The full moon hangs orange against the pale blue sky. As I stroll out into the cool April morning air, I feel the wet stone tiles against my bare feet.

It has a magical air to it, this morning. The birds are already singing and the sun hasn’t even risen yet – it’s not even seven am. The grass in our backyard glistens with dew and I relish the feeling of small water droplets climbing along my toes. It’s like a memory of innocent, simpler times.

Now I’m glad I forgot to go out yesterday night. I was just too tired after hanging out with Sadie all day. Kim meant to be there, too, but then Linea convinced her to go to a concert with her, a date. The two are so cute together. Everybody loves that they’re together. When Leon heard, he screamed “I KNEW IT!” so loud, half of us pressed our hands over our ears.

I look down. My toes have a beautiful, light-blue nail polish on them. Sadie put it on them yesterday; now I’ll have to be careful about walking around barefoot in the house. But my parents are still asleep. It’s a Saturday morning. The contrast of the nail polish against the grass looks nice. It makes me feel light.

I like being awake before everyone else. The world is simpler at this time. I don’t have to worry about people finding out my secret at this time. I can be just myself.

Sadie, Kim, and Linea consistently call me by my real name now. Luisa. Weird to consider it my real name now, when my ID says otherwise but it really does feel that way. Whenever somebody calls me Wells now, there’s a slight shiver at the base of my neck. I don’t mind it exactly, it’s actually a nice reminder that I am certain now. Just not about telling anybody. Maybe I’m not that certain then?

What does it matter? I’ll take my time. I’ll be fine.

Lost in thought, I put back a strand of hair and move my right foot in a gentle arch through the wet grass. My hair is long now. Like, actually well past my shoulders. It’s starting to take ages to dry, I might actually have to pay the hairdresser a visit sometime in the not-too-distant future.

I look almost entirely like a girl now. I have breasts now – not huge or even large, but definitely noticeable and honestly, just the size I want them to be. The doctor said that the rest of the changes on the surface level are only going to be minute. My brow might still shift a little, my Adam's apple hasn’t disappeared entirely yet, my voice might still rise a little. But the real changes are now happening on the inside. My organs are going to start shifting around, I’m going to grow a uterus, my genitalia are going to grow smaller and smaller. But that part takes by far the longest. Months.

It feels like time is both racing and crawling at the same time. Crawling, because I want the changes to be complete, crawling because I’m set to receive the surgery in summer. I’ll have to make a decision by then. Well, not exactly a decision. It’s no longer a decision. I’ll have to tell them, simple as that.

My heartbeat quickens. Telling Linea was easy. She’s a girl, she’s in love with Kim, I was never all that close with her. She wasn’t surprised at all when I told her and went right along with it. And I know the other’s won’t mind either, but it’s still so different, somehow.

No matter. Slowly, I walk to the centre of the garden and look up at the sky. The clouds are moving. Feels like I can see the world turn. I should’ve put my dress on, that would make this moment perfect. But then again, the risk is still there that somebody might see me.

And wouldn’t that make everything so much easier? If they just found out on accident and you didn’t have to work up the courage to tell them?

I’m still thinking about it as I make my way back into the house, my feet clammy, take a quick shower to warm myself back up, then start setting the table for an early breakfast. I like eating alone, sitting in this large room with music filling my ears at a low volume. Sadie and I are very different in this regard. But then again, wouldn’t I hate it, too, if I didn’t have parents to speak of?

Unfortunately, though, I do have parents to speak of. Parents that, just this day, seem to have decided to get out of bed nice and early. They walk in just as I’m about to sit, Mum still looking a little bleary, Dad already all cheery and ready for the day.

They sit and I try to act over my disappointment as I take out my headphones and put them into my pocket.

Dad smiles at me. “Up early, huh?”

I give a vague shrug and stuff my mouth full of cereals. My stomach tightens for a moment when I’m suddenly uncertain whether I put on socks that are thick enough so they won’t see the nail polish. But then I remember that I did.

“What’s planned for today?” Mum asks.

They really don’t give up, huh?

“Gonna train with Henry later,” I mumble through a still mostly-full mouth. If they want replies, they’ll have to live with me speaking this way.

Dad nods like he regularly has this type of conversation with me. He doesn’t.

“Any progress recently in the training department?”

I give him a look. “No?” It’s weirdly easy to channel old me this way. Because Wells would’ve been offended at the question. And maybe I still am. It’s a reminder of this conflict. That I’m not making any progress with parkour and building muscles and that somehow, I might be okay with it.

He goes red. Contrary to what he likes to believe, he’s really not that good at talking to teenagers.

For a long while, we eat in silence. Mum’s staring out the window as she slowly eats her toast, Dad keeps glancing up from his cereal but doesn’t say anything. I successfully killed the mood and made everybody awkward. Neat.

Then, tentatively, Mum starts to make conversation about their day. They leave me out of it, mostly, right up until I’m about to get up. That’s the point Dad decides that’s a great moment to ask, “I’m going to the hairdresser on Monday. Wanna come along?”

I freeze. Can I say no to this? I can’t say yes. But will they know?

“Your hair is getting long,” Mum says. And she’s right, isn’t she? It’s no longer a matter of not wanting to go to the hairdresser’s every week. It’s just long now. The tips tickle my shoulders now when I stand in front of the mirror in the evening without a T-shirt to look at myself in silence.

My eyes narrow. My heartbeat quickens. “I wanna see what it’s like to have long hair, so I’m growing it out. I’ll never have the chance to grow it out so easily again. You guys do know that, don’t you?” I ask a little more tightly than I probably should.

Mum nods quickly. “Of course, of course. I just wanted to make sure you’re… aware….” Her voice is thin and her eyes don’t meet mine.

I give her a hard look. Of what you look like, she means to say.

“I’ll look like a girl no matter what,” I say even more tightly. “See these?” I say, gesturing at my breasts. “Doesn’t matter if I wear a buzz cut, it’ll just be a different variety of people looking at me strangely. Except you can decide not to do it. This is completely up to you!”

Too quickly, I get up, put my empty cereal bowl into the dishwasher and leave the room without looking back. I can feel their eyes on my back as I leave. Seeing me. I don’t want them to. I feel so called out, like they’re only one step away from realising just who their son is. My throat is tight.

In my room, I take out my phone and look at the time. Only nine o’clock. Still another five hours until we’re supposed to meet up.

I open our chat.

Me: Can I come over a little earlier?

He replies almost immediately.

H.Boi: Now?

H.Boi: Sure. I’m just getting out of bed, though, so you might have to watch me eat breakfast.

Me: I can deal with that.

If he does any better than my parents, that is. A squirmy feeling settles in my stomach. But no, I can’t start avoiding him again. I can’t punish him for something he hasn’t even done yet. So I pack my workout clothes in a rucksack and put on my running shoes. I don’t take a jacket with me, it’s warm enough if I’m not walking slowly.

And then I’m outside and the air still smells of dew and flowers, and the birds are singing, and the sun warms my skin. My hair moves in the breeze and strokes my neck. And I feel light. Something that had wedged itself stuck during breakfast comes free suddenly and I feel this rush of energy. A springy quality sneaks itself into my gate and then I jump, and suddenly I’m running, sprinting down the street. A smile spreads across my face as I reach my top speed and let it carry me for a moment. I keep the speed up for surprisingly long. Even when my legs grow tired and I can’t continue at top speed, I only allow myself to slow down gradually until my lungs heave the cool air in big gulps and filling them all the way feels like it’s suffocating me at the same time. But I’m still smiling in this breathless way, as my cheeks grow hot and tiny beads of sweat gather on my forehead and on the back of my neck.

With strangely practised movements, I tie back my hair. I usually carry hair ties in my pocket now, though I’d like to have them around my wrist. But hey, can’t have everything, can you?

The grin broadens as I take out a second hair tie and put it around my left wrist. Just for the rest of the way to Henry’s. Just these few more minutes. A young man walks past me carrying a paper bag with rolls and his eyes linger on my face as he passes me. My stomach flips with the thrill his attention sends down my spine and I nod at him.

I’m still slightly out of breath when I arrive at Henry’s. My cheeks are still a little rosy.

He grins at me as he opens the door. “Hi, shitface!” Then, one of his eyebrows arches. “Did you run here?”

I nod. “A portion of the way, anyway.”

“Desperate to be close to me, huh?”

I grin. “In your dreams.” In spite of the changes I’ve gone through, this feels normal. This feels like what we’re supposed to be.

He lets me in and I sit across from him at the small kitchen table as he eats, his face framed by the view of a cherry tree in full bloom in the garden behind him. He talks about some series he’s started watching yesterday and I listen, enjoying the sound of his voice. I sit differently now, I realise. With my knees together and slightly leaning to the side. My eyes follow the movements of his lips as he speaks and track the tiny muscles in his face forming a grin, raising his eyebrows, making his eyes blink.

And once again, I catch myself thinking about telling him. Just opening my mouth and saying those few words. I’m a girl. I’m happy this way. I don’t want to change back. So many ways to say it. So many ways to tell him.

I am happy.

And then I think about how maybe it doesn’t matter whether he knows because I can be happy around him even so, because he hasn’t changed.

SeptemberMorgan

A shorter chapter. Please tell me what you think and have a nice week!