It was hard to look at him, but I needed to see his face—his true reaction. You can never hide your true reaction to something, not in that first second or two.
Jacob’s face didn’t change, not even a little bit. He nodded and said, “OK.”
He didn’t laugh or look grossed out or seem confused or embarrassed. He just looked…well, he just looked like Jacob.
I laughed shakily. “OK? That’s all you have to say?”
He shrugged. “What else would you like me to say?”
“I don’t know! You’re not…freaked out by it?”
“Should I be?” He smiled.
“No!”
“Well, OK then.” I kept staring at him until he spoke again. “You’re my friend, Liv. That’s all that matters to me.”
“OK,” I whispered.
“I don’t want you to think that I don’t care about what you said. I do care. But it doesn’t change anything. We’re still friends, right? Fighting the forces of evil and dress codes of doom?” He smiled that cheeky smile that always gets him out of trouble.
“Right.” I smiled back, even though there were tears in my eyes. Good tears.
So that was that. Jacob knew the truth and it was fine. It was the relief that made me cry, I think. He looked a bit embarrassed then. I couldn’t blame him. I never knew what to do when people cried in front of me either. Thankfully, I managed to get the tears under control quite quickly, before my face turned red and snot started streaming from my nose.
I cleared my throat. “So, now that that’s out of the way… Can I finish your sandwich?”
Chapter 24
I walked home from Monty’s feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I still couldn’t believe how well it had gone, and how nice Jacob had been. He even said we should amp up our efforts on the Pants Project.
When we’d said good-bye, he asked if anyone else knew about me being transgender. He didn’t say anything when I said no, but he did say that if I ever needed anyone to talk to about it, I could talk to him. “I can’t promise to understand it all, or to say the right thing all the time, but I can promise to listen.”
The relief was unbelievable. I’d finally told someone. Someone who wasn’t Garibaldi. (I’d told Gari ages ago, whispering into his ear. His reaction was almost as good as Jacob’s—a big yawn.)
I was practically skipping down the street (which is not something I would ever, ever do, by the way) until I remembered that everything wasn’t OK after all. Jade’s words were echoing in my head. Back-to-School Night was less than a week away.
I felt sick at the thought of the moms turning up at Bankridge and being greeted by mean looks and snide comments from Jade. And what if her dad said something too? I couldn’t think of anything worse. The thought of these people being horrible to my parents…
I couldn’t allow it to happen. I wouldn’t put them in that position.
I had to make sure they didn’t go to Back-to-School Night.
=
They’d already been invited. It was on the kitchen calendar, written in purple in Mom’s scrawly handwriting. I just had to figure out a way to uninvite them.
That was definitely the main reason for not wanting them at Back-to-School Night. I was doing it to protect them. They thought everything was fine and dandy at Bankridge because I’d told them that the mean comments had stopped ages ago. They would be really upset to find out that wasn’t true.
OK, so if I’m being completely honest, there was another reason too. It wasn’t that I was ashamed of my parents, or that I was embarrassed to be seen with them. I was tired of being a target. It’s not exactly fun dealing with the kind of stuff I’d had to deal with, especially when it’s happening every single day. The locker room was the worst. I was usually able to change clothes before anyone else came into the locker room, but sometimes a teacher would keep me after class, and I would find myself in the middle of my worst nightmare.
Last week, Chelsea loudly told Jade that she’d seen a bulge in my underwear (I wish!). It didn’t matter that she was lying because people will believe what they want to believe, and Jade very much wanted to believe that. As she walked past me on the way to the gym, she said to Chelsea and Maisie, “I wouldn’t mind so much if they let an actual boy in here, but freaks should really have their own separate place to change.”
The one consolation was that Maisie didn’t laugh. She winced and shook her head, not that Jade noticed since she was already walking away.
The funny thing was that I agreed with Jade. I would love to have my own place to change. Maybe the school would let me, one day, if the moms told them the truth about me. Of course, I’d need to tell the moms first for there to be any chance of that ever happening.
I knew I should stick up for myself more at school. Jade’s bullying was getting out of control, and I knew the Pants Project wasn’t helping. It was just something else for her to make fun of, but it was important to me and I didn’t want anything to jeopardize it. I promised myself that once the project was over and done, I would do something about Jade. That “something” would not involve hurting her in any of the numerous ways I’d daydreamed about hurting her. I would talk to Mrs. McCready about it. There’s an anti-bullying code of conduct at Bankridge, after all. However, someone needed to tell the teachers what was going on in order for them to do something about it. It looked like that someone would have to be me. I knew it might make me even more unpopular, but at that point, it was hard to imagine it was possible to be more unpopular.
=
“They’ve postponed Back-to-School Night,” I said casually.
The four of us were watching a documentary about owls on TV. Enzo loves owls, especially the way they can turn their heads around to look at things behind them. He used to be convinced that he’d be able to do the same if he tried hard enough. He ended up having to see the doctor because of a neck strain.
I was sitting between the moms on the sofa, while Enzo sat on the floor right in front of the TV. That’s where he always sits if he wants to concentrate on a show. He says it’s easier to remember the information if he’s close to the TV. Enzo is a bit bonkers, in case you hadn’t already realized. Mamma says he’s “eccentric,” which is just a nicer way of saying bonkers.
The moms weren’t really listening to me. They seemed to be just as fascinated by the owls as Enzo was. “What was that, Liv?” Mom asked, not taking her eyes off the screen where tiny bald baby owls were squawking away in their nest.
I repeated what I’d said about Back-to-School Night.
The moms believed me. There was no reason not to. They knew that I was doing OK in all of my classes—not amazing, maybe, but better than I’d done in elementary school.
“Why was it postponed? And when’s it going to be?”
“Ssshhh! I’m trying to watch!” Enzo turned his head in a remarkably owl-like way.
Mamma hit the pause button on the remote and Enzo went to get himself a glass of orange juice.
I was ready with the answers to Mamma’s questions.
I said that Mr. Lynch had been nominated for an award—the best principal in the county (as if!)—and the ceremony was the same night as Back-to-School Night. If he won, it would be good publicity for the school, so he thought it was a good idea to postpone Back-to-School Night. It was the best lie I could come up with, even though I had no idea if Mr. Lynch was even supposed to be at Back-to-School Night. I told the moms that it had been postponed for a week. I hadn’t quite come up with a plan to deal with them turning up to school a week late to find it closed up for the evening. I would cross that bridge when I came to it. I had enough bridges to think about at the moment, and they were all a little wobbly to say the least.
I thought the matter was settled, so I sat back to watch some more owls in action. Then Mom said, “Why didn’t they send
an email? Shouldn’t the school email about that kind of thing?”
I had to think on my feet (or rather, my butt). “The server was down.”
I didn’t even know what a server was, let alone what one being “down” actually involved. But Mom believed me! She just nodded and muttered something about technology being more hassle than it’s worth.
I couldn’t concentrate on the rest of the owl show, not even when it got to the gory hunting part. Part of me was relieved that the moms had believed me and that they’d be safe from the hideousness of Jade Evans. Another part of me felt guilty—really guilty—for lying to them.
It didn’t feel right that the lies had flowed from my mouth so easily.
=
I always brush my hair before getting into bed. Gram says that when she was a girl, her mother had made her brush her hair a hundred times before bedtime. (She had to put a dollar in the Oldie Box when she told me that.) She still does the same thing every night, even though her mother isn’t around to check up on her. When Gram told me that, I started doing it too. I lasted for three nights before the number of brushstrokes started to dwindle. I still force myself to do it though, even if it’s only a few careless swipes. Hair as short as mine doesn’t really need much brushing.
That night, after lying to my parents, I managed three brushstrokes before stopping and staring at myself in the mirror. Gram had gotten me a pale-pink dressing table with a heart-shaped mirror for my ninth birthday. It was, without a doubt, the worst present anyone had ever given me, but I told her that I loved it. I immediately set about redecorating it and now it looks pretty cool. The whole thing is covered in stickers—dinosaur stickers, space stickers, superhero stickers. Mamma says you could sell it in an art gallery. Gram never forgave me for adapting it, even though Mom tried to explain to her that I was just trying to make it a bit more “me.” It’s not that I actually hated pink—even though that’s what I told the moms. When I was little, I used to like pink things, but that was before I realized that there were “rules.” Pink things were for girls and blue things were for boys. Colors weren’t just colors—they were symbols.
I stared at my reflection. It did not look happy.
For the first time in months, I really looked at myself. I looked hard. What is it about me that makes them hate me so much?
Mutant. Freak. He/She.
I tried to be objective about it, so that I could see what they saw. If I saw me walking down the street, what would I think?
It was no good. I just saw me. Liv Spark. Slightly awkward, uncomfortable in my own skin.
I may not have been thrilled with how I looked—especially about what was happening to my body—but I was not a freak.
I’m just a person. What’s so wrong with that?
Chapter 25
Saturday was Movie Day with Mamma and Enzo. There were at least three movies I was desperate to see, but it was Enzo’s turn to choose. When he came downstairs, it was clear from his outfit what kind of movie he had in mind, but I pulled him to one side and said we should let Mamma pick the movie. She’d been so down recently, with her father being so sick. I thought it might cheer her up.
I thought Mamma was going to start crying when we told her. Tears filled her eyes, but they didn’t spill over. Instead, she smiled and pulled us both into a hug that was more like a headlock. “You two are just the best, you know?”
“But which one of us is the actual best best? There can only be one best.” Typical Enzo.
Mamma held up her hands. “I can’t call it. It’s a tie. Nice try though, buddy.”
Enzo opened his mouth to speak, but I got there first. “It’s obviously me. Mamma just doesn’t have the heart to tell you. I’m the first, original, and the best. You lose, shrimp.”
Enzo and I ended up chasing each other around the kitchen table while Gari barked madly and Mamma laughed. Mom grabbed her car keys and headed out the front door, shouting something about peace and quiet.
Mamma chose a sucky movie about a family with two moms. Boring. I get why she chose it—we hardly ever get to see movies or TV shows with families like ours. But was that really a good enough reason to sit through two hours of jokes that aren’t even funny, and the completely obvious family crisis that happens in the last half hour, only to be miraculously solved just in time for the super schmaltzy ending?
Mamma asked Enzo if he wanted to change before we headed out, but he looked down at himself, smiled smugly, and said he was good to go.
“Super,” said Mamma. She was used to Enzo’s weirdness by now.
=
Some kids pointed, some kids laughed. I even noticed a couple of adults nudging each other and smiling. I guess they thought they were being subtle. I glared at every single one of them.
When we lined up to go into the theater, a little kid stared at Enzo in that openmouthed, completely obvious way that little kids do. It was open so wide that I could have thrown a tennis ball into his mouth. I was all ready to go over there and tell the kid’s dad to teach his son some manners, but then I noticed that Enzo was smiling at the kid. The kid smiled back, so Enzo struck a pose with his hands on his hips and his chest puffed out. “Superman!” The kid squealed, and Enzo laughed and walked away.
Yup, my little brother was dressed as Superman. But not regular Superman, because he doesn’t actually own a Superman outfit. He was wearing his beat-up sneakers with Superman socks pulled right up to his knees. Each sock had a little red cape that flew out behind him when he ran. He also wore a pair of blue shorts, even though it was too cold for shorts, and a pair of faded red underpants worn on the outside. All of that was topped off with a Superman pajama top that was way too small for him and showed his belly.
Some people obviously thought he looked ridiculous, but the truth is that he didn’t. He looked cool, and I’d never really thought of my little brother as cool before. It wasn’t so much what he was wearing, but it was the fact that he didn’t care what anyone else thought. He felt good in his outfit. Even if he didn’t exactly look like a superhero, he felt like one.
It was all I could think about while the terrible movie got progressively more terrible. I was proud of my little brother. He didn’t mind if people pointed, laughed, or stared at him because he felt comfortable. He was happy. That was all that mattered to him.
Maybe I could learn something from Enzo.
It was time to take the Pants Project to the next level.
But I couldn’t do it alone, and that made me nervous. It was easier to rely on myself because I could trust me. Still, I was pretty sure that I could trust Jacob too.
Things had been surprisingly normal between us since I’d told him about the truth about me. We’d talked about it a couple of times. He really was a good listener. He’d asked me some questions: But how do you know? Answer: I just do. What happens when you start getting…? (He’d paused and vaguely gestured to his chest while looking awkward.) That one was harder to answer. I wasn’t ready to think about that stuff just yet.
I texted Jacob about my idea as soon as we got back from the movie theater. He answered immediately: Sounds epic. Count me in.
And then another message a couple of seconds later: WHEN?
I thought about it before replying: Not sure yet. Do you think Miguel and the guys would help out?
Jacob said he would check. Mamma, Enzo, and I were nearly home by the time his reply came through: AFFIRMATIVE, CAPTAIN.
You know caps lock makes it look like you’re shouting, right? ;)
Jacob’s reply to that was a series of emojis that I couldn’t even begin to understand.
Now all I had to do was work out when to put the plan into action.
Chapter 26
“I can’t wait to see Lynch’s face!” said Miguel during recess on Monday. “You know that wormy vein on his forehead? Have you guys noticed it stands out
when he’s angry? This could make it explode!”
This started a debate about whether it was possible for a vein to explode, and just how messy it would be if it actually happened.
Sav was the only one to mention that we might get in trouble, but he didn’t seem all that bothered at the prospect. He’d been in the principal’s office at least three times already this semester.
Jacob asked about the petition and whether it was still worth chasing signatures.
“Nah,” I said, “I think the petition is dead in the water.”
“This will be way more fun than a petition,” said Miguel. “Direct action,” he said, knowingly.
“So when are we doing it?” Jacob asked.
“Maybe next week? Or the week after?”
“Why wait?”
It was a good question. I was scared, I guess. Not that I’d ever have admitted it to the boys. This was my last shot. If this didn’t work, nothing would. I’d be stuck wearing a skirt until high school. I couldn’t bear thinking about that. For now, at least there was still the hope that my plan might change Lynch’s mind. But what if it didn’t work? How would I cope once the hope was gone?
=
“It’s kind of tragic when you think about it,” Jade said. I was unlucky enough to be standing in line right behind her. The line was always really long on taco days. Jacob and the boys were already sitting down, munching away.
“What’s tragic?” asked Maisie after a few seconds.
“Her.”
So she wasn’t talking about me for once. Jade would never use that word to describe me. I unclenched my jaw and tried to focus on the most important decision of the day: chicken or beef.
“Don’t you think it’s sad that Mousey Meltzer has no friends. Like, not even a single one?”
I craned my neck to see over Jade’s shoulder. Just as I suspected, Marion was standing in line in front of her. She hadn’t turned around, but she’d definitely heard Jade. I could tell from the tension in her shoulders.