School looks the same as always: tired and prison-like with it's lack of windows. Someone somewhere decided to build this wreck of a school as an experiment in avoiding distractions. After all, looking outside might lead to actual free thought. The overall effect reminds me of a fort with overflow trailers surrounding the building like siege camps.
Rebel fidgets next to me as we head towards the office with Felicia. She clearly wants to be here about as much as me. Yet we both dutifully follow behind her mother, waiting for it all to be over.
As we enter the building, I wince. The smell hits me and I am suddenly flooded with sensory memories of stares and insults given by over-perfumed barbies and sweaty, brooding bros. The light glares overhead, turning the skin on my arms even whiter as I stare at my boots.
"God, I hate this place," I mumble under my breath.
Rebel glances side-eye at me. A small, sympathetic smile flashes on her face before she goes back to her 100-yard stare.
We walk into the office. As the secretary looks up, I imagine a small look of annoyance when she spots me. It is quickly replaced by a smile.
"Can I help you?"
Felicia starts the process of enrolling Rebel. I plop in a chair and pull out my phone. Rebel hesitates then does the same. I glance over to see what she is looking at and see her staring at a picture of her and some other girl kissing. She quickly scrolls past as she notices me looking. I don't say anything just return to my email.
Bradley sent me an email titled, "Kill me now."
A selfie shows at the top with his grandmother in the background huddled over a bingo card. "Went to bingo with grandma. She is surprisingly ruthless at this. All of the old ladies want to pinch my cheeks. They're cute and all, but I'm so done. Please help me?"
"Cal?"
"Hmm?" It is obvious I have missed something.
Pointing at the secretary, "She says it is okay if you give Rebel a tour." Felicia stares at me expectantly.
"K." I climb to my feet reluctantly. I gesture to Rebel. "Come on."
We walk out into the hall and I head to the right. "I'm not sure about you, but I'm not all that interested in wandering this shithole. Wanna head to the library and crawl on the computers for a while and just say we toured?"
The look of relief on Rebel's face is almost comical. I find myself liking her just a tiny bit more.
"Yessss."
The library is my favorite place to hang out during the school year. I feel my shoulders relax as we walk through the doorway, the rows of books and tables feeling familiar and safe. I head towards the computer lab and turn on a couple of the computers. We settle in side by side and soon the library is filled with the sounds of clicking and typing.
I'm deep into an article about the history of bingo when I hear Rebel giggling to herself. Though I've been steadily ignoring her up until this point, my curiosity is piqued.
"What?"
"Huh?"
"What's so funny?"
"Oh, just this silly thing my friend posted on Facebook."
"Lemme see."
Rebel turns the computer screen towards me. On it is a picture of two slices of garlic bread with the caption, "If I had a slice of bread for every existing gender."
Blood drains from my face and my stomach clenches. I scan Rebel's face for any indication that she is kidding. Finding none, I abruptly stand up and walk towards the door.
"Hey! I don't think it has been long enough..."
Her voice is cut off as the library door shuts behind me. Feeling the rage and depression build up, I walk quickly to the bathroom, throw open the door and stand clenching the sink, staring at my face.
"Fuck you!" I growl the words. I feel the walls closing in. "Home used to be the safe place for me, but I guess that's over." The anger is too much and I find myself swinging my arm and punching the wall.
The flash of pain is enough to temporarily relieve the anger, but it comes swelling back. I find myself punching the wall over and over, unconscious of anything around me.
When I finally come to, I see there is blood on the wall. It takes a moment for me to recognize what has happened and then the pain takes over and I fall to my knees, cradling my hand. It is bloody and swollen and looks a little misshapen. I sit and rock for a little while, letting the pain overwhelm the grinding thoughts in my head.
Eventually I stand and start running water over my swollen hand, watching the blood dissolve in the water. It reminds me of things I'd rather not think about, so I carefully rub the rest of the blood off.
The door opens and I startle back, hiding my hand in my sleeve. I quickly turn off the water and turn to face whoever is there.
Rebel stands there, a look of sad bewilderment on her face. I can tell she has seen the blood smear on the wall, but she doesn't say anything. She just drops her gaze to my sleeve, then says, "I think it's been long enough," and turns to go.
I mutely follow her to the office, the throbbing in my hand a pulse for my feet to follow. Felicia is chatting amiably with the secretary and looks up as we enter the office.
"Done? How do you like it, honey?"
Rebel mumbles, "Fine."
Felicia stares suspiciously at the two of us but lets it pass. She says her goodbyes then ushers us out of the office. We walk to the car. Rebel reaches the car first and slides into the front seat. Felicia stops and turns to me.
"Wait a sec, Cal."
I stop, wincing at whatever she has to say. Why the hell can't I just go home? Why can't she just leave me in peace?
"I know this is rough for you. You didn't ask for us to be a part of your life. But we are here and that isn't going to change. I know you are angry about it, but please don't take it out on Rebel. She's had a hard time and could really use a friend right now. I know that might be too much to ask, so, at the very least, could you just drop the attitude?"
I feel my body stiffen as my anger resurfaces. Who does she think she is?
I say nothing, just walk past her to get into the car. She grabs my hand as I pass, intending to stop me. I wince in pain and gasp. She pushes the sleeve of my shirt up and echoes my gasp.
"What happened?!"
I jerk my arm away.
"Nothing!"
I try to climb into the car, but she grabs my shoulder and spins me around.
"Don't tell me nothing! Obviously something happened."
I shrug and stare at the ground, "Can we just go home, please?"
"No! Look at your hand! We have to get you to urgent care."
"It'll be fine!"
"Honey, it looks broken. We have to get it taken care of."
"Just leave me alone!" I pull free, climb into the car and slam the door shut.
I see Felicia in the rear view mirror looking hurt and confused. She stands for a moment then pulls out her phone. I look away as I see her start to talk. I stare out the window, pretty sure of what is coming next.
Felicia says nothing as she gets in the car and starts to drive. My mind keeps seeing that stupid meme. The entire car trip I lose myself in pretend conversations where I tell Rebel off punctuated with the things I should have said to Felicia.
As we stop, I realize that we aren't home. I see Mom walking towards us and over her head the sign for the Portland Clinic. I groan. I so can not deal with this.
I stubbornly stare out of the opposite window as Felicia climbs out of the car. I know they are talking about me.
"She is too angry. I can't deal with her."
"Please, Felicia, they are just adjusting."
"I don't know if I can stay with you if this is going to be how she acts all of the time."
"Don't go! I love you."
"But I must for the sake of our families."
As much as this fantasy makes me smile, I know when someone opens my door, that it is just that.
"Get out," Mom says flatly.
Silently, I slide out of the car, eyes on my the pavement.
"Show me."
I slide up my sleeve and mutely present my hand. Mom sighs.
"Come on."
She turns and walks toward the clinic. Behind me I hear a car door slam and the engine start. I glance behind me then walk forward, staring at the stiff back of my mother. She doesn't speak to me at all as she checks me in and finds a seat. I can't stand her silent treatment.
"Mom, I..."
"I don't want to hear it."
"But she was laughing at this transphobic meme..."
"And that's a good reason to break your hand!"
"I don't think it's broken."
Sighing in frustration, Mom grabs a magazine, turns it to a random page and pointedly ignores me. Knowing my face is blazing, I give up and stare in the direction of my phone.
It is totally unfair. She brings these stupid, transphobic people into our life and just expects me to accept their bigotry because she is in luuuuuv. Fuck that.
Throughout the appointment, x-rays and bandaging I stay silent. Turns out I have hairline fractures, but I don't even care at this point. I just stare into the distance and shuffle from place to place like a zombie kid. I can't stop grinding on everything that has happened and my low-level anger fuels my stubbornness. No need to say anything since Mom isn't on my side and probably never will be unless she wakes up to the stupidity of this situation.
When we get home I stomp past everyone into my room, slamming the door. Thankfully Rebel is not there. Throwing myself on my bed, I put in my earbuds, turn up the music and wish myself into another family.
As we enter the building, I wince. The smell hits me and I am suddenly flooded with sensory memories of stares and insults given by over-perfumed barbies and sweaty, brooding bros. The light glares overhead, turning the skin on my arms even whiter as I stare at my boots.
"God, I hate this place," I mumble under my breath.
Rebel glances side-eye at me. A small, sympathetic smile flashes on her face before she goes back to her 100-yard stare.
We walk into the office. As the secretary looks up, I imagine a small look of annoyance when she spots me. It is quickly replaced by a smile.
"Can I help you?"
Felicia starts the process of enrolling Rebel. I plop in a chair and pull out my phone. Rebel hesitates then does the same. I glance over to see what she is looking at and see her staring at a picture of her and some other girl kissing. She quickly scrolls past as she notices me looking. I don't say anything just return to my email.
Bradley sent me an email titled, "Kill me now."
A selfie shows at the top with his grandmother in the background huddled over a bingo card. "Went to bingo with grandma. She is surprisingly ruthless at this. All of the old ladies want to pinch my cheeks. They're cute and all, but I'm so done. Please help me?"
"Cal?"
"Hmm?" It is obvious I have missed something.
Pointing at the secretary, "She says it is okay if you give Rebel a tour." Felicia stares at me expectantly.
"K." I climb to my feet reluctantly. I gesture to Rebel. "Come on."
We walk out into the hall and I head to the right. "I'm not sure about you, but I'm not all that interested in wandering this shithole. Wanna head to the library and crawl on the computers for a while and just say we toured?"
The look of relief on Rebel's face is almost comical. I find myself liking her just a tiny bit more.
"Yessss."
The library is my favorite place to hang out during the school year. I feel my shoulders relax as we walk through the doorway, the rows of books and tables feeling familiar and safe. I head towards the computer lab and turn on a couple of the computers. We settle in side by side and soon the library is filled with the sounds of clicking and typing.
I'm deep into an article about the history of bingo when I hear Rebel giggling to herself. Though I've been steadily ignoring her up until this point, my curiosity is piqued.
"What?"
"Huh?"
"What's so funny?"
"Oh, just this silly thing my friend posted on Facebook."
"Lemme see."
Rebel turns the computer screen towards me. On it is a picture of two slices of garlic bread with the caption, "If I had a slice of bread for every existing gender."
Blood drains from my face and my stomach clenches. I scan Rebel's face for any indication that she is kidding. Finding none, I abruptly stand up and walk towards the door.
"Hey! I don't think it has been long enough..."
Her voice is cut off as the library door shuts behind me. Feeling the rage and depression build up, I walk quickly to the bathroom, throw open the door and stand clenching the sink, staring at my face.
"Fuck you!" I growl the words. I feel the walls closing in. "Home used to be the safe place for me, but I guess that's over." The anger is too much and I find myself swinging my arm and punching the wall.
The flash of pain is enough to temporarily relieve the anger, but it comes swelling back. I find myself punching the wall over and over, unconscious of anything around me.
When I finally come to, I see there is blood on the wall. It takes a moment for me to recognize what has happened and then the pain takes over and I fall to my knees, cradling my hand. It is bloody and swollen and looks a little misshapen. I sit and rock for a little while, letting the pain overwhelm the grinding thoughts in my head.
Eventually I stand and start running water over my swollen hand, watching the blood dissolve in the water. It reminds me of things I'd rather not think about, so I carefully rub the rest of the blood off.
The door opens and I startle back, hiding my hand in my sleeve. I quickly turn off the water and turn to face whoever is there.
Rebel stands there, a look of sad bewilderment on her face. I can tell she has seen the blood smear on the wall, but she doesn't say anything. She just drops her gaze to my sleeve, then says, "I think it's been long enough," and turns to go.
I mutely follow her to the office, the throbbing in my hand a pulse for my feet to follow. Felicia is chatting amiably with the secretary and looks up as we enter the office.
"Done? How do you like it, honey?"
Rebel mumbles, "Fine."
Felicia stares suspiciously at the two of us but lets it pass. She says her goodbyes then ushers us out of the office. We walk to the car. Rebel reaches the car first and slides into the front seat. Felicia stops and turns to me.
"Wait a sec, Cal."
I stop, wincing at whatever she has to say. Why the hell can't I just go home? Why can't she just leave me in peace?
"I know this is rough for you. You didn't ask for us to be a part of your life. But we are here and that isn't going to change. I know you are angry about it, but please don't take it out on Rebel. She's had a hard time and could really use a friend right now. I know that might be too much to ask, so, at the very least, could you just drop the attitude?"
I feel my body stiffen as my anger resurfaces. Who does she think she is?
I say nothing, just walk past her to get into the car. She grabs my hand as I pass, intending to stop me. I wince in pain and gasp. She pushes the sleeve of my shirt up and echoes my gasp.
"What happened?!"
I jerk my arm away.
"Nothing!"
I try to climb into the car, but she grabs my shoulder and spins me around.
"Don't tell me nothing! Obviously something happened."
I shrug and stare at the ground, "Can we just go home, please?"
"No! Look at your hand! We have to get you to urgent care."
"It'll be fine!"
"Honey, it looks broken. We have to get it taken care of."
"Just leave me alone!" I pull free, climb into the car and slam the door shut.
I see Felicia in the rear view mirror looking hurt and confused. She stands for a moment then pulls out her phone. I look away as I see her start to talk. I stare out the window, pretty sure of what is coming next.
Felicia says nothing as she gets in the car and starts to drive. My mind keeps seeing that stupid meme. The entire car trip I lose myself in pretend conversations where I tell Rebel off punctuated with the things I should have said to Felicia.
As we stop, I realize that we aren't home. I see Mom walking towards us and over her head the sign for the Portland Clinic. I groan. I so can not deal with this.
I stubbornly stare out of the opposite window as Felicia climbs out of the car. I know they are talking about me.
"She is too angry. I can't deal with her."
"Please, Felicia, they are just adjusting."
"I don't know if I can stay with you if this is going to be how she acts all of the time."
"Don't go! I love you."
"But I must for the sake of our families."
As much as this fantasy makes me smile, I know when someone opens my door, that it is just that.
"Get out," Mom says flatly.
Silently, I slide out of the car, eyes on my the pavement.
"Show me."
I slide up my sleeve and mutely present my hand. Mom sighs.
"Come on."
She turns and walks toward the clinic. Behind me I hear a car door slam and the engine start. I glance behind me then walk forward, staring at the stiff back of my mother. She doesn't speak to me at all as she checks me in and finds a seat. I can't stand her silent treatment.
"Mom, I..."
"I don't want to hear it."
"But she was laughing at this transphobic meme..."
"And that's a good reason to break your hand!"
"I don't think it's broken."
Sighing in frustration, Mom grabs a magazine, turns it to a random page and pointedly ignores me. Knowing my face is blazing, I give up and stare in the direction of my phone.
It is totally unfair. She brings these stupid, transphobic people into our life and just expects me to accept their bigotry because she is in luuuuuv. Fuck that.
Throughout the appointment, x-rays and bandaging I stay silent. Turns out I have hairline fractures, but I don't even care at this point. I just stare into the distance and shuffle from place to place like a zombie kid. I can't stop grinding on everything that has happened and my low-level anger fuels my stubbornness. No need to say anything since Mom isn't on my side and probably never will be unless she wakes up to the stupidity of this situation.
When we get home I stomp past everyone into my room, slamming the door. Thankfully Rebel is not there. Throwing myself on my bed, I put in my earbuds, turn up the music and wish myself into another family.
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