It’s so obvious now. The way my jaw has narrowed, the way my nose has grown smaller and my cheekbones more prominent. My lips are a little fuller now, the shape of my eyes is different. I don’t grow any facial hair anymore. My lashes are longer now, the shape of my eyebrows is different. My skin is so much smoother, the grey in my eyes has grown steelier, somehow.

Slowly, I turn my face, angle it slightly and watch as the light traces shadows along my jaw.

It feels different now, looking at my face. Now that it no longer looks the way it used to…. Especially since my conversation with Kim.

It changed everything, really. It made me start to really look in the mirror. Look, not just search for reasons to hate myself.

And when I just look, look without thinking, look without remembering, there are things I like. I like the way my skin is smoother now. I like the way my eyes are somehow more intense. They look like I know something, somehow, and I think it makes me look more mysterious. I like the way my cheekbones are more visible now.

It’s not like I look completely and unmistakably like a girl already. I’d probably call myself androgynous right now and if I wear oversized clothing to hide my curves, I’m pretty confident in my ability to pass. That is until I start to speak. The male edge, this hardness with a slight rumble to it, has mostly disappeared from my voice. It’s softer now, higher. But the voice sounds nice to my ears. Deeper than Sadie’s, as of now, but sort of feminine.

Carefully, solemnly, almost, I brush back a few strands of hair. I’ve only cut it two weeks ago and already it’s almost hanging into my eyes again. It’s still got this soft quality it gets right after showering and blow-drying.

I think I really want to grow out my hair, see what I look like then. It’ll probably only take a month or two and I’ll know what it’s like. But somehow, it’s not even the thought of looking different that makes me want to grow it out. It’s the thought of feeling the wind pull it or feeling it in the water current as I dive….

It feels weird, allowing myself to think that way. Considering my changes with curiosity, without expecting resentment.

Since our conversation, I haven’t had a single bad day. Okay, they weren’t all amazing, but some of them were. And the rest were normal at worst.

And then there’s this tentative sense of excitement.

I still wonder a lot.

Do I really want this?

Is that really what this is? That I like… this?

But then I hear Kim’s voice. I’ll find out. I have so much time to figure it out. And anyway, turning into a girl isn’t a choice. It’s something I have to go through anyway.

So why not use this opportunity?

There still are counterarguments, of course. I’ve barely made any progress working out. Henry and I meet regularly to train and still I feel myself get weaker. It’s an incredibly slow process, granted, but I can still feel it. I’m getting leaner, my shoulders are retracting. I still look athletic, so I don’t mind that part all that much, but getting back to parkour in spring is definitely going to be weird. Especially with all the body changes that are still left to happen, I’ll have to pretty much relearn everything.

And then there are the others. Henry. My parents. Sadie. My classmates. I know I shouldn’t care. I know they are not going to care.

But the thought of them knowing, thinking things about a decision I’m not even sure I’m going to make….

I’m so not ready to talk about this yet. I’m so lucky Kim talked to me at the party. I’m also really sorry about the things I said to her then and I told her as much. She just smiled and said she was happy to help.

It’s crazy how getting to know her only makes me admire her more.

Finally, I stash away the blow dryer and leave the bathroom. It’ll be suspicious if I take too long.

Henry’s waiting for me on his bed. The TV across the room is already turned on, the controller waiting on the mattress by his feet. The screen shows a grey image with gears turning slowly and a well-familiar writing.

Henry gives me an innocent grin. “I couldn’t decide on a movie so I thought why not take a trip down memory lane?”

I nod. “Okay, let’s go.”

It’s been almost a year since we last played this. It’s definitely time to run it back.

Henry starts the intro as I settle into the pillows next to him. He shifts and his shoulder brushes against mine and I’m suddenly aware of how close we are. But I don’t move away. We always play like this and I like this. I won’t let possible changes in my identity take that away.

I still feel the physical strain of the work out we powered through earlier. It’s nice to just sit here now, comfortable, clean. I’m going to sleep over today so I brought a set of pyjamas to change into and it feels so much like it used to. The top is large enough that I don’t have to wear a sports bra underneath and it’s nice not to feel the pressure and still be comfortable for a change.

After some time, Henry stirs and says, “I’ll go get us some dinner. You continue playing.” For a moment his thumb hovers over the button that will swap the characters, away from the male assassin, Jacob, the one he usually plays and to Evie, the female assassin I usually play, but then he just hands me the controller.

“Any preferences for drinks?”

I look at him and try to find more hints in his face.

“I could just come and help,” I say but he shakes his head.

“We still have paella from yesterday. I’ll just warm it up and bring it up.”

I think for a second. “Tea, then.”

“The herbal one?”

I nod, my attention already back on the screen. Without looking at the controller, my finger finds the button and now the character at the centre of the screen is Evie. I’ve always played this character, what would it change if I continued playing it now? Wouldn’t it be weirder if I insisted on playing Jacob now?

And anyway. I like the character so much better.

With practised movements, I steer the assassin to the next wall and let her climb up and up and up until I’m standing on the roof, looking across industrialist London.

Then I look up. Henry’s gotten up but hasn’t moved since then. He’s looking at me. Considering me.

It takes him only a split-second after I’ve turned to look away.

He grins. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

I nod and turn my attention back to the game. We’re barely level three but there’s still plenty of stuff to do.

By the time Henry returns, I’m right in the middle of sneaking through a large warehouse, freeing little groups of children in between stealthily taking out Blighter gang members. It’s easy to get back into the game. The muscle memory is still deep in my fingers and so are all the tactics we came up with. We used to be really good at this game. I suppose we still are.

I don’t look up as he enters. Instead, I press a button and Evie Frye jumps out from behind a corner and stabs one of the gangsters in red right through the soft flesh underneath the chin.

Another gangster spots me and the sound of a warning bell rings through the warehouse. A brawl ensues.

It’s not exactly hard to kill them. I know what I’m doing, after all, so they don’t land a single hit. And then, from the periphery of my vision, I see a spoon with yellow rice and seafood move toward my mouth.

“Open wide,” Henry says with a slight chuckle to his voice.

And with light laughter, I open my mouth and close my lips around the warm metal. The food is just the right temperature and I don’t even take my eyes away from the screen as he retrieves the spoon.

“Is the food to your liking, good sir?” Henry asks, his voice dripping with mock politeness.

I nod. His dad’s a great chef. Then I notice that he called me ‘sir’ and my stomach does a weird little twist.

What if it’s just a mask?

What if that’s not what I want to be called?

And for a moment I want to tell him. Because he’s my best friend. And fuck it, he’s probably suspecting it anyway. He wouldn’t care. Right?

But then the dialogue starts playing in my head and I can’t bring my mouth to open.

They can’t know. Not until I’m certain.

***

It feels weird to walk into the classroom and sit in my seat like nothing changed. Because hasn’t everything changed, kind of? Maybe, anyway.

But nobody catches on. In a way, this change in perspective makes me even more self-conscious than the way I’d been before. Because now I know what’s happening in my head. What I’m wondering. And it feels like those thoughts are spelled out on my forehead with ink.

Sadie notices that I’m growing out my hair a week later when we go ice skating.

I’ve never been really good at ice skating. My parents took me just enough that I was able to do my laps without falling over and then gave me the choice to continue on my own and I didn’t.

When Sadie heard, she insisted that we had to go. Because she loves it and she thinks I’d really like it as well, once I got the hang of it, she said.

So we meet in the morning by the ice rink a few towns over – she came from a different direction because she’d been helping out at Andy’s earlier that morning – and as we sit on the wooden benches, lacing up our skates, she looks at me from the side with sparkling eyes and says, “You’re growing out your hair, aren’t you?”

And I nod a little reluctantly and say, “Yeah, when if not now?”

“Right.” She nods. “I’m sure it’s going to suit you really well.”

And then we get onto the ice.

We’re early enough that the rink is still mostly empty. The radio plays at a comfortable volume.

Walking to the ice is easy enough, but the moment I set my foot on the ice, I realise how this isn’t going to be easy. Everything feels wobbly. It’s almost like my usually so reliable sense of balance is betraying me now.

Sadie laughs behind me and then her hands are there, gently holding me by the elbow to support me.

It doesn’t take long to get used to this novel feeling. Soon enough, I’m gliding more or less comfortably around the rink. Sadie’s driving almost twice my speed so she overtakes me regularly but I don’t mind. I can’t. Not with the way she looks at me every time she whizzes past, her long hair carried by the current of her momentum, grinning at me elatedly, that special sparkle in her eyes. Every time she does, there’s this flutter in my stomach, a longing sensation that almost aches.

And I wonder what this means. Whether this means that I love her.

And then I try to imagine myself different and I see myself whizz over the ice alongside her, long hair billowing in the wind, wearing something more than just jeans and hoodie, and there’s that same sparkle in my eyes.

Maybe it’s that sparkle, I think to myself as I speed up and take the curve at full speed, leaning in and spreading my arms like I can fly. And in a way, it feels like I really can.