Chapter 11
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I’m a kid again. Standing in the store next to Mum. She’s looking for something in her handbag.

We’re here to buy clothes. We’re already in the children’s section.

Absently, I let my eyes wander and a nice colour catches my attention. It’s a really pretty blue. Like the sky, but not just a single plain colour. There’s white string mixed in with the rest. It looks natural. Beautiful.

My hand stretches out and I feel the fabric. Just a little roughness. Then I pull it out a little to look at it.

It’s a dress. Is that my size?

My stomach tingles comfortably.

The thought of wearing something like this makes me feel nice.

A hand lands on my shoulder.

“Would you like to try that on?” Mum asks in a curious but friendly voice. I know she wouldn’t mind.

But her voice has snapped me out of the daydream and I hastily let go.

“No, I was just looking.”

They told me about it in kindergarten. Girls' clothes and boys' clothes. And boys can’t wear dresses or blouses or something like that. I don’t really get it, but they made fun of girls for wearing dresses. I don’t want to be made fun of.

“You know, it wouldn’t be bad if you wanted to, right?” she asks, squeezing my shoulder lightly.

I don’t meet her eyes. “I’m not a girl,” I mumble.

She sighs. “Alright. Let’s head to the boys section then.”

-

I wake up to a bone-shattering headache. Somebody’s knocking at my door.

I groan.

There’s the low sound of the door opening. Then a voice.

“Wells?”

I groan again, then crack an eye open. I don’t really feel tired anymore. I do feel a little sick, though.

And my head fucking hurts.

Sadie’s standing at the door, looking at me a little worried.

“Hi,” I mumble.

Her expression smooths a little. “Hi.”

She comes in and sits on the edge of my bed. She’s got a jute bag with her.

“How are you feeling?”

She asks it in this gentle tone, like she’s a nurse at the hospital. Except she’s a lot nicer than those nurses, probably.

I close my eyes and rub them with the heels of my hands. “Like somebody’s trying to split my skull with a chisel.”

She pulls a face. “That sounds about right.” Pause. “I’m sorry I didn’t pay closer attention to you yesterday.”

Like it’s her fault.

I try to sit up a little but quickly stop when my head feels like it’s exploding.

“No worries. It was a cool night after all, wasn’t it?”

Okay, that last bit with Leon, that shouldn’t have happened, but that’s in the past. And before that it was fun, wasn’t it? Not exactly what I’d imagined when I’d heard the word ‘party’ but fun, still.

She gives me a slightly sceptical look but then nods. “Yeah, I had a lot of fun. You’ve got really cool classmates.”

I roll my eyes. “They’re yours too, you know?”

She giggles a little. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

Finally, she produces a large plastic cup with a lid from her bag. “Listen, I brought you a little something, a cold smoothie to get you back on your feet.”

I take the cup from her hand, feel the condensation against the plastic. It’s comfortably cool.

“Thank you. But… why?”

Don’t get me wrong, this is absolutely in line with the way I know Sadie behaves. But it still feels weird to go to such lengths.

This isn’t because she’s in love with me, right? We talked about that. And anyway, that was over a week ago.

She shrugs. “It’s good etiquette to look after your friends the first time they go out to drink and I… didn’t. I’m sorry about that.”

For a moment I want to giggle and say something about how I’m able to take care of myself. But then I realise that first of all, that’s clearly not the case and second of all, it’s not about that anyway.

“Thanks for… worrying.”

She gives me a little smile.

Then she looks at her watch. “I’ve got to go now, my parents are waiting for me. There’s a… family thing.” She pulls a face.

They probably don’t do a lot of family things with her and now that they do she doesn’t really seem to like it.

I raise an eyebrow. “Going to clean up some beach?”

Humour briefly returns to her eyes. “Something like that.”

She gets up. “Should I crack the window on my way out? It’s a nice temperature outside and this room could really use some fresh air.”

Did she just tell me I stink?

“Yes, please. And tell the seals I said hello when you save them or something.”

She opens the window and then stops by the door. “I’ll be back pretty late but we could watch a movie if I’m still awake enough then?”

I nod. “I’ll text you.”

She leaves as a breeze carries the smell of the sea and the cries of the seagulls into my room.

My head.

With a groan, I sit up and lean against the wall next to my bed. I take the lid off the cup and smell the liquid underneath. The smell of the fruit is sweet and still pricks my nose slightly. I think there’s pineapple in there, mango and kiwi and berries? I’m not sure. Guessing at this point.

But my stomach doesn’t protest violently at the smell so I carefully lift the cup to my lips and take a first sip.

I feel better immediately.

I go downstairs for breakfast when my parents have just sat down for lunch. I feel a lot better by then, courtesy of a cold shower and Sadie’s smoothie. And a lot of fresh air.

“Morning, Wells,” Mum says cheerily as I come through the doorway.

Dad nods at me.

“How’re you feeling?”

I sit by the plate they must’ve left for me at breakfast and take a roll from underneath the towel that covers the basket to keep the rolls from drying out.

“Slight headache, but it’s fine now.”

He fills my glass to the brim with water.

“Here, you should drink.”

I squint at him. “Did Sadie tell you what happened?”

But Mum just chuckles. “We don’t need Sadie to tell us how parties end. There was a time when we were young too, you know?”

I start putting butter on the roll, quickly followed by a whole heap of jam.

“Yeah, like, before the invention of alcohol.”

Dad’s laughter hurts my ears. “You probably don’t even know how good that diss is.”

I hate when he uses words like that. Diss. Cool. At first, it seemed like he was just making fun of the way Henry and I speak and then at some point, it just started to become normal for him.

Parents.

Ugh.

I take the glass and empty it in one go. I’m methodical about these things.

“So, how’d you like it?” Mum asks once Dad has calmed down.

I shrug and take a large bite from the roll. “Wash alrigh’.”

Because you don’t talk to your parents about these kinds of things.

“Already know the date for the next one?” Dad asks with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

Like he expects me to become a full-on party-teen instantaneously.

I frown and swallow. “No, Dad. Shouldn’t you be telling me to be more careful or something? Ground me for having gotten myself drunk or something? This is weird.”

Neither of them meets my eyes for a few moments. Then Mum says in a low voice, “We’re just glad you’re doing well, you know? That you’re going out with your friends and having fun….”

For a moment I’m mad because that’s what I’ve been doing all along, just not to parties. But then I realise that that’s not what this is about. This is about how I’m changing. And Mum’s glad that I’m not holing up in my room to cry.

A knot forms in my throat and I get up.

“I’ll finish breakfast in my room.”

I’m fuming all the way through breakfast. I eat on the window board with the window open, just to spite my parents. Even though they’ll never know.

Then I text Henry.

Me: Wanna go for a run?

H.Boi: Are you sure that’s a good idea?

H.Boi: Aren’t you like super hungover?

Me: It’s already better and I really need to get the fuck out.

For a moment I want to add that Sadie isn’t home but then don’t. I don’t want to make him feel like he’s my second option.

H.Boi: Alright

H.Boi: But only if we take it slow and you bring a big bottle of water

I roll my eyes. Like taking it slow would ever be his problem. His endurance has always been better than mine and I doubt that the virus has changed anything about that.

Still, I fill both a two-litre bottle with tap water. I’m not going to take it with me on the run, obviously, but that way I can drink on my way there and immediately afterwards.

Then I change into my running outfit and leave the house without saying goodbye.

Maybe I should feel bad for the way I treat my parents. Maybe. But the way they’re treating me simply feels like betrayal. Feels like they’re thinking about my changing body even more than I am, which is obviously not true, but still makes me feel like shit. This virus should not exist in the minds of others. They shouldn’t try to be considerate about it, they should just ignore it entirely.

Does that make sense?

Henry and I meet by the start of a hiking trail along the forest by the beach. It’s our usual jogging route, on the irregular occasion that we do go for a run. The trail is far enough that we can run next to each other and even enough that we don’t have to constantly worry about twisting our ankles. The wind is always nice and refreshing and still, the trees are there to provide cover from the sunlight. The sound of crashing waves only adds to the nice atmosphere.

He watches as I take a final sip from the bottle, always making sure I’m staying below the threshold of where I could feel the water move in my stomach, then we start a short warm-up.

Finally, once Henry’s sufficiently satisfied with my ability to stretch my glutes, we hide our stuff in a set of bushes and take off.

Nobody steals stuff around here if you don’t leave it lying around openly. And even then, they’ll probably just take it to bring it to some lost and found place.

The run feels good. The air feels good, the temperature is just right. The steady rhythm of my legs hitting the ground and my lungs expanding and contracting gives me something to funnel my thoughts into. There’s no place for anger on a run like this. There’s just the steady rhythm of my steps and my breath. And Henry running next to me.

We take it slow. Which means Henry takes it really slow and I run at a slow-ish pace. This is not about actual training. It’s not about pushing your body to its limits and past. It’s just about getting outside. Spending time together.

It’s a meditation of sorts. Comfortably exhausting for the body and relaxing for the mind.

Even so, I don’t make it the full five kilometres. It’s not even my technique. My breathing is perfectly steady and even the whole time through. But my body decides after four kilometres that actually, it’s not feeling too happy about my activity. The sickness builds up over the fourth kilometre, slowly, steadily, until I can’t bear it any longer as we start on the fifth.

I slow down and stop, careful to not be too abrupt, then I lean over and take deep breaths trying to control the sickness in my stomach.

Henry has stopped too. I feel his eyes on me.

“Leftovers from the hangover?” he asks and I nod silently, grateful that he isn’t assuming that it’s about the virus.

I really hope I’ll still be able to keep up this pace in spring. It’s like a workout in how I funnel my negative feelings except it’s better because I don’t have to take breaks.

He gives me a few minutes and once my innards have stopped twisting into knots, we continue our way in a leisured walk.

“Maybe should’ve waited another hour,” I say, looking at the trees thoughtfully. I can’t help the disappointment that I didn’t make it all the way. Because of such a stupid reason, too.

He shrugs. “You did pretty well.”

I stare at him. “How much did you drink yesterday?”

“Barely anything,” he says, holding my gaze. “Three beer over the entire evening.”

For a moment I wonder whether the virus has already messed with my body’s ability to process alcohol.

“I do have to say, I like being drunk,” I say then. “It’s kinda like running, isn’t it? Makes it easier not to think.”

I look back at him and see that he has one eyebrow raised sceptically. He opens his mouth, pauses, and then says with a frown, “How much do you remember of last night?”

I shrug, think back. I’d been talking to Leon, then I threw up. And then?

“How did I get home?"

Henry nods slowly, like suddenly it all makes sense. “Mum picked us up. And you didn’t seem at all like the alcohol was helping you not to think.”

My stomach tightens. “What did I do?”

He gives me an uncomfortable look. Like he’s thinking about lying to me. “First of all, everybody in that car, Mum, Sadie and I, swore absolute secrecy. None of this is ever going to leave this circle.”

I roll my eyes. “Henry, what did I do?”

He doesn’t meet my eyes. “You cried. You… kept saying that we were supposed to hate you because you were changing into a girl. And then you insisted that you didn’t just get the virus at random. That it was meant to happen all along.”

Definitely nothing suspicious going on here. And whatever could the dream be hinting at?
Honestly can't think of anything.

Have a nice week!

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