First order of business when I got home was to wash my sole girl outfit and underwear so I could wear it Friday. Only after they were in the washing machine (with some other stuff of mine and Sophia’s) did I start doing homework.

Dad was out somewhere when we got home, and Mom was busy packing books and antiques to ship to people who’d bought them. I did what I could do without my laptop, then went to where Mom was working in the spare room and said, “I need to use my laptop for the rest of my homework, Mom.”

“I’ll get it out,” she said, getting up and coming with me into the living room. “Stay in the living room while you work on it.” So she could look over my shoulder and make sure I wasn’t playing games or doing recreational websurfing.

“Also,” I said, “I need new clothes. Especially gym clothes, but really everything. I got a sports bra out of the lost and found for today, but it didn’t fit right and my breasts hurt while I was running and for a while afterward.” I handed her the note Coach Wilcox had given me.

She got my laptop out of the cabinet in the living room and handed it to me. “There is a very easy way to solve that problem, Tyler.”

“You mean changing back? No, thank you, ma’am. Also, I prefer to be called ‘Meredith.’”

She sighed. “Do your homework and we’ll talk about it later. I’m going to finish getting these orders ready to take to the post office in the morning, and then start supper.”

So I sat down at the dining table and did the rest of my homework. A little later Sophia joined me, having asked Mom for her own laptop, and we worked together mostly in silence, with her asking me for help with a grammar question now and then.

Caleb got home just after I put my girl clothes in the dryer, and Dad a few minutes after that, just before supper. Sophia and I put away our laptops and textbooks and set the table, and minutes later we all sat down to supper.

Mom and Dad didn’t bring up my change right away, and I didn’t press them for girl clothes right away, either. Mom asked Dad how his shopping trip had gone, and he told us he hadn’t found much, just a few limited edition Coke bottles that would bring around ten or fifteen dollars each. Then they asked Caleb how his day had gone, and he didn’t have much to say; at one point he looked at me in a way that made me think he must have heard rumors about me at school, but he didn’t say anything about them to Mom and Dad. And finally, Mom asked me how my day had gone.

“You told me a little bit about your troubles with gym,” she said, “but we didn’t have time to talk much then. Has anyone been bullying you?”

“Not physically,” I said, “not like it was a few years ago. But there were some mean girls gossiping about me, and one guy said something really rude to my face. It wasn’t too bad, though. Most of the kids I talked to were cool with me being transgender.”

“What’s that about trouble with gym?” Dad said.

I hesitated, not wanting to talk about my sore breasts in front of Caleb and Dad, but then I decided it might actually help. “I didn’t have the right gym clothes,” I explained. “Coach Wilcox let me get some stuff out of the lost and found, but it didn’t fit right; the sports bra was too loose, so I didn’t have the right support for running, and the shorts were too tight.” As I’d expected, Dad and Caleb were both blushing and neither met my eyes. “She said I need new gym clothes by Monday, and she sent a note for y’all. So I asked Mom if I could get some stuff that fits me, and she said we’d talk about it later. You don’t even have to pay for it if you don’t want to,” I added desperately. “Just take me to a store and let me use my savings to buy a few sets of underwear, if nothing else?”

“Have you reconsidered?” Dad said. “We could take you over to the library this evening, or early tomorrow before school.”

“No, thank you. If I had the right athletic support, I think I would enjoy gym class a lot more than before. I’m more limber now and I have more stamina.”

“You think you might try out for one of the girls' teams?” Caleb asked.

“Maybe...?” I’d never considered it before, between my un-athletic old body and my intermittent depression. But now it had possibilities.

“No,” Dad said. “It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Yeah,” Caleb added, “come to think of it, the coaches will probably think making yourself more athletic with that machine is cheating.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Dad said, “though it’s also true. It wouldn’t be appropriate for a boy to compete with girls.”

“But I’m not a boy,” I said, trying and failing to keep the frustration out of my voice.

“I talked to a couple of counselors today,” Mom put in. “But the earliest appointment I could get was Monday of the week after next.”

Knowing Mom and Dad, probably this counselor was someone who’d never heard of gender dysphoria or didn’t believe in it.

“Let’s wait and see what the counselor says,” Dad said. “If he can talk you out of this, there’s no need —”

“She,” Mom put in. “The one I could get the earliest appointment with was Cheryl Hewitt.”

“All right,” Dad said. “We’ll revisit this after your appointment with her.”

A week and a half of wearing boy clothes, at least. Great.

---

It was Caleb’s turn to do the dishes, so after supper, I went to my room and looked for some comfort reading. I pulled Anne McCaffrey’s Dragonsong down from the shelf and started reading it again, but I hadn’t gotten more than two or three pages in when Sophia knocked on my door.

“Come in,” I said, and she did. I sat up in bed. “Hey.”

“I’m sorry Mom and Dad are being so... so...”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“Maybe I could bring a change of clothes to school for you in my bag, and you could change into it in the restroom before homeroom?”

“That might work. I’d have to change back after my last class, but... yeah. Still won’t solve my sports bra problem, though.”

“Yeah, mine would be too tight on you. But I can lend you one, anyway, and we can see if it’s better than the one that was too loose?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

She went to her room and came back with one of her sports bras, and I tried it on. It was definitely a lot tighter than the one I’d borrowed from the lost and found, but I thought I could live with it for an hour at a time until I got something that fit me. It probably wasn’t anywhere near as uncomfortable as the binders that trans guys used to wear before the Venn machines showed up. So I slipped it into the bottom of my bookbag, and we talked about girl stuff for a while, me asking her questions about makeup and hair care and clothes — stuff I’d gotten scattered hints about from online research, or from stories I’d read, but didn’t really have reliable first-hand information about.

---

The next morning, I got dressed in baggy boy jeans and a T-shirt, but packed the clothes the machine had created for me in my backpack. When we got to school, I went to the nearest restroom and changed clothes, then went to homeroom. Lily and Emma or Emily were already there, and I sat down next to them.

“Hi, Meredith,” Lily said. “You look great today. Did you get some other new clothes besides just jeans and T-shirts?”

“I wish,” I said. “No, this is the outfit the trust booth made for me when it changed me Wednesday. I washed them last night; it’s all I’ve got for my new body right now.”

“Going shopping tomorrow, then?”

I sighed, and told her what Mom had said about maybe getting me girl clothes after we talked with the counselor. “And that’s not until Monday after next.”

“That sucks.”

“What’s her problem?” Emily or Emma wanted to know. (I had to discreetly find out what her name was without letting on that I didn’t already know.)

“She thinks being transgender is a symptom of depression instead of the other way around, apparently?”

“Are you depressed, then?”

“I was — not all the time, but pretty often. But not anymore. I’m frustrated sometimes with how stubborn Mom and Dad are being, but...” I shivered happily and hugged myself. “Having the right body is so great, I can put up with anything.”

Lily beamed at me, and Emma or Emily gave me an uncertain smile. “I’m so happy for you,” Lily said. “I talked to my cousin last night, and told her about you and the other people here that changed, and she said she and her friend Brooke are going to drive to the nearest machine this weekend to use it.”

“How far do they have to drive?”

“Around two hundred miles, I think? They live in Philadelphia, and I think the machine they’re going to use is in a small town about this size in western Pennsylvania.”

“Maybe one will pop up closer before then. There’s new ones being reported every day.”

I wound up chatting with Lily for a little too long, and walking into Biology barely on time. Andrew raised his eyebrows when he saw me.

“Did you get — oh, I bet the machine made that shirt, didn’t it? It’s kind of like the shirts it made for me and Evan.”

“Yeah, this is the stuff I was wearing when I transformed. I washed them last night —” I was going to say more, but the last bell rang and I hurried into my seat.

After class, Andrew and I talked for a couple of minutes before we left the classroom.

“You look really nice today,” he said, “wearing stuff that fits you.” I blushed and squirmed a little: he did think I was pretty! Maybe he hadn’t noticed as much when I was wearing baggy clothes that mostly hid my figure, but now...

“I’m probably gonna wear these things out, washing them so often, but Mom and Dad still won’t buy me girl clothes or even let me go shopping with my own money.”

“What? I don’t get it... I mean, they’re the kind of people that wouldn’t want you to change into a girl, I can see that. But now that you are one, I’d think they would want you to dress in girl clothes.”

“I think they’re trying to pretend I haven’t changed.”

He shook his head. “I wonder how long they can keep that up?”

“I don’t know. They’re betting I’ll cave in soon and decide it’s less hassle to change back, and I’m betting that even if they never cave, I can stand not having the right clothes better than not having the right body.”

“I hope they get it through their thick skulls soon. Keep your chin up, uh, Meredith.”

I smiled as I always did in those early days when somebody called me by my name. But then he went on:

“Oh, and I’ve got some news, too... it happened yesterday afternoon after World History. I’ve got a date this weekend with Emilia Read.”

“Oh,” I stammered, “that’s great.” I couldn’t place her; either she wasn’t in any of my classes, or I just couldn’t put her name to her face.

“Yeah,” he went on, oblivious, “she seems pretty great. We’re going to see the new Chrestomanci movie and then out to eat afterward, Saturday afternoon.”

“Which theater are you going to?” I asked, trying to appear like I didn’t care that the boy I was crushing on was going on a date with someone else.

“Regal 16 in Catesville.”

I nodded. “We’d better get to class. Good luck with your date.”

“Thanks.”

I wasn’t exactly depressed for the next couple of hours, nothing like I’d suffered from gender dysphoria in the past few years, but I wasn’t happy either. I knew it was irrational; Andrew had probably already been talking with this Emilia for several days, since his transformation into an incredible stud, if not before, and I hadn’t given him any hint that I was interested in him that way. So there was no way he could have known, or if he had, would have had any obligation toward me. But knowing that didn’t keep me from feeling resentful and jealous.

By lunchtime I thought I’d gotten a better handle on those ungenerous feelings, and was looking forward to hanging out with Andrew as friends even if we couldn’t date. I was a little frustrated, when I sat down, to hear Andrew telling Evan and his buddies about his upcoming date with Emilia Read. (Apparently she had a different lunch period, so I didn’t have to endure her sitting with us, at least.) I told myself to be happy for him. Even if he liked me that way, we couldn’t go out and do anything fun together until I was un-grounded, which probably wouldn’t be until I turned eighteen.

Evan and Wyatt asked Andrew some questions about her, and Ian nodded and said he had a class with her, too. I didn’t say much for a while, just focused on eating, and when the others had exhausted that subject, Andrew said to me:

“So how are people treating you since you came out?”

“Mostly pretty okay,” I said. “I’ve overheard some mean gossip, but there hasn’t been any outright bullying...” I gave him a little more detail about how the kids in different classes were treating me, and the situation in gym, and he commiserated with me, as did Ian.

After lunch, I headed to P.E. and walked into the locker room. I attracted less attention than I had on Thursday as I changed into the sports bra Sophia had loaned me and the gym shorts I’d gotten out of the lost and found. Though still too tight, the shorts weren’t as bad over my Venn-machine panties as they were over jockey shorts. We were playing volleyball that day, and I found that Sophia’s bra kept my girls from bouncing much at all.

After I showered, I put on clean socks and the T-shirt, bra and jeans the machine had made for me, but I didn’t have a change of clean panties, so I kept wearing them, sweaty as they were, the rest of the day.

After the last bell, I went to the restroom before going to the bus and changed back into the boy clothes Mom and Dad had seen me leave the house in. I sat with Sophia on the way home, as usual — I wasn’t close friends with anybody else who rode our bus regularly.

“How’d it go?” she asked.

“Better than yesterday,” I lied. “The girls in gym are getting used to me changing and showering with them. And the sports bra I borrowed from you helped a lot.”

“I’m glad,” she said. “I hope Mom lets you buy some of your own soon.”

“Yeah. I can’t believe she ignored that note from Coach Wilcox.”

“I can.”

---

When I went to my room, I changed out of the clothes I’d worn home, set aside the panties and bra to wash, and put on a clean pair of jockey shorts and a pair of sweat pants. I hesitated before putting on one of my usual T-shirts. I dug through my drawers and found a T-shirt that I’d outgrown, but kept because it had sentimental value — it was a Guardians of the Galaxy shirt that Grandma Ramsey had given me the Christmas before she died, the image taken from the poster for their second movie. Would it fit my new body? I tried it on, and it was a bit snug, but not uncomfortably tight like it was when I’d reluctantly quit wearing it a few years ago. I went across the hall to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I wouldn’t go to school like this for obvious reasons, but it might be what I needed to convince Mom and Dad. I went back to my room and did homework until Mom called me to help her fix supper.

“Sure,” I said, walking into the kitchen. “What are we having?”

“Omelets,” she said, rummaging through the pantry and not turning to look at me yet. “I need you to chop the onions and peppers.” She backed out of the pantry holding a couple of spice bottles and did a double take when she saw me.

“Go put on —” she began, and paused.

“What?”

“That shirt’s too small to be decent on you.”

“I know I outgrew it a couple of years ago, but I’m smaller now —”

“Not in certain places, you’re not. Go change into a looser shirt.”

I did as she said, putting on a shirt that was comfortable before my change, and baggy now. When I came back, she said: “That’s better. Wash the peppers and onions and start chopping them.”

I got a few peppers out of the produce drawer and a colander and a couple of onions out of the pantry, and washed them. “You know,” I said, “if I had a bra on under it, that shirt would be fine.”

“If you changed back, you wouldn’t need a bra.”

“I’m not going to change back, Mom. I’ve got exactly one bra, the one the machine made for me, and unless you let me spend my money on more, I’ll have to make it last until I’m eighteen.” I set the clean vegetables aside and got out a chopping board and knife. “I think it’ll fall apart from being worn every day and being washed several times a week. And that’s assuming I don’t outgrow it —”

“If you wear loose shirts like that one, you don’t —” She paused. “What am I saying?” Finally. “I suppose if you’re stubborn enough to stay that way for more than a few days, you’re going to need at least a few more bras so you only have to wash them about once a week.”

“And a sports bra for gym,” I added quickly. “And gym shorts.”

“All right,” she said. “Tomorrow. But don’t push your luck, Tyler. We’re not getting any skirts or dresses. Or anything but underwear. And we’re only getting a little of that, enough to last until you see the counselor Monday after next.”

“Thanks, Mom!” I was so happy about her concession that I didn’t complain about her using my deadname.

During supper, Mom didn’t mention our talk to Dad. I told Sophia about it after supper, while she was washing dishes and I was sitting at the kitchen table with my laptop, working on an essay on Thoreau’s “Civil Disobedience” for American Literature.

“That’s great!” she said. “Wow, that was devious. I wish I could have seen the look on Mom’s face.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m sure you’ll wear them down eventually,” she said. “Tomorrow, underwear. Next weekend, skirts. The weekend after that —”

“Makeup,” I supplied, getting into it. “And then dresses and getting my ears pierced —”

“And the weekend after that I won’t be grounded and I can help you shop.”

Of course, we didn’t expect it would happen anywhere near that fast. But after Mom’s concession, I was hopeful it would happen eventually, maybe a lot sooner than my eighteenth birthday.