---

Callie almost skipped down the hallway; she had finally convinced Coach Chen, and would be a starting guard that evening. She turned a corner and found a group of kids pointing to a girl who was sitting awkwardly on the hall floor. She noticed that the girl was crying and the kids around her teased and taunted as she struggled to get up. Callie reached down and helped the girl to her feet. She was shorter than Callie, and dressed in Near-Goth. The kids continued to laugh until Callie smiled once before kissing the girl and hugging her. She turned to the crowd and said,

“Mess with her, and you mess with me!”

---

Seymour High School, Seymour, Connecticut...

“Hey, Callie…got a minute?” Bobby Chen, coach of Seymour’s Girl’s Basketball team, called the girl into the P.E. office.

“Sure, Coach,” she said eagerly. She had been trying to convince Coach Chen that she was worthy of being the team’s starting point guard. That their two starters both had come down with the flu didn’t hurt her chances, but there was always the idea of starting Melissa Callahan, the scorekeeper.

“Melissa declined,” Bobby Chen laughed and pointed to the scorebook on his desk. Melissa was five-three and weighed about one-twelve soaking wet, but her whole family loved basketball and her older sister Moira had started at center, of all things, three years ago before leaving for UConn.

“I promise I won’t let you down.” She ran out of the office and headed toward her Calculus class. As she turned the corner onto the Math wing, she noticed there was a group of kids; about twelve or thirteen by a quick count, blocking the hall. They were laughing and pointing at the middle of the hallway, where she noticed a girl struggling in vain to get up. The girl was nearly a foot shorter than Callie’s six-foot frame; slight and wearing ‘near’ Goth; a long black dress and black boots, but her hair was red and her makeup was subdued.

“Goth and a fucking faggot, too. What a freak!” A boy pointed at the girl and started to almost cackle. Most of the other kids joined in while the rest of the crowd walked away since the ‘show’ was over.’

“Shut up, Craig!” Callie punched a locker for effect and to get Craig’s attention.

“What…you gonna make me? Craig wasn’t so much misogynistic as much as he really never cared for anyone but himself. Nevertheless, Callie took it as a personal insult and yelled back.

“Yeah...you fuck! Mess with her….” Callie stopped and looked at the frightened girl. She’d never met the girl…she was a girl, wasn’t she? But she wanted to show solidarity and display her lack of respect for the morons and homophobes in the crowd. She stepped closer and kissed the girl before turning again to the crowd.

“Mess with her and you mess with me.”

“Hey, Callie…I didn’t know you went that way! Why don’t you come back from the dark side?” Billy Nichols shouted from the back of the crowd.

“Don’t be such an ass, Nichols!” Bonnie Van Camp shouted.

“I mean it…leave her alone.” She turned and held the girl’s hands (the girl?) in front of her.

“Let me know if anyone tries anything. Okay?” She felt good about herself, as if she’d rescued a puppy. The girl stared at her before shaking her head and walking away with her head down.

“Man….what the fuck?” Callie walked away as the rest of the crowd broke up. A hand tapped her on the back and she turned to find her best friend, Sheri Policastro.

“He probably doesn’t swing the way we do, girl!” Sheri pointed to the small figure down the hallway. You probably embarrassed him.

“Him?” Callie shook her head.

“Yeah…that’s Kevin McMonagle.”

“Craig’s brother?”

“Twin brother…yeah…pretty fucking crazy, huh?” Sheri smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

“Yeah…crazy.” The two walked down the hall and entered their Calculus class. Just before closing the door behind her, Callie looked down the hall one last time, wondering what had just happened.

---

The Seymour High School gym, that evening...

“Starting Point Guard for the Lady Wildcats, Callie O’Hara.” The overhead blared. After the game, it would be remembered by the O’Hara household as the highlight in an otherwise unremarkable performance, both by the Lady Wildcats in general and Callie in particular. She scored once on a free throw and had three assists as Seymour went down to defeat to Wilby, 42 — 39.

“You did your best, honey…” Her mother tossled her hair and patted her on the back in consolation. With Svetlana and Tanisha returning tomorrow, Callie’s brief moment in the sun would soon be over, or so she thought. As they reached the gym exit, a voice from the bleachers yelled.

“Hey…O’Hara…still kissing boys?” Craig McMonagle pointed at her and poked his friends to make sure they didn’t miss his clever point.

“You kissed a boy?” Her mother almost said deadpan. She actually had to struggle to keep from laughing, but her delivery was sufficiently ironic, since she was well aware and certainly approved of her daughter’s orientation.

---

The next morning at the O'Hara kitchen...

“I didn’t know she was a boy, Mom,” Callie protested.

“Well…alright…so long as you didn’t know.” She failed this time and began to smile.

“You know what I mean…besides…I was only trying to help.”

“Let me get this straight. You told me that this kid is Craig’s brother?” Callie nodded; everyone in school and most of the parents knew about Craig from his history of idiotic and foolish behavior.

“And kissing a boy dressed as a …how’d you put it….Goth-Lite? A kid who is already embarrassed sitting on his ass in the middle of the hallway…and this was suppose to help…how?” Her mother teased.

“Callie…you probably did no harm, but it wasn’t designed to help him, was it. You wanted to make a point and he was a convenient object lesson. Honey…I know being a lesbian isn’t an easy path at all, but you’ve at least got to think about how someone might feel before you go drag them into your crusade, right?” She wasn’t so much scolding her daughter as coaxing her to recognize that her act wasn’t entirely altruistic.

“It’s okay…just another opportunity to be kind and apologetic, sweetie.” Dave O’Hara kissed his daughter on the top of the head as he sat down at the table. “Got a lot to do if you want to catch up to me, sweets.” He chuckled and Bridget smiled at him before continuing.

“Your father has made an art out of apologies, dear. You should ask him for some pointers. Judging by the way your friends and nemeses act, they could call an assembly and your father could hold a Mea Culpa clinic for the students.” She paused as Dave nodded in agreement.

“It says somewhere that we should keep short accounts, Cal…don’t you think you should call that child or maybe see them at school and apologize. We may ask for help and welcome it when it’s offered, hon, but you know that child was given no choice in joining your crusade, right?”

“Well...it’s not like he’s a real girl?” Callie immediately regretted her words; not just because of the correction she knew was sure to follow, but somehow it occurred to her she might actually be wrong.

“Well, you’ll never know that unless you talk to her.” Bridget smiled and sipped her coffee. “I suppose you should just accept her word for it, Callie. If she’s presenting herself as a girl, shouldn’t you accept that? Your Aunt Rita wasn’t always your Aunt, you recall.”

“But Mom…this is a kid who’s just walking around the hallways in school in some sort of costume… it’s not like she’s really trying to be a girl.”

“This coming from a girl who insists she doesn’t want to be defined by anyone or anything.” Dave half-frowned.

“Oh…yeah.” Callie was almost sheepish, but really felt very strongly about what her father had just said.

“Either way, I think it would be the right thing to do to reach out to this child, no matter what the results might be.” Bridget grabbed her daughter’s arm and squeezed it firmly, indicating the ‘this is not a suggestion’ rule.

“But Mom…what if she just….”

“Rejects you…doesn’t forgive you? Doesn’t act the way you think she should? Isn’t how this started? Dave interrupted.

“It’s like the old story of the Coast Guard ship that was out in the middle of a hurricane. A newbie goes to the Captain and says, ‘We have to turn back…the storm is getting worse, and besides, nobody could last in a storm like this. We have to turn back.’” Callie stared at her father; she always enjoyed his wisdom, especially when he told stories.

“The Captain smiles at the newbie and says, ‘Son…we’re not paid to come back…just to go out.’”

“I sorta get what you’re sayin, Dad…we’re supposed to do the right thing…no matter what?” Callie dipped her head just a bit, as if she were looking for a blessing.

“Yep, sweetie. God doesn’t call us to succeed…just to obey…we don’t love folks with the idea that they must love us in return. It’s nice when they do, but even if they don’t, we and they are better for it. Call her or seen in school, okay?”

“Okay.” Callie kissed her father on the cheek and grabbed her backpack off the kitchen counter as her mother grabbed the car keys.

“Working from home today, honey?” Bridget asked as she headed toward the door to the garage.

“Nope…taking a vacation day to catch up here.” He smiled as a broad grin crossed his wife’s face.

“Well, maybe we could ‘catch-up’ together?” She walked back to the kitchen table and gave Dave a more-than-let’s-get-some-work-done kiss. Callie stood in the kitchen archway.

“Jeez, guys...get a room.”

“I believe we have, Callie. I believe we have.” Bridget said as they walked out.

---

A short while later at school...

“Hey…” It occurred to Callie as she walked up to the girl that she didn’t even know how to address her.

“I have a name.” The tone wasn’t dismissive; rather it was almost sad, like the word ‘hey’ was part of her everyday life.

“Sorry. What’s your name?” Callie put her head down slightly in embarrassment.

“Fiona,” the girl said, her face red and her tone almost apologetic.

“Listen….I’m really sorry about the other day. You’ve got to understand…” The girl’s face turned sad and Callie shook her head.

“I’m sorry…you don’t have to listen or understand or anything. I wanted to prove a point and I hurt you…like those jerks have hurt me all along. You…didn’t deserve that. I took…I dragged you into that and I guess…I know it must have made things worse.” Callie cringed as she saw the tears well up in the girl’s eyes, confirming her fears.

“After you left….my brother came up to me and started pushing me…not hard, but it hurt.” The girl’s sadness and frustration came spilling out like a badly made pitcher.

“I…I mean…isn’t he…shouldn’t….Fuck…I can’t talk anymore.” The girl went to turn and Callie grabbed her arm. She wanted to be a comfort, but her gesture was just another way the girl felt she had no control over.

“Let me go.” She pulled away and Callie released her arm. She shook her head once as the tears flowed before running down the hall and around the corner.

---

At the P.E. office a while later...

“Hey…Callie…do you think you can start tonight? Tanisha has an interview at UConn today and she won’t be back in time if at all.” Coach Chen smiled. Callie wasn’t the most talented sub on the bench, but she was the hardest worker; an asset she inherited from her parents.

“Sure…I’ll do my best.” Callie always did her best and then some. Partly as a compensation for the teasing she had been taking since middle school, but also because of the support and encouragement she received from her parents.

---

That evening at the Woodland Regional High School gym, Beacon Falls, Connecticut...

“And that’s it…the Seymour Lady Wildcats squeak by with a 52-51 thriller over our own Lady Hawks. Leading all scorers with 12 points…starting point guard Tanisha Coolidge.” The speaker was almost annoying as Bridget and Dave made their way to courtside. Callie didn’t start after all, as Tanisha’s interview had been canceled. She did get a lot of time on the court and had seven assists and a steal.

“Hey, sweets…nice game.” Her dad hugged her and rubbed her back. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Maybe you’ll start soon, but you do more with what little time you get than anyone out there,” Bridget said to her daughter with a smile. Dave nodded before continuing.

“I’ve got to run to work quick, hon. You and your Mom should go out for Pizza or to the diner, okay. She’s going to give me a ride and she’ll be back in about a half hour; just in time for you to get a shower and changed, okay?” He kissed her before they went to leave. Callie stood and watched them walk out the exit before she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“You got a minute?” A boy stood in front of her. His face looked familiar and his voice sounded like someone she thought she knew.

“Yeah…I’ll be happy to sign an autograph, but you’ll probably have to pay someone to take it off your hands.”

“It’s me…Fiona.”

“Oh…gee…this is what you look like?” Callie asked and the boy put his head down, but he spoke.

“No….this is what my family thinks I should look like.”

“Oh…I’m sorry…gee….that must suck.”

“My brother said he’d beat my...er…well, you know.” The boy’s voice was quiet and he seemed almost…he was exactly like the girl she had met the day before, but without the clothes.

“Your brother is a moron…I’m sorry, but it’s not fair.” The crusader in her rose up and it was like she surveyed the crowd, looking for a challenge.

“No...It’s not…but that’s not why I wanted to talk to you.” He looked away, almost like he was seeking strength for the rejection he feared.

“Would you…” He faltered as his eyes filled with tears. He put his head down but continued.

“I mean…well…you…you’re the only one here…nobody else. When you said…” The boy couldn’t continue. Callie was shocked when he embraced her, weeping into her already wet tee shirt. As odd as it felt, it still felt right, and she kissed the boy on his ear and whispered, not to hide but to make sure he heard her over the crowd noise.

"I already am your friend, Fiona, okay?"

She patted him on the back and looked around, hoping no one would notice, again more for his sake than hers. Sadly she was disappointed as a voice came from behind.

“Hey…you! Dyke…leave my brother alone.” Craig McMonagle shouted; he sounded like a hyena as he laughed. He put his hand on Callie’s shoulder and spun her around.

“Leave her alone, Craig.” Callie spoke up, intentionally using the ‘wrong’ pronoun, but not as the crusader, but because she realized that the person in her arms actually was a girl.

“Fuck You, O’Hara!” Craig reached in and tried to pry her arms off of Fiona. He would have quickly succeeded but for the very large hands that slapped down on his shoulders and forced him to sit on the bench behind him.

“Excuse me, kid. I don’t know your name, but lay one more hand on my daughter and I will personally see that you experience traction up close and personal.” Dave O’Hara said calmly.

“Oh, Dad…” Callie looked at her father with grateful but confused eyes.

“Jerry called me on the cell just as I got to the parking lot. The client agreed to some changes, and we’ll just rework tomorrow when we get in instead.” He turned and faced Craig and tilted his head. Callie's mom stepped next to the sitting boy and actually wagged her finger at him.

“I know your parents raised you better than this. Your Mom and I go way back, Craig, and you can bet I’ll be talking to them both about your behavior,” Bridget said as she turned and looked at the forlorn figure still clinging to her daughter.

“And you must be the mystery girl. Well, sweetie, why don’t you come to dinner with us? You have a cell?” The girl nodded. “Call your parents and let them know we’ll be at Indochine for dinner. You ever have Vietnamese or Thai…” The girl shook her head no.

“You’re in for a treat. Come on…” Bridget tilted her head in question.

“Fiona.” The girl said as she wiped her face with her hoodie sleeve.

“Pleased to meet you, Fiona.” Dave said as he put his arm around Callie’s shoulder.

“Like I said, I’m so proud of you.” He kissed her on top of her head. She looked up and something in his eyes reminded her of the security of her family and she began to cry; probably for the first time for someone else.

“What’s wrong, sweets?” He whispered as the crowd continued to exit around them.

“I don’t know, Dad…it’s like something just changed in me…but it’s good.”

“Yes it is.”

---

Epilogue

Waterbury Republican-American, December 16, 2015

The UConn Lady Huskies beat Villanova 78 to 64 last night at the Rock Arena in Newark, New Jersey, to solidify their lead in the Big East. Tanisha Coolidge led all scorers with nineteen points; Calleigh O’Hara provided a spark off the bench in the second half with eleven points and six steals along with seven assists.

---

Christmas Eve, the following year...

“How are you…you okay?” Callie asked the girl as she combed out her hair. The girl turned around and smiled.

“Great now that you’re here.”

“This time last year, I was in Newark for the Christmas Tournament, but that was then but this is now and my second semester at Columbia Med doesn’t start until late January, so this works out perfectly.

“I told Anthony all about you…He’s glad that I’ve got such a dear friend.” Fiona choked up at the word ‘friend.’

“He’s a great guy, but he’s getting a great girl, Fi.” Sheri Policastro-O'Hara spoke up from over in the corner. “And I know you and he will be as happy as Callie and me.” She smiled at her partner who nodded and grinned. Callie pulled back and looked at her handiwork.

“You surprised me. I never dreamed I’d see you in a wedding dress,” Callie laughed. Fiona knew her friend well enough to know what she said wasn’t meant to mock her.

“Why…didn’t you think I’d ever get married?” Fiona said with a mock frown.

“No, silly…I just never, ever pictured you wearing white.”

A moment later the women began to laugh almost hysterically as Fiona stood and pulled up her wedding gown, revealing black fishnets and Doc Marten boots.

"I guess you can take the boy out of the Goth, but you can't take the Goth out of the girl!" Callie said as she hugged her friend.

"Merry Christmas, Fi, Merry Christmas!"

Next: Alan's Story