In this chapter, our hero deals with detention, decides on a gender, and gets a chance to turn a dream into reality.

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

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Detention.

Even thinking of the word made me shudder. Wondering what sort of punishment I'd be facing, and worrying about how my mom would react, blocked out every other thought as I wandered from class to class. I was completely drained by the time the last period was over, and shuffled like a zombie, or possibly a robot, to the detention room.

When I entered the tiny room, Mrs McCrudger opened a drawer in her desk as she said, "Please have a seat."

I looked at the row of desks on the other side of the room, and saw Richie, Vic, and Chrissy sitting at three of them. Even though nobody spoke, they all gave me quick smiles as I walked to the last desk. Once I had my backpack stowed under my chair and was sitting, the principal brought over a pile of laptops, and placed one in front of each of us.

When she got back to her desk, she folded her hands in front of her keyboard, then said, "Please open your laptops, then sign in, using your first name as a user name, and your last name as a password."

I lifted the top of the device on my desk, and the screen lit up. I tried signing in the way I'd been told, got an error message, grumbled while switching my first and last name around, and logged in.

After the click of everyone's keyboards stopped, Mrs McCrudger said, "Now that you've all signed in, I'll be sending a document to you." A moment after she tapped her mouse, a window opened on my screen, with a header that said, [My Change Suggestions].

The principal looked at each of us as she said, "I would like you to write an essay, using at least one hundred words."

I cringed at the word 'essay'. It was a close second to 'detention' as my least favorite word.

"Please describe the changes you'd like to see in this school," she said, "and why you'd like to see those changes. While I expect you to be polite, I'd also like you to be open and honest."

I peeked at Richie, who gave me a wink while her fingers danced across her keyboard. Feeling a little braver, I cracked, my knuckles, then began to type. Bashing school policy isn't as easy as some might think ... at least, not while trying to be polite. Keeping my temper under control was even harder.

Eventually, I tabbed over to the submit button, and hit the Enter key with a shaky finger.

The principal looked up a few seconds later, gave me a nod, then studied her screen. I could barely hear my friends typing over the thump of my pulse rushing through my ears. After a couple of minutes, a chat window popped up on my screen.

[Mrs McCrudger: I enjoyed reading your essay.]
[Me: ty]
[Mrs McCrudger: You misspelled "horrible".]
[Me: sorry]
[Mrs McCrudger: I also noticed a few missing punctuation marks, and capitalization errors.]

I started rolling my eyes, caught myself, and clenched my jaw instead.

[Me: Sorry about that.]
[Mrs McCrudger: Besides that, it was well done.]
[Me: Thanks again.]
[Mrs McCrudger: Would you mind if I asked a personal question about something you wrote?]

I tried imagining what sort of question she wanted to ask, then shrugged as I started typing again.

[Me: More personal than what I sent?]
[Mrs McCrudger: Perhaps not more personal, but on a similar level.]
[Me: I guess so.]

The clatter of my friends typing began to drop off.

[Mrs McCrudger: Pardon me a moment. I need to review the other essays.]
[Me: Sure.]

I waited for the principal read what my friends wrote, and pass messages back and forth with them. It gave me plenty of time to wonder if maybe I should have been more polite in my essay. It also gave me time to worry about what Mrs McCrudger wanted to ask me.

Eventually, a few dots at the bottom of my chat window pulsed, letting me know the principal was sending a new message.

[Mrs McCrudger: You mentioned feeling all students should be allowed to dress how they want, and go where they want, and identify with what gender feels best to them.]
[Me: I said that?]
[Mrs McCrudger: Well, I'm paraphrasing, but that seemed to be what you were saying. Was I mistaken?]

I shift-tabbed to my essay window, read through what I had written, then switched back to the chat window.

[Me: I guess I did say all that. Just not the exact same words.]
[Mrs McCrudger: With that in mind, is there a specific gender with which you most identify?]
[Me: I guess boy.]
[Mrs McCrudger: You're not sure?]
[Me: I never thought of being anything else.]

I thought back to my session with the school therapist.

[Me: At least not before today.]
[Mrs McCrudger: What happened today?]
[Me: I learned about delicates, and delicate boys. I think I'm a delicate boy.]
[Mrs McCrudger: I see. Would you like your mother to sign a form, confirming your gender identity?]

My throat tightened as I thought about that.

[Me: Why do you ask?]
[Mrs McCrudddger: It's a topic which came up when she asked to see me.]
[Me: You saw my mom?]
[Mrs McCruger: That is correct.]
[Me: Where?]
[Mrs McCruger: In my office.]

"Oh jeez," I whispered as I typed with fingers that were almost too numb to feel the keys.

[Me: She's here?]
[Mrs McCrudger: Yes, and she'd like to speak to you.]

Before I could ask what my mom wanted to say to me, the principal stood up and said, "Thank you for your essays. I'll be giving what each of you said serious consideration tonight. You're all dismissed."

"All of us?" I asked as I grabbed my backpack.

Mrs McCrudger looked at me and said, "We need to discuss something in my office first."

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Terror took away all ability to speak as I followed behind the principal. By the time we reached her office, I'd been able to do enough breathing exercises to bring myself down to just really worried.

Mom was sitting in a chair in front of the principal's desk when I walked into the office. She smiled and said, "Hello, sweetie. How was your day?"

I stared as I walked closer to her. I stood in front of her, and stared some more. "That's the first question you have for me?"

She pursed her lips, then frowned as she asked, "What should have been my first question?"

"I dunno," I said as I flopped into the chair next to her. "Maybe something like, 'Hey, Tommy, my one and only son ... why are you wearing a skirt?' "

My mom smiled again as she said, "I figured you'd tell me about that when you're ready."

"And ... you're not freaked out?"

"Well, I was a little surprised, but not 'freaked out'."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Why should I be?"

" 'Cause I'm a boy!"

Mrs McCrudger lowered herself into the leather chair behind her desk as she said, "Does that mean there's a part of your essay which doesn't accurately reflect how you feel?"

I gave the principal a confused look. "Which part ya talking about?"

She started typing as she said, "The part where you said people should be able to wear what they'd like to wear."

"I ... uhhh ... well, I guess ... yeah, people aughta be able to where what they want."

"I'm glad to hear that," she said while clicking her mouse. The printer behind her began humming as she asked, "Is what you're wearing now something you'd like to wear in the future?"

"I dunno," I said as I looked down at my bare knees.

Mom reached under my chin, and turned my head, until I was looking into her deep blue eyes. "What don't you know?"

"Lotsa stuff."

"Such as?"

I shrugged and said, "Stuff like, why I like pretty stuff, even though I'm a boy; or why girls get to wear boy stuff, but boys ain't allowed to wear girl stuff; or why ya got mad at me when I'd tried putting on that shirt."

My mom blinked and shook her head. "I don't understand. What shirt?"

"The one I'd been trying on in the girl's department, when you'd took me shopping for school clothes."

Her forehead wrinkled. A couple of seconds later, her brows shot up. "Are you talking about when you were six, and you'd wandered off with some strange girl?"

"She wasn't strange," I said. I thought about how she'd talked a boy into wearing girl clothes, then said, "Well, maybe a little strange, but she was nice too."

"Perhaps, but you still shouldn't have-" Mom's eyes widened as she said, "Wait a minute, you thought I was upset about the shirt you were trying on, because it was a girl's shirt?"

"Well ... yeah."

She reached across the space between our chairs, and patted my hand. "Sweetheart, I was upset because ... I thought I'd lost you. It had nothing to do with what you wanted to wear."

"So ... ya don't mind me dressing like this?" I asked.

Not at all," she said as she squeezed my hand.

I gulped and squeezed back. "What about me calling myself a delicate boy, instead of just a boy?"

For a second, it looked like she was going to ask something, then she smiled and said, "If you're okay with it, then so am I."

"If you're sure about that," Mrs McCrudger said as she slid a sheet of paper towards my mom, "would you mind signing this form?"

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"I see you know how to get into a car while wearing a skirt," my mom said as I slid into the passenger seat.

"I've watched ya do it tons of times," I said while pulling my legs in.

"I'd noticed," Mom said as she buckled herself in.

I slammed my door closed, then latched my seatbelt as I asked, "Why didn't ya say anything?"

Mom was quiet for a long while, then said, "When you were younger, I suspected you might be transgender."

"Really?"

She nodded and said, "At least, I did at first. There was something about you that was ..."

"Delicate?" I asked.

"That's a good description," she said as she nodded. "But, as you got older, you changed."

"I didn't seem as delicate any more?"

"Not exactly. It was more as if ... you wanted to keep that part of you hidden. Whenever I tried drawing you out, you tended to be defensive, and evasive. Eventually, I figured it might be best if I didn't keep pressing the issue, and let you decide when you were ready to talk to me."

My throat and chest ached when I thought back, and realized how much effort I'd put into shutting her out. "I'm so sorry, Mom."

"You've nothing to be sorry about," she said as she brushed a strand of hair over my ear. "Whether your my son, or daughter, or anything else, I love you, and I'll always be there to support you."

That's when I started bawling.

After a long hug, and several tissues later, I smiled and said, "Thanks so much, Mom."

My mom smiled as she hitched my buckle back up, then got herself buckled in. "Any time, sweetie." She started up the car, then said, "I think we need a treat."

"Ya mean, like ... ice cream?"

Mom nodded and said, We could do that, but maybe we should go shopping first."

"What we need to go shopping for?"

"School clothes."

"I already got my uniform." I thought about the UPX package still hiding in one of the boxes at our new home, and said, "Make that uniforms."

"Good point. How about casual clothes?"

"I got those too."

"Are you happy with them?"

"Well ..."

"I thought so," Mom said as she pulled away from the curb. She gave me a warm smile as she said, "You're old enough to know what you do and don't like to wear." She grinned as she added, "Let's go find what that is."

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The End