeling, dressing like this with the knowledge that I was going to appear as my true self today. When Mum saw me emerge from my room this morning, she went weirdly quiet for a moment. The last few days, she kept insisting I let her take pictures of me, for her collection, because I barely ever let her take pictures. Today, she almost forgot, only remembering once I was putting away the dishes from breakfast.
“Sure am,” I say in a voice so low there’s no way Sinéad can hear. I’m even wearing the scrunchy around my wrist and not in my hair. I know better than to tie it back today.
Sinéad reappears, skipping down the corridor with two small bottles in her hands, both filled with a green liquid.
“Here, drink up,” she says, handing me one of them. “It’s a potion of eternal beauty.” She laughs at her own joke, winking at me as she turns and leads me up the stairs.
The drink turns out to be a smoothie, and a pretty good one at that. I can’t tell exactly what things she put in, but I think I taste apple and kiwi.
“Okay, so,” Sinéad says at the top of the stairwell, holding open a door, “I was thinking maybe I should pluck your eyebrows a little? You know, get them into shape? If that’s okay,” she adds quickly, as if having caught herself.
Sinéad’s room is… not what I expected. Her blanket, covered in a pale blue and while tartan pattern, is still punched up at the far side of the bed. There are several plushies lying around the pillow at the center, lots of plants by the windows, and a gi hanging from the corner of the closet. What did I expect? Floral patterns and the room of a neat-freak?
“You’re a martial artist?” I ask dumbly, slowing as I enter her room.
Sinéad laughs. “Judo. I don’t think I’m very good, but it’s a nice way to keep in shape.”
“I bet it is.”
“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess,” she says, scrunching up her nose apologetically as she indicates the chair in front of the little vanity table.
Gingerly, I sit down, glancing back at her.
“So, what about the plucked eyebrows? That something you wanna get into? Or,” she waves her hand vaguely, “just makeup?”
I want to say yes. Desperately. “How long do they take to grow back?”
“A month at most,” she answers immediately. “You’ll have them back by the time you’re out for uni at latest.”
“I mean… sure.” Yes, actually! Pretty please with a cherry on top!
From a speaker on her desk, music starts playing — calm rock, the stuff you’d slow dance to. Then she gets out a pair of tweezers and gets to work. It hurts surprisingly much. I suppose that is because I’m not yet used to this kind of pain, but I hold perfectly still, barely even breathing as she does her thing.
But Sinéad is not the quiet type. About halfway through the first eyebrow, she starts talking.
“Y’know, I think we should call you a different name today,” she says thoughtfully, plucking another hair.
I flinch, and I couldn’t possibly say whether it’s the pain or her words. “What?”
“A girl name?” she clarifies. “So, I’m gonna be Chad Brosky today. Leslie is going as Christian, of course wearing a gray suit to match, because she’s extra like that. Well, and then there’s you, and obviously, you’re going to be the highlight of the day, so you really need a name for your… persona, right?”
“Right.”
“What about Maxine?” Before I can say anything, she goes on. “No, that’s too boring. Sounds like a grandma’s name. Laura? No, you’re not a Laura. Candy? Hmmm, no, too stripper. Do you have any ideas?”
Is this the right moment? “What about Mia? That also starts with ‘m’.”
“I’m so looking forward to this,” she mutters under her breath, plucking another bunch of hairs.
After that, the conversation drifts. Sinéad tells me about her dream of becoming a journalist, helping minorities by mobilizing people by uncovering the corruption around the country, making a change. She tells me about all the colleges she tried to get into, and that she made it into a pretty good one. It’s one I had looked at myself, but ended up discarding because it was too close to home.
Once she’s done with my eyebrows, she lifts the mirror to show me. She didn’t change much. But even these tiny changes give my face a grace I hadn’t known it could have. The gentle arches of my eyebrows seem like art to me.
“Like it?” Sinéad asks, grinning. “Don’t worry, it’s gonna get even better.”
She doesn’t put a lot of makeup on me. A little foundation here and there, a touch of concealer on a pimple, a light dusting of blush. Around my eyes, she puts a gentle, brown eyeshadow before drawing beautiful wings around my eyes and carefully pulling the mascara brush through my lashes.
“Wow,” she says finally, stepping back to consider her handiwork. “I have no idea how I ever thought you looked like a guy.”
***
We told Drew that he would have to get to school on his own today. He told us Amy would drive him. She probably just did a similar number on his face as Sinéad just did on me.
Sinéad and I are about to leave when he texts me.
Drew: Oh my god, I look weirdly hot.
Me: This is gonna be fun.
Drew: For sure it is, we’re gonna turn heads!
Sinéad laughs when I tell her what he said. She’s wearing knee-length shorts, a polo shirt, and pilot sunglasses, her hair hidden under a baseball cap. She even drew on a beard, which looks surprisingly good, and styled her hair so that the ends of the strands poke out underneath the cap like that typical fuckboy hairstyle.
When we arrive late at school, the others are already there. It’s Sinéad’s fault; she insisted on waiting in the parking lot for five minutes, so that we would be the last to enter homeroom. Yes, she is that dramatic.
The hallways are almost deserted as we make our way to class. A teacher spots us on the stairs, but she doesn’t stop us. Because what would be the point of giving us detention now? She just gives a friendly wave and walks her merry way.
Homeroom is buzzing when Sinéad opens the door. Our teacher must still be sorting paperwork. Voices call out to her as she slips into the room, immediately stepping to the side to allow the perfect view of me. It’s a little uncomfortable, knowing everybody’s attention is going to be on me. But now it’s too late to back out, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little bit excited.
In spite of the heat on my face, the edges of my mouth rise as I turn the corner and step into view. There are gasps, then shouts and laughter. The brief moment it takes me to realize that their reaction is positive is enough to make me want to vanish on the spot. But then Jacy is there — he must’ve jumped from his seat to greet me with a hug — and he says, “You look fine!”
Jacy’s wearing a skater dress with a skirt that’s barely long enough to cover all of his ass. His chest is a little… deformed, and he didn’t put any effort in beyond that, but the vision is definitely there.
Then I see Drew. He’s wearing a black cropped tank top and flared jean shorts that go almost past his knees. What must be a dozen necklaces hang around his neck and his key is dangling from a karabiner on his belt. The best part is his face. He’s got dark eyeshadow and marlot lipstick. With his short hair, the considerable chest, and his muscular arms, he looks like the stereotype of a militant butch.
“YOOO MY MAN!” he bellows, spreading his arms as he approaches.
I can’t help but laugh. “You look amazing!”
“I could never compete with your beauty,” he says, pressing me against him. I’m glad I’m at least tall enough that my face doesn’t get buried in his chest. “But I had to at least match the effort. Or, well, Amy had to. She went all like, ‘You’re not letting Max be the only one looking cute today, no way! You’re going to be in this together!’”
The thought of her saying it as she insists on doing Drew’s makeup makes my eyes water. I realize that I’m about to ruin my makeup, so I blink rapidly and try to think of something different. Follow the newest chapters on novelping.com.
“We so have to take pictures together,” I squeak, still squashed against him.
“Oh definitely!” he agrees, letting me go. “Honestly, I was so sure you’d come in a cute dress or something, but this is, like, perfect!”
Butterflies swarm in my stomach.
“Oh my god,” somebody says, “you two look like you’re a couple!”
I snap around, trying to figure out who said that when Leslie, wearing her gray suit, agrees. “Honestly so true! Like the perfect lesbian couple of hyper femme and butch. The contrast would work even better if Max was in a skirt, but holy.”
I can’t even get a word in. By the time Leslie stops speaking, Sinéad is already piping up in her impression of a masculine drawl, “Yo, like, when you have sex… could I watch? That would be hot, right?”
“EW!” I shout as my face goes crimson, fighting my way past all of them to get to my seat. Drew follows me, sitting down next to me.
He leans over. “You good?” he asks in a low voice.
I give a little nod. “Surprisingly, yes.”
“And you don’t feel like the attention is overwhelming you?”
“No… I mean a little? But in a weirdly nice way.”
He grins. “Good, because you’re so cute.” Self-consciously, he adds, “Like, in a pretty way, right?”
“Drew Alcorn, stop flirting with your deskmate and confirm your presence, please,” our teacher says in a bored voice, making Drew turn towards her.
“Oh, but you see, Drew is not present today,” he tells her brightly. “I am Ash, Drew’s very gay sister.”
Our teacher gives a snort and notes something down on her paper. But when she calls up the next person, a girl named Liv, she just goes, “It’s Hunter Skibidi, but you can call me anything.”
I’m glad it’s this teacher we have today, because she gives a low laugh, shakes her head, and goes along with it. I know other teachers who would’ve been way less fun about it.
It takes some time before it’s my turn. It’s like every student has planned their own little bit with their names, even if some of them obviously only just came up with them, but they insist on having their moment anyway. When the teacher calls on me, she doesn’t even say my male name, just looks at me and goes, “So, who will you be today?”
“Uhm, Mia,” I manage to say, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I hadn’t meant for it to be a bit, but clearly, everybody thinks it is because they break out into a single, deafening roar.
When I give Drew a confused look, he just raises both eyebrows and shakes his head. As if to say, there’s no way that wasn’t intentional.
Later, during calculus, I pull out my notebook. I’m still jittery, riding that high from earlier. I’m not sure it’s going to go away today. When I’m sure Drew is distracted, I open the notebook to a new page and start writing.
Today I caught a ray of sunshine.
I want to bottle it, soak in this feeling forever
But I know the moment is fleeting.
So I bask in the warmth,
And enjoy it while it lasts.